Jay Gets It Hard
Tom returned to his stance directly in front of Jay. He held up his right fist. “See, champ?” he said in derision. “No gloves, just my bare fists against your bare abs. Real simple for me, real painful for you. You punched me after I upchucked. I’ll do the same, in spades! Oh wait,” he added. “I had forgotten I plan to use my brass knuckles on you, just to make it hurt more. You didn’t crack any ribs. Maybe I’ll try to do the same, maybe not. We’ll just have to see about that.”
Then he turned to Roy: “Get me my set of brass knuckles, left and right.”
“Sure will, boss,” Roy answered as he went over to the equipment wall and picked up a pair of brass knuckles and handed them to Tom. Tom slipped the gruesome devices between his fingers and closed his hands down into fists. Then he rapped his two hand against each other. The brass pieces sticking out between his fingers clanked in an ominous sound.
Jay was plunged into fear and despair. The simple clink of metal against metal was one of the worst sounds someone facing gut punching could hear. It was equaled in dread only to the sound of a night stick slapping into a palm just before a beating.
Tom lost no time. He backed away from Jay a bit, cocked his right hand back, and jabbed at Jay’s middle abs in a furious blow. The effect was dramatic: slight whosh of air, solid splat of metal and fist against Jay’s abs, an agonizing stab of pain exploding into Jay’s brain followed immediately by a prolonged scream: “A-a-a-h-h-h!” echoed loudly in the small dungeon room, the sound of the primal male animal in dire pain. It was muscle pummeling muscle, producing pure pain in the vic.
Tom grinned at the sound of Jay’s torment. It was so very satisfying to torture the guy who had humiliated him so badly and in front of everyone. With this thought in mind, he jabbed Jay again with his right hand. Another splat/scream. Sweat broke out on both men, Jay in animal fear, Tom in sadistic lust.
Then a surprise roundhouse to Jay’s right side. “Ufff!” Jay grunted, followed quickly by a scream. The roundhouse was directly against Jay’s rib cage and the thought crossed both men’s minds that this could be bone-breaking. Tom actually did not want to split Jay’s ribs. That was messy and dangerous. He wanted to keep this torture pure with no bodily harm other than some brutally bruised muscles. The last thing he needed was a trip to the ER, especially to save a guy he hated.
He executed another series of roundhouses, left, right, left, right, but deliberately kept them below Jay’s rib cage. Jay screamed nonstop. Red blotches appeared on his torso. His big muscle groups were now mounded from his pulling against the metal bondage. Veins had popped out on his arms, thighs, and even his shoulders, pecs, and lower abs. Both men gleamed in the lights, their musculature sliding under sweaty skin, two superb male animals facing off in a very unbalanced fight.
Although seething with hatred, Jay kept rational and punched Jay with total control, savagely but controlled. The roundhouses were quickly followed by a series of triple jab combos as Tom moved up and down Jay’s abs. The pattern was the same: splat/scream/gasp for breath, splat/scream/gasp for breath/scream some more. The early red blotches were melding into a red glow spread all over Jay’s abs.
Then Tom moved to pounding Jay’s pecs, targeting his nipples. The whole nipple area quickly lit up red from the blows. Then Tom worked his way outward, pounding the whole pec area. The brass knuckles were brutal here; the pain mounted up much more quickly that from bare fists. Tom was again careful, though, not to crack any ribs, just abuse the skin, flesh, musculature, and those defenseless little man pegs.
Tom returned to Jay’s abs, now targeting the lower muscles, just above Jay’s bound junk. Wham! Wham! Strong upper cuts to Jay’s lower abs, total torment in an area often not attacked in regular gut punching. But this was no regular GP. This was brutal GP designed not just to inflict a few blows on a young man’s body for fun and games. This was punishment GP. The objective was to brutalize the vic, drown him in an ocean of pain, obliterate his identity as pain took control of his consciousness.
And brutal it was. Tom used elaborate punch combinations, mixing up jabs and uppercuts, moving across the whole space of the guy’s abdominals. The blows landed unpredictably; the vic could not anticipate what was next. The only certainty was when the blow landed and the pain shot to the brain.
Jay was entering the latter phase of a brutal punching session. His breathing was becoming labored as Tom’s attacks on his solar plexus was making it painful to catch his breath. But he needed breath to scream, so it became a vicious circle of pain from the onslaught of punches and panic at the increasing suffocation of short breaths.
Tom was slightly losing control as his hatred and rage overcame his rational control. The punching got harder, as if that were even possible. Jay was sensing the suffocation overcoming the waves of pain. Finally the brain’s circuit breakers, designed to protect the animal’s very existence, popped open and Jay slipped into unconsciousness.
“Fuck!” Tom shouted as Jay slumped in the bondage. “I was just getting started!”