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Description
Our muscles convulse under the electrical torture, flexing and contracting in our shackles. Drenched in sweat we growl and roar, teeth clenched as the current fries our nerves. But we do not talk. The crime lord gets angry as we refuse to talk.

"More power!" he snarls at the henchman. "More! MORE!!"

A henchman throws a bucket of ice water over us and we scream as the electricity crackles across our huge bodies. The crime boss grins and and signals his henchman to cut off the power. We slump in our chains, dripping, gasping in pain for breath.

"That gives me an idea!" He grins and mutters something to a henchman, who laughs cruelly. The boss turns to us.

"Poor boys, you look worn out. That long journey through the hot jungle. A brave fight. And now look at you, all dirty with sweat and blood and electrical burns." He grins."

"Maybe you'd like a nice... bath."

We are dragged into the next foul concrete chamber in the bunker, and as the steel door creaks open our heartbeats stop as we see what awaits us...

THE RACK

We close our eyes as the chains clank, the ratchet of the rack pulling our muscled bodies tight, tendons stretching, tortured muscles shrieking in agony. We moan in pain, teeth gritted, as the racks stretch us. But that is just the start. Two guards pick up bamboo canes and begin savagely whipping the hardened soles of our feet. The henchmen wrap cloths around our faces.... and the waterboarding begins.

Art of male torture by GlendyLucast

Description
Our muscles convulse under the electrical torture, flexing and contracting in our shackles. Drenched in sweat we growl and roar, teeth clenched as the current fries our nerves. But we do not talk. The crime lord gets angry as we refuse to talk.

"More power!" he snarls at the henchman. "More! MORE!!"

A henchman throws a bucket of ice water over us and we scream as the electricity crackles across our huge bodies. The crime boss grins and and signals his henchman to cut off the power. We slump in our chains, dripping, gasping in pain for breath.

"That gives me an idea!" He grins and mutters something to a henchman, who laughs cruelly. The boss turns to us.

"Poor boys, you look worn out. That long journey through the hot jungle. A brave fight. And now look at you, all dirty with sweat and blood and electrical burns." He grins."

"Maybe you'd like a nice... bath."

We are dragged into the next foul concrete chamber in the bunker, and as the steel door creaks open our heartbeats stop as we see what awaits us...

THE RACK

We close our eyes as the chains clank, the ratchet of the rack pulling our muscled bodies tight, tendons stretching, tortured muscles shrieking in agony. We moan in pain, teeth gritted, as the racks stretch us. But that is just the start. Two guards pick up bamboo canes and begin savagely whipping the hardened soles of our feet. The henchmen wrap cloths around our faces.... and the waterboarding begins.

Art of male torture by GlendyLucast