The White Box

Martin is brutally tortured by his wife and her lover to turn him into a mindless slave and steal his fortune. Unfortunately for her, she is the instrument of her own failure and Martin’s revenge. A story with a happy ending in two parts.


CHAPTER 1

I’d had a long Friday, beginning early before eight as was my habit and running straight through until after six without even a single break, mostly because of one asshole client. I would have told him to take his business and shove it if it wasn’t a multi-million dollar contract.

I was really beat when I finally opened the door just after seven. I’d tried to call my wife three times, but she’d obviously been out so I left a message on the machine. That was the best I could do. Dropping my briefcase on the floor I walked into the kitchen. “Hi, honey—sorry I’m so late. It was that damned Henderson. That man can be impossible sometimes. I wonder, too often, if his business is worth all the aggravation he gives us.” I leaned down to kiss her cheek and noticed the table was only set for one. “Not eating?”

“No, dear I had a big lunch around one with a friend. I doubt I could eat even a single bite. I’m trying something new. I hope you like it. It’s a variation on the stew I usually make.” I removed my jacket and tie, pulled a beer from the fridge and sat at the table.

“Why don’t you tell me about your day,” I asked as I dug into the bowl.

“I will, but after you’ve finished. How is it?”

“Okay, I guess, but the taste is kind of strange. I appreciate your thoughtfulness and effort, but I don’t know if I’d want it again.” Dana sat next to me so I leaned over for a kiss. Surprisingly, she turned her head so my lips landed on her cheek. I continued to eat and when I was about two-thirds through I asked her, “What’s in here, anywa…?” I never finished the sentence. I was out cold, my head crashing onto the table.

I was cold when I woke up—shivering, in fact. I was still groggy and as I looked down in the darkness to barely see that I was naked. Looking up I saw my wrists were locked onto chains that hung from ring bolts in the huge beams that supported the old house. My legs were secured the same way into the floor—screw eyes securely drilled into the hard stone. I knew where I was—the root cellar, an area in the basement of our house that we rarely used. There was but a single bare bulb in the center of the room. It was cold and damp, completely below ground with stone walls more than a foot thick, the thick wooden ceiling covered with four inches of reinforced concrete and the garage. I couldn’t understand how I had gotten here or why. What the hell was Dana up to?

The light went on and she walked in a few minutes later. “Well, well, I see you’re finally awake. It took you long enough. I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here. I’ll tell you—I know you’re cheating on me.”

“That’s not true. I’ve never cheated. I’ve never even thought of cheating! You know that.”

“Do I? I have it on good authority that you are, probably with that young secretary you hired.”

“Rita? You’ve got to be kidding. She’s engaged and even if she wasn’t I’d have no interest in her.”

“I totally expected you to say all those things. I would if I was cheating, but I know how to get the truth.” She walked over to a small table on the other side of the room, returning with a small white box. It was about eight inches long, four wide and an inch and a half deep. There were two long wing bolts extending from the top. “Any idea what this is–no, of course not. It’s the mechanism by which you’ll tell me the truth among other things.” She held it up in front of my face. I could see the oval hole on one end. Dana unscrewed and removed the top. “Notice the interior–these ribs will hold you in place so there no slipping around. These sharp points will just hurt you even more. I think we should get started.”

I watched in horror as she pulled my ball sac down and fitted the box over my scrotum. I thrashed around, but a hard squeeze of my balls paralyzed me. It was but a harbinger of things to come. She replaced the top and began to screw the wing bolts down. It wasn’t long before I felt my balls squeezed. The pain was terrible. I screamed in agony.

“I thought about gagging you, but nobody will hear you down here and I find your agony amusing. Care to change your story?”

“No,” I gasped, “I’m telling you the truth. Hurting me won’t change that. Oh God…please!”

“Gee, only a minute and you’re already pleading. My friend was right—four or five days of this and you’ll be completely destroyed. By the way, I know you’re telling the truth. I was only playing a game with you. I’m the one having an affair. I could just divorce you, but then I’d only get half of your fortune, maybe even less if my infidelity was made public. This way I’ll destroy you and get it all. I’ll be able to sell your company and make billions. Have fun…I’ll be back in an hour to tighten the screws again.” She laughed, walked out, and locked the heavy door. In seconds I was in total darkness—just me and the excruciating pain.

It was unending; the pain cut through my body. I couldn’t imagine it being worse, but I was terribly wrong. Dana returned—she said it was an hour later; I had no idea being totally in the dark. She gave each screw a half turn. The points penetrated my scrotum, sticking straight into my tortured balls. I felt as though the pain had doubled. I screamed and screamed in my agony, thrashing wildly in my chains. Dana turned to go, but laughed and returned. “I’ll bet you thought it couldn’t get worse, didn’t you? That’s exactly what my ‘friend’ told me. Now watch this!” She brought two eyebolts from the table and screwed them into the bottom of the box. Dana made a show of picking up two weights at the end of short cables. I thought my balls would be torn from my body when she dropped them onto the eyebolts. I screamed even louder, if possible. She reached out and gripped my chin as she continued, “I’m having so much fun…how about you? No? Well, that’s life—some things we enjoy and some we don’t. At least one of us is happy.” She grinned wildly than leaned forward and kissed me, her tongue penetrating my throat.

“I’ll even tell you what’s going to happen. This process will take an entire week. You’ll know when it’s over although I doubt your brain will be able to process it. It will end when your balls are completely crushed and ooze out of the cracks in the box. In case you’re wondering, this is made from the highest quality aircraft aluminum. It will withstand more than ten thousand pounds of force without breaking—more than enough to completely crush you into dust. It’s constructed so the top and bottom will meet perfectly with not even a single millimeter of space left anywhere inside. There are spaces and holes in the bottom that exactly match the ridges and points in the top. Your brain will be nothing but mush by the time that happens. Your intellect will be reduced to zero. My ‘friend’ is a psychiatrist and when I’m done with you you’ll be a eunuch slave who will fill your mindless days with the drudgery of housework and laundry—day after day, year after year until you finally die. I think I’ll even give you a nice set of boobs so you’ll look the part—a cute she-male maid. Isn’t that great?”

I could barely speak with all the pain I felt, but I struggled, “You’re out of your mind. You’re insane to do something like this. I swear I’ll get you and your asshole lover, too. I’ll get you if it’s the last thing I do!”

She laughed then spit in my face. “You’re such a fool, Martin. I’ve been working on this for months and months—almost an entire year, planning everything to the nth degree. While you’ve been so lovey-dovey I’ve been plotting your downfall, meeting my lover every day—fucking him two or three times and developing my plans for you. That unusual taste in the stew…that was the drug I used to sedate you. It took us a week to figure out just how much to add so we could knock you out and get you down here, but not kill you. Then we designed the box.” She gave it a slap with her hand. “It was hand-made by a machine shop in another city and another state. I gave them a false name and paid cash—several thousand of your cash, by the way–so there’s no way it can be traced to us if you die. That’s a possibility, but we’re hoping you won’t. It will be so humiliating for you to be my slave—the high and mighty financial genius reduced to being my slave– although you won’t realize that you’re even being humiliated. The pain will wash your consciousness away.”

She left again and I wondered if what she said was true. Would I lose my ability to think–to reason? Would I become a robot doing nothing but follow her orders, handling the mindless tedious work around the house. I swore then to resist her with every fiber in my body. I was sure she’d destroy my balls, but I resolved that she wouldn’t destroy me. Dana had always talked too much. I knew now who her lover was—that Swiss doctor Rolf. He was smart—that I had to hand him–but I thought of him as an effeminate and wimpy little turd. I couldn’t understand how he could satisfy my wife if I couldn’t. My cock was almost eight inches long and fairly thick, too. I’d seen him in the locker room at the golf club one day and thought he couldn’t compare to me. I thought he had probably brainwashed my wife with his psychiatric mumbo jumbo. I’d get him, too.

Dana returned periodically for several reasons; first and foremost, to increase my torture, but also to clean me and the room. I had pissed and shit during the last day and both the room and I stunk to high Heaven. She used a hose to wash the wastes down the floor drain into the cesspool below. Then she’d wash the entire area with a bleach solution. I rebelled when she tried to give me water and some liquid food so she clamped my nose shut and forced my mouth open. This was my first opportunity to see Rolf in action. It was clear that he was running the show. He gave Dana instructions then assisted her, forcing a narrow rubber tube down my throat. He held my head still with a yank of my hair while Dana poured the liquid down into a funnel and ultimately my stomach. I suffered that indignity once a day for the next week.

Not only was the pain continuous, but it increased every time Dana tightened those infernal screws. It filled my brain until there was room for nothing else. It literally pushed all thought from my consciousness. It ended suddenly when my testicles were crushed to nothing but bloody pulp. Then Dana removed the box and Dr. Rolf cauterized the wounds with a solder gun. My sac hung empty from my abdomen when he stitched the broken skin back together. I was finally removed from my bondage. I didn’t struggle or fight. I just stood there devoid of my humanity.

“Who are you,” the small woman standing in front of me asked. I had no answer so I stood there dumbly. “Your name is ‘slave.’ Do you understand me?”

“My name is slave,” I responded without emotion.

“I am your Mistress. Your job is to follow my orders and nothing else. You will obey me without question and without hesitation. I will whip you for no reason other than I can, but I will whip you much worse if you disobey.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You are filthy and you smell. Walk through the door. You will see a cell with a small cot. Take a shower and put on the clothes on the bed. Sit there until I give you additional orders.” I followed her through the heavy wooden door. She held it open for me, closing it with a thud. I was in a small caged-in area with a bed on one side and a shower with a combo sink/toilet on the other. There was no provision for privacy, but I expected none so I walked directly into the shower while my Mistress slammed the door behind me. I knew it was locked immediately.

I stood under the water; it was cold. There was only the one valve. I applied the hard soap to my body and in less than five minutes I was done. There was no towel so I wiped the water from my body and stood in the chilly cellar until it evaporated then I found the clothes on my bed. There were only three items there—a pink elastic top with puff sleeves, a skintight black set of spandex shorts, and some black canvas slip-on slippers. The bed was just a steel-framed cot with a thin mattress, a pillow with no cover and a thin cotton blanket. I sat patiently by the door for additional orders.

I was there for some time. I had no idea how long, but I was at peace so I waited until I was summoned. Finally, Mistress appeared with the short skinny man. “Here he is, Rolf—my big husband…the wizard of the financial world…the giant of Wall Street. Ha ha, what a joke! Now he’s just a mindless slave exactly as you predicted. Well, big bad husband I’m going to leave you here in your cage while I go up and fuck my lover. And what will you do? You’ll kneel here and wait for us to finish. You ball-less freak. How could anyone ever think of you as a magnate of business again? You’re pathetic! Now, kneel and wait. I hope your knees ache by the time we return. We’re not going to hurry, that’s a guarantee.” I knelt as she and Rolf laughed and laughed at my plight.

My mind was a blank, but I could feel a tiny “ping”—like a miniscule shock in my brain–when Mistress spoke about my former life. She did it every day—numerous times a day, in fact—and I felt a “ping” every single time. Sometimes, if the jibe was really severe, it would be a really big one. I began to feel the cumulative effect. I had been dusting and cleaning the house for hours every day when Mistress led me to a door. “Open it,” she commanded. I tried to turn the handle, but I couldn’t. “You have to put in the combination, loser. You were a loser even when you were the big shot (ping) genius (ping) and you’re an even bigger loser now. Punch in the numbers and open it.”

I stood numbly at the door. Using my fist I punched the lock to no avail. All I had accomplished was to hurt my hand. “Geez, what a fucking loser you are.
Okay, we’ll try every day until you get it right. Get back to work!” She brought me to the door every day and every day I failed to input the combination. Every day she insulted me and every day my brain “pinged.”

This continued daily for several months. I realize that looking back, but at the time I had no conception of time or date. Dana fucked Rolf every day, sometimes making me watch. It had no impact whatsoever on me, one of the few benefits of my torture. She also required that I clean her cunt and his cock after sex. Once again, the torture had removed any societal boundaries or inhibitions. I did it with the same approach I used when vacuuming or ironing—unemotionally and unenthusiastically, but completely.

Finally came a day when Dana’s insults were almost non-stop. She began at 6:00 a.m. even continuing in the shower while I waited silently to dry her. She told me about her big day when I had finished drying and dressing her. “Today’s the day, genius (ping); today’s the day I sell your company (ping). I’ll have everything done by two o’clock this afternoon and then I’ll be the billionaire (ping) and you’ll be even a bigger nothing than you are now. Now get back to work. I want this place to sparkle by the time I return.” She walked out of the bedroom and out the front door, driving my new BMW M6 convertible down the street.

I continued to dust, removing each piece from the shelves as I had been taught. I vacuumed once that was done and walked down the hallway to put the vacuum away. I passed the door and stopped. Turning slowly I pressed the numbers—6-8-7-3-1-9. The tiny light changed from red to green and a hidden panel slid down. Automatically, I pressed my left thumb against the glass.