The old man hesitated, his expression etched with a mixture of fear and reverence. But with a resigned sigh, he selected the first needle and approached Hercules' undefended back. Placing the sharp point against the demigod's flesh, the old man began to slowly guide the needle into the taut, corded muscle. Hercules instinctively twisted his body to avoid the inevitable torment, but the pain from the needles in his arms and abdominal were maddening. Demetrius watched, his lips curled into a cruel smile, as the old man continued his grim work, methodically piercing each section of Hercules' back. The demigod's body convulsed with each new puncture, the needles tearing mercilessly through his flesh. The pain was overwhelming, a torment that threatened to consume his very being, but he refused to give in to the darkness.
"That's it, Hercules," Demetrius purred, his gaze fixed upon the demigod's face, searching for any sign of weakness. "Let me see how much more pain you can endure than a mere mortal."
Hercules felt the hot tears of anguish welling in his eyes as the pain was simply too all-consuming, but he refused to let them fall. As the old man reached the small of Hercules' back, the final needle pierced the demigod's flesh, completing the grim pattern that resembled the shape of an inverted pine tree. Hercules' body convulsed, his powerful muscles trembling, while each tiny movement delivered unbearable pain. He couldn’t help but allow a primal cry of anguish to escape his lips.
Demetrius leaned back, his expression a mask of twisted satisfaction. "There it is," the tyrant murmured, his fingers drumming against his chin. "The sound of your defeat, Hercules. Your legendary resilience has finally been broken."
Hercules felt the darkness closing in, the pain overwhelming his senses. But even in the depths of his suffering, a single, defiant thought echoed through his mind: "I will not surrender. No matter what horrors you inflict upon me, Demetrius, my spirit will endure." The demigod drew in a shuddering breath, his body shaking visibly. Demetrius watched, his eyes narrowed with a mixture of frustration and fascination, as Hercules continued to defy the onslaught of torment.
"Unbelievable," the tyrant whispered, his lips curling into a smile. "You continue to impress me, Hercules. But… we are only half way through" A wicked smile curled Demetrius' lips as he turned to the old man, "It seems we have overlooked a rather… SENSITIVE area, don't you think?"
"Be sure to cover every inch, old man," Demetrius purred, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic fascination. "I want our guest of honor to experience the FULL extent of his torment."
As the old man reached Hercules' buttocks, the demigod felt a fresh wave of nausea wash over him, his vision blurring as the needles tore through the sensitive flesh. Demetrius watched, his fingers drumming against his chin, as the old man completed his grim work, the needles now lining every inch of Hercules' torso. The demigod's body was a canvas of the tyrant's relentless cruelty, a patchwork of gleaming metal and raw, bleeding flesh. With a nod, the tyrant gestured to the old man, signaling him to step back. Demetrius approached Hercules, his movements slow and deliberate. A shadow of frustration flickered across Demetrius' features as he observed Hercules' unwavering defiance in the face of the agonizing torment. The tyrant's lips curled into a sneer, his patience wearing thin as the demigod refused to be broken.
"It would seem your resilience knows no bounds, Hercules," Demetrius spat, his fingers drumming against his chin in a display of restrained irritation. The tyrant's gaze swept downward, fixing upon Hercules' massive, tree-trunk legs – each as thick as a regular man’s waist. A malicious glint flickered in Demetrius' eyes as he gestured to the old man, who gingerly reached into the box and selected the longest of the gleaming silver needles.
"Continue," Demetrius commanded, his voice laced with a barely contained anticipation. "Let us see how long your defiance can withstand the agony that awaits your mighty limbs."
The old man, his hand trembling, approached Hercules' left thigh, the long needle poised above the rippling expanse of muscle. Demetrius leaned forward, his breath held in rapt attention, as the old man slowly began to guide the sharp point into Hercules' flesh. The demigod tensed, his powerful muscles coiling as the searing pain radiated through his leg. Hercules gritted his teeth, determined not to give Demetrius the satisfaction of hearing him cry out, but a muffled grunt escaped his lips as the needle continued to burrow deeper. Demetrius watched, his expression a mask of devious fascination, as the old man forcefully worked the needle through the dense, unyielding muscle until the sharp point emerged from the hamstring. Hercules' body convulsed with each agonizing thrust, the restraints groaning under the strain of his powerful movements.
"Yes, yes, that's it," Demetrius purred, his eyes gleaming with a predatory intensity. "Hercules. Prove to me that your legendary resilience is no mere myth."
The old man took a deep breath as he selected a second needle just as long as the first one, its sharp point glinting in the dim light of the cell. With a deep, steadying breath, the old man placed the needle against Hercules' other thigh. As the needle pierced the demigod's flesh, Hercules felt a searing, maddening pain explode through his leg, his muscles twitching against the unyielding restraints. The old man, his resolve wavering, continued his grim task, guiding the needle deeper and deeper into the proud, defiant limb. Hercules fought against the tremendous pain but he had doubts how much longer he could endure.
The tyrant watched, his lips curled into a triumphant smile, as the old man selected two more pairs of long needles, to continue his work on the other major muscles on Hercules’ thighs. Demetrius leaned back, his chest swelling with anticipation, as the next wave of agonizing torment began to unfold. The old man paused, his hand trembling, as Hercules braced himself, his heart pounding in his chest, as the sharp point was pressed against the front of his thigh, mere inches from the previous wound. Demetrius watched, his expression a mask of eager anticipation, as the old man began to methodically pierce the demigod's remaining leg muscles, working his way from the front to the back. Demetrius' lips curled into a cruel smile as he observed Hercules' suffering, the demigod's powerful limbs now adorned with a grid of gleaming silver needles.
"You see, Hercules," the tyrant purred, his voice dripping with malicious delight, "the true beauty of this little torment lies in the placement of the needles. Each one has been precisely positioned to pierce the opposing muscle groups in your legs – front and back, inner and outer."
Hercules tensed, his body coiled with a mixture of defiance and dread as he listened to Demetrius' chilling explanation.
"Now," the tyrant continued, his gaze fixed upon the demigod with a predatory intensity, "with every small movement you make in any direction, the needles will tear through your flesh, delivering unimaginable pain to their proud owner."
Hercules felt a cold chill run down his spine as the realization dawned upon him. He flexed his leg muscles, testing the bonds that held him, only to be met with a searing, nauseating agony that radiated through his limbs. Hercules gritted his teeth, every twitch, every involuntary muscle spasm, sent shockwaves of agony through his body, the needles tearing mercilessly through his flesh.
Demetrius' gaze swept downward, his eyes gleaming with a twisted fascination as they fixated upon Hercules' powerful calves. "Ah, yes, your magnificent calves, Hercules," the tyrant purred, his voice dripping with malicious delight. "I almost forgot them"
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