It’s called the ‘Superman position,’ ” Jeremy explained. “It’s the least painful. And I thought it was fitting. Archie Sheridan. Superhero cop.”
If this was the least painful, Archie was glad he wasn’t being introduced to any of the alternatives. His head was killing him, probably from the enthusiastic Tasering. But his muscles, which were also reeling from the massive dose of electric current, had at least relaxed a little. He couldn’t lift his head far enough to see much in the room, so he hung there and looked at the floor. And he tried to keep Jeremy talking.
“They have names for all of the suspensions,” Jeremy continued. “You can hang flat, facing up, with the hooks in your chest and legs. That’s called the ‘Coma.’ Like from the movie. You know, that scene where they find all the people hanging from the ceiling? Or you can suspend yourself from your shoulder blades so you’re hanging upright—they call that one the ‘Suicide,’ because if you do it right it looks like you’ve hung yourself.”
He untied his robe and let it hang open. He was naked underneath,
his crotch at Archie’s eye level. He’d shaved his pubic area and his scrotum was cuffed in a metal ring, stretched a good ten inches. It made Archie’s solar plexus hurt just to look at it.
Jeremy let the robe drop to the floor and put a hand under his testicles, lifting them for Archie to see.
“It started my first night home,” he explained. “I wanted to feel the pain. So I tied my balls to my bedpost and bent over backward. Later, I saw some pictures on the Internet, and I started experimenting with stretching. Ropes, then with a wooden block, and finally metal rings.” He motioned to the one currently encircling his scrotum. “I wear this one all the time,” he said.
“It’s not your fault,” Archie said. “Surviving. You couldn’t have done anything to save your sister.”
“It’s important to warm up before any session,” Jeremy said. “To relax.” He picked up a tub of Vaseline off the floor and scooped some out with his fingers and began to rub it on his balls and up the shaft of his penis. Archie looked away. “I’m showing you this because I think it will help you understand,” Jeremy explained. “Please watch me.”
Archie lifted his head again. Jeremy was partially aroused. There was a sturdy-looking pipe overhead. Two ropes dangled from it. Jeremy stepped on a child’s plastic step stool, attached the ring around his testicles to a hook at the end of one rope, took the other rope in his hands to control the weight, and then kicked back, so that he was dangling from his genitals. His testicles stretched eight inches and Jeremy slowly leaned back, letting go of the safety rope. He dangled there, hung from his groin, red-faced, his back arched so that his head and feet were at the same level.
“There are easier ways to punish yourself, Jeremy.”
After a few minutes, Jeremy reached up and took hold of the rope he was hanging from, and used it to sit up enough to grab onto the safe rope. He swung his feet back down to the step stool,
unhooked his testicles, sank to the floor, curled on his side, and started masturbating. He did not seem to be aware of Archie anymore, did not seem to care that he was there. He was neither performing for him, nor being exactly discreet.
When he came, his body shuddered and the ejaculate shot several feet forward, before it landed, a milky glop on the concrete floor.
This kid was more fucked-up than Archie thought.
Jeremy laughed. “You should try it,” he said. He rolled onto his back and wiped his hands on his bare thighs. “You’ve never felt anything like it.”
Gretchen had done a number on Archie. But she’d outdone herself with Jeremy Reynolds.
“When did you start to remember?” Archie asked him.
Jeremy stared up at the ceiling. “When she took you,” he said. He waved a hand in the air. “All the press. It brought back memories. Flashes at first. But they filled in.”
“That must have been horrible,” Archie said.
Jeremy rolled his head over and looked at Archie. “You understand, right?”
He did understand. At least he was in a unique position to imagine. But then again, Archie thought, you don’t see me hanging by my scrotum.
“She killed your sister,” Archie said. “You need help. There are people who can help you. I’ve been helped.”
Jeremy stood up and lifted the robe back over his shoulders. “You can help me,” he said. “And I can help you. Because we know, don’t we?” He put his lips next to Archie’s ear. “We know her. We know pain and pleasure. The whole universe is just an immense, inexorable torture-garden. Blood everywhere.”
“O-kay,” Archie said.
Jeremy gave Archie a little push, and he swung forward and back. “How do you feel?” Jeremy asked.
“Like a marionette,” said Archie.
Jeremy reached above him and pulled the rigging, wrenching Archie upward.
Archie steeled himself, balling his fists against the pain. And then it settled.
“Exhale,” Jeremy said.