Spock spluttered, trying desperately to rid his lungs of the cold water that had been forced down his throat. Though it seemed not to be poisoned in any fashion, it didn't make it less painful.

It didn't help that Spock really didn't like water in general. He had never learned to swim, growing up on a desert planet. 

Were his hands not tied behind his back, he might make an escape attempt, but there was no chance it would be successful. Two alien guards held him over a basin of water, another two were stationed at the cell door, and a fifth (most likely in command) watched the entire thing with a clipboard and a devilish smile.

The commanding alien (or rather, commanding native, Spock was the alien in this case) barked something in his native tongue, most likely to the two guards restraining Spock. They immediately dragged him back from the basin and he gasped for air again, not fearing immediately being pushed under again. 

As he panted, a fourth native entered his cell, a female, scantily clad and wielding about a foot of barbed rope, held between her hands with two leather loops. 

Reflexively, Spock took a step back, but then felt the sharp sting of a hypodermic needle in his neck. As his vision swam, he lost his balance and staggered into one of the guards restraining him. He could feel the drugs coursing through his veins, and he feared what would happen when they reached his brain. 

He never lost consciousness, but the last thing he saw before it all became a blur of pain and terror was the woman approaching, grinning evilly and twisting the barbed rope in her gloved hands.