Blindfolded, James groaned with anticipation, his balls pulled taut against his body, his cock harder than steel, flexing desperately in an effort to grab its Master’s attention. It had been over two weeks since James’ last expulsion of semen (16 days to be precise) and now his whole being ached with the need to jettison what would by now be thick, creamy, torrents of man jizz. He was tied spreadeagle on a bed, his Master on their knees before him, gently kneading his perineum and increasing his ache.
‘Would you like me to touch your balls?’ his Master taunted.
All James could do was moan pleadingly in response. What he really wanted was for something to wrap his throbbing shaft and shiny dripping cockhead, working him into relinquishing his built-up cumload. For James, the past 16 days had not just been without ejaculation or orgasm, but in fact also without any stimulation at all; except for cleanings by his Master, his cock had been encased within a chastity cage.
He jerked violently as he suddenly felt fingers gently tracing the bottom side of his tight ballsack, teasingly stimulating his balls and making his cock even more desperate for attention.
‘I haven’t done anything like this in a while now, have I boy?’ his Master teased. ‘I like watching you squirm. Maybe I’ll just do this for a couple of hours, knead your prostate through your taint and caress and tickle your aching balls, and then lock you back up.’
‘Please no.’
A wry smile crossed his Master’s face. ‘Ooh, I like hearing you beg.’
‘Just jerk me off quickly. I didn’t realise it until you unlocked me… but I really need to cum.’ This was true. Locked and with no stimulation, it was easy to forget what being aroused felt like, and in particular the pleasure that came from stimulation and orgasm. Without edging throughout his latest chastity period he’d been feeling reasonably docile. Now that his cock was free and stimulus in place he felt anything but.
‘I don’t follow orders, boy. You do.’
His Master gently squeezed James’ balls, enough to cause a slight ache, before resuming his finger tracing over James’ sack. Soon stimulation moved upwards to further encompass also where his scrotum met his shaft.
‘Please,’ James begged again, eyes looking helplessly pleading at his Master.
‘No.’
After 16 days he didn’t just want to cum, he needed to. James’ cock had never been so hard before in his life, his whole being was raging with desperation. A desperation that was only going to get worse…
‘I wonder what would happen if I put a cockring on you, boy… do you think your cock would just erupt from the tension it’d apply to your skin? If it made you any harder I’d be expecting those veins to be rupture boy.’
‘Just make me cum.’
His Master looked down at him, frowning. ‘Demanding and repetitive. Not interested in doing what you want, boy – I do what I want. And right now, all I’m really interested in doing, is playing with your balls. So, deal with it.’
James heard a ripping sound and then felt tape being pulled over his mouth and securely wrapped around his head. ‘There, that’ll sort you out.’
The kneading continued as his Master gently gripped and tugged James’ balls all the while stimulating them carefully with his fingers. James felt electric. His cock tingled as precum slowly oozed its way out of his piss-slit. The shiny substance steadily trickled down his cockhead until, by the time it reached the skin just above his belly button, it had cooled. He tried to relax, rather than focus on his desperation to have his Master’s hands grasp his cock. The sensations shooting throughout his body from the ballplay were exquisite.
It had been three months since James had first met his Master. Both were relatively inexperienced in tease, denial and bondage at the time, but had learnt a lot from photos and videos that they had seen of others torturing each other. James in particular never learnt anything new or “revised” old material without stroking himself off. Something about the sight of others in bondage and their very pleasure turned against them as torment brought up incredible urges within James and he knew he needed to give it a go. His cock needed to be ignored, to be denied, to be overstimulated without mercy nor concern for climax.
James had wanted the control he had to bring himself to orgasm at any moment gone. His Master had confessed to being unsure what it was that he had wanted. After sporadic sessions throughout the year, alternating in dominant and submissive roles, it had come to be that James’ Master felt more at home dominating James than being a submissive himself. Later, when his Master asked if James was interested in being in chastity James thought things had turned into the perfect realisation of his initial goal. Now that he was experiencing it, however, he wasn’t sure how he felt. Complicated, he guessed, but it was pointless to analyse it.
James, who had been dreamily riding on the waves of stimulation that his balls were receiving, was snapped back to reality as he felt a cool substance engulf his scrotum and anal area.
‘Yes,’ his Master said, softly. ‘A prostate massage.’
James groaned again. Was it really too much to ask that his cock get touched?
‘No? Well should I just put you straight back into chastity instead?’
The groans quickly turned to incoherent pleading.
‘That’s what I thought.’
James’ asshole tingled with pleasure as he felt a cold finger teasing the outer ring. His Master’s other hand was still rhythmically working his nuts with the precision of a masseuse. The sensation on his balls had heightened to what was always surprising and exciting new levels now that they were slick with lube.
The sensations began to build around his asshole. If things were to progress to where James was both hoping and dreading it didn’t really matter that his cock had began to soften slightly because of the futility of ever being touched – anytime he’d experienced prostate stimulation without concurrent jerking off he’d gone soft. He’d accepted it as inevitable and something that made the experience all the more frustrating whilst still remaining insanely pleasurable.
The longer that his Master’s finger lingered on the outside the more James wanted it inside, probing his ass. James felt the finger cease its teasing and begin to gently push inward, testing how relaxed James’ asshole was. James gasped as suddenly the finger darted in, the cool sensation accompanying the lubricant serving to cease any discomfort near on the moment it arrived. Then came the feeling of the finger gently moving, flicking itself upward toward James’ cock and balls in order to suss out his prostate gland. The moment contact was made James sank away, groaning.
Now that he was concentrating on the pleasure emanating from his ass the prior instantaneous need to cum had gone down. His cock was well and truly soft, allowing him to relish in the pleasure his prostate was bringing him alone. Then, to his surprise, James felt his whole cock become engulfed in the lube and a hand begin to flick over his frenulum and tease the tip of his cockhead, urging the blood to rush and his cock to stand. Within seconds he was as hard as before, his cock aching upon reaching full mast as it felt like the blood continued to surge for longer than the size of his member could allow. He was horny, and now, hard, knew he couldn’t bare to endure the gentle prostate stimulation without the jerking he was now concurrently receiving.
James moaned involuntarily. Maybe his Master was going to be much kinder than he had been expecting. After 16 days no orgasm was his Master really going to give him an orgasm whilst simultaneously rubbing his prostate and jerking his cock? That was always the best way to pop James thought and his hope of release kept increasing and increasing the more that his Master continued rubbing and jerking, his moaning a constant.
It always came as a shock how quickly he could cum in this way and in his ecstasy James had briefly forgotten one rule that he and his Master had agreed on before his cock had been locked in a cage – there was no cumming without permission, and that if his cock spurted he would pay for it by being forced to cum again, immediately after the first. Remembering how sensitive his cock got after he came James immediately began emphasising his groans, trying to let his Master know that he was getting close. In James’ mind, the only thing worse than not cumming at all would be to cum and have his cockhead ruthlessly stimulated. His Master wasn’t letting up. James could do nothing to clearly indicate to his Master to stop the stimulation. His moans and pleading were unintelligible. If he came there was no escaping the post orgasm torment he’d have in store – the restraints he wore prevented any movement, including the twisting of his torso. James was immobile.
‘Does that feel good, boy?’ James could hear the smile in his Master’s voice. Fuck, he thought, what if he’s deliberately going to make me cum without permission? Would he be that cruel? He’s done it before, James recalled. And had he ever…
Just days before entering chastity James confessed to his Master a desire he’d always had to be jerked off continually after cumming, being brought to multiple orgasms until dry. James was only keen to give it a shot until he came the first time, then the regret had swept over him. His cockhead, already sensitive from the hours of edging beforehand, had become a raw nerve after the first spurt of his seed and his Master’s hands, already skilled from previous endurance sessions of polishing they’d dished out, knew how to work his cockhead and James into insanity pre-orgasm and so, naturally, this skill set was even deadlier post-orgasm. His Master had never ended up milking him straight after the first orgasm, instead he relentlessly polished his post-orgasm cockhead as James, unable to escape, was forced to endure it. The treatment must have lasted at least twenty minutes. Eventually James’ Master brought James off again, but only so he could manipulate James’ cockhead with the new-found sensitivity it would gain with every orgasm. This continued two more times before James had finally been granted a different kind of release. It was just too fun, his Master had later explained – he could’ve continued for hours.
Having had just the slightest flashback of that ordeal James screamed into the gag, desperate more than anything in the world not to cum. And just when he thought there might be no hope… his Master stopped stroking and removed the finger inside James’ ass. James breathed out heavily with a confusing mix of relief and frustration. He now felt that he needed to cum, but that he didn’t want to. A dollop of precum oozed out of his cockslit.
‘Oh. Was that getting you close?’
James let out a weak sigh beneath the tape gag as his Master slowly removed the finger from James’ ass.
‘Guess you finally remembered our little rule, then.’ His Master gently gripped James’ balls, with enough tension to cause minor discomfort, as if to reassure James of who was dominant. ‘That’s okay, I don’t want to edge you, I just want to play.’
Funnily enough, out of the chastity cage James felt trapped.
He shuddered suddenly as a tickling sensation overcame his scrotum. Then he began to laugh. His Master was working his balls delicately with a feather duster, alternately targeting the topside and bottom side, occasionally slipping further down to torture his taint. James had always thought, silly though it might sound, that his balls were more sensitive than what was normal. In his experience when fooling around with others he had never been able to garner the responses they could from him when stimulation was focused there. When others traced their fingers over his scrotum or taint he would sometimes recoil from the initial shock of the pleasure. It was truly his most erogenous zone he felt. Of course, with intense sensation also came intense over-sensation. So the feather dusting, whilst intensely pleasurable, was also too much to bear.
Cackling loudly, he tried to call out ‘please stop’, but through the tape all that he could manage were indiscriminate and high-pitched moans amongst the noise. His Master never relented, always keeping the duster moving haphazardly so as to prevent repetition and prediction of the pattern. His balls couldn’t get used to the sensation, as it was never constantly applied and so didn’t numb them, and so the frustrating tickle never ceased.
James had suspected going into the session that this sort of ballplay was the exact reason his Master had insisted on letting him grow out his pubic hair whilst in chastity only to shave it all off prior to “playtime”. Weeks spent with hair guarding his balls from stimulus had prepared them to react with a heightened sensitivity to stimulation now that they were fully exposed.
He can’t keep this up, James thought - and hoped. But his Master did, continuing to dexterously tickle his nutsack whilst slowly teasing his nipples with another hand. James’ mind slipped into denial, torn between the good and “too good” sensations, thoughts of ‘I can’t handle this’ and ‘this can’t be happening’ starting to consume him.
‘You sound like you’re in hell, boy,’ his Master taunted. ‘What about if I do this?’
Throughout the tickling experience James’ urethra never stopped seeping precum, and his cockhead, by now coated with a thin, sleek layer of the substance, was a prime target for the duster, which was promptly put to work delicately mopping up the goop. James squealed as the soft feather tickled the topside of his cockhead and his piss-slit. The sensation was easier to handle when the feather brushed over his frenulum, but this was immediately followed by an attack all around his corona, no better than the targeted top and urethra dusting. If thrashing were possible he would have thrashed. Completely immobile, unable to communicate, and powerless to escape the sensations his Master was forcing him to endure it was all James could do to try and squeal coherently, and keep from hyperventilating.
He thought to himself about how irrationally he craved such an experience, finding it beyond his comprehension to understand why , in the heat of the moment, as the nerves in his cock and balls were forced to work overtime. More frustrating still was how the experience turned him on even more than the very thought, causing his cockhead to swell and in turn become more sensitive to stimuli, and therefore more responsive to the attacks, and so turning him on even more, and making his cock swell until, at maximum girth, his cockhead could swell no more. James couldn’t feel time passing, the nonstop onslaught of his sensitive knob eroding away the very concept of something like time. All that existed was the sensations his cock could feel, and that in turn his cock responded to, tickling with the over-stimulation, and futilely crying precum in preparation for a cumshot that he’d never achieve from such stimulation.
‘This is probably my favourite thing, boy.’ His Master explained, now having moved the hand stimulating his nipples down to lightly knead into his taint again. ‘Focusing pressure right against your prostate through your taint, whilst simultaneously giving your cockhead more sensation than it knows how to handle. Which feeling is better, boy?’
In truth, the answer was that he couldn’t focus on his feelings. The feeling of his cockhead screaming clouded any unquestionably pleasurable sensation that kneading his prostate gave him. Sure, he felt both, and the former obviously produced more intense sensations than the latter, but it was as if they were and weren’t happening at the same time. Within every half-second he was being taken on a journey through pleasure, a sort of twisted pain that was not really pain by any traditional definition, and then an intriguing and simultaneous acknowledgment (almost detached) of both sensations before being sent round to experience it all over again.
‘Would you like me to slip my finger inside your ass again, stimulate your prostate directly whilst tickling your cockhead?’
James felt cool fingers probing his asshole, which eagerly relaxed to let the fingers reach that golden spot before intermittently tensing in response to the stimulation from the “come forth” motion that subsequently commenced.
‘Perhaps you’d like me to stop with this tickle torture and instead make you cum whilst my fingers fuck your asshole?’
Relief washed over James as his cockhead was relieved of the dusting torment. It felt like an eternity as his cockhead recovered from the intensity of its torturous experience, only to again be “assaulted” by the movement of his foreskin up and over it as his Master began to jerk him off. This was a 100% pleasurable sensation, free of the over-stimulation of before, which now seemed so far away. Following on the heels of dusting, his cockhead was particularly swollen and sensitive, and so, as his foreskin slipped up and over and travelled back down, James felt as if lightning was coursing through his cock. It felt even better than before, when his Master had initially finger fucked and jerked him. This put James on edge both figuratively and literally.
His Master loosened his grip on James’ shaft and then let go just in time to prevent James from expelling his pent-up load.
‘I bet you want me to make you cum, even though it’ll result in me milking your over-sensitive and pleading cock dry. Is that what you want, boy?’ The Master took great pleasure in asking these rhetorical questions, knowing full well that his slave was unable to really respond.
Though moaning to indicate agreement or disagreement was more or less pointless, given the difference was largely indistinguishable, James did it anyway, out of habit more than anything. A question was asked and he wanted to give an answer. And for this question the answer was a resounding no which came out sounding no more a no than a yes would have come out sounding a yes.
His Master jerked his cock slowly and methodically, not racing him toward the edge. ‘That’s right, boy. I bet you want to squirt, regardless of the consequences.’
What terrified James the most was that a part of this was true. Before, he was horny. Now, he’d been edged twice, and his cockhead conditioned to give stronger sensations in response to stimuli. Further still, the over-stimulation, whilst never really bringing James closer to shooting, still made him more and more desperate to cum the longer he was forced to endure it. James couldn’t weigh up the pros and cons of shooting when his current judgement was impeded by the pleasure his cock was giving him, and the knowledge that it could give him even more, albeit temporarily (and possibly ruined from the immediate over-stimulation).
Was it worth it? The predominant, sane, feeling was still: hell no.
‘After 16 days, boy...’
With every word his Master spoke James could feel his cock exponentially reaching the edge. Forcing him to acknowledge the situation he was in turned him on more than anything. The pleasure emanating from his ass was impeccable.
‘I wonder how far you would shoot...’
Oh God, stop, was all James could think in that moment, as his Master’s slick hand slid over his engorged and throbbing shaft, which seemed to get more electric with every passing second.
‘...and how much you would squeal as I polish your cockhead afterwards...’
James’ sexuality, and so by extension his cock, really was self-defeating. He didn’t want to experience post-orgasm torture and yet, the thought of it aroused him so much that it was bringing him skyrocketing toward orgasm, an orgasm that, upon being accomplished would result in the post-orgasm torture. His Master increased the pace of his jerking, making sure to put extra pressure on James’ corona through the foreskin. The Master knew where to target – forcing his boy to orgasm presented no challenge.
James felt the distinct rise of his balls, signalling the nearing expulsion of man-juice out of his piss-slit. In this moment it felt as if James had never experienced this degree of pleasure before. He was becoming overwhelmed, and out of control. His cock was finally going to jettison 16 days of seminal fluid and sperm. Oh how thick his release would be...
Suddenly James began squealing loudly beneath the tape gag. He’d forgotten again, just moments after thinking about it – no orgasm would be achieved without extensive cockhead polishing afterwards.
It wasn’t worth it.
And, just like that, right as he reached the edge, his Master’s hand was gone from his cock, and it was left to pulse and twitch of its own accord. Fingers still massaged his prostate teasingly and another string of precum greeted James’ tender cockhead as James’ fought back the urge to cum, trying to hold it in it, lest he give himself a ruined orgasm that’d bring on the polishing.
Denied. James didn’t know whether to feel frustrated or relieved.
His Master repeated the sequence of tickling his balls, massaging his prostate, and dusting his cockhead two more times, bringing him to the edge all the while, before finally ceasing all contact with his genitals and giving James a chance to “breathe”. Once his Master had admitted that he was going through a routine the anticipation of the final cockhead dusting was substantial, and there was genuine fear that his Master would follow through in forcing him to shoot his load only to then relentlessly polish his cockhead for the remainder of the evening. Upon completion of the third repeat over an hour and a half had passed. James had no sense of time, but to him it had felt like an eternity with his cock hard and straining.
After being left to soften for a while James felt the weight on the bed shift, signalling the return of his Master.
‘Drink up, boy.’
James felt hands on his face, and a gentle pull as the tape was removed, finally enabling him to breathe easy through his mouth. His Master, a true gentleman apparently, offered James some water through a straw. James sucked greedily, parched from his mewling. James dribbled the water a little, which his Master kindly wiped up with a free hand. Satisfied, James stopped sucking, and his Master took the straw out of his mouth and the water away.
‘Now, what shall we do with you, boy?’
‘Make me cum.’
‘Ah, but were you not protesting against that before, boy?’
‘No... make me cum but don’t polish me. I don’t deserve it.... It’s been 16 days...’
‘But polishing is the best bit! I want to polish you. It’s a bit selfish for you to expect me to do what you want by making you cum without me getting what I want, isn’t it?’
‘But you wanted me in chastity!’
‘No. You wanted yourself in chastity.’
James sighed and laughed simultaneously, frustrated at the futility of his situation. He wasn’t going to cum tonight it seemed, not unless it was accompanied with post-orgasm torture of an unknown duration (though really, any time spent on that at all felt too long). Again, James thought of last time, and the what must have been ten minutes his Master had spent polishing his spent cock. Sessions with his Master had also followed a trend of ever escalating, and therefore whilst ten minutes may have been the duration last time it was doubtless that his Master would not just try to beat the record but actively succeed in doing so.
‘Milk or tease, boy. What do you want?’
It shouldn’t have been a hard decision, given how unpleasant the milking would be, compared to how, pleasant yet frustrating the tease mostly was. And yet again, James felt surprise at how much he would consider the thought over in his head. He really wanted to cum. But was it worth busting his nut only to have a palm forcibly rubbing over his cockhead, fingers working on his corona to extract the greatest response of torment that they could... But a 16-day cumload being released, surely the weight and thickness of such an amount would feel better than anything his cock had expelled thus far.
So far the most James had shot had been the result of a long edging session performed by his Master: eight hours spread across a day. James hadn’t even saved up for a particularly significant time before that session. James had known that stimulation increased the production of semen, and resulted in a more watery-like consistency, but until he’d experienced an edging session of that grandiosity he never realised just how much it was possible someone could shoot given hours of attention. That cumshot had felt better than anything – a truly mind-bending experience. The force and speed in which the cum was propelled from him, and the sheer quantity. He could feel his balls draining and the pressure decreasing as squirt after glorious squirt was shot out of his cock in a delicious rhythm of bliss. The way his cockhead and urethra had tingled as his cum passed by, giving him such incredibly pleasurable sensations that he’d never felt before.
A 16-day cumload, how would that feel? James supposed his balls would ache from the task of releasing so much sperm and that the ache would settle in much sooner, maybe even during, ejaculation, in comparison to the dull ache that had followed the release of that prior geyser. How much liquefaction would have taken place from the hour of edging he’d undergone thus far? It wouldn’t take eight hours to reach the same level of pleasure as before would it? After all, this was a 16 day hiatus from physical stimulus in comparison to a day or two free of a wank.
James gasped in shock as he felt one of his Master’s hands come down on his balls, a dull, unpleasant ache, rocking him from his pipe-dream thoughts of what the orgasm would be like.
‘I asked a question, boy! Milk or tease?’
In some sense he was better off just going back in chastity, not that that was an option. Milking would be unpleasant, despite the need for release he so craved, and teasing would only serve to eventually cause him to give in to that need, either willingly or from a lack of ability to control his ejaculation past a certain pleasure and endurance threshold. Maybe it would be worse if he was teased and then just put back into chastity again, having been brought to his horniest state only to have his cock anti-climatically softened and sealed back up.
James’ Master slammed down hard on his balls this time, causing him to cry out. The dull ache in his stomach was swiftly replaced by a grinding and radiating pulse. He felt sick.
‘If you don’t answer me this next time I am going to bust your balls and then lock you back up. MILK OR TEASE?’
Suddenly chastity had almost opened up as a viable option, were it not for the pre-requisite CBT beforehand.
‘Tease,’ James finally answered, his voice breaking as he struggled to concentrate from the pain.
He could feel his Master’s grin. ‘That’s a good answer, boy. Let me get some toys and I’ll be back.’
James only hoped that after 16 days of denial that tonight’s session, following the teasing, would eventually culminate in a full, satisfying orgasm free of post-orgasm torment. After all, he did deserve it, right?
James could feel his Master moving something big beneath his balls, lifting them up in order for it to be pressed up against his taint. He smiled in anticipation.
‘I bet you’re wondering what this is boy, aren’t you?’
Though the ability to speak and be understood was there, seldom was it necessary. As James’ expression largely consisted of begging it was inferable enough from the moaning beneath a tape gag. Still, his Master had left him ungagged not without reason.
James could feel as the device was forced into place and made largely immovable with a series of knots he could feel his Master making, adjoining the device to his thighs and his balls. He felt what he assumed was a pillow being propped up against the device’s other end to prevent it from slipping backwards. Whatever it was that his Master had done, it felt sturdy. What it was, James couldn’t really say, blindfolded and still slightly distracted by the distant ache of the ball slap.
‘With this I can tickle your balls and simply walk away.’
‘Please...’ James pleaded. It came out more half-hearted than he’d intended. He was sickly curious as to just how ticklish whatever contraption was pressed against his taint and ballsack would be. It couldn’t be worse than the feather, could it?
‘Like so.’
He felt the device come to life, vibrating gently against his taint and balls. James moaned with pleasure. This wasn’t ticklish, it felt good . It was pressed with force against him by his Master and the pleasure skyrocketed. If this was supposed to be tickle torture it seemed to be failing. The vibrations travelled from the base of his balls to the mid-shaft of his cock, causing it to start engorging once more. As he stiffened the pleasure increased. Despite the good sensations James really only had one thing on his mind. How would an ejaculation feel with this kind of stimulus going on?
‘Oh man... that feels so good. But you’ve gotta let me cum.’
Immediately the vibrations ceased and James could feel the mood had shifted, as it so often seemed to.
‘You’re onto that again. Well I was going to be nice, give you a bit of fun before I tease you some more. But frankly, if you’re going to be so insistent and rude you give me no choice...’
James was gagged again. He felt his Master grip his balls, pulling them gently down against the vibrator. The vibrator was switched back on. Beneath the gag James’ moaning continued. The simultaneous ball and taint vibrations could only be described as delicious. Then the speed of the vibrations began to increase and, like being polished, it was as if there was too much stimulation going on for it to be truly pleasurable. James began to laugh as any ticklish sensations rapidly overrode the purely pleasurable ones.
‘Now I hope you don’t mind if I just leave you like that for a while, there’s a few phone calls I’ve got to make. I might be gone, twenty, maybe thirty minutes.’
Twenty minutes with that thing pressed against him? Nope. That was unacceptable. Except James had no choice. James wailed and laughed, his cries smothered by the gag, as he felt the weight on the bed shift as his Master got up and left. With his Master now gone the vibrator was left unattended and humming furiously as it sent waves of pleasurable torment throughout James. His hard cock, which felt good as a result of the intense vibrations, felt more desperate than ever for a groping stroke or mouth. Of course it wasn’t going to be touched for quite some time; all James had was the ticklish vibrations he’d been given and was guaranteed until his Master returned to switch the damned device off.
Situated atop the endlessly tickling vibrator James’ sensitive balls carried the brunt of the stimulation, the vibrator having shifted back off of his taint a little from James struggling to escape. He couldn’t handle twenty minutes of this. Then again, he couldn’t handle twenty minutes of post-orgasm torture either, but he’d been forced to receive that in a previous session and lived to tell the tale. In both cases, it wasn’t a tale he particularly wanted to be living, once he was living it.
This, endless ball tickling, of course, wasn’t as intense as POT. Nothing really compared to the feeling of relentless fingers juicing and hands palming your cockhead after ejaculation when the glans is at its most vulnerable and sensitive. Nothing came close to that. This knowledge didn’t make the ball tickling any more bearable, though. Right now James just wanted out of his restraints, and free of the vibrator situated oh-so-right against his tender sack, which felt as if a thousand tiny fingers were inside teasingly tracing over his balls at lightspeed. How much time had passed?
The more James struggled the more the vibrator would shift slightly. His struggling was, in fact, a self-defeating practice. By his continual repetitive movements he was effectively moving the vibrator, however, in doing so he was also preventing his balls and taint from becoming numb from the vibrations, as his struggling alternately caused the vibrator to press harder and softer against his body (and oh how his cock, at least, truly loved that feeling), and also shift location, preferentially favouring one ball over the other and sometimes very nearly stimulating only one at a time. It was impossible not to struggle though. James’ body fought against the sensations it was receiving the only way it could, all the while James squealed and laughed beneath the gag, trying to maintain some control over his breathing.
Oh how it all served to make him more eager to release his cumload though. After 16 days without stimulation he was ready. After 16 days and having undergone two hours of intense erotic torture he was practically flammable – a bomb waiting to go off.
James lay there, squealing and suffering for at least ten more minutes before his Master finally returned, kindly earlier than he’d threatened. The vibrator was switched off and James could feel his whole body relax. He felt like he’d just been working out – his body was going to feel it in the morning, a teasing reminder of what he’d been through tonight.
The Master glanced down at his slave’s cock, currently a little chubby and not fully erect. That was about to change. He began to use his fingers to slowly trace the corona. As his fingers would bump over the exquisitely sensitive frenulum it took no time at all for his slave’s cock to stiffen. The Master continued his finger tracing over James’ bulbous cockhead as James lay there, soaking up all the pleasure.
After what felt like ages his Master changed things up, gently tugging his balls away from his body with one hand whilst with the other a loose ring was formed with his Master’s index finger and thumb. Applying minimum pressure, his Master moved the ring slowly upwards from the base of his cock until it gently flicked over his corona and off. Once off, his Master would reform the ring at the base and stroke upwards again, once more making sure to apply as little pressure as possible against his rigid dick.
James groaned in frustration, badly yearning for more from his Master than an endless tunnel of strokes. Each time the fingers traversed over the rim of his corona James felt a rush of anticipation, bracing himself for a much desired downward stroke to complement the ascent upwards. But downward strokes never followed. It was all upstrokes.
After all the sessions shared together it was clear that the Master had learnt how to work his slave well. He kept his slave’s cock throbbing and at full mast, but wasn’t offering stimulation that would enable the slave to reach an edge. At least, not for a very long time, he supposed. James had never reached the edge from an endless tunnel technique before at any rate.
The hand working his sack gently brushed its fingers against the balls within, making sure to keep them buzzing from stimulus. Meanwhile the other hand was relentless, always moving up and off, softly rubbing against the edges of his corona. James’ cock was hard, and dripping precum, begging for a fist, a mouth, anything that would grasp it wholly and work it toward a much craved and needed cum explosion. But it received nothing like that, just the tantalising ring his Master had constructed, sliding up, and off, and up and off.
James could feel a finger teasingly rubbing against his asshole. Seemed like his Master felt his prostate was overdue for some attention. Whilst his Master flicked at his prostate with the fingers on one hand he continued his slow, methodical, endless tunnel stroking with the other. Combined the two sensations were really testing James’ limit with regards to how much pleasure he could stand before the pleasure morphed into unbearable frustration as a figurative line was crossed.
Finally that line was reached. After an unknown length of time (again, the very concept of time seemed pointless, torture was torture regardless of the length) James felt like he had discovered the very height of frustration – kept hard, but denied even the pleasure that even reaching the edge of expulsion would bring. How could he endure any more of this? Simple – it wasn’t a choice.
‘Please,’ he begged beneath the gag. ‘Please make me cum. I don’t care if you milk me, just make me cum.’ But these words were spoken for naught for all that his Master heard was incoherent groans beneath the tape gag that James wore. They were also words that James immediately regretted after he had uttered them – had his Master really pushed him so far that ejecting ropes of semen from his cock justified prolonged post-orgasm torture?
‘What was that, boy? Do you want me to lock you up again? Already?’
James tried shaking his head and was reminded of how thoroughly restrained he was. The simulation all stopped, and his Master removed his finger.
‘I wasn’t intending on locking you up again until much later. But, I guess I can get the cage ready now then...’
This time his Master heard screams. Begging and pleading erupted out from underneath the gag, bold and full of rage, frustration, and anguish. His Master would never act on such a threat, James thought, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t . How callous could he be? Well, experience had proven that his Master was callous enough to continually strive for more edges for each successive session James had endured, callous enough to palm James’ sensitive cockhead, and callous enough to polish James’ spent helmet to, what always felt like, no apparent end. There was definite legitimacy veiled within his threat of locking James back up. The very threatening of it spread fear throughout James like nothing else. How could he go through a further 16 days without stimulation (and, knowing his Master’s tendency to break records perhaps even longer) after he’d endured such a teasing? It wasn’t possible.
What would happen if his Master did lock him back up? Well, nothing would happen if the Master did, that was exactly the problem. With all the pent-up sexual energy left unreleased James was terrified of how he would feel as his cock was once more encased, prevented from feeling both desirable stimulation and orgasm and barred further from even accomplishing the pleasant turgidity of a full erection.
‘Fine.’
Relief.
‘You’ve sufficiently convinced me.’ Laughter. ‘Maybe I’ll just edge you instead, you’ve probably earnt that much.’
Finally, James thought. Though the words could mean nothing, simply an empty promise to give James false hope, it embellished him with a new found sense of excitement that seemed to rapidly replace the dread that he had felt each time the ring moved up and off, and up and off, only lightly grazing his shaft and cockhead. His Master words had meant nothing before. At the commencement of this session his Master had promised a ‘quick release of your juices, boy’ and that he wanted to ‘see how much your cock will spurt out, boy’. Clearly this session was not going to plan as advertised.
James felt a cool dollop of lube hit his cockhead. Almost absurdly, the feeling of it running down and engulfing his cock brought him more immediate satisfaction than had the endless tunnel teasing. James could hear his Master squirting the lube inside something else. James’ hopes soared – his cock was finally going to be encased, the recipient of full satisfying strokes.
‘I think I wanna enjoy listening to you beg again, boy. But if you dare demand to cum, or try to tell me what to do, I won’t hesitate to polish your cockhead raw and then lock you back up.’
The threat made his cock throb. On some level the idea of being teased, edged, and polished, only to be locked back up, must have appealed to James – even if only slightly. The tape gag was removed and once more James allowed himself to breathe easy, adjusting to the feeling of being able to comfortably move his mouth. His Master once more offered him some water which he happily accepted (more thirsty to cum than to actually drink, however).
‘How many edges did we get to last time we played this game, boy?’
‘I don’t know,’ James uttered. An honest answer. How long had the session with the Fleshjack lasted? was a question he could better answer. The session had gone for at least an hour, James recalled. However, that could have been as many as a hundred edges right down to one depending on how his Master had worked him. James genuinely could not generate a number from his memory of the experience. This was unsurprising given the way what his Master was about to do made James’ cock feel.
James felt the delicious pleasure of his cockhead pushing the entrance of the sleeve open. Awaiting his cockhead, just past the opening, were a series of spike shaped protrusions that pointed in a multitude of directions. As his Master moved the sleeve downward and therefore brought James’ cock further inside the sleeve these spikes responded to the intrusion by swirling away from the direction of movement. The resultant feeling that this reorganisation gave to James’ foreskin and cockhead could best be described as a “glowing” sensation: his cockhead and shaft were stimulated at all angles on the upstroke, his hard cock pushing the spikes out of the way, and as the sleeve was brought back up and therefore his cock down and out his cockhead and shaft were once more stimulated, his corona then catching on the spikes and pulling them back down and in position ready to once more be moved out of the way by James’ swollen glans. Upon exiting the sleeve James would brace himself for the feelings of pleasure that would overwhelm him as he cock forced its way back in. His Master continued with this shallow thrusting of his cock inside the sleeve a few more times, really working to re-sensitise James’ head, as he gently massaged his balls.
When his cock was eventually brought into the depths of the sleeve James’ moaned loudly. Once his cock was all the way in James could feel his Master adjusting the top screw-on lid, creating a tight seal. On the downstroke the resultant vacuum that had been created gave rise to a strong but pleasant suction on his penis. He could feel himself growing harder than before, much like if there was a vacuum pump working his cock. Tightening the seal caused the grip the sleeve had on his shaft to strengthen, providing much more resistance as it was moved up and down his cock. The tightness dulled the sensations that the textures in the sleeve could offer him but served its purpose in bringing forth more blood inside his cock and therefore making him more sensitive to the eventual pleasures that the texture could provide once his Master chose to loosen the lid.
James groaned, his cock transported into heaven.
‘I...’ He stopped himself, remembering that he couldn’t demand without bringing an orgasm-less end to the session.
Having stopped himself from speaking James found himself swiftly brought back toward the waves of pleasure emanating from his cock.
‘This feels amazing...’ was all James could really manage.
‘I bet it does, boy.’
His Master unscrewed the lid slightly and immediately his cock began glowing as the ridges and soft protrusions inside the sleave rubbed up against the head and foreskin, providing a constant, glorious, stimulation. His corona in particular was responding to the ridges, tingling all around and providing him with utmost pleasure. The sleeve had regions of varying degrees of tightness, therefore, as his cock was forced to fuck it, it underwent a series of alternating squeezing and “relaxing” sensations. He could feel the precum leaking out of his cockhead with every stroke, and he could feel the rapid ascent toward shooting.
‘Oh fuck yes, sir. That feels so good .’
‘Do you want to cum, boy?’
He was baiting him to try and surrender it all – to sacrifice the hours of pressure that had been built up from his Master’s tease-torment and re-enter chastity without release.
‘That feels so good .’ Was the only safe thing that James felt he could say. ‘It’s getting me close...’
His Master slowed down but kept moving, and so James kept approaching the edge, just a little slower than before. There was no way a sensation like this wouldn’t bring him off. The tingling of his cock began to intensify.
‘Master you’re gonna make me cum...’
‘AM I now, boy?’ the Master retorted, sounding offended, all the while moving the Fleshjack slowly up and down his slave boy’s cock.
‘No, no! I’m not demanding,’ James was quick to sputter. ‘I mean that thing will make me cum if you don’t stop.’
And just like that. His Master moved the sleeve off of his cock, which was left twitching desperately for the final stroke it had needed to bring it off. As his cock twitched erratically his Master looked down at it and laughed.
‘That makes one edge,’ he counted.
Largely James felt frustration as, blinded, he acutely felt his cock pulsing aimlessly against nothing, demanding to be acknowledged. However, the knowledge that if he had shot that his Master would’ve kept stroking through the orgasm was enough to deter him from spilling his seed inside the Fleshjack (the post-orgasm torture that would follow didn’t particularly cross his mind so much as the immediate disappointment of an orgasm ruined from the absurd over-stimulation that the Fleshjack brought with it).
The respite James’ cock was currently receiving came much needed after the intense and focused stimulation of the bumps and ridges against his corona and cockhead. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant like polishing, it was purely a pleasurable sensation, but it was intense and therefore, though usually effective at sensitising, did on the other hand risk numbing his glans if the stimulation was kept up for far too long. Fortunately, his Master was an expert, well trained at knowing the responses of James’ body and fully aware of James’ limits.
‘Let’s go for a second one.’
James felt a rush as the sleeve was plunged back down onto his cock. James knew all too well the feelings that were to follow. They were feelings of perpetually living on the edge that would occasionally culminate to bring him riding against the point of no return whereupon his Master would cease all movement and let his cock rest briefly before the feeling of living on that edge came hurtling back. Sometimes the Master would remove the sleeve as his slave reached the edge, other times he wouldn’t risk stimulating him on the upstroke. Still more times than James could count he was forced to hold the edge as his Master slowed down to a snail’s pace and moved the sleeve just millimetres up and down over his cock, giving his dick just enough stimulation to keep it on the verge of exploding but not giving it enough to finally let loose. The times when the sleeve was retightened all his Master needed to do was go to move the sleeve or down and let the resistance against movement stimulate James.
During all of this his Master never ventured down toward his taint or asshole, keeping stimulation strictly cock and ball focused. Even then, ball play was only engaged in when the sleeve wasn’t enveloped around his cock, and more as a method of keeping James at his peak of arousal than to bring him close to cumming. By keeping stimulation so cock-centric James was forced to really acknowledge the sensations he was being given.
James was in equal parts in heaven and hell. Heaven because of the sheer pleasure. Hell because he felt like he was suffering in receiving it. Forever hard and sensitive and unable to bust his nut (and furthermore unwilling, given the torment that would follow).
The Master loved using the sleeve because it was so effortless . All he needed to do was move it gently up and down – his slave’s moans and pleads for him to stop fucking his dick were all that was required in order for slow or stop the stimulation. The interior of the texture, with its cleverly designed and located spikes, bumps, ridges, and regions of alternating tightness, did all the real work of keeping James’ cock in a state of pure bliss and frustration.
Because of the ease in which the Master could work his slave like this he kept going for longer than the three repeated sequences combined had lasted at the beginning of the night. When James felt the familiar shifting of weight on the bed as his Master left to clean the Fleshjack of lube he breathed a loud, exhausted, sigh of relief.
‘That was fun, wasn’t it boy?’ his Master quipped as he made his return.
‘I think that I really need to cum.’ James’ cock hadn’t softened a bit in the time it’d taken for his Master to rinse the sleeve of lube and precum. His cock was actually a little sore now, having been constantly abused by the sleeve into remaining fully rigid.
‘You probably do,’ his Master added, in a surprisingly sincere and comforting tone. However, he was sure to added after, ‘but you’re not going to. Not just yet.’ James’ hopes raised and crushed within seconds. ‘I think some ballplay is in order actually. It’s been a while.’
Unknown to James nearly four hours had passed since he’d been unlocked. For four hours James had been tied up and restrained, completely immobile, and unable to escape the whims of his tormentor. His cock had been edged right up against the blowing point and kept there, his balls tickled without mercy, and his ass finger fucked and prostate tickled. Unknown to James he was only halfway through his ordeal.
His Master carefully slipped a Sports Fucker cockring over his ballsack, dividing his balls down the middle. James moaned as his Master once more lightly traced their fingers over each ball, alternately applying a minimum amount of pressure and then more forcefully pressing down to really tickle his balls. How much longer was his Master going to make him continue to suffer like this? Bound and a slave to erotic torture.
James squealed as the familiar and unbearable sensation of the feather duster returned as his Master flicked it over his balls. It was pointless crying out at his Master to stop so James didn’t even bother, resigning himself to the uncontrollable sensations. His cock, still hard, was then pleasurably but torturously attacked with a second feather duster which flicked teasingly over his sweet spot – the acorn-like split of his cockhead. Stimulation in this spot made his cock twitch upwards uncontrollably, like a reflex.
After not so long the repetitive movements of the feather dusting his sweetest spot made his shaft and cockhead anxious to be touched. The feeling of his cock slamming back down against his belly every time that it would flick upwards provided his cockhead some stimulation but the feeling was largely turning into one that, by its sheer repetitiveness and intensity, almost felt like a need to pee as his piss-slit expanded to eject, well nothing other than precum, but almost something more. Always, almost something more.
Though the movements were repetitive his Master never skipped a beat, ensuring that each devastating blow of the feather duster on both cock and balls was delivered at precisely the right moment and location. As before his Master skilfully navigated the duster around his balls to keep them surprised all the while dextrously maintaining a constant pace and movement of the other duster over James’ sweet spot. His Master had truly become a master at the slow methodical tease since they’d met.
Eventually his Master quit the sweet spot stimulus and moved the second duster downward to work James’ taint and asshole. The intensity of James’ squealing magnified as his pointlessly tried to move his body to escape the tickle torture. His Master was cruel and relentless. After 16 days without stimulation James’ had desperately been hoping today would just be an ejaculation day; simply an unlocking and a quick jerk until blowing. But of course it wasn’t...
Orgasm, were it to ever arrive (and eventually it would, right?) would doubtless be intense. James could feel the thickness of his load that had built up (and was rapidly building up from all the stimulation) in the weight and congestion of his balls. He so desperately just wanted that thick load to be being propelled down his urethra and out his piss-slit.
‘Do you want me to stop, boy?’
‘YES!’
‘I’m sorry, what?’
‘YES. STOP. PLEASE GOD. STOP!’
And so his Master stopped... and then after just seconds started up again, furiously working every angle of his sack and taint with the feather dusters.
‘WHY?’ James cried.
‘Because you haven’t convinced me that you’ve endured enough.’
If his non-stop squealing, laughing, and incoherent verbalisations weren’t convincing – if shouting ‘STOP. PLEASE GOD. STOP!’ wasn’t convincing – then nothing was. Why had I ever agreed to this? James found himself asking himself. Again, of course, this thought had been a constant all night. Of course, he knew that afterwards, once it was all said and done and his cock had finally expelled its aching load, that he would be looking forward to eagerly experiencing it all over again (to some degree). The illogicality of sexuality was something James felt he would never find himself able to understand.
‘STOP.’ He cried. ‘STOOOOP! OH GOD, STOP....’
But his Master didn’t stop. James’ vocal pleading and begging now that it had began he found himself incapable of stopping. His Master got off on his pleas for mercy, they only served as fuel for which his Master would use to keep up the torment. This could go on all night if that was what his Master wanted. He felt like his Master just wanted him to suffer tonight and felt terror at the thought of being locked up after all of this and denied the chance to cum. If his Master had given him the choice though James would have chosen being locked up if it meant stopping further torment.
From the duration of the ball tickling James’ cock had gone soft. This didn’t stop his Master for moving a feather duster back up to tease his frenulum, which, though not as sensitive while soft, radiated pleasure. His cock wasn’t going to bother getting hard from it though. His Master alternated attacking his taint and frenulum, keeping James desperate for it to all end.
Eventually, after the prolonged ball and taint tickling his Master took the cockring off and gently massaged James’ sensitive and buzzing ballsack. A pleasurable massage rather than a ticklish one.
‘That’s a good boy,’ his Master crooned. What he meant by that James didn’t know.
His Master gave his soft cock a closed fist grip with the index finger positioned such that it would stimulate the frenulum and sweet spot as he jerked up and down. James found his cock rapidly hardening once again, ready for further torment. Shooting wasn’t guaranteed for a long time – the worst was about to come. If James had been given a choice over whether to endure the subsequent sensations or be locked up for a further month James would not have hesitated. His Master was truly going to push his boy to his limits. Tonight had been a night of go big or go home, and now it was about to evolve into something far more sinister.
‘I’m gonna wanna gag you for this, boy,’ his Master threatened. His Master tape gagged him, making sure to wrap an extra layer around this time. ‘Because you’re about to get loud .’
The Master gripped the base of his slave’s cock tight with one hand and gently lubed the fingers and palm of the other. Starting with his fingers on James’ cockhead the Master slowly moved his hand up, keeping contact with the knob until eventually his palm cupped it and then slipped over and off. James moaned loudly and would have squirmed if he could. The Master counted out loud ‘one’. Every four to five seconds this palming would begin again, with a one to two second rest of no contact in between. Every millimetre, every nanometre , of movement was felt and at this speed it was not a ‘cloudy’ ticklish discomfort like before, where the stimulation was quick and so spread out that his dickhead had seemed to radiate. Instead, it was a precise tickle that slowly traversed the entirety of his knob, at once the most intense feeling ever but also completely, and torturously so, process-able – it was an overwhelming sensation, but not one he couldn’t acutely keep track of and digest. There could be no mistaking the location of the Master’s fingers and palm at a given time, unlike with the prior rapid stimulation where his mind had coalesced all the feelings into a generalised sensation across the entire area. Slow stimulation was simultaneously worse and better, due to this increased ability to perceive the intensity. The intensity of the sensation also built with each palming; every time his palm ran over it felt like his cockhead grew more and more sensitive to the sensation so that each time the worst was the last. After 10 palms James was begging and after 20 the begging turned to screaming beneath the gag each time his Master’s palm curved over his knob. The slightest movement, the slightest touch, and his cockhead was alight with sensation.
The last time his Master had played this game with him he’d counted to 100 before jerking his cock off rapidly to an orgasm that from the very first spurt was ruined as the palming sensation was once more commenced. As James’ cock pulsed from the ejection of semen his cockhead accordingly swelled as the piss-slit opened up to let the cum spray forcefully. This swelling was of course accompanied by an intense increase in the sensation that his cockhead was able to feel in response to any given stimulation. His orgasm hadn’t been ruined by dribbling either, he had shot his cum out. To have been palmed during a full orgasm as his glans and cock pulsed had given him simultaneously the most intense and uncomfortable sensations he’d ever experienced. Once his Master had began the orgasm palming it was a simple thing to lead it into post-orgasm palming. That night had been intense.
James grew more fearsome than before. His Master had promised that he was about to get loud (and loud he was indeed being, as his Master’s palm endlessly rubbed at his lubed and ultra-sensitive cockhead). ‘Fifty’ signified that at least five minutes of this hell had thus far been endured. Was his Master going to reach 150 (it had to be more, his Master never settled for same-old-same-old) and then force James to cum and palm him throughout orgasm? Palming throughout orgasm would of course be followed up with palming after orgasm, his Master was not capable of stopping himself once got into doing something and palming and polishing was something that he really got into. Just lock me back up now, James thought, better still, let me cum without all this torture...
It took approximately ten minutes for his Master to reach 100. Ten minutes of slow, methodical, cockhead palming. Announcing the number of each palming after it had been received kept James acutely aware of time and vividly active in the experience. On palm 101 his Master spiced the motion up, incorporating addition movements around the corona and head. Rather than work from the topside and over his Master would now also work from the bottom and over to the top, fingers still trailing the topside before the palm. He would also attack from the side and swirl around with his fingers and palm. The former approach was a somewhat pleasurable sensation for what really amounted to less than an instant as the frenulum and sweet spot was afforded brief stimulation. The latter approach however was the worst, as it guaranteed that his corona and cockhead were stimulated by fingers and palm simultaneously. Regardless of the technique used for the torment James’ cockhead loudly begged for relief each time fingers and palms curved over it.
‘One-hundred and forty-nine.’
‘One-hundred and fifty.’
‘One-hundred and fifty-one.’
James mewled and screamed beneath the gag. If not at 150 then when would this torment end?
In a twisted sense James was a lucky slave. Not many got to endure such intense sensations and “enjoy” such persistent attention from someone else. And, because James got off on things he could never enjoy, it was an arrangement that outwardly may have seemed as if James was receiving all the attention and therefore “pleasure”. It wasn’t as if the Master wasn’t also getting off on it (cock hard and straining through clothes for stimulation). The Master just intuitively knew that “all good things come to those who wait” he’d jerk himself off or get James to service him later on. The current session was all about how James felt, and making James feel. Well, James was feeling all right... his cockhead felt like it was on fire .
‘Two-hundred and twenty-seven.’
‘Two-hundred and twenty-eight.’
‘Two-hundred and twenty-nine.’
The feeling in his cockhead just would not stop building it seemed. This treatment was inhumane and unfair. A few palms was more than anyone could bear and he had endured twenty minutes worth. It did and it didn’t make sense.
‘Two-hundred and fifty . There. That’ll do.’
Relief. His cockhead tinged with anticipation, tingling after all the “delicate” attention it had received. James didn’t relax. If that fucker can deal out half an hour of polishing without stopping what’s to say he can’t deal out an hour without stopping?
The weight on the bed shifted once more signifying the leave of his Master. James lay there cock worn and confusing. Eventually, he felt his cock softening and he began wondering if he was about to be locked up. Once soft was his Master going to put him back into chastity? Where had he gone? What was about to happen? Blind and immobile James waited and waited. He couldn’t actively do anything, he hadn’t been able to actively do anything all night. Hard cock or not, it made no difference to his current state of bondage.
‘Do you think I’m cruel?’ his Master asked. James flinched inwardly. His Master had asked from the doorway into the bedroom, catching James by surprise as he hadn’t even heard his Master’s approaching footsteps.
What was the right answer? What was the answer that his Master would want? What answer would lead to the most pleasurable result, or most endurable result, for James?
He felt the weight of his Master returning to join him on the bed once again and his Master removed the tape gag.
James calmly said, ‘No.’
‘So I’m not cruel then,’ his Master said, not asking but confirming.
James sucked more water down that his Master had offered him. Where was this going? Once he’d finished drinking the tape gag was once more fixed in place. His Master then applied cold lube over his genitals and began to soothingly massage his balls and jerk his soft cock, putting some life back into it and bringing it toa semi-chubby.
‘Now... what number did we get up to.’
Screams.
‘Oh, that’s right...’ His Master swirled a palm around his cockhead and James moaned uncontrollably. ‘Two-hundred and fifty-one.’
James’ cock wasn’t even fully hard yet and the sensation was too much. As the numbers increased James fell into self-defeat once more as, turned on by the experience, his cock stiffened until the sensation was as impossibly sharp as it had always been.
‘Two-hundred and ninety-nine.’
‘Three-hundred.’
‘Three-hundred and one.’
‘Three-hundred and two.’
‘Three-hundred and three.’
James couldn’t make a guess at what number his Master was striving to reach (if there even was a numerical goal in mind). Surely it wouldn’t be any more than 500? Each time the palm made contact with his cockhead James would let out a tortured squeal beneath the gag. The presence or absence of the gag was really defining whether or not he would deafen his Master from the experience he absentmindedly thought. Even gagged he was impressively loud.
James let out a particularly loud squeal as his Master rotated the palm over his cockhead in a circular motion. Unlike all of the other techniques that his Master had employed thus far this one gave maximal contact with the most sensitive top side of the cockhead with both the greatest amount of pressure and duration of contact. The unbearable thus transitioned into the unfathomable . With each circling palm of his cockhead James wished he could teleport elsewhere to escape the feelings it was giving him. Somehow things had grown more exacerbated.
‘Three-hundred and sixty.’
‘Three-hundred and sixty-one.’
‘Three-hundred and sixty-two.’
His Master was a relentless monster, a being utterly incapable of feeling compassion or empathy. Or such were the thoughts, when they could materialise, floating around James’ mind. The experience was showing James that he should have been really careful regarding what he wished for. Of course there was never going to be chastity without a tease or some further element of dominance and control. It was recklessly stupid of James to escape anything less – especially given who he’d asked to be chaste for!
Still, this was something else, something that had to be experienced to be understood, something that had to be endured to bring about any higher level of understanding regarding what it was like – the mindset, the sensations, the exquisitely endless torment.
‘Four-hundred and one.’
‘Four-hundred and two.’
James felt as if this had been going on ad infinitum – that it would never reach an end. Eventually his Master had to stop. How entertaining was palming someone’s dickhead all night? Clearly, enough – forty minutes had passed since the Master had counted his first palm over his slave’s ultra-sensitive and over-worked cockhead. Was it time that the Master was going for or just a number? Was the Master aiming to reach any particular goal at all? Would he just stop on a whim, suddenly feeling like doing something else instead? Or was his Master eventually going to bring him up and then resume palming during orgasm. That was James’ worst fear and though his mind was shot his thoughts occasionally reminded him the previous experience instilling him with terror at the prospect of a potential repeat.
‘Four-hundred and ninety-nine.’
‘Five-hundred. There. ’
Finally. It was over. It had to be. James could have cried with tears of joy the moment his Master’s hands left his cock. Finally, nothing. Finally, a chance to relax. And James didn’t hesitate to relax this time, seizing the opportunity to let his muscles loosen and enjoy their ability to remain in that state.
‘That was impressive, boy. Must be that at least an hour has passed. Though I suppose you had no choice.’
James couldn’t respond, primarily because he was gagged, but he couldn’t even have said anything were he not gagged in response to a statement like that. Was this malicious? Did it feel malicious? James felt concerned. He trusted his Master to care for him, despite what “caring” entailed. James realised the experience had just been so thoroughly draining and intense that his perception of everything had begun to distort.
‘There’s just one more toy I want to try out on you, boy. And then I can let you shoot.’
Relief. Excitement. James mulled over the fact that “one more toy” remained for a brief moment and then dismissed his own internal over-analysis of it. Soon he’d be able to cum. Soon. Now that his cock wasn’t being tortured cumming had just straight back up to top-priority. Let me cum and this will all be justified , James thought. I just need to cum .
Like always his Master left the room to grab whatever “goodie” was in store for him next and James’ cock slowly softened once again. When his Master returned he felt him equip a Sports Fucker cockring around his shaft and balls, neatly dividing his shaft from his balls. The pressure felt good and James’ got excited as to what was coming up next. It had to be something pleasant after the hour of cockhead polishing he’d just been forced to live through.
His Master innocuously jerked his cock and slipped a metal ring over the head that was comfortably positioned behind the corona. A metal ball and flat metal stud were positioned equidistance across the length of the ring, the ball gently pressed into the corona, whilst the stud was positioned right above James’ frenulum and therefore pushing down onto it not unpleasingly. He Master continued jerking, bringing him to full mast as fingers kneaded at his prostate through his perineum and a thumb gently traced over his scrotum. James had never known someone so good with their hands. But so evil, James also had to recall, given what he’d just been put through.
As he grew harder the ring began to feel slightly constricting. The cockring forced the veins in James’ cock to really bulge out and his cock throbbed the hardest that it had all night, hoping that this time it had gotten hard in order to cum. The cockring ensured that his shaft was at its thickest girth and therefore that the glans ring was applying the greatest pressure on his cock and so most effectively causing his cockhead to engorge with blood. By now the metal stud that pressed into the frenulum did so with enough force that ejaculation would be a mighty uncomfortable affair as the ejaculate encountered the stud just before the great escape. His Master was hardly going to make him cum with such a device in place, he had wanted to ‘see how much [his] cock [would] spurt out’. That’s what was promised anyway. So, what was next?
‘You’ve sure got a sensitive head, don’t you boy?’ his Master asked rhetorically, all the while slowly jerking.
James let himself enjoy the sensations as his cock pulsed and the stud and ball stimulated his corona and frenulum simultaneously. Finally, after the past two hours, an experience that was unarguably 100% pleasure. He moaned softly, his voice hoarse and exhausted from the past hour of screaming due to the over-stimulation of his cockhead.
‘I know you do, boy. I just spent the past hour and a bit teasing it. Did you enjoy that, boy?’
The perineum massage and jerking continued. This was good. This was all still good.
‘I bet it’s even more sensitive when I’ve got it engorged with blood like it currently is.’
James pleaded weakly beneath the tape gag. Not again. No more, no more.
His Master tickled his scrotum and balls with teasing fingers as the jerking continued. His Master was slowly edging him closer and closer to the brink of orgasm. James was torn between contradictory thoughts of ‘please don’t make me shoot’ and ‘anything to release the pressure and ache in my balls’. James moans increased in loudness as his cock reached the very edge of blowing its load but jerking ceased at just the right moment to prevent orgasmic contractions from commencing the ejaculation process. His Master let him cool off of the edge, lightly tracing his fingers not entirely unpleasingly over his cockhead which was wet with lube and a fresh stream of precum. Then it was back to jerking, and edging, then more jerking and more edging.
With the exception of the fingers grazing his cockhead teasingly and the low-key ball tickling the session had morphed into something more vanilla. It had become true-blue tease-and-denial rather than tickle torment and cockhead polishing endurance training. Though more vanilla than the past two hours things were still incredibly intense, and James’ cockhead had been kept in a thoroughly sensitised state from the Fleshjack, palming, and now the glans ring.
James was once more been driven insane with lust and the desire to cum rather than the desire for stimulation to cease. But this was bondage, and James was not in control and so he never got the release he so badly craved whenever he got close to achieving it. It’s gonna create a flood when I shoot , James thought.
James reached another edge and heard his Master laugh. ‘That’ll do. Let’s see just how sensitive it is now.’
James’ began to flex his muscles as futilely strained to thrash away from the blisteringly intense sensation of a feather duster as it was slowly worked over his bulbous cockhead repeatedly, being dragged across the sensitive top and with force pushed over and past the piss-slit to reach the more pleasurably sensitive underside. All the while his Master stabilised his cock with one hand at the base to ensure the feather duster experienced greater resistance and thus that James felt with crystal clarity every movement of the duster as it torturously brushed over his glans.
As with the prior, and over an hour long, polishing his Master kept movements slow to ensure that James remained focused on specific sensations as they overwhelmed his knob. The glans ring, which had succeeded in swelling James’ cockhead significantly, resulted in this feather dusting being incomparably more intense than the initial dusting sessions of the night. James cock felt like it was crying from all this torment, so sensitised and abused from the night’s session.
‘That sounds like it tickles, boy.’
His Master then increased the pace of the flicks over his cockhead, only to slow down again. When he sped up the shock was torturous as the sensations became impossible to hone in on, and when he slowed down the shock was worse as the sensations were clearly locatable across the entire surface of James’ dickhead. Either way James lost, over-sensitised from early play, hyper-sensitised from the glans ring, and now overworked and stimulated by a feather duster flicking over and over across his cockhead.
Occasionally the master would just tease the piss-slit which served as some sort of cooldown from the markedly more intense knob torture. With the hand stabilising the base of his cock the Master was able to gently stroke his slave’s sensitive balls all the while engaging in knob dusting. Fingers were stimulating the underside of his balls and even gently kneading at his prostate, but nothing could alleviate from the intense sensations his cockhead was receiving at the mercy of an endlessly moving feather duster. Back and forth and back and forth...
It stopped. Replaced was an even worse sensation as his Master’s lubed up fingers, armed like they were about t juice an orange came down over his cockhead and twisted from side to side. This “juicing” motion over his cockhead drove him delirious almost instantaneously as his cockhead was overstimulated in conjunction with a pleasurable bumping of the stud placed over his frenulum. He could potentially cum from this he feared. And what an uncomfortable orgasm that would be: cum spraying out of his piss-slit, retarded by the stud pressing into his frenulum and urethra, as four fingers and a thumb delicately twisted across the rim of his pleading cockhead.
The bumping of the stud and the taint and ball stimulation combined felt good, but they weren’t feelings that James could latch onto as the fingers juiced his cockhead repeatedly. He felt that if an orgasm were to arrive it would be sudden and without warning, and that was where his real fear lay. Without being able to tell when he was going to cum how could he ask for permission? Then again, by being gagged and put into a position where he could do nothing but scream and wail in response to over stimulus how would James even indicate the approach to orgasm was narrowing? And if he came would post-orgasm torture still follow? Surely his cockhead would just give up and fall off if that were to happen, leaving its wretched existence behind...
His Master seemed quite fond of the juicing technique and didn’t let up for god-only-knows how long. Eventually though, as with all of his Master’s “awful” torments, things ceased.
‘It’s all nearly over,’ his Master crooned, soothingly, as he tore off James’ tapegag.
‘Please, let me cum!’ James immediately roared.
‘Soon, boy. Soon.
The glans ring was removed (not without difficulty!) and his Master lubed up his hand and, pulling James’ foreskin back, began to jerk James’ cock. His Master made sure with each movement to stimulate the shaft and foreskin pleasingly but to always reach the top stroke at the tip of James’ cockhead such that, every stroke was in effect a combination of pleasure and erotic cock polishing. A huge dollop of precum came seeping out of James’ rigid cock. This would make him cum; this would make him shoot hard .
James let out twisted moans of frustration and pleasure as the hand ruthlessly worked his cock, wishing his Master would ease up the focus on his delicate helmet and just give him permission to shoot and jerk him off by stimulating his cockhead only through the foreskin. His Master wasn’t so kind. The technique didn’t change. The paced increased. James was gonna bust his nut, he could feel the point of no return approaching fast.
He hasn’t given me permission yet! James remembered, panicking, and screamed at his Master: “let me cum!” Demanding. James realised his mistake but it was too late.
The jerking stopped as the Master just looked down at his slave’s cock, laughing.
‘Guess how long we’ve been playing, boy?’ More rhetoric.
‘Please, sir...’
James’ cock pulsed and throbbed, aching for attention, fearing it was all over. Knowing it was all to be over. James had failed, and broken a rule. His cock wasn’t going to gushing jizz tonight. Not anymore.
‘A little over seven hours.’
Seven hours? It felt like days. James’ cock hurt from the stiffness. Blue balls was well and truly setting in. His Master had promised cock polishing before being locked back up. ‘Please... my knob can’t take anymore...’
‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to polish you anymore, I think I’ve done enough of that for the one night. Still, it seems like such a shame to stop now and lock you back up. But... I guess rules are rules. And disobedient boys deserve to be punished.’
James felt as he was tape-gagged once more.
‘There, no protesting now.’
James didn’t know how to feel. He felt the familiar weight shifting on the bed as his Master left him, waiting, he knew, for his cock to soften so that it could be encased once more. It was a waste of time crying out beneath the tape gag so he didn’t bother. He just lay there, feeling numb and frustrated and desperately horny. He needed to cum so bad, but he wasn’t going to, he’d made sure of that. His cock wasn’t even going to be the welcome recipient of a hand or Fleshjack anymore. On the flipside it wasn’t going to be the reluctant recipient of a palm or feather duster. There was to be no more stimulation for a length of time that only his Master truly knew.
When his Master returned to put the chastity cage back on James wondered, still in shock, if he was ever going to be allowed a full satisfying release tonight had he not failed, or was the plan all along to push him to slipping up and forgetting the rules, or to otherwise force him to cum without permission and thus polish him raw after cumming (and potentially milking him unpleasantly of all 16 days of his seed)?
‘I’ll see your hard cock in 16 days, boy.’
16 more days... what would the frustration feel like then?
Knowing his Master’s inability to not succeed himself with every session James knew that next time the experience would be much more gruelling. James couldn’t fathom what the future would be like, he could barely comprehend his current reality, his cock once more soft and in chastity.
All James knew was that, given 16 days time he would find out. And whatever the experience was like he would have to take it. Bound, gagged, and immobile there was never a choice when his Master was in control.