The Telemachus Story Archive

The Heavenly Twins
By Hooder
Email: hooder@ntlworld.com



The Heavenly Twins

I had never played paintball before, and I didn't have the slightest idea what to do.

"Look , it's easy," explained Rick, "You're green, and you're after anyone in orange or blue. If you see one, blat him." He shook the gun that was slung over my shoulder and grinned. "Just don't get caught yourself or dreadful things will be done to you." With a wave he disappeared into the undergrowth.

Feeling like some strange paramilitary agent and unable to see very much through the palstic visor that kept misting up, I crouched down like I'd seen them do in the films, and started to move forward, cat-like. However, it seemed that wherever I put my feet there was always a twig, made of the kind of wood that breaks with the very loudest crack possible. I was accompanied by what sounded like rifle shots as I inched forward towards a large beech tree which promised sanctuary - perhaps I could at least hide behind it until these daft games were over. Startled wildlife scattered before me on all sides as I moved forwards. I reached the tree and pressed myself against it, melting invisibly into its wide, mottled trunk.

"Nice position, Martin.." The green-masked face popped out of the bushes to my left and winked. Then it disappeared soundlessly. I realized I wasn't terribly good at this. However, I stayed where I was.

Time passed, and I waited, my razor-sharp senses alert for the faintest noise, the slightest movement. A couple of times I heard what could have been the enemy - or could just have possibly been figments of my imagination - but I saw nothing. That was half the problem, I decided. From where I was all I could see was greenery. I inspected the beech more closely, and it looked eminently climbable. I had been an ace tree-climber in my childhood. Pushing my gun further round over my shoulder out of the way, I hoisted myself up, found a foothold on a broken branch, and climbed.

About twelve feet up I stopped, out of breath, found a sturdy if slightly precarious branch to sit on, and took stock. The view wasn't much better, to be honest - the leaves got in the way - but I could see well in one direction: towards the cabin. This was good, as it was to the cabin I was supposed to take my prisoners, when I caught them, apparently. Practising silent moves, I manouevered my gun up and squinted along its sights. It was a heavy thing, and clinked against my visor loudly. Immediately following this sound, I became aware of a movement at the base of the tree. Rather than try to disengage the gun from my shoulder, I panned it around, then down. Into the cross-hairs swung a startled face, looking up at me. Beneath the visor, the mask was red.I blinked, and so did he. Then I pulled the trigger.

If they'd told be about the kick from the gun I would have been ready for it, but as it was I jerked backwards, my feet rising rapidly, and fell off the branch. Luckily the ground below was soft grass - and anyway my fall was broken by the four branches I hit on the way down (which landed on top of me) - but it still hurt like hell when I hit the ground.

I'd shot the guy squarely in the chest - the green dye was still running down the front of his cammos - and he was not pleased.

"You fucker," he said.

I rubbed my bruised limbs. "Bang, you're dead," I croaked between groans of pain. The commotion of my falling, along with the report of the gun, brought faces out of the greenery. It was Andy and Mike. "Yey!" Grinned Andy.

"I don't believe it," said Mike, staring open-mouthed at my victim's dye-soaked chest.

"You know who that is? It's Red Leader! Ryan!"

"Is this a Good Thing?" I asked, struggling to my feet. They might have offered some assistance to a clearly injured man, I thought.

"Yes! It means that the Red team are out of the game!"

"Oh good," I replied.

"C'mon, we gotta get him to the cabin," whispered Andy urgently. He removed the guy's mask and wrapped duct tape around his head to gag him. We walked with the Red guy between us in the direction of the cabin.

"Is he supposed to be dead?" I asked, wondering why we weren't carrying him.

"No, just neutralized."

"Ah." I nodded, glancing at the guy. He didn't look very neutralized to me, and he was staring daggers at me above the gag. We made it back to the cabin unobserved, and I watched as Andy and Mike expertly stripped him and strung him up to a hook in the ceiling beam. Obviously they had done this sort of thing before.

Andy took a pre-printed card fom his pocket, filled in the date, time, and a few other details, and stuck it with another piece of duct tape to the guy's naked chest - right across the most hairy part, I noticed. That was going to hurt when it came off. With a cheerful slap to make sure it was firmly attached, Andy grinned at me again. "Reload."

"Eh?"

"Reload the gun."

"Oh." I put another painball in the breech (or whatever you call the hollow bit where the ball goes in) and pulled the lever like I'd been shown.

Andy clapped me on the back. "Good work, Martin. Right, let's go get Blue!"

We took off, leaving the naked Red guy making threatening noises through the duct tape. Thinking it probably better not to push my luck, I kept my head down for the next hour or so - and in fact I didn't see or hear anyone until the whistle went for lunch break.

Well, actually that's not strictly true. About fifteen seconds before the whistle sounded, I felt something slam into my left shoulder. I looked down, and saw deep blue dye spreading from a misshapen sphere that looked like a broken alien egg of some kind, and which was slowly sliding down my cammos. Rats, I thought. I'd been neutralized.

A slim, boyish figure in a blue mask popped out from behind a a tree brandishing a roll of duct tape. I Raised my arms in submission. It was while he was gagging me with the tape that the whistle sounded for lunch.

We walked back to the cabin. When we got inside he stripped me and tied me to the beams across from the Ryan the Red guy we'd put there earlier. There were another two naked figures hanging around with cards taped to their chests. Thankfully I have only two hairs on my own chest, so removing the tape wouldn't be too traumatic in my case, I thought. Apparently this had also occurred to my captor, and I groaned as he stuck the tape firmly over the pubic hairs of my groin.

I knew that the lunch break was sort of half-time. Prisoners would be dealt with for the entertainment of the others, then play would begin again in an hour or so. Exactly what that 'dealing with' would consist of, however, I didn't know. When Andy had invited me to take part in this ('insisted' would be more accurate), he'd assured me that limits were respected - but looking around at the other guys, they seemed to be heavy-duty types. To tell the truth, I was a bit worried.

The others had all arrived now - three teams, six members in each - and the ones who hadn't been captured and strung up were taking off their masks, visors and helmets and stripping to the waist. It was a hot day and most were thankful to get some cool air to their bodies. I looked around - there were one or two hunky guys standing about, but I could only see a small number of the players. I did notice one figure who seemed to be staring straight at me for a long time, but I couldn't make out any details as he was standing in deep shadow.

Andy saw me and came over, wiping the sweat from his chest with a towel. I hoped he might remove my gag, but he didn't. "Ah shit, they got you," he grinned. It seemed Andy was always grinning. "Well, don't worry."

I made a sort of questioning gurgle under the gag. He patted me on the shoulder and went to rejoin the others.

Rick, the guy who organised these games, and whose estate this was, went from prisoner to prisoner reading the cards that were stuck to them and making notes on a clipboard. "Ok, " he said when he'd done us all, "seems like it's Ryan first."

A cheer went up. Ryan was the Red Leader guy I'd shot.

"Neutralized by one of our new guests, too - Martin." Everyone looked at me and there was a round of applause.

"Soo....." Rick flipped pages up on his clipboard and checked through some data sheets underneath until he found Ryan's, then read what was on it to remind himself what the prisoner was into. "O - kay," he said, looking around and closing the clipboard again, "Derek, Tom, I think this is your department."

Two guys stepped forward, each holding a collection of whips, canes and paddles. They put the gear down on the floor and selected an implement each to begin with. Derek, a muscular man in his thirties, took a particularly evil-looking whip, and Tom, who was more slender, with jet black hair, chose a tawse. Tom took up position behind Ryan, Derek to the captive's side, ripping the card off his naked chest, and they began work on him.

The whip lashed across Ryan's chest leaving red welts, and the tawse slammed into his buttocks. Restrained only by his wrists, Ryan danced around and yelled as each blow landed. Derek and Tom timed their strokes so that they alternated - first the whip on his chest or stomach, and then the tawse on his arse. From his reactions, Ryan appeared to be hating every second - but his cock had begun to get hard at the first lash of the whip and it was now stabbing thair and leaving the occasional thread of pre-cum as it jerked and danced with his movements.

Next up was a prisoner called Gavin. He was restrained next to me, and Rick chose Phil - a sexy biker who had changed into his codpiece leather jeans - to attend to him. As he walked towards us my eyes watered at the size of the bulge between his legs; the big leather codpiece was stretched tight by what was underneath. Phil stood behind Gavin, and unsnapped his leather codpiece. An enormous, semi-erect cock sprang out. I don't think I'd ever seen a cock that big in my life before. Twice he spat on his hand, rubbed it over the length of his cock, lubricating it and pumping it to full erection, then pushed it up to the balls into Gavin in one smoth motion. Gavin threw back his head and moaned in pleasure. It would have split me in two, I think. Phil began to fuck the lad slowly and steadily.

Rick came to me. He spent a long time reading my sheet on his clipboard, and looking thoughtful. Eventually his flipped it closed. "Dave?" He shouted to a guy sitting on the floor with some of the others. "I think you might like to try your hand with this one."

Dave was bald, and had a well-developed, much-tattooed chest. Rick opened the clipboard again and let him read my data sheet. Dave smiled. "No problem," he said.

"Hang on," said Rick, "I've had an idea." He pointed to something on my sheet, and whispered into Dave's ear. They both laughed.

"Donny, Jamie, come here," Rick shouted.

A boy came forward from the back of the room. He was one of the most beautiful youths I had ever seen. Blond curly hair; deep blue eyes; flawless, golden skin; a firm, boyishly muscled body and a smile that made my heart melt and my cock jerk under the card.

"Jamie!" Yelled Rick, scanning the room. "I told you to get your arse over here!"

I knew that Donny was the boy who had shot me earlier. As it turned out, I could have been wrong about that - because I stared, open-mouthed as another blond-haired youth appeared from the crowd, running towards us. He was a perfect copy of Donny. It was like seeing double. They were a pair of identical twins, and they were stunningly beautiful. My heart rate doubled in seconds. I was imagining having sex with both of them at the same time and I felt the duct tape pull my crotch hairs as my cock rose under the card that had been stuck there.

Rick lined the Twins up side by side, then looked at me. "Do you fancy these two, Martin?"

I nodded violently, my eyes the size of saucers, and made what I hoped were emphatically positive noises through my gag. Did I fancy them? Oh fuck yes!

"Good. I thought you might. They're my personal slaves and they'll do whatever I tell them to. Isn't that right, boys?"

"Yes SIR!" they both said enthusiastically, in unison.

"Right then, here's the deal," continued Rick. "The games finish at 4 o'clock, and then there's a couple of hours while we clean up. Now, Martin, if you haven't cum by 6pm I'll let you do whatever you want with the Twins. Tie them up, be tied up by them, rape them, be raped by them..." He looked at my data sheet again, "cum-control, tickling,"

Jamie was looking nervous.

Rick chuckled. "Jamie is unbelievably ticklish... You can do whatever you want. Ok? But if you cum before 6, you don't get the Twins to play with. Is that clear?"

I nodded. Just looking at those two boys made me want to shoot right now. imagining a proper session with them almost made me faint with lust.

"Ok boys, off you go." Donny winked at me, and the Twins disappeared back into the crowd.

Rick nodded to Dave. "Ok dave - you have 15 minutes to make this boy cum." He pressed buttons on his watch, then ripped the card - and much of my pubic hair - off me. I winced. "Time starts now."

As long as I could keep my mind off the Twins, I thought, I wouldn't have much trouble holding out against Dave. He was nice enough looking, but I didn't fancy him in the slightest. It would depend, though, on exactly how much Andy had told Rick about my turn-ons and sexual triggers and what was on my data sheet. It's actually ridiculously easy to force me to cum, but the things that make it impossible for me to stop myself are slightly unusual, I suppose. I have a hair-trigger if I'm close enough, and then a single stroke over the tip of my cockhead can make me shoot - intensely - but unless you know that it's only my cockhead that gets to me, and that the shaft is not especially sensitive, you can spend all day trying to make me cum. The more gentle you are, the quicker I cum. Most guys are too rough, and that's what I was banking on with Dave.

He started out by squeezing my tits (not a turn-on for me at all) and, getting only muffled yelps of pain from me with that, transferred his attention to my balls. He gripped them, squeezed them, rolled them and pulled them. Now, if you tickle them very lightly, along with the insides of my thighs and my perineum, or work your fingertip up deep into the crevices at the sides of them, that will get me very horny very quickly indeed - what what Dave was doing to them did not. My cock - which had been as hard as a rock when I'd been looking at the Twins, began to soften.

Dave took it in his hand and milked it with long, firm strokes. I think more by accident than by design, one finger was positioned so that it rubbed over my cockhead with each up-stroke, and my cock began to respond to that. I turned my head to watch Ryan getting whipped, to try to distract myself and to stop getting any harder.

But Dave changed hands, and the dangerous finger was gone. What he was doing felt pleasant, but there was no way it was going to make me cum. He was staring intently into my face. "I'm gonna milk you, boy," he growled, pushing a finger up my arse. If he'd just left it there it would have helped him a lot - although I'm not into being fucked, the feeling of something in my arse makes it more difficult for me to control myself - but he jerked it in and out quickly, negating any good effects it might have had.

Next, he knelt down, took my cock in his mouth and sucked it. Now this could easily have been the end for me, if he'd used his tongue gently on the end of my cock, but he was sucking hard up and down the shaft and somehow managing to bypass my cockhead altogether. I wondered if he'd actually read anything that was on my data sheet.

"Five minutes left," said Rick, checking his watch.

At that moment Donny (or it could have been Jamie) wandered up and started to talk to Rick. The boy kept glancing at me, and smiling sexily.

With alarm, I realized I was suddenly very close to cumming - just seeing the boy had got me there in seconds. I tore my eyes away from him and concentrated on the welts that were by now covering Ryan's body, and on his gagged screams as each blow from the whip or the tawse landed. God, that looked dreadful to me. I tried to imagine what it must feel like - a strategy that brought me back from the edge very successfully.

The other twin walked up behind his brother just as he was turning away from Rick, their conversation having ended, and with a laugh suddenly dug his fingers into Jamie's sides. Jamie yelled and collapsed on the floor in hysterics. My cock jerked to full erection inside Dave's mouth and I felt myself beginningto cum at the sight of Jamie being tickled by Donny.

"Time!" Yelled Rick, and Dave disappointedly pulled back from my cock, leaving me on the very brink of orgasm. Good grief, that had been close! But I'd won!

Rick turned to the rest of the group. "Everybody..." He paused until he had their attention. "Our new guest Martin's beaten Dave's attempts to make him cum. As long as he doesn't cum before 6 he'll get a session with the Terrible Twins."

There was a chorus of whistles and applause at this. "I've put his sheet on the notice board, and food'll be ready in half an hour, so if anybody wants to have a go at spoiling his evening until then, feel free."

I frowned. What? Put my sheet on the notice board?

For a while nobody took much notice of me but after a few minutes a guy I didn't know came up and started to play with me. He was joined very soon by another two. It was obvious they'd been reading my sheet, because they were doing things to me that stood a better chance of making me cum - but not one of them had the touch. It didn't surprise me: I'd never met anyone who knew instinctively how to play with my body and nervous system, or who was even interested in learning how. I often wished I were into the more usual things, life would be so much easier. As it was, I had little difficulty in resisting these guys. There was one - a massively-built bear, surprisingly - whom, if he'd kept at it, may well have succeeded. Despite the size of his hands he had a soft caressing touch but with the possibility of real power behind it (sort of Iron Fist in a Velvet Glove), but he didn't stay for long. The others presented no problem.

Rick appeared again later, released my wrists (which by now were hurting) and removed my gag. "Well done," he said, "but be careful - don't cum before 6." He turned back to the group. "Ok. I think the first catch have probably had enough - let's go get some food." With a smile and a friendly clap on the shoulder he turned and walked away.

Massaging my wrists, I made my way to the kitchen and joined the growing queue. There were salads, meats, cheese, and an assortment of different breads. Behind the counter a thin, rat-like youth was serving tea, coffee and beer. He looked like he'd never smiled in his life. "Whaddya want?" He growled at me.

"A beer please."

He opened a bottle and plonked it down on the counter hard enough to make it foam and run down the sides. I thanked him, but he was already saying "yeah?" to the next guy in line. I took my beer and cheese salad out to the veranda and sat down to eat in the sunshine.

A shadow fell over me and I looked up to see a hunky guy looking down at me. He'd been in the blue team, I remembered, and I'd lusted after him a bit while we'd been getting our paintball gear on at the beginning."Nice bod," he said.

"Thank you," I replied.

"I could make you shoot your spunk, no problem," he said, smiling knowingly. "Was watching Dave working on you. You like it light and gentle, doncha? Tickly. And just on the end of your knob."

My cock was getting hard at this.

"Lucky for you you're not my type. Too pretty. Too slim. Too cute. I like my men to be men." He leaned down and lowered his voice. "Watch out for Ryan - he's after you. And your most intimate details are on the notice board..." With a wink he ran his fingertips lightly up my thigh, over my balls and along my cock - which jerked in response. I went to move his hand away, but he'd already turned away with a chuckle.

I finished my salad and decided to go see what Andy had let Rick - and therefore everbody else - know about me. There were a few guys around the notice board reading the data sheets - seemed like everyone had one displayed on the board. I found mine, read it, and groaned. It was all there. There was enough information about my most personal turn-ons, fetishes and sexual triggers to allow anybody but the most totally ham-fisted guy to make me cum helplessly - kicking and screaming - against my will.

Luckily, as I read the other sheets it seemed that all the others were into the usuals: fucking, fisting, CP, TT, CBT etc.. None of the other sheets gave any indication that their subject was either into, or good at, the rather odd things that got to me. I searched for the Twins' sheets, but they weren't there - probably, I thought, because they were residents and Rick's personal slaves.

Ryan's sheet said that he was into heavy CP, fucking, fisting, poppers, kidnap, extreme tit torture, and breath control. His fetishes were for tight restraint, and - like almost everone else there - 'leather'. With the single exception of the biker Phil, I hadn't seen any leather here at all so far - but then the guys were wearing cammos for the paintball games.

"Interesting reading..." The voice was deep and close to my right shoulder. I turned and found myself looking into the reasonably handsome face of Ryan. He was scanning my data sheet carefully. "You fancy those twins, do you?"

"They're ok," I replied non-commitally.

"Ha! You nearly shot your load just looking at the bastards." He traced his finger along my sheet, reading aloud: "Types: Cute boys. 10. Ten? Wow, you really ARE into cute boys, ain't ya? Not my type at all. You're too cute, but you know that already doncha fucker?" His lips moved silently as he read the rest of the sheet.

I looked down at his body - it was covered with angry bruises.

"Come here, I want you to meet Scott." He grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the crowd to a slim boy who was eating a sausage very suggestively and chatting to a blond crew-cut guy. "Scott, meet Fucker."

Scott was cute. Very cute. In fact if I hadn't met the Twins I'd have said he was easily the sexiest boy here. But then he opened his mouth. "Well hell-lo! And who's this sweetie then, Ryan love?" He leaned close to me and whispered conspiratorially, "Rick's such a dear, but she's not usually into drop-dead cuties like you."

Any interest I might have had in the boy evaporated instantly. I may not be the most masculine guy there is, but I hate effeminacy. Can't stand it.

Rick pulled Scott close, with an arm around his shoulder. "I want you to make this fucker cum, Scott. I'll tie him up or hold him down and you milk the bastard. Make him shoot. Force the fucker."

Scott opened his eyes wide and almost choked on his sausage. "What? You want me to top him?" His scream of laughter echoed around the room. "I don't think so, dearie. Me, a top? You're out of your tiny mind, Rickykins." He was still laughing hysterically as I escaped to the loo to have a pee, and then back to the veranda.

There was a crowd of guys there - none of whom I really fancied very much - but they smiled and nodded when I appeared. Then I became aware that they were closing in around me. I turned to go back to the main room, but smiling faces and muscular bodies blocked the way.

Someone grabbed my wrists and held them behind my back. Other strong arms held me and one guy went down and started to suck me. I struggled, but the arms held me helpless. Just before hands clamped over my mouth and eyes, I saw the sneering face of Ryan - he was stood next to the guy with the blond crew-cut and it was clear that they were talking about me. Then hands began to tickle me.

Now on my sheet it says that I'm into tickling and being tickled. This is true, but - as usual with me - it's a bit more complicated than that and, actually, not that easy to explain. The possibility of being tickled - the threat of it - turns me on like fuck and gets me close to cumming in no time. Under those circumstances all the places on my body that are the most unbearably ticklish (and there are lots!) become erogenous zones. Stroking the soles of my feet or my armpits lighty and slowly, for instance, has the same effect as tickling my balls or inner thighs - it makes me want to cum. Fingers in my sides firmly but slowly have the same effect. But tickle me hard and fast, and I just scream in hysterics like anybody else. That doesn't make me want to cum. Oh, I love doing exactly that to my own victims, and that does get me incredibly horny - but not when it's done to me. And those guys were doing just that. I screamed and yelled and struggled under their hands (they'd got me on the floor by now and I was in such paroxysms of ticklishness that they had no longer any need to hold me down) but my cock stayed soft. A hand was wanking me, right on the head - and in other circumstances that would have milked me very quickly - but the tickling overpowered that completely.

In the end they gave up and released me, most of them wandering back inside to get ready for the second half of the paintball game. Ryan stood over me. "I thought you were into being tickled," he growled.

"Oh I am. You have no idea." I got up and began to walk away, almost bumping into the blond crew-cut guy. I added, over my shoulder to Ryan: "and that's your biggest problem."

We kitted up for the games again and set off out into the forest. The rules were slighly different for this half: when anyone captured a prisoner he could take that prisoner back to the cabin immediately and play with him - and the prisoner had to play sub. I practised moving silently, and gradually got the hang of it. It was really only a matter of being careful where you put your feet.

I'd moved around in the opposite direction from the tree and was quite a distance away when I saw a movement in the bushes to my left. Silently I raised my gun (being very careful not to knock it against the visor this time) and used the telescopic sight. There! A head was in the cross hairs - and then it was gone. It had looked directly at me, and I was sure it had been Ryan. Had he seen me? I didn't know - but I thought there was a good chance that he had.

On an impulse I took off my gun, quickly removed my boots and cammos, and lay them on the ground in a sort of rough sausage-shaped pile. I put the mask at the end, holding it up with a stone so that it was sticking halfway out of the clump of undergrowth. Naked now, I took the gun and moved off to one side, at right angles to where Ryan had been. This was never going to work. I hid, held my breath and waited - the gun ready at my shoulder - expecting the slam of a paintball at any moment.

A movement! I jerked the gun up, but saw through the sights that it was Phil, moving at an angle away from me. And then there he was. Ryan. Crouched down, taking careful aim at my mask. I squeezed the trigger.

An explosion of green dye on his left breast. I saw him wince at the pain when the ball struck his whipped chest. Then he stood up, looking around, still not knowing where the shot had come from.

I could not believe my luck. I had never played painball before - never used one of these guns - and yet I'd got this guy twice: once by pure luck, and once by cunning. Grinning from ear to ear I walked out of the greenery.

He stood there with his mouth open and slowly closed his eyes in disbelief when he saw it was me. "You fucking bastard CUNT! " He said slowly. Then, more quietly, "if you think I'm going to let you take me in and -"

"Bloody hell! Twice in one day! Nice one Martin." The guy's name was Sean and as most of these players seemed to be able to do, he'd appeared out of nowhere. "Have fun with Ryan! See you later." Then he was gone.

I looked at Ryan. We both knew that now there was no way he could get out of being taken back as my prisoner. I quickly put on my gear, then gagged him very securely with the duct tape as he stood and fumed impotently.

By the time we got back to the cabin there were several guys playing: Someone was being fisted, another was being soundly fucked, and a third was being pissed on in drainage area in the corner.

I took Ryan into the adjoining room - the dungeon - and tried to ignore his threatening stare and muffled curses as I stripped him. I replaced his tape gag with a leather one from a box of toys I found in one corner, and also took some lube, a blindfold, and a thin leather thong from the box. I strapped Ryan down spreadeagled on a horizontal restraint table, immobilising his arms with the heavy leather straps, but leaving him enough slack to be able to struggle.

"Now Ryan," I said, looking down at him. "As you seem to be so interested in it, I'm going to give you a lesson in Tickle Torture. First, notice how I've restrained you - helpless to stop me doing whatever like to you, but still enough room to struggle. Do try not to, though, cos struggling will only make you more ticklish." I grinned wickedly at him. "But I think you'll find you can't stop yourself."

I paused, enjoying the slightly worried look on his face. I think he realized that I actually knew what I was talking about, and that I could, in fact, be more dangerous than he'd thought.

"Now," I continued as if I were explaining an experiment to a student at school, "there are two different kinds of tickling: light-touch, and pressure. I'm going to give you examples of each. First, light-touch." I traced my fingertips over his balls, tickling just the hairs - I didn't touch his skin once. He groaned a little, but I hadn't expected much response from that. Then I tickled his armpit just as lightly. A little more response this time. I stroked various parts of his body, listening to him catching his breath and watching his eyes following my every move. Little short moans came from him with each touch.

"Ok. Now see what a difference it makes when you're blindfolded and can't see where the next one's coming - or when." I picked up the blindfold and slipped it over his eyes. He looked good blindfolded and gagged with black leather. Then I started tickling him at random - unpredictably all over his body. Lightly, hardly touching: balls, calves, armpits, soles, stomach, thigh, elbow, ear, nipple, perineum, toes, balls, armpits, stomach, soles, elbow, thigh...

After 5 minutes of this he was moaning and jumping at each touch. His cock was rock-hard. I kept this up for another quarter of an hour and then - with a final good tickling of his armpits and the back of his balls - decided it was time to move on.

"The second type of tickling is called 'pressure' work. Try this." I jammed my thumbs into his sides, moving them around and stimulating the muscles and nerves in what is usually one of the most unbearably ticklish spots on anyone's body. Blindfolded, he couldn't see it coming - and the effect was exactly what I'd hoped for: he screamed into the gag, shook his head from side to side violently, his muscles flexing against the restraining straps in his effort to escape. But he couldn't get away from the torture. I kept it up just long enough to let him know that I could drive him insane like that if I wanted to, and then changed to working on his knees. With a thumb and finger I squeezed the muscles just above the kneecap, at the sides, and, repeatedly gripping hard and releasing, slowly worked my way up his thigh. He was jerking as if he was being electrocuted, and yelling into the gag. I was really getting into this.

When I thought he couldn't take any more, I transferred my attention to his cock. I wanted to show him what could be accomplished with a little gentle precision - something I doubted he had experienced before. I used another strap behind the base of his cock, to push against its natural tendency to fall onto his stomach, and to hold it pointing vertically upwards away from his body. I knew this would both increase its sensitivity, and also keep him constantly aware of its vulnerability. Then I started.

With no feathers to hand, I only had my fingers, the leather thong, the lube, and a piece of tissue paper from a box by the lube. I decided to use the tissue first, and tore it into two pieces. Using just a corner of each, I drew one lightly up from the base of his cock along the shaft and over the head, while tickling his balls with the other. Tissue used like this is, if anything, even lighter than the touch of a feather. At first he just lay there silently, but after a while he started to moan. The moans became louder and more continuous, and his cock began to jerk occasionally. I continued to tickle his cock and balls with the tissue, knowing that the effect was cumulative, and that it was increasing his sensitivity second by second. I worked only on the shaft now, as I wanted his cock head to long to feel a touch on it. Time would accomplish that very effectively, I knew.

For 20 minutes I did nothing more and nothing less than this, and by the end of that time he was pleading begind the gag and pumping his hips urgently. I smiled to myself - Ryan needed to cum very badly. But I had no intention of giving him the relief he needed just yet. It was time to make things much worse for him.

I soaked the leather thong with lube and, holding the slippery section between my hands I wrapped it carefully just under the flange of his cockhead and began very slowly to see-saw it back and forth. His hip thrusting immediately became much more urgent and his moaning got substantially louder. I allowed the ends of the laces to tickle his balls occasionally as well.

Time was getting on, so I poured lube onto his cock and began to apple-polish him excruciatingly slowly. I knew that he was close to cumming, and each time I felt his cock harden in preparation for orgasm I suddenly tickled him hard on his knees or sides, digging in deeply, sharply, and sadistically. He would have even more bruises later, I thought. That backed him off from the edge very effectively - at which point I simply started the work on his cockhead again.

I'd intended to make him cum with normal hard, fast wanking - but he'd turned out to be so controllable with the apple polishing that I decided to give him one of the slowest - and hopefully the most intense - orgasms he'd ever had. My palm and fingers slid smoothly over the lube-slippery surface of his cockhead.

I reached over and removed his gag. I wanted to hear him plead. He licked his lips, breathing as if he'd just run a marathon. Sweat was running down his face. "Oh shit, let me cum you fucker. Let me cum..."

I continued to bring him to the edge, and then to abort his orgasm with a quick jab to the ribs or sides. This brought screams of ticklishness, frustration, and rage. The heavy leather restraining straps were earning their keep.

I decided to make him cum. I poured still more lube onto his desperate cock, and for what must have been the 11th or 12th time, brought him slowly to the edge. The instant I felt the pre-orgasm stiffening of his cock, I froze - then, moving my fingers very very slowly indeed, brought him even closer. My fingers continued to slow until they were hardly moving. Poised on the very brink or orgasm, he was holding his breath and totally silent, every muscle in his body tensed as tight as a piano string. With a touch far, far lighter than the softest feather, my fingertips caressed the head of his cock slowly - and then, suddnely and unexpectedly, I gripped his cockhead, slid my fingers up and down it three or four times very quickly to make him cum, and pressed my thumb hard over his piss slit. It was like when you almost close the end of a hosepipe with your finger - Ryan's spunk built up urgently and finally forced its way past the obstruction, squirting out sideways, the pressure caused by my finger increasing the intensity of his orgasm many times.

He roared, arched his body, and fought the restraints as he abandoned himself to pure ecstasy. His spunk pumped out, ran down my hand, covered his balls, and fell in sticky pools of liquid pleasure onto the wooden table.

I realized I was very close to cumming myself. Ryan collapsed back onto the table, exhausted - and there was applause and cheers from behind me. I'd been so intent on what I was doing to Ryan that I hadn't heard them come in - there were 5 or 6 guys stood there watching! The blond guy with the crew-cut was one of them, but he wasn't clapping. He just stood there silently, watching me.

I smiled self-consciously, removed Ryan's blindfold, and released him. I figured that the presence of the others would prevent any murder Ryan may have in mind.

Ryan got up, rubbed his wrists, and looked at me. His expression was intense but unfathomable: I didn't know whether he was furious, embarrased, impressed, humiliated, grateful, or what. He shook his head slowly, and walked out.

It was 4pm and the games were over for the day. I had two hours to go while Rick and his helpers cleaned the place up and then my session with the stunningly beautiful Jamie and Donny. Yes!! The rest of the group gradually got changed, chatted, and wandered off and soon, apart fom Rick and a couple of guys in the other rooms cleaning up, I was on my own in the cabin.

I said goodbye to Andy and Mike, watched the others leave, then sat around reading the porn for an hour or so. After a while Rick led me into the dungeon. He was carrying something very black and very shiny. He held it out to me: it was a long rubber trenchcoat - just as smooth and shiny on the inside as on the outside. "Put it on," he said. "The twins are very into rubber and they'll love it if they find you wearing this."

I took the coat - surprised at how heavy it was. The cold black rubber slipped onto my naked skin like silk, but much, much more sexy. I shivered with pleasure as the shiny rubber closed around my body and my cock instantly hardened. I'd never worn a rubber coat like this before and it was indescribably horny. I fastened the buttons up, loving the feel of it moving as I moved.

"Ok. Stand between these posts."

He put heavy rubber wrist and ankle cuffs on me and locked me in a wide spreadeagle between the vertical wooden posts, then fitted a rubber gag between my teeth, strapping it tightly at the back of my neck, and finally pulled a black rubber hood over my head. There were no eyeholes. "Don't get too excited," he chuckled, watching my movements against the loose, sensual black rubber, "it's only half past five. I'll make sure the twins are here on the dot of 6." With a slap on my buttocks which made the rubber slide wonderfully against my body, he left me alone.

I stood there spreadeagled, hooded and tightly gagged, with the cool black rubber of the coat gently sliding against my raging erection whenever I moved. I tried not to move - I certainly didn't want to cum before the twins arrived. I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself from shooting for long once they were here - and what then? I prayed they wouldn't call an end to the session as soon as I'd cum. With those two I could cum three or four times, no trouble at all.

I'd been there for a while when I heard the door open. It closed again quietly and I heard footsteps walking over to me. There was silence for a few moments, and then a whisper: "I'm sorry." There seemed real regret in those words. "So very sorry - but it has to be done."

Has to be done? What has to be done? And who was this? The voice had a strange accent - German, possibly?

He walked around behind me and I felt the coat move. Then I felt the touch of fingers on my balls! There must be a hole in the back of the coat, I realized. Inside the black rubber coat my thighs were spread wide. Between them my balls hung down, with air either side. My cock, rock-hard and aching for the Twins, jutted out at the front, its springiness contained by the loose but heavy rubber trenchcoat. Precum had run down the shiny inner surface, lubricating it. On its own the rubber was keeping me dangerously horny.

And now there were fingers tickling my balls. Unlike the others who had played with me, these fingers were tentative, infinitely gentle, and responsive to my every reaction. They tickled so lightly, slowly, all over my balls - paying particular attention to the backs of them when my sudden intake of breath announced to whoever this was that that was an especially effective spot. But they moved on, exploring between the scrotum and the thigh, again finding an intensely rewarding place at the very top of that crease. on and on they moved, tickling, teasing, and learning.

Then, reaching around my waist with his other hand, he gripped the very base of my cock lightly through the rubber coat. I almost passed out with lust at the way he did it. Just that simple, slow grip, causing the cool rubber to enclose my cock so gently, yet so irresistably - as if he knew that shiny black rubber against my cock was something I was totally incapable of fighting against. I knew that if his intention was to make me cum, he could do it so easily, without even thinking about it, with a few gentle strokes and there would be nothing - nothing - I could do to stop myself.

Cursing the hood that prevented me from knowing who this was, I yelled, shook my head and pleaded with him not to do it - that I had earned this, that I longed for the twins with every fibre of my body - but the rubber gag filling my mouth did what it had been designed to do, and made my protests quiet and unintelligible.

"Can you feel that rubber against your cock? Can you feel my fingers tickling your balls? In a moment I'm going to grip the very tip of your cock lightly, and slide that black, shiny, slippery rubber very slowly - soooo slowly - over the head of your hard, horny cock." His hand moved to my cockhead. Gently he gripped it through the rubber, but for now he didn't move it at all, just held it there. My eyes were wide under the hood; I yelled into the gag for him to stop. The way he was talking, and what he was saying were enough to make me almost cum on their own.

"Oh I know you don't want me to make you cum," whispered the heavily-accented voice, "I know you will try to fight it with everything you've got. But the thought of fighting against it, and not being able to, makes you more horny still, doesn't it..? I know, Martin. I know." He began to whisper more quietly, more slowly, in an intensely sexy, taunting - almost gloating - way. "And you know WHY I'm going to rub your cockhead through that slippery, shiny black rubber? Yes, you know exactly why, don't you, sexy boy? Because it is one way to make you cum however much you fight against it, however much you try not to. It is one very certain way to take that choice away from you totally and absolutely. You have an intense fetish for black rubber. Your cock was designed to be milked by black, shiny, slippery things - rubber, leather, PVC - they are irresistable to you, aren't they? Oh I know they are, Martin, and so I know exactly how to use them on you."

His fingers began to move. Slowly, he slid the rubber of the trenchcoat up and down over my cockhead. I could tell from the way he was doing it that he knew exactly what it felt like, exactly what, and how much, effect it was having on me. A few slow strokes with that incredible light, teasing touch brought me to the edge - and then he stopped.

"You see?" His voice was so low it was almost inaudible. "I could make you cum any time I wanted to. But there are five minutes left before the twins get here. I will make you wait, and then I will make you lose control and shoot your spunk into the black rubber JUST before they get here. The very last moment. Up until that time you will think you have a chance - a chance to hold out against me and to win your session with those two beautiful boys. And then - at the last possible second, just before the door opens, I will slide that sexy black rubber over your sensitive, horny cockhead to make you cummm...."

He released my cock and the coat fell down again to its former position. Then he gripped the rubber at the sides of my hips and just moved it slowly - up, down, cross from side to side. The cool black rubber coat slid over my erect cock on a film of precum. I was almost cross-eyed with the need to cum. He'd left me on the very brink of orgasm, and was now using my fetish for rubber to tease my cock mercilessly. This guy knew exactly what he was doing. And he was playing quite openly with my ability to resist both him and my fetishes.

Whoever this was had a fucking perfect technique. I'd been searching for someone like this for years - and I had to find him NOW. Shit shit shit shit shit!

"It's time," he whispered. His fingers were back on my cockhead, gripping the black rubber around it gently. And his other hand was back between my legs, tickling my balls. "I can hear the twins. They're on their way to you. They'll be wearing skintight leather jeans, boots, harnesses, and Muir caps on their beautiful blond heads. The're coming for you, Martin. Donny and Jamie, coming to have sex with you. Don't let yourself cum, boy. You only have a few more seconds to keep your control. Just a few seconds." His fingers began to move the slippery, shiny rubber up and down, round and round slowly, so slowly, over my cockhead. I struggled like fuck in the restraints but there was no way I could even begin to get away from his hands. He leaned even closer to my ear. "That's it, fight it if you want to. But there is no way you can resist my fingers through that black rubber, on your cockhead, milking you, milking you. I am going to make you cum, boy, and there is not the slightest thing you can do to stop me. And tickling your balls as well will make doubly sure you lose control......"

I had tried everything I could think of to take my mind off what he was doing, what he was saying, how he was saying it - but every single part of what he was doing spoke not to my conscious mind, but to my fucking cock . His words, his tone, his attitude; I had been waiting for decades to find someone like him. And his technique, his touch - oh fuck fuck fuck - it was PERFECT . His fingers didn't speed up at all, they just kept sliding up and down a mere half an inch, but that was enough - MORE than enough - to make me cum. The instant I began to cum, his fingers STOPPED. They just held my cock still as my spunk pumped into the rubber trenchcoat and made my orgasm infinitely more intense. My knees buckled as wave after wave of intense ecstasy hammered my brain. I had never in my life experienced such an orgasm.

I could feel my spunk running down the inside of the rubber trenchcoat and I could even hear the occasional plop as a gob of it fell to the floor. It seemed to go on and on and on - and all the while he continued to tickle my balls in just the right places.

Finally it was over. He withdrew his hands, paused for a moment, then I heard him walk out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. I hung there, totally shattered and exhausted, and dripping spunk onto the floor. A few seconds later the door opened again. It was the twins.

Their booted feet clunked on the wooden floor as they came over to me. I felt hands on my hood, and it was removed. Blinking in the bright light, I saw the twins. They were dressed exactly as the guy who had milked me had said they would be: immaculate, skintight black leather jeans, high leather boots, upper body harnesses and Muir caps. They looked so beautiful and so sexy I somply stared in wonder at them.

They stood in front of me for a moment and then Jamie noticed the spunk on the floor. He unbuttoned the rubber trenchcoat and shook his head. "Oh dear," he said in what was clearly false disappointment, "look. Jamie." (Oh - so it had been Donny who'd noticed the spunk). "Look at this. What a shame."

"And you'd done so well," said Jamie. "We'd better let Rick Know."

Just then Rick came in anyway. He was accompanied by the blond guy with the crew-cut, who looked at me with a smug smile on his lips. "Everything set?" Smiled Rick.

"No. Look at this..."

Rick inspected the spunk on the floor and on the inside of the rubber coat. "Aww. Couln't hold it, eh?" He looked sad. "Oh well," he said, brightening quickly, that'll be all, boys."

The twins left.

"Shame, eh, Hans? " The blond guy simply smiled. "Oh well, Martin" said Rick," you've still won the booby prize."

I looked at Hans. If I couldn't have the twins, then a proper session with those talented fingers which had made me cum so intensely was a very good second prize, I thought. But even that was not to be, it seemed.

"Brad? BRAD! Get in here now!"

There was the sound of scuttling feet and the door opened. It was the rat-like youth from the kitchen.

"Brad, keep our guest here occupied for a few hours. But go smarten yourself up first."

The boy ducked his head and shambled out.

"Sorry about that, Martin, but he needs the practise. You don't mind, do you? Good."

I had been given no chance to object.

"Have fun." Rick clapped Hans on the back and they both burst into laughter as they left me alone in the room.

When Brad came back I almost didn't recognise him. He'd changed out of his working clothes into sexy punk gear: combat boots, skintight shiny PVC jeans that showed a round and well-defined bulge between his thighs, and a ripped leather jacket. The reason his hair had been such a mess earlier was that it was a mohican that had been all over the place. Now it stood up in a sharp ridge in the centre of his head and looked dead sexy. And he was smiling! He wasn't actually rat-like at all - he had sharp features, but they went with the punk look very well indeed.

He was carrying a box of gear which he put on the floor at my side, then he stood in front of me. For a while he did nothing but look into my eyes - first one, and then the other. Then he spoke. "So beautiful. So beautiful."

I gasped. That voice - the accent, it was the same voice as before. This was the boy who had made me cum earlier! He put his hands gently behind my head and unfastened the gag and, before I had the chance to say anything, he kissed me deeply and slowly on the mouth.

When he pulled away he put a finger over my lips and spoke softly to me. "Beautiful boy..." He looked as if he was about to cry. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but the finger was still over my lips. He continued to stare intently into my eyes. "I have dreamed of you," he said slowly. "For so long. You have no idea. People come here every week and I have searched for you. For a long time I have searched for you. But they always want to fuck, want to use their fist... I thought I was the only one in the world. But I have found you at last. And you are so much more beautiful than I imagined possible."

He took his finger away from my lips and pushed the rubber coat open, sliding his hands inside - his fingertips seeking out my armpits and beginning to tickle very slowly, very gently. A shiver of pleasure ran through my body and my cock began to get hard again.

"I'm so sorry. So very sorry - but it had to be done. I could not allow those two monsters to sully such perfection". He had a most odd way of talking. "They are trash. Arrogant, selfish, cruel, shallow, full of themselves. You think they are beautiful, don't you? Oh their bodies are beautiful, their faces, their hair - all beautiful. But you don't know them. What is underneath - what is inside - is not beautiful. It is more ugly than you can imagine."

His fingers worked their way down my sides slowly, gently carressing my skin with that amazing touch. I was already on the way to needing to cum again. "No, I could not allow those bastards to spoil you now that I have at last found you. You think you would be in heaven with them, don't you? But you would not. Believe me, Martin, I know this. I will show you heaven."

He stroked along the length of my cock as lightly as a feather, lingering on the head and carressing the very edge of the foreskin. My eyes closed for a moment in pleasure.

"I watched the others working on you - I watched from the darkness. I saw your reactions to everything they did to you. And it was as if it was me reacting. I read your data sheet. Every word. If they permitted me to have a data sheet, to take part, my sheet would be the same as yours - word for word. You and I, Martin, we are the same. It is we who are the twins, not Donny and Jamie. I know exactly what you long for more than anything - what your body cries out for. Because they are the same things that I cry out for, and therefore I am expert at doing them to you. I know you haven't found anyone who can give them to you, or who would want to. But you have now, beautiful boy. You have now."

He reached up and unfastened my right hand, lowering it and placing it on his cock-bulge. It felt beautiful. His cock was hard inside the thin PVC jeans. Instinctively, as if it were my own body I was touching, I knew what to do. I traced my finger along the length of the bulge, and scratched my nail across the tip. He closed his eyes, raised his head, and took a deep, shuddering breath. Then he took a step back from me. He swallowed. "Martin, beautful boy. I know I am not gorgeous and shining like the twins, but - but could you fancy me? At all?"

I could see him steel himself for the reply he didn't want to hear. I looked him up and down slowly. He wasn't a blond and beautiful creature like Donny or Jamie, but he was a very sexy punk boy indeed. He was wearing that gear because it turned him on. It was rough, well-worn, and not immaculate like the twins had been - and it was unbelievably sexy because of that. But that was just the surface. It was what was underneath that was just as important, I realized for the first time. "If you want my answer, release me," I said.

He looked at me for a moment, then removed my three remaining rubber restraint cuffs. I stepped forward, put my arms around him and kissed him slowly and passionately. "Oh yes," I said before going back for more. "Oh fuck yes..."

My hands were all over him - feeling his leather jacket, his PVC jeans, running through his mohican, then getting inside his jacket and carressing him in the places and in the ways I had always wanted to be touched. He smelled of boy, of leather, and of sex. He laughed - a beautiful sound - and beamed at me. Then he pushed me away. "Be careful, or you will make me cum. I am not far away." He held me at arm's length and looked again into my eyes one at a time, as he had done before. Oh God he was sexy. And he had an impish smile on his face that made me melt. I could so very easily fall for this boy, I thought.

He nodded his head to the box of gear he'd put on the floor. "There are things in there you will like. There are leather jeans and rubber codpiece jeans and hoods and feathers and.. and all kinds of things. Things to make you cum and cum and cum." He held my head between his hands and jerked his eyes to the restraint frame I had put Ryan on earlier. "Put the rubber jeans on and get on that table." He smiled sexily at me. "I am going to make you cum many times this night - and believe me, beautiful boy, you are going to beg for every single one."

I grinned at him. I had absolutely no doubt at all that he was right.