The Telemachus Story Archive

Loss of Control
By Hooder
Email: hooder@ntlworld.com



     Kenny felt wonderful. He'd done it - he'd actually done it! In less than a couple of hours he would be a member of staff at the Mansion! Granted he would be the lowliest of the retinue of slaves who lived there - but he would work his way up through the hierarchy until eventually he was one of Master Jeff's top slaves. To be resident at the Mansion had been a dream of his ever since he'd come to London and had heard about the legendary house. To be a slave to the famous Master Jeff was the only thing he wanted in life. Kenny grinned with delight, flexed his muscles and shifted his position very slightly on the bondage rack - the restraints allowed little movement.

     If anyone had come into the small, bare room, they would have seen a formidably muscular youth in his mid-twenties, naked, and strapped into position on a complicated frame. He lay face down on a short, leather-covered table, his shaggy, blond head turned sideways and resting on a thin leather pillow. At the end of the padded table there was a small steel post which finished in a leather-covered, horizontal 'U'. This device held the root of the boy's massive, rock-hard, circumcised cock forcing it slightly backwards where, dripping precum, it pointed towards the floor like a Damoclean sword. It was swollen, the veins standing out in stark relief against the smooth shaft, and the well-defined, purple helmet shone glossily in the room lights. The young man's legs were very widely parted, and immobilised with thick leather straps - four on each - to boards which ran down to the knees at a steep angle, and then turned more horizontal to support the boy's lower legs - his feet dangling off their ends after the last strap which encircled the ankles. At the other end, his muscular arms were pulled forward, and strapped to similar, horizontal boards.

* * *

     Master Jeff was a very well-known and respected Top on the London scene. His stable of slaves was second to none, and vacancies for positions at the Mansion only came up when a slave left for some reason - which was not often. The prestige of having served time at the Mansion was considerable, and almost guaranteed a boy excellent positions for the rest of his sexually active life. Kenny had been lucky - Master Jeff had spotted the big, solidly muscled boy as Chris, the most senior slave, had been interviewing him for the latest vacancy, and had selected the boy himself.

     Jeff had seen Kenny, stretched spreadeagled against the wall, wearing not a stitch, his muscles straining against the restraints, and had been stunned by his physical beauty. This boy was the living image of a character created by Jeff's favourite artist - 'the Hun'. Standing just under six feet tall, his body was sculpted to perfection by sensible working out; his eye-wideningly huge cock hung in front of pendulous bull-balls, and his face - framed by shaggy honey-blond hair - was square, big-blue-eyed and fucking gorgeous. Jeff had seen many superb males restrained to that very same wall - but there was something about this one that made his cock hard, and made him want to do sadistically painful things to the boy. Chris hadn't been so sure, and had respectfully voiced his opinion that another candidate - a young man named Jim - would probably be a better bet. Jeff normally valued Chris's advice about such things very hightly, and the senior slave's doubts had given him slight misgivings - but a second look at that stunning hunk of boyish manhood had dispelled them immediately.

* * *

     This was the very last hurdle. In fact it wasn't a hurdle at all - Kenny was just one of a series of exhibits at the party which was being held to mark the Mansion's tenth anniversary. Kenny could hear laughter and the clinking of wine glasses a few rooms away, where Master Jeff was entertaining his guests. Soon the senior slaves would come for him, and take him to the main dungeon where - in front of the assembled guests, Master Jeff would proudly exhibit him - subjecting the boy to a sequence of unbearable tortures for the delectation of the onlookers.

     Kenny was finding it very difficult to keep still. These last two weeks had been pure torment for him. One of Master Jeff's greatest pleasures in life was being surrounded by boys who were out of their minds with the need to cum. Sex-crazed, unsatiated, insanely horny and frustrated slaves were Jeff's greatest indulgence. They were kept this way by the senior slaves under the direction of James, his assistant and butler. Three times every day (more often at weekends) the three senior slaves helped James to fan the unbearable fires of the boys' tormenting sex-drives, subjecting them to ingenious and fiendish tortures with talented, sadistic fingers; maddeningly soft, pointed feathers; oil; lubed rubber-gloves; and a variety of demonic devices and engines which Master Jeff had designed specifically to drive a horny boy insane with the desperate need to cum. Jeff was a dedicated and imaginitive Master, and keeping his boys half-mad with lust was a labour of love - however, he was also intelligent enough to understand the principle of 'use it or lose it', and so he milked each of his boys once every twelve days. This, he reasoned, was often enough to keep their balls functioning at maximum, tormenting capacity, while making the periods between milkings as unbearably prolonged as possible.

     For Kenny, however, it had been even worse than this. Being an initiate, he'd received extra-special attention from James, on direct orders from Master Jeff. Over the last fourteen days, there had hardly been a moment when his nipples hadn't been clamped, his mouth deliciously filled with cock, his arse beaten or fucked, his prostate gently massaged, his balls and other erogenous zones worked on until he was out of his mind, and his cock - oh fuck, his cock - sucked, stroked, shocked, beaten, tickled, teased, rubbed, inserted into devilish milking machines, feathered, slowly wanked - but carefully, oh so carefully, prevented from ejaculating. He'd had blue balls at the end of the first day. Master Jeff had outdone himself this time, with a programme of treatment which his sadistic assistant James had carried out with inhuman enthusiasm: fourteen interminable days of unrelenting torture which had left Kenny more of a rutting, sex-crazed animal than a human being. Over the last fortnight he must have released gallons of thick, sticky pre-cum from the tormented tip of his huge, aching, bloated, cock. He had been in some kind of bondage for every minute of that time, to prevent him from bringing himself off. Had he been set free for one second, he would have been physically incapable of stopping himself from gripping his cock and pumping it madly until he achieved that one single goal which he longed for more than anything else: the holy grail of orgasm.

     James, however, was very aware pf this, and supremely expert in ways of preventing a boy from being able to cum. He had Kenny restrained at night, in positions which made it quite impossible for the boy to relieve himself; he used chastity devices on him during the day, so that Kenny's cock - safely enclosed in thick cotton wool inside the leather or metal cages - would be subject to no friction from anywhere or anything; there were always at least two strong senior slaves to hold him when putting him to bed or changing his bondage position - everything had been thought of.

     And now it was almost over. Oh, Master Jeff would still continue to use his rampant sex-drive against him as a means of torture - as he did all his slaves - but it would not be on the same scale as that of the last fortnight. And later tonight - later tonight - he would cum!  Strapped down in the main dungeon, in front of all the guests, Kenny would be tortured, played with, and then, very slowly (excruciatingly slowly) - he would be brought off - his screaming, writhing, agonising orgasm providing entertainment for the assembled guests. It would not be done with any milking machine, nor with a mouth - but by Master Jeff's own fingers, so that the gallons of pent-up spunk could be clearly seen fountaining everywhere. Kenny's claim to fame was the huge amount of spunk he produced, but the downside to this was that he needed at least a full day before he could perform to the same spectacular standard again. This evening, his reputation was on the line - he'd even heard from Chris that bets were being taken as to the height his spunk would reach!

     As he lay there, he couldn't think about anything else except what it was going to feel like when Master Jeff's fingers finally made him shoot his load. He could almost feel the mind-blowing ecstasy of his thick, hot spunk shooting out of his piss-hole, and the exquisite contractions as his muscles pumped it out of him. He realised that he had been involuntarily trying to thrust his hips as he lay bound and helpless on the bondage rack - but the straps over his body ensured that he had insufficient movement to do that.

     Restrained in that position on the rack, Kenny thought he must look like a naked biker riding at high speed on a very wide, sporty motorcycle. His upper body was lying over the tank, his feet on rear footpegs, his thighs separated by the huge tank, and his arse sticking up as he flew down the motorway. "Brrrrm Brrrm.." he said, making twisting motions on the non-existant throttle with his right hand. That position had been carefully chosen by James - having his cock pushed back always made Kenny want to cum. He opened his eyes and gazed at the bare walls, wishing he could see through them and hear what Master Jeff was saying to his guests about him.

     Just then the door opened. The sound of laughter and conversation from down the hall became momentarily louder as a figure entered the room, and then softened again as he closed the door quietly behind him. The man was dressed from head to toe in leather, and his face was concealed by an ill-fitting leather executioner's mask. In his hand he carried a small bag, which he carefully placed on the centre of Kenny's back.

     Kenny couldn't turn his head to get a good view of the newcomer, but he'd glimpsed the man briefly when he'd first entered the room. He was not someone Kenny recognised. But this must be it - they'd come to prepare him for tonight's action!

     The man opened the bag, and took out a leather blindfold, which he quickly slipped over Kenny's eyes. Now that the boy couldn't see, he took off the mask which had been pressing uncomfortably against his thick-lensed glasses. His almost-bald head glinted in the room lights. He was at least 70 years old, and had an unattractively wizened, shrew-like face. Putting the mask down, he rummaged in the bag and extracted a gag, then leaned silently towards Kenny's head, and forced it quickly and efficiently into the boy's mouth, strapping it very tightly behind his blond head.

     During the few seconds this had taken, Kenny was confused - he had been expecting Chris and another of the senior slaves to come for him - and he hadn't expected to be blindfolded and gagged. Hooding and cuffing was the standard way of moving him from one place to another. However, he was so shudderlingly horny that his mind didn't dwell on this for very long. Being blindfolded and gagged was perfectly ok with him - it just made him even hornier. He bit down on the leather gag between his teeth and waited for whatever was going to happen, to happen.

     Without speaking, the man took a roll of cloth from the bag, put the bag on the floor, and unrolled the cloth beside it. He pulled a wooden stool across and positioned it between Kenny's widely-spread legs, then he just stood and looked at the sight before him. It was a wonderful sight - a blond, beautiful, muscular, powerful specimen of manhood in its prime - and at its most unbearably horny - gagged and blindfolded, and rendered completely and utterly helpless by the thick leather straps restraining him to the rack in a position carefully designed to make him as defenceless, vulnerable, and horny as humany possible. The old man's cock struggled to a semblance of erection inside his loose leather trousers.

     "So you're the star. The new slave." The man's voice was barely louder than a whisper - but the sound of it instantly told Kenny that something wasn't right here. His body tensed.

     "You're Kenny. Pleased to meet you. I'm - I'm someone who's going to spoil your day. In a few moments I'm going to sit down on the stool between your legs, and take your cock gently in my hand. And do you know what I'm going to do to you then, my sexy, horny boy? I'm going to toss you off - wank you off - jerk you off - " his voice fell to an even softer whisper as he savoured his next words, " - I'm going to make you cum."

     Kenny's reaction was instantaneous. He yelled into the gag, shook his head violently from side to side, and struggled against his restraints with every bit of his considerable strength.

     The man stood and watched him, chuckling quietly. "There's nothing you can do about it. You're helpless, my boy, and your cock is begging me to touch it, to rub it, stroke it. Can you imagine what it will feel like when I put on my rubber gloves, lube them well, and enclose your aching cock in my hand, and start to stroke up and down the shaft, and over the head, faster and faster, harder and harder...? Of course I might not do it like that. I might do it s-l-o-w-l-y, so you can feel yourself getting closer every second. Hmm? I'm old, and it's a long time since I had an orgasm. But I remember one thing about it - if you're horny enough and there's something nice rubbing up and down your cock, you can't stop it , however hard you try."

     Kenny was going ballistic - or at least as ballistic as his restraints would allow - which is to say he was struggling and writhing and screaming into the gag. There was not much movement possible in the straps.

     The man sat down on the stool, and inspected the contents of the cloth roll layed out by his side on the floor. There was a bottle of lube; a pair of surgical rubber gloves; a wide-mouthed plastic container; and a small white feather. The man picked up the surgical gloves, and began to put them on.

     "Let me tell you a story, " he said in a conversational tone, while pulling the thin white latex over his left hand. "There was once a boy. Let's call him 'Jim'".

     The first glove was positioned with a loud snap. "Now Jim had been waiting for a long time - over a year, in fact - to be selected as novice slave at a famous house called 'The Mansion."

     He picked up the second glove and inserted his right hand into it as he continued to speak. "As you may know, vacancies at the Mansion don't come up very often. Well, one was advertised."

     The second glove snapped into place, and the man flexed his fingers. "Jim was selected, with a few others, to be interviewed for the position. He was very hopeful of getting it, as one of the senior slaves thought highly of him, and would recommend him to the Master of the House."

     The man picked up the bottle of lube, and pumped a large pool into the palm of his left hand. Then he placed the bottle back on the floor, and spread the slippery liquid over both gloves as if he were scrubbing up for an operation. "All went well. He attended the interview, and was shortlisted for the second, final interview. However, the story doesn't have a happy ending." Very gently, he wrapped his hand around the throbbing penis stabbing towards the floor in front of him. The effect on Kenny was electric. He moaned into the gag and every muscle went as rigid as steel. His cock jerked at the soft touch and more precum oozed out of the tip.

     "There was an outsider at the interview. No-one knew where he'd come from or anything about him. Like Jim, he was blond. Also like Jim, he was very hunky, with muscles to die for. But unlike Jim, he hadn't gone through the waiting process. He'd sort of 'jumped the queue', if you see what I mean."

     The man released Kenny's cock, and began to stroke up and down the length of the shaft very lightly with two fingers of each hand. This made the boy moan and gasp, and writhe with renewed vigour. "Well, the Master of the House happened to be passing, and saw this newcomer. He overruled his senior slave's recommendation, and selected this new boy instead of Jim. Of course you can understand that Jim was not happy about this, and so he did some research. Found out things about this new kid. Would you believe what he found?"

     The man made an 'O' out of his right finger and thumb and encircled the head of Kenny's cock with it. Such was the girth of the massive organ that the finger would not close againt the thumb by a good three-quarters of an inch. Very slowly he rubbed over the lower ridge of the helmet. Kenny began to yell into the gag, and the man loosened his grip until he was only just touching the boy's cock. He continued to stroke the ridges of the helmet slowly.

     "Well, he found that this new boy - let's call him 'Kenny', for want of a better name, shall we? - he found that Kenny produces a great deal of spunk when he comes - but (and here's the good bit), once he's cum, it takes him the best part of a day before he can perform again. So, Jim thought, just suppose that this new boy, Kenny, turns out to be a damp squib in front of all the guests at the party. What if he can't cum? Or if he does, what if he produces a very disappointing amount of spunk? After all the hype, the Master is not going to be very pleased, is he?"

     The man carressed the boy's cock between both lube-slippery hands, stroking it and fondling it lovingly. "Jim is still at the front of the queue for new applicants, and so who knows - if the Master is not happy with his new toy, he may decide to forget him and have Jim instead." His voice grew harder, and he now spoke slowly and determinedly. "Jim - who should be in your place right now, you fucker!"

     Ticking the bull-balls lightly from behind with one hand, the man began to run the slippery latex-covered finger and thumb of the other over the very tip of the boy's swollen glans. Kenny's cock throbbed and jerked at the man's teasing touch, and he continued to writhe and struggle against the straps holding him helpless to the rack. His moaning increased, and foaming saliva was running down his face under the gag.

     "Now," continued the man, "you may not think that's very fair on our Kenny. After all, he won the selection fairly - he was chosen by the Master himself. You may be right. And so, my boy, I propose to be fair with you." He looked at his watch. "They'll be coming for you in exactly 15 minutes. I must be out of here in 10 at the most - let's say 5 minutes to be one the safe side. Ok. You and I have five minutes of our little visit left. I intend to milk you. I intend to make you shoot your load so that you can't perform in the dungeon later. Now obviously you don't want that to happen, and you're going to try to stop yourself. But, Kenny boy - you're strapped down, you're gagged and blindfolded, and you're soooooooo  horny - and I intend to do whatever is necessary to make you lose control and cum anyway. However - and this is the fairness bit - I will have to go in 5 minutes, whether you've cum or not - so all you have to do is stop yourself from cumming for 5 minutes. And if you haven't  cum - I'll have got you nice and horny so you will shoot even higher for them. Don't you think that's big of me?"

     Without waiting for a response, the man placed the plastic container in his lap, then re-lubed his right hand, picked up the feather in his left, and whispered: "The five minutes starts now."

     He reversed the feather so that he was holding it like a pen, with the horny end pointing toards Kenny's wide-spread arse. The pink hole was unprotected and inviting. Carefully the man took Kenny's cock between his finger and thumb. He held it so that his thumb was placed exactly where the two curved ridges of the sharply-defined helmet met, on the underside of the head, and the finger the other side would rub over the front of the glans. Then, gripping gently but firmly, he began to rub up and down, using very small, fast movements.

     At the same time, he inserted the point of the feather stem into the centre of the boy's puckering hole, then retracted it. This caused Kenny to yell urgently, and he began to thrust his hips. Then, clearly realizing what he was doing, he stopped abruptly and screamed obscenities into the leather stuffing his mouth.

     "That's right - fight it. Fight it as much as you want - but you're gonna cum, boy. You're gonna lose control and shoot your spunk into my little container. Oh yes, I didn't mention that did I? No-one will know you've been milked, Kenny. There'll be no spunk on the floor, or on your cock. No-one will know, and no-one will believe you....."

     He began to stab the blunt, horny end of the feather into the middle of the boy's arse hole repeatedly, while working on his cock with rubber-gloved fingers. They slid on a film of lube, over the ridges of the huge circumcised penis, across the sensitive glans up to the tip, and back down again, faster and faster - encouraging the tormented Kenny to lose control, to shoot his load.

     Kenny was in an agony of concentration. Only five minutes - he had to hold out for five minutes. He must not cum. He must not let this old fucker milk him. It would be the end of everything. His dream would be shattered, his life ruined. He tried to force himself to think of old, fat, ugly women. Of licking their cunts (that was a thought that usually made him feel sick) - but that hand, gently rubbing over his most sensitive spots, and whatever it was sticking in and out of his arse hole - they were the horniest things he'd ever fucking felt in his life, and he couldn't think about anything else. Shit - even the thought of being forced to cum like this, totally against his will, in spite of everything he could do to stop it - even that  was turning him on. And he could feel himself getting closer by the second. He couldn't do a fucking thing about it. He was not going to be able to hold out. He squeezed his eyes shut under the leather of the blindfold and yelled into the gag "NO! YOU FUCKER! NO! NO! NO!!!!!!!!!!"

     Watching very closely, the old man saw the boy's balls begin to rise. Instantly he threw the feather down, grabbed the container and held it under the end of Kenny's cock. Then he slowed the movements of his hand and made them smaller, so that his finger and thumb were barely moving at all - just rubbing the ridges of the helmet. He made tiny circles with his thumb, stroking the spot which he knew would deliver the killing blow.

     Kenny stopped breathing - he was on the verge of orgasm - but his approach had slowed, like a ball which is rolling up a slope - getting slower and slower as it nears the top, and the gaping chasm beyond.

     The man's fingers had almost stopped now - just the thumb continued to massage the spot at the base of the helmet. With infinite sadism, the old man kept the boy balanced on the very edge of orgasm for what seemed like ages - and then, suddenly, he leaned forward, drove his tongue deep into the pink arse hole, gripped the cock firmly, and - with fast strokes - pushed him hard over the edge.

     Kenny screamed. His muscles went rigid, he fought the restraints, he fought against cumming - he lost control, and he came. The man pushed the mouth of the container against the tip of the boy's cock as the dam burst and the hot, pent-up spunk jetted out of him in thick, urgent, powerful squirts. It went on and on and on and on....

     The man's tongue, embedded deeply in Kenny's hole, was squeezed hard and rhythmically as the boy's contractions pumped his spunk into the container. He continued to milk the desperately jerking cock for a full minute until the boy's balls were dry, and the muscular blond stud had collapsed back onto the rack in exhaustion.

     Finally, the old man sat back, put the cap on the container - which was almost full to the top with milky white boy-cum - and wiped Kenny's cock with a tissue until there was no evidence left. Then he removed his gloves, wrapped everything up again in the cloth roll, checked the floor - it was clean, apart from a little pool where precum had dribbled down before he arrived - and put his equipment back into the bag. Pulling the executioner's mask back over his head, he removed the blindfold and gag from the boy's head, and put them away too.

     He leaned down until he was inches from Kenny's face. "You lost. Jim would have been able to control himself, and not let a total stranger bring him off with two fucking fingers." He laughed mockingly. "You don't know who the fuck I am, and you'll never know. And, I think, it's going to be interesting watching you in the dungeon later." He checked his watch. "Perfect timing. They'll be coming for you in eleven minutes." He turned to leave. "Bye bye Kenny boy. It was a short stay at the Mansion, wasn't it?"

     The door closed with dreadful finality.

 

The End