The Telemachus Story Archive

Masterclass
By Hooder
Email: hooder@ntlworld.com



MASTERCLASS

Buzz was furious. He'd been on his way back from Tracy’s (’Nah, I don’t feel like it tonight’, the fucking bitch) minding his own business when they'd jumped him. He hadn't seen who they were because the first thing they'd done was ram this fucking leather sack thing over his head and fasten it on with a cable tie. Then the bastards had tied him up (oh he'd tried to fight but he hadn't been able to fucking see where they they were with this damn thing over his head), and the next thing he'd known he was in a van or something being driven away. They'd dumped him here - wherever here was. He was lying on his side on the floor; it smelled of rubber. He was hogtied; he could feel steel handcuffs digging into his wrists; his boots were tied together and up to the handcuffs behind his back; and his knees were roped tightly together. He couldn't fucking move.

He pulled at the restraints but it didn't do any good, and it hurt his wrists. He tried to work the sack off his head - it wasn’t tight, but but it had a cable tie around the neck. At least he could breathe. One thing was for certain - he was going to beat the fuckers to pulp when he got out of this. He'd tried yelling, but there was no point - he'd heard the bastards leave and he was on his own - so he lay there, fuming in silence.

He heard a door open, and then heavy footsteps. Two of them by the sound of it. The door closed again. He raised his head off the floor. "Oi, fuckers! Get me the fuck outta here! You are fucking dead!"

There was no response. Instead, one of the guys spoke to the other as if Buzz wasn't there.

"The subject has been brought here off the street. It's a straight skinhead - I thought one of those would be good for you to learn on. They tend to resist more than most. If you can deal with it you can deal with anyone."

"OI!! I'm fucking talking to you! You fucking deaf or summat?"

Again, it was as if he didn't exist. "Rule number one is never to allow a subject the slightest chance of escape. If this one got free it’d be a problem, but careful use of restraints will keep it under control.” He paused. “What would you say is the most important restraint it’s got on at the moment? If you had to remove every restraint except one, which would you leave on it?”

There was a pause, then the second guy spoke: "Well, the handcuffs, I should think."

The first one chuckled quietly. “Most people would say that. But actually, the hood is much more important. Right now the subject has no idea where it is; it doesn't know the layout of the room, can't see where the exits are, what - if any - objects are about that it would bump into if it tried to run, or if there are any scissors or knives about which it could use to cut its restraints. Not being able to see anything in a situation like this makes a boy more helpless than anything else. You leave it with only handcuffs and it’d be a lot more difficult to deal with. It could kick, head-butt, ram us, and know exactly where to aim."

"Right. Of course. I hadn't thought of that."

Buzz could not believe it - they were talking about him as if he wasn't there - and what was all this ‘it’? He raised his head and yelled at them. "FUCKERS! IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR FUCKING HEARING? I SAID GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE YOU CUNTS!"

"Now, Jim, we could go straight in and start working on it where it is, but a little preparation will be useful. Getting it spreadeagled between the posts here would be good, so that we can work on it more easily, but it’s not going to move voluntarily. When you move a subject, make sure that at every single moment it’s restrained during the move. Never trust it, cos its first priority is to escape. So, tell me, how do you think we can do this?"

So, thought Buzz, one of them was called Jim. The one who wasn't doing as much talking.

Jim thought for a moment, then sighed. "I can't see any way of getting it there without a chance of it escaping, Paul."

Paul! Paul and Jim. That's what these fuckers names were. Ok.

"You'll notice that its knees have been tied together. This makes things easier. If they weren’t, it’d be able to push against the floor with one leg to flip itself over. In fact it’d be able to move quite a lot more than it can now. But with them tied together it’s basically a lump that can be moved. Ok, let's drag it between the posts first of all."

He heard them moving about, and then felt their hands on him - one of them was pulling his shoulders, the other was pushing his feet. He tried to kick, tried to stop them, but the hogtie made that impossible; and the hood was leather - he couldn’t get it between his teeth - and even if he’d been able to, it would be too thick for him to bite through. He felt himself being turned, and then slid over the smooth floor.

"Ok. So far so good," said Paul. "Now come here and let me whisper what we're going to do, cos it's important that it doesn't know."

Buzz continued to fume inside the hood while the two guys whispered to each other. He tried to hear what they were saying, but he couldn't.

Before he knew what was happening they'd each fastened some kind of wide strap around his wrists above the handcuffs. By the time he'd realised what they were doing and started to fight it was too late: the straps were on.

He could hear them moving about, but had no idea what they were going to do next. Suddenly it happened again - but this time the straps were going around his booted feet. He was quicker, and struggled as much as he could, but there was just no way he could stop the bastards. There was the sound of rope being pulled through something, and he felt a slight vibration at the straps. A pause, more sounds of moving ropes, and then silence.

"Ok. We could actually release the hogtie now, and it couldn't go very far, but we're not going to take any chances. We'll do... those... first, and leave... that for now."

Damn this fucking hood, Buzz thought. If only he could fucking see! What were the cunts going to do?

"That's it, wrap it around again."

A moment later Buzz felt the rope which had fastened his feet together being undone. He kicked with all his strength, but his knees were still tied together - and immediately his ankles were pulled forwards and apart. They came to a stop against something solid. He was sitting on the floor, his knees together, feet wide apart.

"Good. Now tie the rope off tightly.”

Another short pause, and then the rope around his knees was released. He knew they'd take handcuffs off him next - and he was going to hurt these fuckers when they did. He got ready.

Yes! The sounds of keys. Hands at his cuffs. He stayed still for them to unlock the cuffs. The instant he felt them release he lashed out blindly - but ropes pulled the leather straps around his wrists up. He yelled as they lifted him up to a standing position, then continued upwards until his wrists were above his head. As his feet had done, they came to a stop against something solid. It was metal, and moved a little from side to side. He couldn't believe it - the bastards had managed to get him moved and he hadn't had a single fucking chance to escape from them.

"That is how it's done," said Paul smugly. Buzz wanted to smash the fucker in the face.

“It’s got a sexy body,” said Jim, appreciatively. "Nice shape, slim and muscled, and - oh fuck - those jeans are incredible ! They show off its thighs and bulge like fuck!"

Buzz couldn’t believe it: he was in the hands of perverts. He curled his upper lip under the hood and his face screwed up into a mask of pure hatred. "One of you lays a finger on me, I will fucking CASTRATE you!"

"Oh yes," Paul replied. "Look - you can see its cock bulging there just to the side of its balls. Now, it’s probably wearing underpants, and if it is, we need to cut those off. It’ll be able to feel a lot more through just those tight jeans with nothing on underneath.”

"YOU FUCKING TRY! JUST YOU FUCKING TRY YOU CUNTS!! YOU'RE DEAD. FUCKING D - E - A - D. YOU ARE HISTORY!!"

His words were cut off by a sudden whirring noise, and his wrists began to rise further. The electric hoist pulled him up until he was stretched tightly, hanging from the wrist cuffs, his widely-spread boots only just touching the floor.

"Good. Now it can't move at all. Ok, unfasten its jeans and pull them down as far as you can. Here's the scissors."

Buzz ranted and swore as he felt his jeans being undone.

"Oh, one thing," said Paul. "Notice which side its cock and balls are - they're to its left. We'll put them back on the wrong side."

"Why?" Asked Jim.

"Have you ever tried it? Feels different, makes you a lot more conscious of your cock. You'll see."

The skinhead could only swear and fume impotently as he felt his jeans being pulled down to his thighs and then the cold scissors as they cut off his underpants.

"Mmmm... lovely cock. Bet that's gonna look good when it's hard..." purred Jim.

"HARD? YOU THINK I'M GONNA GET HARD FOR FUCKING PERVERTS?? IN YOUR FUCKING DREAMS, YOU CUNTS!"

The hands moved his cock and balls over to his right and pulled his jeans back up, carefully positioning his cock pointing down his thigh. The zip was fastened back up, and the top button closed.

"Excellent," said Paul approvingly. "Now, we'll work on it here for a while before moving it again. But let's bring its arms down a bit - give it a bit more freedom to struggle; it'll make things a lot worse for it.”

The winch lowered his wrists by a foot.

"Start above its waist for the moment. Start by getting to know its body. Explore slowly and gently. Stand behind it to start with."

Footsteps, then Buzz could feel the warmth of the guy's body on his back. Being so close to a gay pervert made him shudder with revulsion. Hands reached around and started to run lightly over his MA1 jacket. They went everywhere: along his arms, into his armpits, across his chest, his sides, over his back. He swore and fought to get the hands off him - the very touch of these guys was anathema to him.

"Nice. Now start to get your hands inside its jacket and under its teeshirt. Feel its skin. Caress it, tease it. Tickle it if you want. The subject is yours, Jim, do whatever you want to it - but stay above its waist for the time being."

Buzz had never felt so humiliated, furious, and impotent to do anything about it, in his life. Here he was, an aggressively straight skinhead - a testosterone-fuelled, hard boy who could well look after himself - being fondled and manhandled by fucking FAGGOTS. If there was one thing he hated it was fucking faggots. He didn't know any, and he'd never actually ever been queer-bashing, but whenever he saw guys on the street who were obviously gay he'd spit at them. He screwed his face up and tried to adjust his cock - it felt wrong on the other side, and without underpants every movement made him conscious of the rough, stretchy denim of his jeans holding it.

Jim's hands were on him. They worked at the bottom of his MA1, slipping gently under it, and fingers began to explore more intimately now, running over his teeshirt. After a while they pulled the shirt out of his jeans and went underneath even that. Now they were directly on his skin - and they tickled. Lightly they made their way up his sides until the tightness of his jacket stopped them from going any further. Buzz was very glad about that.

The hands were withdrawn. He felt the zip of the jacket being unfastened completely. It swung free, and the hands went up inside his teeshirt again. Buzz had been swearing and threatening continuously - and struggling too - but as the pervert's fingertips neared his now-unprotected armpits, he began to struggle even more. "YOU ARE GONNA FUCKING DIE FOR THIS! GET YOUR BLOODY HANDS OUT YOU BASTARD! FUCK OFFFFFFFFFFFFF.... AAAAAAAAAHHHHGGGG!!!"

This last yell was caused by Jim's fingers which, having arrived at the boy's armpits, tickled there. The skinhead thrashed to and fro in his restraints, twisted from side to side and writhed uncontrollably in his efforts to get away from the unbearable touch of these fucking perverts. But he had been allowed just insufficient freedom to get away from it. No matter where he moved, the pervert's hands could follow easily and continue their work. He had never realised just how ticklish he was, until now.

Suddenly Jim's hands dropped to the boy's sides, and this was worse still - by orders of magnitude. The guy's fingers dug in just below the bottom ribs, stimulating unbearably. Buzz threw his head back and screamed, his body rotating back and forth in a desperate attempt to get away from the torture.

There was a smile in Paul’s voice: "Ok, that's probably enough tickling for now. We can come back to that later if you want, but right now I think it's time to move on."

But Jim had already moved on. He’d moved around to the front, pulled the skinhead’s teeshirt right up and was kissing and licking the boy’s skin slowly, working his way across his flat stomach, just above the waistband of his jeans, then upwards over his chest to his nipples. He took one between his lips and sucked, rubbing the end with his tongue. Then he clamped down a little on the nipple with his teeth. The boy yelled.

Paul chuckled. “Now,” he continued, “there’s many ways to humiliate it - you could fuck it, or make it cum, for instance, but although raping its cock or its arse would be a lot of fun, it’d be resisting - you’d be doing it against its will. No, for real humiliation, you want to make it beg you to fuck it, or to make it cum. It’s straight, it knows we’re guys, that we’re gay, that we’re perverts, so begging you to fuck its arse or begging you to bring it off would not come easily to it. It would be a powerful humiliation for a straight skinhead. That is what we want to make it do.”

Buzz could not believe what he was hearing. Beg these bastards to fuck him? BEG THEM TO FUCK HIM??? In a voice that was steady, controlled, and dripping with venom, he said, “You lay a single finger on my arse or my cock and you will die a very slow, and very painful death.” His voice was losing its steadiness, and began rising in volume. “You are fucking DEAD. I will rip your fucking balls off and RAM THEM DOWN YOUR PERVERT THROATS, YOU FUCKERS!! This last was a scream of pure rage.

“But how do we go about that?”

It was as if he wasn’t there. These perverts were talking about him as if he were an inanimate object. Buzz had never been so furious in his life, and his blood pressure was getting dangerously high.

  “Well, first we have to get it horny. Work on its legs for a while - I know you like tight jeans, Jim, and those are as tight as they come. Enjoy its jeans. Work slowly higher - pay special attention to its inner thighs, right at the tops - and then tickle its balls and tease its cock gently. Remember it’s got no underpants on now so it’ll be able to feel the lightest touch. And a light touch is so much more frustrating. It won’t be able to stop itself from getting hard.”

Buzz was struggling in the restraints already, and the fingers hadn’t even touched him yet. When they did - just above the tops of his boots, he jerked as if an electric shock had gone through him. He yelled and swore into the hood. The fingers teased up his calves, and hovered around his knees for some time, then slowly made their way up his thighs.

“Lower its wrists a little - it’ll be able to struggle a bit more. That’ll make it feel even more frustrating.”

There was a whirr, and Buzz felt his arms come down a few inches. He was no longer stretched as tightly and had more movement. He tried to close his legs but could only get his knees to within a foot of each other. Ok, he thought, they want me to struggle. I won’t. I’ll deny them the fucking satisfaction. I’ll keep perfectly still.

This, while a good plan, proved quite impossible for him to do. As the fingers teased up the insides of his thighs towards his balls, his reflexes took over and he fought to get away from the hands with all the strength he had. He couldn’t stop himself. It was impossible. He fought to close his knees together to keep the hand out, but he couldn’t. His voice went up an octave when the fingertips began stroking and teasing the thin, worn denim stretched over his balls. It tickled like fuck, but more than this: he was infuriated to find that it felt sexy. He roared into the leather hood until his voice was hoarse.

“Mmmm… its jeans feel so good. They’re so worn and thin, and skintight . Oh fuck that is so horny.”

“Don’t forget its perineum. Put one hand round the back so you can get to its thighs and the bottom of its balls from behind. Really work on its balls. Push your finger into those creases at the sides.”

Buzz felt like a piece of meat in their hands, or a specimen in a lab; they had not once responded to anything he’d said. He felt so fucking helpless. And the way they were both concentrating on him so much but also completely ignoring him was fucking maddening.

“Ok,” said Paul, “I think you can move on to its cock now. Gently, lightly…”

Buzz let out an involuntary gasp as the fingertips tickled over the bulge of his cock. They traced from the base slowly up to the head, and back. The guy’s other hand was still between his thighs, the fingers teasing his balls, and he felt the first tentative surge of blood into his cock. NO! He would NOT allow himself to get a hard-on for these fucking perverts! He renewed his struggling, doing everything he could to get those hands off his balls and his cock, but the restraints held him so that he couldn’t. The fingers were gently stroking up and down the shaft, and sliding around the bulge of his cock head. He couldn’t get away from them, and his cock was getting hard.

“There you go - it’s getting hard already. You see - straights have very little control over their cocks, especially when they’re being worked on by a gay guy who knows what he’s doing.”

Under the leather hood Buzz was going red with shame, embarrassment, and sheer unadulterated fury. Just then a fingernail scraped over the head, and with a jolt his cock jerked to full erection instantly. He could feel it pushing out, stretching the tight denim of his jeans - it was as if it was trying to move towards the pervert’s fingers on its own, so that he could work on it more easily.

“Now, you see how its cock is stretching its jeans? If you squeeze the denim together behind the head you’ll be able to grip it and work on it much more effectively.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU BASTARD!” Buzz yelled. He didn’t need that wanker to tell the other guy that. But Jim followed the suggestion and Buzz felt his cock head isolated, gripped between fingers and thumb. He was now fully erect, his cock straining in the skintight jeans. Suddenly a shock of pure horniness coursed through him as Jim squeezed and rubbed the head through the denim. Then the shaft, and back to the head, and then his entire cock was being held and squeezed.

Buzz suddenly remembered to struggle, and he managed to get the guy’s hand off him.

“Ok. Now, I’m going to cut a hole in the back of its jeans, so you’ll be able to fuck it in those sexy jeans later, so let’s raise its arms and stretch it to keep it still while I do that.”

“NO! GET THE FUCK OFF ME YOU BASTARDS! YOU’RE DEAD DEAD DEAD!!!”

The hoist stretched him tight, and he felt a hand hold the waistband of his jeans at the back. Then some snipping sounds, followed by cool air on his arsehole. “You might want to explore that a bit now…” Said Paul.

Jim moved round to the back and Buzz heard the squelch of lube being squeezed from a tube. Suddenly there was a cold, cold finger feeling for his ring, and then the fingertip slid gently inside. At the same time the guy reached around him and worked on his cock again.

The thought of a guy’s finger in his arse made Buzz incandescent with rage. He fought the restraints like a demon - his whole body shook from the effort, but he couldn’t stop the bastard. He bellowed into the hood. The finger slowly worked its way further in, exploring gently. He felt it bend slightly downwards, and a few seconds later his body tensed as the fingertip touched something that felt amazing.

A quiet laugh. “I see you’ve found its prostate. Be careful there, we don’t want it to cum yet. Oh no…”

The finger massaged Buzz’s prostate gently and very slowly, while the other hand continued teasing the skinhead’s cock. In spite of his blazing hatred for faggots and all they stood for, he was mortified to find that what these perverts were doing to him was turning him on; and the fact that his cock and balls had been put down the wrong side of his jeans only made it feel more horny. With a start, Buzz suddenly realised that his hips were thrusting. He was trying to bring himself off in the pervert’s hand. He stopped that immediately and resumed his ineffectual struggling.

“Bring its arms down again - we don’t want it to get uncomfortable.”

Don’t want him to get uncomfortable! The fucking bastards.

“Now, what you want is for it to beg you to fuck it. It’s not going to do that until it’s a lot more horny than it is now, so edge it through its jeans if you can. Whatever you do, don’t let it cum. Work on its cock head very lightly, and listen to it, watch it, very closely indeed. Get to know the signs that it’s close to cumming, then stop. You should be able to get a bit closer each time, but err on the side of caution. There’s no rush. Get it to the edge, then stop - but whatever you do, don’t allow it to cum. Do that over and over. The effect is cumulative, and eventually its need for orgasm will get to be so powerful that it won’t be able to stop itself from begging you to fuck it, just so that it can cum.”

Buzz screamed into the hood. “You will NOT put your pervert cock anywhere NEAR my arse you fuckers! I’m fucking STRAIGHT! Get your fucking pervert hands off me…” He continued like this for some time.

Jim began working on the skinhead’s cock again. He stroked it, caressed it, tickled it, teased it, rubbed it, and squeezed it - all the time gently massaging the boy’s prostate. Buzz struggled - when he thought about it - but the noises he was making were becoming more incoherent, and there was an element that sounded like need that was becoming increasingly apparent. From time to time his hips started thrusting - only to be stopped abruptly when he realised it was happening - but the times when he wasn’t thrusting were getting shorter and shorter. What Jim was doing to his cock through his jeans felt so fucking horny… and that finger up his arse…

Shit! He was going to cum! He held his breath and screwed his eyes tightly closed under the hood…

And the bastard stopped. His finger moved off the prostate, and his hand was removed from the boy’s cock completely. Buzz screamed in frustration and fucked his jeans hard, trying to finish himself off, but it was not going to happen. He couldn’t quite cum.

“That was nicely close. A little too close for the first time, perhaps, but nevertheless…”

“BASTARDS!!! BASTARDS!!! BASTARDS!!!” He yelled his frustration into the hood. But then, after a few seconds, the fingers were back on his cock, and his prostate was being played with again.

“Ok. Did you notice how it held its breath when it thought it was going to cum? Listen for that, it’s a good indicator. Ok, get it to the edge again…”

The way they talked about him as an ‘it’ was really pissing him off. It was like he was just a fucking object for them.

Jim worked on the skinhead’s cock with skill. Precum was oozing out and turning the worn denim darker blue at the tip. Very soon the boy was on the edge again, and Jim carefully removed all stimulation. He squeezed his own cock bulge as he watched the helpless boy fighting the restraints to make himself cum, and yelling obscenities at them.

Jim brought him to the very edge, getting the boy closer every time, only to stop moments before he could cum. A short rest to let him recover, and then repeat. Six - seven - eight - nine times so far…

Buzz was going insane. He needed to fucking cum so badly he couldn’t think about anything else. His whole world was his cock. He could feel the spunk inside him, boiling, desperate to spurt out in thick gobs into his jeans. It would only take a second longer - but this Jim bastard knew exactly what he was doing, and what he was doing was intentionally making the boy’s need to cum worse and worse, but at the same time carefully making it impossible for Buzz to cum. He couldn’t stand it any longer. The fingers were back, teasing, rubbing, stroking his aching, horny cock. A fingernail scraped over the head of his cock, then was gone…

“OH FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! I GOTTA FUCKING CUM!” He was breathing fast. There was silence for a moment, and then he yelled, “FUCK ME! PLEASE FUCKING FUCK ME!!!!!”

He expected to feel a cock in his arse immediately, but nothing happened. The fingers continued to edge him. Again.

And again.

And again.

“CAN’T YOU FUCKING HEAR ME? PLEASE! FUCK ME! I’M FUCKING BEGGING YOU! FUCK ME!!!!!

“Did it say something?”

“I don’t know - wasn’t listening. Don’t think so.”

“Well, fuck it anyway.”

The fingers left his cock, he heard a zip being undone, a condom being put on, and then felt the guy’s cock sliding slowly into him. He’d expected it to hurt, or at least feel unpleasant, but - surprisingly - it didn’t. Not at all. Jim fucked him - gently at first, and then increasingly vigorously. His body moved in the restraints with each pounding thrust, and the fingers were working in his cock again - but not enough. Not enough! Buzz was in a world of pure perverted sex at that moment - he was hooded, helpless, the fucking felt wonderful, and the fingers were teasing his cock. He was being raped by gay perverts and he didn’t care - he needed to cum. HE NEEDED TO CUM!

With a grunt of satisfaction Jim came. Buzz felt the guy’s cock throbbing inside him as the spunk pumped out into the condom. Jim collapsed onto him, removing his fingers from the boy’s straining, desperate cock, and held him while he recovered.

“NOOOOO!!!!! MAKE ME FUCKING CUM!!!!!!” These bastards took no fucking notice of anything he said.

“Was that good?” Asked Paul.

“Oooooh fuck yeah.” Jim pulled out of the skinhead and there were sounds of cleaning up, then a zip being closed again.

“There’s a lesson here, Jim. The trouble with cumming yourself is that afterwards, for a time, you don’t feel as sadistic, so you can’t work on it as effectively.”

“Yeah, I expected that. But this skin’s so fucking sexy I’m gonna be ready again very soon…”

Paul chuckled. “Ok, I think the restraint table might be good now. Remember what I said about keeping the subject helpless while you’re moving it. So what d’you think’s the best way to do it? Tell you what: let’s go and have a coffee and we can talk about it.”

Buzz wailed as he heard them leave the room. He was so fucking horny and he needed to cum - and the bastards were leaving him!

He stood there, his face sweating inside a black leather hood, his wrists restrained above his head, his booted feet shackled to something immovable, his hard, horny cock - the head covered with precum - stretching his tight jeans almost to bursting point - and he was totally helpless to do anything about it. He listened, but could hear nothing through the leather. How long were they going to keep him here? What else were these cunts going to do to him? As his cock got slowly softer again, all the hate, the determination, the resolve to fight and to kill these bastards returned. He had been fucked up the arse by gay perverts. They were going to die. Oh, they were so going to die…


They’d obviously worked out exactly what they were going to do, because when they came back, Jim and Paul quickly and efficiently got the skinhead transferred to the restraint table, never once giving him the chance to escape or to damage them. He was now lying on his back, his feet cuffed a foot apart to the bottom of the table, and his wrists strapped tightly down by his sides. His jeans had been pulled down to his knees and his semi-hard cock lay inert over his balls.

“Good. Now, you did a good job edging it earlier, but we’re going to do some much more precise work here. I want you to be able to get it much, much closer to the point of orgasm. It’ll be easier now its jeans aren’t covering its cock, both for precision work, and also because when you stop, there will be absolutely nothing touching its cock for it to get any further stimulation from.”

Not more edging! These bastards just did not know when to stop. He pulled at the restraints, testing them, but they were as secure as the others had been.

“You’re going to have to immobilise its hips a lot more than that - it’s very important it can’t move its cock at all when you’re working on it.”

The skinhead felt another strap go over his hips. It was pulled very tight and fastened off. Now he couldn’t move them at all.

“Hey, you cunts. I’ll make a deal with you - let me out of here now and I’ll forget what you’ve done.”

“That’s good. I think that’s tight enough. We’ll soon find out.”

It was as if they were completely fucking deaf to him. They took no bloody notice at all.

“Now - with edging, we often use feathers, leather thongs, tissue paper, brushes, all kinds of things, but I want you only to use your hands. Put your skintight leather gloves on - they’re very thin. It’s important you get as much feedback from touch as possible. And lube. A little lube will help a lot.”

Moments later Buzz felt a hand. It was slippery, and gently gripped his cock at the base.

Jim’s other hand was heading for the cock head.

“No - leave the head for the time being. Work on the shaft. That way the head will sensitise even more and when you get to it it’ll be much more responsive. You want it aching for a touch on its cock head.”

The leather fingers moved to the shaft. They pressed, stroked and squeezed, and Buzz felt it beginning to get hard again. He shook his head and yelled. “NO! GET YOUR FUCKING PERVERT HANDS OFF ME YOU CUNTS!”

“That’s it - it’s getting horny again. It doesn’t want to, but it can’t help itself.”

“AND STOP CALLING ME A FUCKING ‘IT’!”

“Good… good… Now it’s fairly hard, move it so that it’s pointing slightly downwards towards the bottom of the table. That makes a cock more sensitive.”

Buzz lay there fuming impotently while his cock got harder and harder. Soon it felt like there was steam coming off it. The slippery leather fingers slid smoothly and lightly over the shaft - up and down, and around it, teasingly. Occasionally the guy enclosed it with his whole hand - but so very very lightly - and just held it there, not moving. At those times Buzz wanted desperately to thrust his hips and fuck that hand - but even if he’d been able to move his hips to thrust, his resolve to fuck these bastards up very badly wouldn’t have allowed him to. But he needed a touch on his cock head. He needed that so much…

“Ok, another few minutes on the shaft, then start on the head. Try tickling its balls at the same time. No, turn your left hand around to hold its cock - like that. That’s it. Now you can use those fingers on its balls. See?”

This whole thing was bad enough - being worked on by gay perverts - but the fact that he was being used as an object, to fucking TRAIN one of them made him want to descend on them from a very great height indeed and put them into a world of pain. “You are going to fucking SUFFE - AAAAH FUCK!!!!” The fingers had made contact with his balls and had started tickling them at the same time as the other hand was working on his cock shaft.

His cock was worked on like this for some time, then Paul said, “Good. Now I think we can go for the head - very, very lightly, so it can hardly feel it…”

A jolt of pure lust went through the skinhead as the slippery fingers stroked over his sensitised cock head. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning into the hood.

“That’s it - lightly. Tease it. Concentrate on the frenulum - that’s the bit just under the join of the glans. that’s very sensitive to light touch. And run your fingers round the corona, the bottom of the head.”

A single fingertip touched a spot on his cock that felt absolutely perfect. His cock jerked urgently. The fingertip stroked gently, then slid sensuously around the bottom of the head and returned to that spot. Buzz felt the first stirrings of impending orgasm again.

“Careful… careful… that can make a horny boy cum quite easily.”

The finger stopped for a few moments, and then resumed even more lightly and slowly. The thing Buzz wanted most in the world right now was for that hand to grip his cock and WANK IT HARD. He realised that all the hate and determination he’d had a few minutes ago had gone again. He wanted them to make him cum. Oh GOD, he wanted them to make him cum.

“Ok. Now put your palm over the head of its cock - no, don’t touch it yet - now close your fingers so you’re very lightly gripping the top half of its cock… that’s it… now rub the tip of the head with the slippery palm of your leather glove. That’s it, nice and slowly, round and round…”

Buzz let out a moan of pure lust. That felt fucking amazing. Tracy had never done anything like that… He was getting closer to cumming by the second.

“Now, enclose the whole cock lightly in your hand, and wank it very slowly indeed. Go right up and off the end, and then down again to the base. Make sure you have enough lube on your glove.”

More lube-squelch sounds, then the hand was back. It followed the suggestion, and Buzz really, really wished it hadn’t. Every time the hand moved up, he held his breath and squirmed in ecstasy. He was more horny than he’s ever been in his life before.

“Another trick…”

No! Don’t tell the bastard anything else, you cunt!

“… is to use both hands. As the first one comes off the tip of its cock, the second one starts at the base. Do that upwards a few times, then reverse so that your hands are moving downwards. That’ll make it feel like its cock is a yard long.”

It did. It fucking did. Buzz screwed up his eyes under the hood and lost himself in what was being done to his cock.

After a while, Paul said, “Ok. Now, the precision work I told you about. For this, we want it to feel as helpless and as frustrated as possible, so tighten the straps of the hood over its eyes. Jim did this, and Buzz felt the black leather press much more tightly over his face. “That’ll make it feel really helpless. And loosen the restrain holding its right hand a bit so that it can almost - but not quite - get to its cock…. Good, that’s it. Now, you’re going to work just on the head. One hand holding the base, like before - point it down more - that’s it. Ok. Now, work on the very tip of its cock head with your tongue, and use your lips very lightly on the rest of the head. Don’t suck - just tease.”

Buzz felt his cock move, and then warmth on the end of his cock. Oh FUCK! That felt indescribably wonderful. The pervert’s tongue was working on the piss-slit while his lips moved smoothly over the rest of the bare glans. It was calculated to drive a horny boy mad with the need to cum. And within seconds it was doing exactly that. The skinhead’s muscles tensed and his body prepared for a shattering orgasm… but of course the bastard stopped just too soon. Buzz screamed his frustration into the hood and strained to get his right hand to his cock to bring himself off - but the bastards had made sure he couldn’t quite reach it. So near and yet so fucking far…

“Yes, that was good. Try to get it a bit closer next time - but carefully, carefully… approach the edge much more slowly…”

The tongue and the lips were back, but this time even more slowly and carefully. Buzz felt himself approaching the edge again, and willed himself to cum. He was almost there… almost there… yes… he was…TH…

No. The mouth disappeared and left him hanging by a single fingernail over the abyss of orgasm. For a moment, in a red haze of desperation, he thought he still might be able to force himself to cum - and he tried everything he could to make that happen. But he couldn’t . He bounced up and down on the table in rage and screamed obscenities at the two perverts.

MAKE ME CUM! I’M BEGGING YOU - MAAAAKE MEEEE CUUUUUM!”

“That’s perfect. I think you’re getting the hang of this, Jim. Ok. Again.”

Buzz lost track of time completely. He existed in a world that alternated between mind-blowingly acute pleasure, and frustration of an intensity he could not previously have imagined. It went on and on. The bastard working on his cock was learning too - now, he didn’t even stop when he’d got Buzz to the edge, but just slowed right down so that his tongue and lips were hardly moving. That way he could keep the skinhead balanced on the knife-edge between cumming and not cumming for much longer.

“That’s long enough - you have to watch his heart rate. Let him recover, then go for it again.”

Buzz was silently losing his mind under the leather hood.

After what seemed like weeks of this, Paul said, “Right. I think you should make him cum next…”

Yes! Yes YES YES!!!

“… but lets’a have another cup of coffee first.”

What? NOOOO!! If the skinhead’s hands had been free he would have been tearing his hair out (if he’d had any). They could NOT leave him again!

Yes they could. And they did.


They’d clearly been talking in private again, because when they returned this time, working silently and together, they pulled his jeans up again over his semi-hard cock, and then got him hogtied on the floor, as he had been at the start of all this - the only difference being that his wrists were secured with what felt like cable ties rather than the handcuffs they’d used when they’d brought him here.

“Now, the final humiliation, Jim. So far you’ve got it horny, you’ve fucked it, and you’ve made it need to cum. Now, though, you’re going to make it cum while it’s trying to stop you.”

“Why on earth would it want to do that?”

Under the hood, Buzz was wondering exactly the same thing.

“Because after it’s cum in its jeans, we’re going to drop it out of the van opposite the Lock - the skinhead club - where all its mates hang out, with this sign on the front of its MA1.”

“Oh that is beautiful. ‘GAY PERVERTS MAKE ME CREAM MY JEANS.’ I love it!”

No. No. That could not be permitted to happen. Fucking shit - that could NOT be permitted to happen. Buzz shook his head and tried to control his panic. “Listen… guys. I’ve let you do what you wanted to me. You’ve had your fun. You’ve humiliated me. Let me go. Please.”

“So, how are we going to do this?” Asked Jim.

“Well this bit is not rocket science. One horny skinhead boy on the floor, hogtied, hooded and helpless; one gay pervert who knows how to make boys cum slowly, so they can try to fight it…”

“NO! You can’t do that! Please! I’ll do anything you want!”

Jim laughed quietly. “Oh-kay, I don’t think that will be a problem…..”

Buzz heard the creak of leather as Jim knelt behind him, then he felt fingers on his cock bulge. One hand gripped the shaft of his cock through his tight jeans and began wanking him very slowly, and then the other hand joined it, the fingers seeking out the head, and proceeding to tease it very lightly. His cock responded immediately, and within seconds it was fully hard in his jeans again. He struggled like fuck, but the hogtie prevented all useful movement. His knees were tied tightly together so he couldn’t even turn over to get away. And the fingers teased his cock - slowly, lightly, and gently. “NO! FUCK OFF YOU PERVERTS! GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF ME!!”

As hands worked carefully on the shaft and the cock head at the same time, Buzz felt himself gradually losing it… He was struggling and fighting against it with everything he had, but he was losing it. He had a serious problem: on the one hand, after everything these perverts had done to him - the hours of being repeatedly brought to the edge of cumming but with no release permitted - he knew that if he let this guy carry on working on his cock for another few seconds like he was doing, he would be helpless to stop the most monumental orgasm ever; but on the other hand there was no way he could allow himself to cum and then be dropped at the skinhead club in spunk-soaked jeans with a sign round his neck. That was humiliation of an entirely different order and he would NOT FUCKING ALLOW THAT TO HAPPEN. The fingers slowed; they were hardly moving now - and he suddenly knew that he could resist - he could stop himself from cumming! He strained every muscle in his body to get his cock away from those gently milking fingers. Oblivious to the pain of the cable tie cutting into his wrists, he struggled like he’d never struggled before.

“It’s fighting it,” commented Paul.

Jim gave a sadistic chuckle. “Hehe - I know it is. But not for long… As you say, I’m an expert at making horny boys cum…”

Suddenly the hand that had been on the shaft was forced between the tops of his thighs and onto his balls, teasing and tickling. At the same time Jim used a single fingernail to scratch over the worn, thin denim stretched tightly over the straining cock head. As Jim had intended, that single, irresistible stroke pushed the skinhead helplessly over the edge.

With a bellow into the blindfolding leather hood, Buzz started to cum. His body vibrated and his cock jerked like a wild beast as his spunk pumped out into his skintight jeans, under Jim’s gently milking fingers. He convulsed, and roared as it continued to spurt out of his madly bucking cock. It was an orgasm so unbelievably intense that not just his cock but his whole body felt like it was on fire. He jerked uncontrollably in his restraints for what seemed like minutes, and finally - as he collapsed back onto the floor in total exhaustion - he lost consciousness.

When he came to he found that he was still hogtied, but also gagged and blindfolded with duct tape. He was lying on concrete, and by the sounds and the smells, it felt like he was in an alley. It would be the one by the Lock club. His mates would find him soon.

He heard booted footsteps approaching. They stopped abruptly. “What the fuck…?” Someone said. Fingers took the sign from his jacket. “‘Gay perverts make me cream my jeans,’” the voice read. “Oh-kay… Anyone got a knife?”

He felt the cable tie around his ankles being cut off, and waited for the tape to be removed from over his eyes and mouth, but it wasn’t. Arms helped him to stand up, and he felt leather jeans against his hands. He shook his head violently and yelled into the gag, “Mmmmmph.”

“Shh… Come with us, boy. We’ll take good care of you.”

They marched him between them down the stairs into the Black Angel leather club, and into one of the the darkrooms - the one at the very back.