The Telemachus Story Archive

Precision
By Hooder
Email: hooder@ntlworld.com



Precision

Jed had given a very great deal of thought to the way he looked; everything he wore had been considered very carefully indeed. His intention was simple: to make guys want to fuck him senseless.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror: he’d been called good-looking by lots of girls, but he couldn’t see it himself – he thought he looked average. But he did know that his eyes were special: large, deep-blue, and with long lashes. ‘Dreamy’ was the word a lot of chicks had used. Whether he was good-looking or not, he’d worked hard to make sure that the rest of his body oozed pure, animal sexiness . His tight white tee shirt was carefully chosen to show off his well-developed gym-worked pecs and six-pack; and he even had a vanishingly small amount of liner on his eyes – totally unnoticeable unless you knew it was there, but it made his eyes even more startling.

And he’d spent a lot of time finding the right jeans. He reckoned that the first thing gay guys looked at was a boy’s bulge – and he wanted jeans that left absolutely nothing to the imagination; a bulge that would make guys want to feel it, rub their faces in it, make them desperate to have that cock inside them, fucking their arses. He needed jeans that made guys stop in their tracks.

He’d searched for ages on the net and then he’d come across the perfect ones. They were faded denim, with darker seams running up the insides of the legs like long arrows pointing to the bulge. And they were skintight, to show off his legs and muscular thighs.

He’d heard of stretch jeans but he’d never worn them before – he’d always considered them to be a women’s kind of thing – but they were perfect for what he wanted: they showed absolutely everything. The first time he’d put them on and looked at his reflection he’d been amazed: he’d actually got a hard-on both at the look and at the feel of them. They were every bit as skintight as he’d wanted, but unlike ordinary denim jeans, which flattened everything out if they were tight, if he placed things to the side of the zip these stretched easily over his cock and balls – the thin denim feeling like gentle fingers holding them in a sexy, teasing grip. When he walked up the stairs in them it felt like they were trying to make him cum. And the bulge they made was mouth-watering. When he’d first seen himself in them and thought of what they would do to guys, he’d had to have a wank there and then.

The faded jeans – with nothing underneath - were low on his hips, and looked horny with the white-laced, Doc Martens 18-hole boots below them.

He pulled his grey hoodie on, did the zip up just a couple of inches, and took a final appraising look in the mirror. Gazing back at him was a stunningly sexy, 18-year old skinhead. Yes, he thought, that would do perfectly.

It was Jed’s mission to pull boys. Perverted, dirty, gay boys.

And to beat the living shit out of them.

His best mate Tom had moved away to live in Cardiff last week – but not before coming out as gay. Jed hadn’t been able to believe it. His best fucking mate. Known him for years. They’d been in the same local football team. Shit, they’d even showered together – and one night last year after getting stoned out of their minds they’d actually ended up sharing the same bed.

After Tom’s announcement Jed had wandered home in a state of shock, his mind whirling. All that time. Had Tom been fancying him? Been eyeing up his cock? His arse? It had taken a while for it to sink in, but by the time he’d got back to his flat Jed had been seething. He’d felt humiliated and the more he’d thought about it the worse it had got. At that moment he had developed an overpowering hatred of gays. If Tom had been there he’d have fucking killed him.

Tom wasn’t there, but there were other gay fuckers who were. And they would fucking learn. Jed could handle himself. He knew exactly what to do: a knee in the crotch, smash their face as the head came down, kick their legs out from under them, and put the boot in. He’d rehearsed the moves in front of the mirror until he could do it without thinking. Tonight would be the first.

The first of many.


1am. Most of the clubs were turning out and the streets were busy. The narrow alley, however, was – as usual - deserted. Not only that, but halfway along it there was a side passage that led into a small yard surrounded on three sides by the high brick walls of a factory. Ideal. Jed had found it yesterday after searching for exactly that sort of place. Lure the bastards in there and smash their fucking heads in with nobody to see.

He wandered down the road. A few paces ahead was the Eagle and, a couple of doors further along, the Link – both rough trade hangouts, though the Link was more for the heavy leather brigade. On the other side of the street was a small park with rusting green railings and a locked gate. Jed crossed the road and leaned against the fence, one booted foot up behind him and his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, fingers resting invitingly on the bulge of his cock. He pulled his hood up, put on his sexiest, come-and-fuck-me smile, and waited.

An hour later Jed walked out of the alley, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Behind him, in the small yard, a guy lay bruised and moaning on the concrete. Jed laughed to himself – it had been so fucking easy; the guy had gone down like a sack of potatoes while his eyes had been fixed on the skinhead’s unbelievably bulging jeans. Oh fuck it had felt good. It had felt so right somehow – spitting on him, punching the fucker, and kicking the shit out of him with his DMs. The adrenaline rush had actually given Jed the beginnings of an erection while he’d been doing it. Fucking gays – he’d show the cunts.

He took a deep, satisfied breath, and looked up and down the street. There would be more – many more. But the next could wait until tomorrow. For now, a beer or two at home was called for.


It was the following week – he’d beaten up three guys so far and he was loving every minute of it. The little yard off the alley was perfect: out of the way, and out of sight where he and his victim could be alone, with nobody to help the fucker.

He was walking down that same alley when he saw a biker coming towards him. The guy was in full leathers and wearing a crash helmet. And he was staring openly at Jed’s jeans.

The biker slowed down as he got close. “Fucking hell mate, those jeans are tight. You fucking gay or what?”

Jed bridled. “No I’m not fucking gay, you wanker. I fucking hate gays.” He screwed his face up and spat a gob of saliva onto the concrete at the biker’s feet.

“We know you do,” Said a voice from behind him.

Jed spun round and found himself face to face with two hunky leather guys. They must have followed him down the alley; he cursed himself for not checking behind him. Their faces were familiar… He swallowed. Oh shit, they were two of the ones that he’d dealt with in the yard last week. “Nah, only kidding,” he said lamely.

Together, the two leather guys jumped on him. They got him down on the ground, and held his arms and legs immobile.

The biker looked down at him. “And I suppose you were only kidding when you beat the living shit out of Tony and Del here?”

“Don’t know what you’re fucking talking about mate. I never seen these fuckers before.”

“Right.” Very slowly, the biker took a bottle and a cloth out of his pocket. He made a show of carefully opening the bottle, pouring some liquid onto the cloth, recapping the bottle and replacing it in his pocket. “You are going to pay, my sexy skinhead friend. I’m going to put you to sleep, and when you wake up you’ll be somewhere quiet, private, where nobody can help you. Somewhere where we can work on you. Slowly. And for a long time.” He knelt down over the terrified skinhead. With one hand he gripped the boy’s bulge and squeezed, and with the other he clamped the cloth over Jed’s face.

The pain in his balls was excruciating as the guy squeezed them. Jed struggled like a trapped animal to get free but he was being held helpless by the two guys. He couldn’t get away from the cloth however hard he tried to shake the hand off, and a few seconds later his world faded out.


Jed was not happy. He struggled and swore and cursed and promised great violence when he got free of the straps and the other restraints that were holding him down to the padded leather-covered table. It was in the middle of a black-walled room that was full of SM gear.

Gareth – now no longer wearing the crash helmet but instead a black leather full-face mask - gazed at the restrained skinhead. Boyish-looking, and with meltingly beautiful eyes. One of the sexiest boys he’d seen for a very long time, he thought. Three wide black leather straps ran over the skin’s upper body, and his hands were enclosed in leather fingerless mitts, which were attached to clips in the table, on either side of his head. The hoodie had been removed. A tight white tee shirt, displaying a very nice pair of pecs and a slim, firm waist, disappeared into his jeans, which were unusually tight for a straight boy. They clung to his thighs like they’d been sprayed on. The denim was faded - especially around his crotch – and the darker double-stitched seams on the insides of his thighs contrasted with the lighter denim. His bulge was, at the moment, simply a large, semi-spherical mound between his thighs. Each DM-booted foot was attached to the side of the table by a leather cuff on a short chain. This arrangement kept his feet wide apart.

At the side of Gareth, Tony and Del – their bruises now healing – were also looking down at the boy on the table. They were here to learn from Master Gareth. Like Gareth, they too wore full black leathers, including full-face leather masks.

“Interesting,” said the biker. “Stretch denim. It’s unusual for straight boys to wear stretch jeans,” said Gareth. “Could it be,” he asked, looking at Jed but still talking to the other two, “that they’re intended to pricktease the fuck outta his victims so they follow him to that alley?”

Jed swore. “Piss off you fucking queer bastard.”

Ignoring him, Gareth smiled behind his mask. “Well, we’re going to show this one that jeans like that can be a bit more of a liability than he realises.”

The boy was struggling and swearing again. Gareth waited for him to shut up, then turned his attention to him.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Piss off, you fucking cunt.”

Gareth gripped one of the boy’s nipples through his tee shirt and squeezed hard, rolling it between his fingers. The skinhead screamed. “What’s your name?” He asked again, more firmly.

“JED! It’s fucking Jed! Awright cunt?”

Gareth took his hand away. “Well hello Jed. Time I introduced myself. My name is Gareth. There are three things you should know about me: first, I’m gay. Second, what turns me on more than anything else in this world is boys in skintight jeans. And third, the thing I love doing best of all to helpless boys is making them suffer.”

A gob of spit sailed past Gareth’s leather mask. “FUCK OFF YOU CUNT!”

Gareth smiled again. “Something else you should know is that we’re going to make a short film – of you begging a masked, gay leather biker to make you cum in your jeans.And that film is going to be all over Youtube.”

Jed was beside himself. He tore at the restraints, called them cunts, bastards and perverts.“Cum in my fucking jeans? For a fucking gay cunt? In your fucking dreams you wanker.” He spat at them again.

“I think the spit guard would be an idea.” The biker took a sheet of perspex from a shelf and fitted it into clips on the posts to either side. Any spit would run harmlessly down the transparent shield, but they could still see his face. He turned back to Tony and Del. “Now”, said Gareth, “first thing, we need to get his cock hard. No doubt he’ll do everything he can to fight against that, but all I have to do is tease his balls.” He smiled behind the mask. “I don’t think he’ll be able to stop himself from getting hard.”

He moved closer to the boy and rested the fingers of one hand lightly on the top of Jed’s left knee.

The chains rattled as Jed kicked out. He moved his legs violently to get the hand off, and succeeded.

“Notice that he can do that down here – but further up, from about… here,” Gareth rested his hand on the boy’s leg once more, but this time higher up, on his thigh, “he can’t.”

The skinhead struggled, but although he was kicking hard, the chains did not allow his thighs to move enough to get away from the hand. Gareth’s fingers simply rested there, moving with the boy’s leg.

“And of course the higher up I go, the less he can get away from me.” To demonstrate, Gareth placed his fingers on the inside of the skin’s thigh, and stroked them slowly and teasingly upwards towards his balls.

The closer they got to his crotch, the more violently the boy kicked and strained to get free of the restraints, and the more he swore. Streams of spit were running down the perspex shield and his face was screwed up in a mask of incandescent fury.

Gareth was standing at his side, well out of kicking range of the boots, and his fingertips were lightly tickling the inside of the boy’s thigh – right at the very top. He moved them up further, onto the bulge of the skinhead’s balls.

Jed’s knees were bent now and he slammed them together as far as he could in an effort to keep the invading hand out – but because the chains were keeping his feet wide apart, he couldn’t close his knees together tightly, and all he succeeded in doing was to brush the hand lightly that was between his thighs. It was infuriating.

The fingers continued to tickle his balls, the thin denim warm and soft. “Yes,” said Gareth, “there we go - look at his bulge.”

The two other guys moved closer on the other side and leaned over to look. Where there had previously been just a general mound between the boy’s legs, now a new, smaller shape was detaching itself slowly from the main bulge.

“That’s the head of his cock. Watch, and you’ll see it get clearer as he gets harder. He’s not doing it voluntarily – there’s nothing he can do to stop it.”

His fingers continued to work slowly and lightly on the tight denim-covered balls, tickling and teasing them, and the new bulge continued to grow. “I arranged his cock pointing down, over his balls, at the side of the zip - so now it’s getting harder it’s trying to push outwards. It can’t go upwards or sideways because his jeans are gripping it, but it can come outwards by stretching the denim – and that’s what we want ‘cos we’re going to be working on the head shortly.”

Over the next minute or so, in response to the teasing of his balls, and in spite of anything he could do to stop it, the boy’s cock got harder and harder. Soon the bulge was much more three-dimensional: over the still-spherical mound of his balls, a separate, angry, thrusting and much more clearly-defined bulge outlined a cock that was trying to force its way to freedom through the stretchy, faded denim.

Gareth removed his hand. “Good. Now, let’s see what happens if I...” He stroked the thrusting bulge once gently with a fingertip, and the two others nodded as the boy’s cock jerked urgently.

“That’s excellent.” He looked at his two pupils. “Now, you have to remember that straight boys, in the main, are blunt instruments when it comes to sex. They get horny, they get their cocks out, get a quick blow job or a quick fuck – and they usually cum in seconds flat – and that’s it. Very few realise exactly how much prolonged and intense pleasure, or intense frustration, their cocks can give them. And they almost never find out just how absolutely their cocks can control them. I am about to teach Jed here all about his cock.”

Jed’s face was one big sneer. He’d long ago run out of swear words and was now just looking at them like they were something disgusting he’d trodden in.

“I’ve been experimenting with this little device lately,” he said. He took an object from his pocket and showed it to them, turning it around in his hand. It was about the length of a pencil, slightly thicker, with a long, tapered end that came to a smoothly-rounded point at one end, about an eighth of an inch across. The boy craned his head trying to see what it was.

“This little thing looks innocuous, but believe me it’s not. It’s a vibrator. But as you can see, unlike most vibrators this one comes to a very small point. It’s designed to work on very localised spots, very precisely. It can be used on naked skin, but it’s much, much more effective through a thin layer of something – like leather, or PVC...” He looked down at the boy, “...or denim.” He switched it on, and it started to buzz quietly. “There are three strengths, this is the first.” He paused for a moment. “Second.” The buzzing abruptly grew louder. “Third.” Louder still. Now it sounded like an angry wasp. He switched it off.

The boy was frowning and there was foam at the side of his mouth from all the spitting and swearing. “You keep that fucking thing off me, you perverts.”

Gareth looked at the skinhead’s bulge. The boy’s cock was fully hard now, straining the jeans to bursting point, the thin faded denim stretched over it like cling film. “Observe.”

He bent over the boy’s crotch and, concentrating hard, touched the tip of the vibrator very gently to the head of the skinhead’s cock. The contact was so light that the indentation the tip made in the thin denim was almost invisible. Even though it wasn’t yet switched on, the precise touch of the rounded, hard tip on his cock made the boy take a sharp intake of breath. Gareth stroked it around slowly, making the skinhead moan and swear.

“What I’m doing now is finding out exactly where this boy’s cock is most sensitive. The secret of working on struggling boys is to find their weaknesses, and then to exploit them. The frenulum is almost always one, but there are other spots, and they vary from one boy to another.”

As the rounded end of the device moved about all over the denim-covered cock head, it brought gasps of varying intensity from Jed. One spot caused a much more violent reaction.

Ah -” Gareth pointed with his free hand to the vibrator’s tip, “that’s one spot right there.” The device was hovering over the very end of the bulging cock, right over the piss-slit. He lowered it gently and rubbed it lightly backwards and forwards. The jeans were so thin that he could feel the two bumps as the vibrator passed over them.

The boy groaned, and his cock looked as if it was trying to burst out of his jeans. It was jerking rhythmically under the skintight denim.

“Like I said, one of the most obvious spots, of course, is the frenulum. But we can’t really get at that very well yet – it’s beneath the head and the tension of his cock is pulling his jeans away from it. But these are stretch jeans, so we can do this...” He enclosed the base of the boy’s cock with the fingers of his free hand and gripped it firmly – causing another sharp intake of breath. The denim pulled tight around it, the shaft and the head of the cock now very clearly defined, with the stretch denim clinging tightly all the way down the shaft like a faded blue condom.

“Now we can get to it...” He stroked the end of the silent vibrator over the spot a couple of times. The boy groaned urgently.

“Ok.” Gareth straightened up. “We know that the frenulum is sensitive, and also that, on this boy, the very tip and the ridges all the way around the head are too. All of those are weaknesses for this boy. Let’s play with them.”

He switched the vibrator on and, once again concentrating, gently touched the end to the very tip of the cock head.

The boy convulsed. Electric currents of pure pleasure from his cock suddenly began battering his brain - and he yelled. He had never felt anything so indescribably fucking horny in his life. It made him want to cum.

Gareth removed the vibrator. “That was on the lowest setting. It would probably have made him cum in what, ten, fifteen seconds if I’d kept it there. Interestingly, this kind of thing completely bypasses a boy’s self-control. I mean, look at him: clearly he doesn’t want to be here, and he certainly doesn’t want a gay leather pervert who’s turned on by skinheads in tight jeans to be playing with his cock. For a straight boy – especially a violent, gay-hating one like this - it’s probably the very worst thing that could happen to him. But however much he wants to, he can’t control it. He can’t do anything about it: he can’t stop me, he can’t stop himself from getting hard, he can’t stop his cock from reacting.” Gareth felt his own cock jerk in his leather jeans. “And most of all he can’t stop himself from wanting to cum.”

He touched the buzzing device to the cock head again; the boy made a noise like he was trying to lift a boulder – it began as a grunt and ended as a long, drawn-out moan. His cock jerked again in his jeans.

“See? Can’t control it at all. Now, when I touch the vibrator to his cock it gives him intense pleasure. That’s a necessary part of what we want to do to him, but it’s not exactly what we’re after. What we’re after is to make the bastard suffer. And the way to do that is to use frustration. Even though he hates the idea of a gay guy touching his cock like this, the vibrator will still make him want to cum. But wanting to cum is not enough. Nothing like enough.” He looked down at the boy. “I could make him shoot his spunk in seconds – even without this vibrator. If I gripped his cock head firmly through his jeans and rubbed it he’d cum in seconds. Teenage boys are like that. But that is the very last thing we want. What’s needed is not to make him want to cum, but to make him need to cum – and those are two very different things.”

“This vibrator is a precision instrument. It was designed to cause the most intense orgasms possible - but the way we’re going to use it is as an instrument of torture. We’re going to work on his most sensitive spots very very carefully, get him closer and closer to cumming – and then stop, just before he can cum. Keep doing that for long enough and he’ll go mad with the need for orgasm. That is exactly what we’re after. You can edge a boy with your fingers – no problem – but this thing is so precise that if it’s targeted properly the stimulation it produces on one small spot is so intense that it takes edging to a whole new level. When we touch this vibrator to his cock it will feel indescribably wonderful, but if we remove it - when he’s really close, when he’s almost there – so that he can’t cum , it’ll be fucking unbearable torture ; he’ll thrust his pelvis, fight the restraints, do everything he can to make himself cum. But he can’t reach his cock, and he can’t control what we’re doing to him however much he wants to. It may not sound like much of a torture to you, but believe me, if you ever experienced it, it would very certainly change your mind. And it’ll get worse and worse the longer I do it to him.” He switched the vibrator up to the highest level.

All three guys were as hard as a rock in their leather jeans. The thought of torturing a sexy straight skinhead boy by causing him to need to cum so desperately - but at the same time preventing him from doing so – seemed so devious, so unfair. And it was turning them on like mad.

All through this Jed had been cursing and threatening them but nobody had been paying any attention.

“So, let’s begin.” Gareth sat down on the stool, and focussed. The boy’s eyes were fixed on the end of the vibrator, watching every move Gareth made. Holding it like a pen, the biker very carefully touched the plastic tip to the bulge of the skinhead’s cock. It caused a tiny dimple in the blue denim as he moved it – first around the ridges, and then in small circles directly over the piss slit.

The boy had thought the thing had been intense before, but now it was on its highest setting and he screamed with pure lust. His cock stiffened, stretching the the thin denim out even further to meet it. His breathing got faster and more shallow.

Gareth removed the device. It had been in contact for perhaps five or six seconds. The boy went completely silent, then let out a strangled moan and started bouncing up and down on the padded table.

Gareth repeated the procedure.

When it was removed this time the skinhead shook his head with need, fought the restraints and swore incoherently.

Gripping the base of the cock as he had done before, Gareth touched the end of the vibrator to the boy’s frenulum. He left it there for just one second before taking it away.

The boy’s reaction was much more intense this time. He yelled as well as swore, and – as Gareth had predicted – he was, again, tearing at the restraints with everything he’d got.

“You’ll notice that the effects of edging are cumulative. It gets worse and worse for him. That’s why I’m making contact for shorter and shorter lengths of time.” He straightened up and switched the vibrator off.

“Now, this boy is reasonably helpless. The feeling of helplessness increases the effect of edging more that you could believe. So, the more helpless we can make him, the worse this is going to be for him. You’ve probably noticed he’s been watching everything I’ve been doing very closely. But if he couldn’t see...” He felt his cock jerk in his jeans, “that would make things much worse for him – a lot worse. So, we could blindfold him. That would do. But we can do better than that. And being able to communicate – all this swearing at us – that’s something he needs to be able to do, as well as being able to see what’s coming. So we make it impossible for him to do either of those things, in as uncompromising a way as possible. We gag him, and we get him in a tight blindfolding leather hood.”

Jed renewed his swearing and struggling. There was no fucking way he was going to be gagged, and as for a hood – just let the fuckers try. He clamped his mouth shut.

Gareth had taken a gag and a hood from the shelf. He passed the gag to Tony and the hood to Del. “Hold those please, and Del, be ready to get the gag on to him.

“How am I going to get it in?” The boy’s mouth was still tightly shut and Del couldn’t think of any way he could be made to open it.

Gareth smiled. “Remember what I was saying about weaknesses? All you have to do to control a boy is find his weaknesses. And I know one weakness which most teenage boys have…”

Del stood beyond Jed’s head with the gag ready in his hands.

Gareth leaned over the skinhead and looked steadily into his deep blue eyes - and then suddenly he jabbed the stiff thumbs of both hands into the boy’s sides just below his ribs and pressed hard, moving them in circles.

Jed screwed his face up and screamed with both surprise and intense ticklishness. Before he regained control of himself Del had got the gag between his teeth and strapped tightly behind his head. The boy fumed, but now he fumed silently.

“Good. And now the hood. No surprise tactics necessary for this. Tony, just get it on him. Take your time. Let him fight it if he wants to – and he probably will. It’ll still go on – he can’t stop you.” He looked down at the boy. “When that goes over your head you’re not going to be able to see a fucking thing. That is exactly the purpose of a leather hood: to make you fucking helpless.”

Jed fought. He threw his head from side to side and made violent, incoherent noises under the gag. But however he struggled, Tony managed to get it further and further over his head. Inch by inch the hood came down over his face. Very soon, shiny black leather was enclosing his head completely and he was staring wildly into impenetrable blackness. He felt fingers tightening straps around his neck, and to make it cling more tightly over his face. Gagged, he could only breathe through his nose, and the hood was intended to make breathing difficult, so that its victim was constantly reminded how helpless he was.

Gareth relaxed for a moment. He knew the boy could still hear him. “Apart from the ones who are into S&M, most guys have no idea what a hood does to you. How it forces you to concentrate on what you can feel. How your universe contracts and centres on whatever part of your body is being worked on. Not being able to see what’s going to happen to you – or when. The feel of leather pressing tight over your face. Having to work to get your breath. All of that makes a hood a catalyst for edging – it makes it more effective than you could ever believe. And it also makes a victim much more vulnerable to everything.”

He moved his arm so that it was between the boy’s legs, the fingers hovering over the clearly-defined shape of the skinhead’s cock. He gripped the shaft once, sharply. Jed jumped as if he’d been electrocuted and screamed into the gag. Gareth waited for a count of twenty, then jabbed his fingers into the boy’s armpits. Again Jed screamed. He slammed his elbows to his sides but it was too late; the hands were in there and he couldn’t get them out. He cursed the fucking hood – if he’d been able to see the hands coming he could have easily kept them out. The fingers began to move and the boy writhed in manic ticklishness.

“You see? He is beautifully vulnerable – and there’s fuck-all he can do about it.” He pulled his hands out and sat down on the stool again. “Anyway, back to business.” The vibrator began to buzz.

While the gag and the hood were being put on him Jed’s cock had lost some of its hardness, but that turned out to be a very temporary arrangement. Within seconds of the rounded plastic tip of the vibrator touching him again, his cock was back to thrusting and desperately trying to push itself against the device, to maintain contact with it at any cost.

But of course that was the one thing it was not allowed to do. Whenever Gareth thought that the boy was getting close to cumming, he removed it. One of Gareth’s main turn-ons was edging, and it was a talent he had enthusiastically developed over the years. Some boys were more difficult to read than others, but with this one it was so easy: when he got very close the skinhead held his breath and tensed – every muscle quivering like a guitar string.

Over the next five hours Gareth became increasingly expert at getting him closer and closer to the point of orgasm without letting him cum – and every time he took the vibrator away from the ragingly horny cock head, his cock jerked and he sighed in sadistic satisfaction as the boy went ballistic trying to make himself cum, but couldn’t.

Gareth had got to the point where he would touch the tip of the vibrator to the cock for a quarter of a second, take it off for two seconds, and repeat. Like this he was able to keep the skinhead as close as he dare to cumming for as long as he wanted. Unfortunately he also had to keep an eye on the boy’s ability to get enough air through the hood, and so he only did this for a couple of minutes at a time, giving Jed as short a moment to recover as possible before starting again.

Inside the leather hood Jed was in a world that swung violently between pure heaven and indescribable hell: on the one hand, when that bastard device was touching his cock it felt more amazingly horny than anything he’d ever experienced in his life – it made him need to cum more than he would ever have thought was possible. He was a boy, and when a boy needs to cum that badly nothing must be allowed to prevent it – absolutely nothing - it is the most powerful, compelling drive a boy can experience. As the point of orgasm approached hiships thrust forward and back madly, his cock needing to fuck something. Now! Anything. Every time, his entire body wound itself up to shoot his spunk in a mind-melting explosion of ecstasy. But that was exactly the trouble: because the bastard always removed the fucking device at the very moment when orgasm was closest – when the compulsion to cum was at its most urgent, its most earth-shatteringly demanding. And the frustration that that produced was more intense, more totally un-fucking-bearable than his mind could cope with.

And now there was a hand between his legs, teasing the insides of his thighs. The fingers stroked lightly, moving slowly upwards towards his balls, tickling his thighs through the skintight, thin, sensitive jeans. His brain had been screaming at him not to let that hand get to his balls. He was straining his muscles trying to close his knees together, and the frustration of not quite beingable to do so was almost more than he could bear. It wouldn’t have been so bad if his legs had been completely immobilised so he couldn’t move them at all – his mind would have realised there was no point, and would have mostly given up - but almost being able to protect himself forced him to struggle and to try. And that was humiliating, and maddeningly frustrating. Every time the fucking biker did that he felt like he was being raped. And the teasing and the tickling – especially on his balls when the fingers finally got there - made what the cunt was doing with that fucking buzzing thing even worse.

The vibrator was spending more time off his cock now than on it, but he was still being kept insanely close to the edge. It had to stop. He was going out of his fucking mind. It had to fucking stop!

But it didn’t stop. They’d been at it for five and a half hours now, and Gareth had no intention of stopping yet. In fact he intended to make it worse.

Another thing few straight boys have any experience of is poppers. When Jed felt the hand clamping over the hood’s breathing holes under his nose and was aware of an unusual chemical smell, he panicked. What the fuck was that? Were the bastards trying to put him to sleep again? And then, moments later, his world seemed to shift on its axis. It was hard to describe, even if he’d been in any state to try to analyse it: everything suddenly became more intense, but not only that, it became more immersive somehow. His heart rate had increased, and he found himself struggling in a universe of pure sex. Suddenly the restraints seemed to be on their own personal mission to make him helpless; unable to communicate because of the gag, he was forced to keep his suffering inside him, where it compounded; the bastard hood was gripping his face tightly, the shiny black leather making him more vulnerable, more fucking helpless and more susceptible to the unbearable torture this cunt was doing to him. These things made it all many times worse – but at the same time the chemical was somehow making everything more horny, more mind-blowingly sexy. His writhing and struggling now was still to get away from it, to be able to cum – oh God, if he could only CUM!!! - but there was also a part of him that was struggling in order that he could feel himself struggling, feel the restraints, feel the hood. For the first time in his life he knew what it felt like to be controlled - physically, mentally, and sexually. And in the tiny part of his mind that was still capable of registering the fact, he was gobsmacked to realise that the idea of that was turning him on like fuck.

The bulge of his jeans was dark blue now with the precum that had been oozing out of his cock for the last few hours. Gareth asked Tony to remove the boy’s hood and gag. Jed was strangely silent when they came off.

It was now six hours into the session. Gareth had given him a one-minute rest, so he was a little more in control of himself than he had been. He lay there panting and squinting in the lights.

“Now,” The biker looked deeply into the boy’s blue eyes through his leather mask. “We could have punished you in many other ways. Tony wanted to tie you to that post over there and work you over with bars of soap in socks. Del was all for watching you dance with your balls wired up to the electrics machine. But we’ve been good to you. We’ve given you a lot of pleasure.” He ran a fingernail over the bulging cock head, making it jerk again. He knew that after the hours of edging the boy had just been through, for some considerable time yet just a single rub over his cock head would be all it would take to make him cum. “But next time, it will be the electricity. And the beating. Do I make myself clear?”

Jed nodded. He looked down. “Yeah.” He was silent for a moment, then he looked up. “My days of beating up gays are through,” he muttered sullenly.

“Good. Now. Do you want to cum?” He stroked his fingertips up the length of the denim-covered cock shaft slowly and over the head, teasing it gently.

The boy closed his eyes. “Oh fuck. Yes. Pleeeeease.”

Gareth nodded to Tony, who did something to a camera that was standing on a tripod by their side.

“OK skinhead. Beg this gay leather biker to make you cum in your jeans, straight boy.”

Even after all of this - after everything he had experienced - Jed still could not bring himself to say the words. He struggled with it, but nothing came out.

Gareth glanced down at the bulging cock and targeted the very tip of the head. He scratched his fingernail up and down over it, hardly touching. “Beg this gay leather biker to make you cum in your jeans, straight boy.”

Jed screwed his face up in desperation. The feel of the nail scratching over the end of his cock head fired up all the feelings he’d been through over the last hours. He needed to cum so badly he could taste it.

At a nod from Gareth Del gave the boy some more poppers. He held the cloth over Jed’s face until he had taken three or four breaths of it then took it away. Gareth worked on the cock head again, slowly. “Beg this gay leather biker to make you cum in your jeans, straight boy.”

The poppers got him. It was too much. The skinhead’s cock head was again the centre of his universe. He had to cum. He would do anything to cum.

“Please,” he managed to get out. “Please make me cum. I beg you. I’m begging a gay leather biker to make this straight skinhead boy cum in his jeans.”

Gareth smiled. That was exactly what he wanted. He switched on the vibrator to its highest setting. Even just the sound of the thing was enough now to make Jed need to cum like fuck.

He gripped the boy’s cock at the base and touched the point of the vibrator to the ridge. Over the next thirty seconds, with brief touches the biker got him back to being as close to the edge as he’d been before they’d stopped.

Now he touched it to the spunk-soaked denim directly over over the piss-slit, held it there for less than a heartbeat, and removed it. The boy got even closer.

Five times he did this. Each time the skinhead got closer than he’d ever been – closer than Gareth had dared to get him previously. After the fifth touch he was suspended on the very brink of orgasm – his eyes staring; his muscles quivering, tight as bowstrings; his heart racing; his mouth open wide; not breathing.

Then the biker put the device on the boy’s frenulum - and held it there.

Instantly the skinhead began to cum. He screwed his face up, arched his back, thrust his hips and screamed . His bulging cock bucked madly in his jeans as spunk pumped into the skintight denim – spunk that had, for the last six hours, been sadistically encouraged but very carefully denied release. The intensity of his ejaculation was so powerful that the spunk actually forced its way through the thin denim, forming a rapidly-growing, pearly-white pool on the bulge before running down over his balls. His body bounced on the table as Gareth held the vibrator in place, milking the skinhead’s cock relentlessly until Jed collapsed back onto the leather padding.

Gareth, Tony and Del had been needing to cum for as long as the boy had, and now they unzipped their leather jeans and, standing over him, brought themselves off with a few urgent strokes. Their spunk landed on the boy’s crotch and thighs, adding to the shiny lakes that were already soaking into the denim.

Jed was panting, but not cursing, not swearing. He lay there saying nothing, staring at the black ceiling. This morning, the thought of three gay guys wanking over him, their spunk landing all over his jeans, would have made him punch the walls in fury – but now, somehow, it was different. The main guy, the biker Gareth, had said that he was going to teach Jed about his cock. How it could be used to control him. He would have never believed him, but now he knew that what he’d said had been true: now he knew exactly what his cock was capable of in the right hands.

After allowing the boy a few minutes to recover, Gareth got the chloroform bottle and the cloth out of his pocket.

Jed looked uncomfortable. He was squirming slightly on the table. “Erm...”

Gareth stopped opening the bottle. “What?”

Again, Jed was finding it difficult to say something. Gareth noticed that the boy’s cock was getting hard again. “What?”

Jed swallowed. “Can I ask you something? Please?”

Gareth looked at him. “What?”

“Could you - “ He still couldn’t bring himself to say it. Gareth waited.

“Could you – would you put that hood back on me and make me cum in my jeans again?” He bit his lip and then closed his mouth as if he wanted to snatch the words back.

Gareth looked at the other two. After a pause, he said: “Should we, do you think?”

They seemed to be considering this. “Why not?” asked Tony.

Even though he’d asked for it, Jed seemed to fight just as hard this time to stop the leather hood coming down over his face. Gareth smiled to himself. He recognised the signs, he’d seen it before: struggling – and therefore the thought of rape – was turning this boy on.

When the hood was tightened Gareth stood staring down at the skinhead. Oh shit, he thought for the twentieth time, that boy is so fucking sexy in those jeans. Skintight jeans were Gareth’s greatest fetish, and these were fucking perfect. He decided to indulge himself.

Beginning at the tops of the boy’s DMs, his fingers worked their teasing way slowly, so slowly, along his legs; along those skintight, faded jeans. He licked them, he teased and tickled the boy’s legs, knees and thighs. The tops of his thighs and his cock bulge were wet and slippery with spunk when he got to them. Jed’s cock was in the same place as Gareth had originally put it, but now he moved it to the side. Freed of the extreme tension in the centre, it straightened to its full extent, lying horizontally over the top of Jed’s right thigh.

Whispering, Gareth asked Del to get ready to clamp his hands tight over the boy’s face through the leather hood to gag him and cut off his air completely. Del nodded.

Silently, he unfastened the clips that held the boy’s booted feet to the chains that were keeping them apart, so that they were now no longer restrained.

Reaching between the skinhead’s thighs, the biker gripped the boy’s cock head gently, bringing a startled gasp from him. For a full minute he stroked it, his fingertip sliding wetly around on the spunk-soaked denim.

Suddenly he nodded to Del, who clamped his hands hard over the boy’s eyes and mouth, sealing the air holes and pressing the black leather tightly across his face. At the same moment Gareth gripped the entire cock firmly and began wanking it fast, making sure that one fingertip rubbed over the frenulum, and another over the very tip.

The skinhead fought the restraints. Reflexively he tried to curl up into a ball - and now that his feet were free, he found that he could do that. He brought his knees up and clamped them tightly together. He could feel the biker’s wrist trapped between his thighs as the hand worked on his cock. That felt so fucking horny. And the fact that his legs were now unrestrained actually seemed to intensify his feeling of helplessness – there was no way he could get Gareth’s had off his cock, or get away from it. He threw himself from side to side, struggled and writhed on the table so that he could really feel the straps that were holding him down. He thrust his face forward against Del’s hands so that the black leather of the hood pressed even more tightly across his face: blindfolding him, gagging him, making him helpless.

Gareth was on the verge of cumming for the second time. He was cock-raping a sexy, straight skinhead boy who was curled up in a tight ball and fighting like fuck to keep his invading hand out - the hand that was forced between the tops of those skintight-jeaned thighs. Gareth couldn’t see his hand, but he could feel his fingers sliding over the spunk-slippery denim enclosing the hard, horny cock as he milked the helpless, struggling boy with sadistic ferocity.

This was the most horny thing Gareth had, in years of playing, ever experienced. With a grunt he came in his leather jeans. He knees almost buckled and he grabbed the table with his free hand for support.

For the second time that day spunk jetted madly and uncontrollably out of Jed’s cock into the skintight, stretch jeans he’d put on with the single intention of prickteasing his own victims.

He bounced on the table, as the biker’s fingers continued to milk him hard and fast, making certain that the skinhead couldn’t stop himself from squirting every single drop of spunk he’d got into those jeans.

Eventually it was over. Tony removed the leather hood.

“Oh fuck. Thank you.” Jed was panting, exhausted.

“For what? For torturing you?”

“For teaching me about my cock. Oh fuck. I never fucking knew.”

Gareth smiled. “Few boys do. Even fewer straight boys do.” He got the chloroform bottle out again.

“Now, you see that camera over there? We have a film of you begging a gay biker to make you cum in your jeans. By the time we’ve finished editing it it’ll look like you’re a gay skinhead with a fetish for stretch jeans and a weakness for leather bikers. We’re going to keep that video, and if I hear of just one more gay guy being beaten up – whether or not it was by you - that vid is going straight to Youtube. Do you understand?”

Jed nodded, defeated. Instead of beating gay guys up, now he was going to have to protect them.

Gareth unscrewed the bottle cap.

“Will I ever see you again?” Jed asked, quietly.

Gareth thought about it. “Well, we go to the Link. You might see us in there.” Both of them knew that would mean that Jed would actually have to go into a gay leather club - and Gareth knew that that would still be anathema to him, even after today.

“Tell you what. I can take you there if you want. As my sexy skinhead toy boy. Hands cuffed behind your back and with a tee shirt that says ‘Gareth Makes Me Cum In My Jeans’”.

Jed was still strapped down, but the biker was expecting a resurgence of the swearing from earlier.

But no. The boy lay there looking up at the masked face.

He swallowed. “Yes please,” he said.