There was much excitement. On Thursday next the Mansion would be celebrating its tenth anniversary: ten years since Master Jeff, with the help of his German butler James, had set it up as a house dedicated to the sexual frustration of boys. The two men were very different: Master Jeff was handsome, with grey hair, a short beard, and a figure that owed much to his love of good beer and single malt whisky; whereas James was thin and wiry, with a face whose Teutonic angularity was accentuated by the rimless glasses he often wore. He spent his life designing ever-more pervy rubber gear, and dreaming up increasingly fiendish devices and ways to make victims need to cum more and more desperately. He was greatly feared by the boys at the Mansion, but he also carried out the milkings, so usually just the sight of his approaching would be enough to give the boys erections.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Master Jeff. He took a sip of a 20-year old Glenmorangie and closed his eyes for a moment in appreciation. “It would be fun to arrange a special event. How about one boy, subjected to one hundred edgings over the course of one day. What do you think, James?”
James considered this for a moment, his eyes gradually narrowing in sadistic pleasure. “Oh, that is a wonderful idea. Oh yes. All carried out here?”
Jeff thought for a while. “It might be interesting to take the boy around a few other Masters in the area, to a few other playrooms, and then finish him off here.”
James nodded. He was already planning.
“Any ideas on which boy?”
James sat forward on the chair, making his rubber gear rustle. He was dressed conservatively today: a black rubber sauna suit, rubber boots, elbow-length black rubber gloves, and a long black rubber macintosh. It was evident from the growing bulge in the loose rubber at his crotch that he liked the idea. “There are a couple of boys who I think would be very suitable. “Leave it with me and I’ll think more about it. And I’ll draw up an itinerary. I have some ideas you may like.”
Master Jeff took another sip of the amber liquid. “I thought you might,” he said.
* * *
For the event they chose a Canadian boy named Christian - he had been with the Mansion for almost a year. At just under six feet tall, he was slim, athletic, and nicely muscled. But the two reasons James had suggested him were: first, that he had an extremely high sex drive; and second, that he was also relatively easy to edge. James had taken a particular interest in the good-looking boy when he’d first arrived at the Mansion, and had made it his business to learn, in meticulous detail, every one of his weaknesses, triggers, and fetishes. Of all the residents there, Christian was the one whom James could control with the finest precision. As he would be either administering or supervising every one of the one hundred edgings, James was confident that they could be carried out to increasingly intense levels, and without permitting the boy to cum.
James’ itinerary for the event included a list of several other facilities – playrooms owned by friends of Master Jeff. These other Masters had been chosen because it was thought that their own speciality would add interest to the proceedings.
Christian would be driven from place to place – retstrained and hooded – in the Mansion’s van. This was a vehicle with blacked-out windows and whose interior contained equipment which was purpose-designed to keep boys helpless while being transported.
Finally, everything was ready.
* * *
Thursday dawned bright and sunny. Life in the Mansion normally began around eight o’clock, but breakfast today was early. After a light meal, Christian - who had been in strictly-enforced chastity for a couple of days - was taken to the main playroom. He was strapped down to the operating table by the two senior slaves, and left to contemplate his fate.
Even though, of course, the boy hadn’t had a say in the matter, he was excited. He was also very afraid. He had been edged many times over the last year by James, and it was unbelievably horny: the sheer intensity of the helplessness, and of being controlled so meticulously, were stunningly sexy. But he also hated it every bit as much. The inexpressable, unbearable frustration of needing to cum but not being able to, was something he just could not take. And he had never been edged as many times in one day as what was in store for him him today. He was shaking slightly as he lay on the table waiting for the perverted James to arrive.
After a few minutes the door opened and the residents of the Mansion entered. They crowded around the operating table close enough for a good view, but far enough away to allow James room to work. Every one of the boys had an erection in his jeans or shorts already – but this was not unusual: the boys were permanently kept in a state of extreme sexual arousal; James and the rest of the staff saw to it with sadistic enthusiasm that this was carried out. And the single most important rule of the Mansion was that a boy may only cum when being milked by Master Jeff himself, by James, or by one of the senior slaves, who themselves were under James’ direct orders. Breaking this rule led to instant expulsion from the Mansion, and as every boy loved being there more than anything, none of them ever ran the risk of covert wanking.
James entered the playroom, followed by Master Jeff. The German guy looked particularly pervy today: tall black leather boots over skintight, thick rubber codpiece jeans with a studded leather belt; a rubber tank top; and a studded black rubber motorcycle jacket. His face was concealed by a rubber mask, and his fingers flexed in anticipation inside long black rubber gloves. He stood to one side as Master Jeff addressed everyone.
“Ten years ago today, along with James, I set up the Mansion to provide a safe and horny facility for boys. Boys we intended to keep close to the point of cumming, to be teased, played with and milked slowly and intensely whenever it pleased us. I think that in that, it has been extraordinarily successful. Boys come here, stay for a time, and move on – but while they’re here they’re looked after well, and learn much about themelves, and what possibilites can be realised in a dungeon like this. I think we all love being here.”
There was an enthusiastic whoop of agreement from the crowd. James frowned at the interruption, but said nothing.
“So, to mark this anniversary we have arranged a diversion. Christian,” he nodded to the boy on the operating table, “has graciously agreed to be the guinea pig...”
There was much laughter at this. They all knew very well that Christian had agreed to nothing.
“…the guinea pig for an experiment. Over the course of today he will be subjected to one hundred edgings. The first ten of these will be administered here, beginning in a few moments. After that, we will take the boy to seven other dungeons, where he will be edged ten times in each, by the owners of those playrooms. That will make a total of eighty edgings. The final twenty will be conducted here, at midnight tonight. You are all invited to watch those.” Jeff looked at James and raised his eyebrows. “Right, I think we should begin.”
1-10
James inspected the straps holding Christian down, then pulled over a stool and sat down level with the boy’s steel-hard cock. Set into the table between the parted knees was a metal ring. James fitted a thin leather strap around the base of the cock. Attached to this strap was a cord, which he pushed through the ring on the table. He tightened the cord until the boy’s cock was pulled so that it was held standing just past the vertical, and tied the cord off. James knew that having his cock pulled back like this was a weakness of Christian’s – it made him more horny, and his cock even more sensitive, and so more susceptible to edging.
James took the shaft of the cock gently between a finger and thumb. He squeezed for a moment, then released it, and moved his hand up slightly. He repeated this all the way up to the base of the cock head, then went back to the bottom of the shaft and started again.
Christian was moaning quietly. Whenever James worked on the boys he always wore black, shiny rubber or leather gear of some kind and, like most of the residents, Christian had come to associate this with the intense pleasure the man’s fingers always caused. After a year of this conditioning, just the sight or the feel of rubber or leather turned him on now – it had never used to before he came to the Mansion; sports kit had always been his main fetish. As well as this, he was acutely aware that James knew all of his weaknesses and the things that made him need to cum the most urgently, in dangerous detail. The man knew exactly how to work on his cock, and how to use his acquired fetish for rubber and leather against him further to fire his need for orgasm.
The rubber fingers were working their way once again up the shaft of the boy’s cock. This time they didn’t stop when they got to the head, though, and a gasp of pleasure escaped his lips as they touched the bare glans, which was shiny with pre-cum. James enclosed the cock head in his fingers and began to slide them over the angry purple head slowly. The shiny black rubber slid smoothly on the film of precum and within seconds the boy was close to orgasm.
The very first time James had worked on Christian he had been delighted to learn that this boy had a very clear ‘tell’ - that is, an unconscious signal given whenever he was about to cum. Some boys did this in various ways, some did not. For those who did, it was usually not under their conscious control at all – even when they were told they did it, they could no more stop doing it than fly in the air. Christian’s tell was that, the closer he approached orgasm, the faster and more shallow would become his breathing, and at the moment just before orgasm began, he would take a shuddering deeper breath and hold it completely. This, for an alert and expert edger like James, made the boy extremely controllable.
Christian was breathing very fast now – almost panting. Carefully, James continued to move his fingers lightly and increasingly slowly over the boy’s cock head. His eyes were on his hand, but all his other senses were focussed on the boy. Apart from Christian’s breathing, there was total silence in the playroom. Then the panting stopped. Instantly James let go of the cock, and a moment later a wail of frustration echoed around the room.
“One,” said James. Chris, one of the two senior slaves, recorded this on a clipboard.
Silently, James counted to sixty, then began again.
Using both hands, he smoothly slid each in turn up the cock from the base to the tip. He constantly varied the angle of his hands, rotating them around the stiff shaft, and changed the pressure of individual fingers. The black rubber of his gloves was hardly touching the smooth skin. Very soon the boy was on the edge again. James took his hands away.
Christian screwed up his eyes and shook his head. He wanted to cum. He’d been kept in chastity for a couple of days before this, during which the bastard James had visited him several times, bringing soft, pointed feathers with him.
“Two.”
This time he encircled the base of the cock head with a single finger, and used his thumb to rub the boy’s sweet spot - the frenulum - just under the ridge where it divided. On most boys this was a very sensitive area, but on Christian it was particularly so. Tickling and stroking this was a guaranteed way to make him lose it.
Within seconds Christian was approaching orgasm again. James slowed his movements, bringing the boy gradually closer and closer until he was about to cum – and then, again, he stopped.
Christian was in an agony of frustration. Firstly because James could control him so easily, and secondly because there was fuck all he could do about it. He knew perfectly well about his breathing – James had often taunted him with it, telling him that were it not for that, he’d be able to fool James into making him cum much more often - and he did everything he could to stop himself from giving away that clue – but no matter how he tried, when he got so close, he forgot about it every fucking time. The only thing he could think about then was cumming. His brain was so occupied with achieving orgasm that it had no capacity left over to worry about giving clues away. It was extremely humiliating – and yet that humiliation itself only served to turn him on more.
For the next half hour the playroom was regularly filled with increasingly desperate wails as James continued to build up the boy’s need to cum but, every time, removed all stimulation just before he could.
“Ten.” The figure was written down, and James stood up. A round of applause rippled through the room.
Master Jeff smiled and nodded. “Onwards,” he said.
It wasn’t really necessary to restrain Christian in the van, other than to ensure he couldn’t make himself cum - but James knew that the more helpless the boy felt, the more it would turn him on. And James wanted him turned on as much as humany possible. Therefore the boy had been made to put on the black running shorts he had such a fetish for, hooded tightly with a thick black leather hood, and then strapped into a leather straitjacket. Blinded and helpless, he’d been tightly restrained in the metal chair in the back of the van, with his legs wide apart, his erect cock tenting the front of the shorts out. The van had set off.
* * *
While the senior slaves, supervised by James, were manhandling Christian into Master Adrian’s playroom, Jeff sat down with its owner, and accepted a small scotch.
“I love the idea of this,” said Adrian. “Nowadays things tend to be much of the same and it makes a pleasant change to do something different.”
Master Jeff nodded. “Yeah, I think it will be a lot of fun. So, any ideas on how you’re going to play this?”
Adrian smiled. “I think I’m going to indulge myself. My expertise is not in edging, so I’ll let James see to that – but I think I’ll work on the boy’s feet.”
Adrian had a thing for feet. Years ago he had been heavily into tickling, but of late he’d gone on more to CP, as most of his regular boys wanted that. He’d also become an expert in bastinado.
“Sounds good – though you might want to let James know if you’re planning on tickling them, as that may well change the boy’s responses to the edging.”
“No, I’m not going to tickle him. I’m going to suck his toes.” Adrian grinned and closed his eyes in anticipation.
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