Master Jeff smiled with pleasure as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass and inhaled the aroma of the single malt. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
James, the Mansion’s butler and sadistic head torturer, crossed his legs, making his black rubber codpiece jeans, his jacket and his long shiny rubber coat, rustle. He looked at Jeff over the tops of his wire-frame glasses. “Oh yes. Zis is ze perfect opportunity to prove superiority.” His German accent (which Jeff knew perfectly well could be turned on or off at will) was particularly thick this morning.
Jeff tilted his head. “Zachary has a reputation which rivals yours, you know.” He was silent for a moment. “If you were to lose this, James, the Mansion would suffer.”
James’ lips compressed into a thin line. “’Lose’? Vot does zis word mean?”
Jeff chuckled. “Ok. Well, if you’re sure. I will arrange it for next Saturday; that will give me time to organise a boy from another house and have him blue-balled for a week. You will not know the boy, and you are to have nothing whatsoever to do with this preparation, James. It must all be transparent and beyond suspicion. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly. I vill leave it in your capable hands, Sir.”
James and Jeff had known each other for decades and had, in fact, set up the Mansion between them, so when the German guy addressed Master Jeff as ‘Sir’, there was a subtext there which told Jeff that honour would bind the man to his word. Jeff nodded, and raised his glass. “Well then, may the best man win.”
This had all started the previous week; Master Damian was visiting from Salzburg, and had brought three boys and his chief torturer Zachary with him. Zachary was developing a reputation for being an exceptionally skilled edger, and so a demonstration had been staged as the Saturday entertainment for the residents. Everyone had stared with wide eyes as the Austrian guy worked on two helpless boys one after the other; his techniques were stunningly effective and drove his victims to distraction. Afterwards, Master Jeff and Damian had talked – and the brandy had made Jeff perhaps a little reckless. “Your Zachary is good, there’s no doubt about that, Damian, but I still think James could teach him a thing or two.”
Five minutes later the challenge had been laid down, and Jeff realised that he’d backed himself into a corner: he had no choice now but to accept it. There would be an edging contest between James and Zachary. Jeff and Damian worked out the rules and how the thing would work: a boy from a different, neutral, house would be chosen by the Master of that house; he would endure a week of careful edging at the hands of the Head of Punishments there, and then he would be delivered to the Mansion, and would be the victim on whom both James and Zachary would work, in full view of everyone. Reputations – those of the contestants, of the Salzburg house, and also of the Mansion - were on the line.
There was a general buzz of excitement in the main hall of the Mansion as boys, slaves and other staff waited for the contest to begin. Cameras hung from cables, relaying close-up views of the restraint table to screens on the walls so that everybody would have a good view of the proceedings. At the moment the table was empty, the heavy leather straps lying ready for use on its black surface. Even the sight of it there, waiting, had been enough to make many of the watching boys hard - but then almost anything did, as they were always kept in a state of badly needing to cum.
Suddenly the excited buzz stopped and you could have heard a pin drop as the door opened and two masked and hunky guys in full leather brought in the victim: a nice-looking boy with a mop of dark brown hair. His cock was fully erect and swung in the air as he walked. They laid him on the table, and strapped him down tightly with his feet apart and his hands, rendered useless in thick leather mitts, by his sides. After double-checking the restraints they carefully blindfolded him, then they left.
A few moments later the door opened again and there were loud cheers as the two contestants entered the hall. Zachary was in full leather; James – as always – in lots and lots of black rubber. They walked to the table and stood side by side, waiting.
Another cheer went up as Master Damian and Master Jeff came in. Jeff raised his hands for quiet, and James was squinting worriedly – he knew what Jeff’s speeches could be like.
“Good evening all – and we welcome Master Damien and our friends from Salzburg. As you know, tonight is a special event.”
Everyone waited – for a moment it seemed that Jeff had dried up. But eventually he continued. “A special event. Yes. The reputations of the Mansion, and that of Master Damien’s house is – are – is - at stake here. An edging contest between Zachary and James.”
Jeff felt his pockets as if he was looking for notes. “Erm -”
“The rules perhaps?” James muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
“The rules. Yes. This boy -” Jeff indicated the restrained figure on the table, “his name is Byron, and he’s on loan from Master Xavier’s house in Glastonbury - has been blue-balled for seven days. He has not cum during that time, although he has been very frequently – encouraged – to want to.”
A quiet groan could be heard from the audience; the boys knew exactly what that felt like.
“I will toss a coin to determine who goes first, and then Zachary and James will take it in turns. Each must give Byron at least one full stroke of his cock from the base to the tip of the head. After that he may continue to work on the boy for as long as he wishes before handing over to his opponent, who must take over working on himimmediately . Whichever contestant is touching the boy when he cums is the winner – no, sorry, the loser . The loser.”
James shut his eyes and shook his head in desperation.
“The loser. Yes. So getting him as close to the edge as possible so that he cums when the other man takes over, is what it’s about. I think that’s right. Yes, that’s it.” He turned to the two contestants. “Are the rules clear?”
They both nodded.
“Good.” He began to head for his chair and the Laphroaig bottle.
“The coin?” Hissed James.
“Ah. Yes, yes. The coin.” Jeff came back, fished in his pocket, came up with a cock ring, and then a piece of string. “Erm, a moment. I’ve got one somewhere…”
A senior slave who had been primed by James for just such an inevitable emergency, stepped forward quickly and handed Jeff an old, pre-decimal penny.
“Ah. Thank you.” He continued to explore his pockets for a moment, frowning. “I’m sure I put one…” He straightened up. “Not to worry.” He examined the copper coin in his hand. “Good grief, I haven’t seen one of these for a while. I remember when one of these would buy you…”
A loud, German-accented cough brought him back to reality. “Yes, Well, never mind.” He smiled, tossed the coin, and looked at Damian.
“Heads,” the man said.
Jeff removed his hand. “It is heads. Zachary will go first.” He glanced at James, in case he’d forgotten anything else. James nodded resignedly. Jeff and Damian took their seats, and Jeff grabbed his glass of scotch.
The hall was silent as Zachary poured a good amount of lube onto his surgical-gloved hand and took the boy’s cock – which was already fully hard – gently between his fingers. They glided from the base of it up to the head. Neither he nor James knew this boy, he weaknesses, turn-ons or fetishes, and so they were both working blind; this contest was largely about reading responses. Both men watched the blindfolded boy’s face closely as Zachary explored the cock carefully. Byron moved in his restraints on the table as Zachery teased his fingertips over the shaft. When they reached the head he moaned. With infinite care Zachary stroked along the ridge, then over the shiny glans. This made the boy moan more loudly.
James smiled to himself – the head was this boy’s weakness, and he knew exactly how to work on cock heads. Zachary continued to stroke the cock for a while, then stood back.
James lubed the right hand of his black rubber glove. He took the boy’s cock between finger and thumb and very carefully gave the one required full stroke from the base to the head. Byron’s cock jerked in response. James inserted his un-lubed left hand between the boy’s thighs and gently held his balls, the middle finger on the perineum, just behind them. He knew that in most boys early warning of impending ejaculation could be felt here, and also that rubber fingers holding the balls usually made a boy need to cum more urgently. Leaving that hand in place he took the cock head and ran a single fingertip over the glans very lightly and slowly. He’d hoped that the piss-slit – at the very centre of the head – would be this boy’s nemesis, but it seemed not; Byron was moaning and trying to thrust his hips, but no more than when James had been stroking the rest of the glans. James particularly loved working on boys whose piss-slits were hypersensitive; his own was his biggest weakness – and that was one of his most closely-guarded secrets. He pulled the cock downwards towards the boy’s feet – this also often increased a victim’s need for orgasm – and continued to stroke his lubed fingertip over the precum-covered head. This boy was incredibly horny, he thought to himself, but he wasn’t nearly close enough yet. But he would be very soon. He released the cock and stepped back.
Zachary took over again. With extreme care he performed the full stroke, and then concentrated on the shaft and the ridge at the top of it. His fingers glided smoothly over the soft skin, teasing gently. The cock was producing a constant stream of precum now, and Byron’s face was screwed up in need under the blindfold. For a full five minutes he worked on the top of the shaft and on the ridge, making the boy squirm in his restraints. At one point a loud moan from the audience signalled that one of the watching boys had lost it - despite the fact that they all had their hands cuffed behind their backs. This did not go unnoticed by Byron, who moaned urgently at the unmistakable sound of an unseen boy getting the relief he so badly needed himself. After a couple more minutes of work, Zachary handed over to James.
Every time Zachary worked on the boy, James was watching like a hawk – both what the man was doing, and also Byron’s reactions from one second to the next. If there was one thing that his residency at the Mansion had taught him, it was how to read a victim. He took note of the position Zachary had got the cock in, what part of it he was working on, and many other things. From moment to moment his mind was comparing what he saw to boys he’d torture-edged over the years. This one, he thought, was reacting very similarly to many – and especially to a cute punk he’d driven mad many times a year ago. James immediately raised his elbow and slid his left hand down Byron’s stomach, his thumb going to one side of the erect cock and his fingers to the other. He continued to slide it down, pushing the cock towards the boys’ feet, then he wrapped those fingers around the base of the balls, the middle finger once again coming to rest on the perineum. Byron thrust his hips wildly at the feel of the black rubber enclosing him and gripping him – and when the man’s fingertip began to slide and tease over the sensitive glans the moans suddenly became much more urgent. When one of James’ fingers – unseen by anyone but noted by him - brushed the frenulum, the boy almost came. There was a gasp from the audience. James removed his hand and froze – that had been too close, but at least now he knew exactly how near the boy was. And he smiled to himself – the cute punk had reacted in exactly the same way. After a few moments the fingertip resumed its teasing. Byron was trying to hump his pelvis. “Oh fuck. Please let me cum. PLEASE!” Of course this was ignored by James, who continued to work on the boy’s glans, bringing him closer and closer to orgasm with each stroke. James was pretty sure that, as with most boys, the frenulum was this one’s biggest weakness. He didn’t, however, want to make this obvious to Zachary, so he kept away from it for now. He carefully released the cock and stepped back.
Zachary knew he had to be very cautious; he took the cock as gently as he could and infinitely slowly ran his fingers up it once. The boy yelled. The yell turned into a wail of frustration – he couldn’t quite cum. A breath of relief escaped Zachary’s lips – the required full stroke had been accomplished. On a side table were the bottle of lube, some feathers, and an oiled leather thong. Zachary picked up the thong, wrapped it once around the cock just below the head, and began to see-saw it forwards and backwards just under the ridge. After a minute or so he realised that this wasn’t having the effect he’d been hoping for – it was making the boy squirm, but it didn’t seem to be getting him any closer - so he put it back and positioned his hand over the top of Byron’s cock. He closed his fingers around the ridge, then rotated his hand slowly back and forth.
James couldn’t understand this – the man clearly thought that the ridge was the thing that would get to the boy, whereas James was certain that it was the smooth glans - and very probably the frenulum. And then it struck him: Zachary hadn’t touched the frenulum much at all – he’d been concentrating on the top of the shaft and the ridge. It seemed that those were the bits that turned Zachary on more than anything else. Many edgers, he knew, were extremely susceptible to being edged themselves, and almost all of them had one spot, or one technique, that was the most devastatingly effective on them. Because they were so acutely aware of the effect this had on them, they often wanted this same thing to have just as intense effect on their victim, and so this was often the thing that they concentrated on most of all when working on a boy. But James knew that it was a mistake to project your own preferences and weaknesses onto a victim. The way Zachary was almost drooling as he worked on that area of the boy’s cock told James that the man had a major fetish for that spot. James’ lips curled imperceptibly into a thin smile.
It was James’ turn again. After the careful required stroke, he held the boy’s cock and balls at the base again and began to stroke the head. But now he began to whisper very slowly, just loud enough for Zachary to hear him.
“I’m going to work on the ridge of this boy’s cock. Lightly and slowly. It will make him need to cum very very badly... Just tickling the ridge... stroking over it slowly… because I know that is the one spot he can’t resist… The ridge of his cock… I’m going to stroke and tickle the ridge of his cock to make him need to cum more than he has ever wanted to cum before… but he won’t be able to cum… even though my fingertips are stroking that one spot that makes him need to cum more than any other… he can feel my black rubber fingers sliding over his horny cock... Just on the ridge…”
Although he was watching the boy very carefully, one eye was also on Zachary, and he saw the man’s legs go weak. He continued to whisper about working on the ridge – and just the ridge – of the horny, hard cock. And his fingers were doing that – but one of them, unnoticed by Zachary because the man’s eyes were so hypnotically fixed on the rest, was stroking the boy’s frenulum very slowly and almost imperceptibly at the same time.
Byron’s body was tensed, so close to cumming that his muscles were vibrating like a guitar string. Constant desperate pleas came from him.
“The ridge of his cock,” whispered James. He doubted that the boy could hear him, but he knew that Zachary’s could. “The ridge. That controls him. I’m going to work on his biggest weakness: the ridge… Cos it makes this boy need to cum… Just by stroking the ridge… I’m going to tickle it and tease it and stroke it… just the ridge...”
Abruptly he let go and stepped back, with a final whisper in a very slightly louder, and very sadistic voice, and with a thick German accent:“Vork on ze ridge of ze cock, Zachary – he can’t take zat.”
Zachary seemed to wobble for a moment, then his hand moved forward erratically and he took the cock. At that point several things happened at once: Zachary’s legs shuddered, and he started to cum in his leather jeans. All that talk about the ridge of the cock – his own biggest weakness - had been too much for him. Trying to concentrate and to make his hand do what he wanted while he was in the throes of orgasm was not possible. His fingers gripped a little too hard on the first stroke. When they arrived at the head, the boy yelled, convulsed, and began to cum.
For a moment the man didn’t realise what was happening – by the time he’d got control of his own orgasm and had let go of the cock as if it were red hot, it was too late. There was a whoop from the audience as everyone watched a single gob of spunk shooting out of the boy. It arced in the air and landed on his stomach - even though nothing was touching his cock any longer. Byron’s body was jumping up and down on the table as he desperately tried to get more friction on his cock to complete his orgasm.
By now Zachary had got himself together and, seeing that the boy had already begun to come, and that it was now too late to do anything about it, Zachary grabbed his cock again and milked it properly to completion. The boy’s desperate wails turned into yells of ecstasy and spunk shot everywhere. Inside Zachary’s leather jeans, unseen, more spunk was running down the Austrian’s thigh.
Finally Byron collapsed back onto the table and, with a slight stagger, Zachary let go.
There was tumultuous cheering in the hall. Jeff stood up and went over to them. He shook James’ hand, then held it up high. “The winner,” he shouted over the noise, “our very own James! The Mansion rules!”
Zachary looked at James. He knew exactly what the man had done to him.
James smiled a very German smile, and winked.