Terry plonked the beers on the table and sat down. “I hear you’ve got a new boy, Col.”
Colin picked up the bottle and took a swig. “Yep. Couple of weeks now.”
Terry smiled. “Excellent. It’s about time you found someone. What’s he like?”
“Oh fuck. Beautiful. Name’s Richard. 19, and horny as fuck all the time. It’s wonderful. To be honest I don’t know what he sees in me; he could have anybody he wants.”
“Hmm. Well, take my advice: keep him reined in.”
“How d’you mean?”
“Well, aren’t you worried he’ll stray? You want to keep that sex drive for you , don’t you?”
“Yeah, must admit I’m a bit worried about that. But I can’t keep him locked up in my house all the time, can I?”
“Course not.”
Terry drank some beer. “When I first met Alistair I was in the same position – he was 21. Stunningly good-looking, sexy and, like your boy Richard, he was as horny as fuck. All the time. It’s not their fault – some guys are at the mercy of their hormones. Turns them into stupid, rutting animals. The only time they have anything like close-to-human intelligence is when their balls are empty. Alistair was one of those. Boys like that have to be controlled, Colin.
“So I thought I’d better do something about it. The way to control him, I reasoned, was to keep his balls drained most of the time, apart from when I wanted to use him.
“I wanted a way to make him cum efficiently – and one that he wouldn’t stand a cat in hell’s chance of resisting.
“And luckily, with him, there was something I thought I might be able to use, if I put a bit of work into it. Alistair has a fetish for shorts. Always has had. Shorts to him are like leather to you or me – they turn him on like fuck.
“So, one day I took him shopping. I told him that I wanted him to choose one pair of shorts, the ones that he found the most sexy, the ones that turned him on most of all – no matter what they were made out of or how expensive they were – and that I would buy them for him as a present. He was surprised, cos he didn’t think that I’m particularly into shorts myself, but he loved the idea that I wanted to see him – and play with him – in them.”
Terry sighed. “I have no idea how many sports and fetish shops we visited or how many pairs of shorts he tried on – a lot – but he eventually found a pair of white cotton ones. I’d been expecting him to go for leather, or silk, or satin or something exotic, but no, these were just plain cotton. They looked sexy on him, but then so had lots of the others. I couldn’t see anything special about them, and they were a lot less expensive than many we’d looked at, but for some reason these really got to him – his cock got hard as soon as he tried them on. They were, apparently, and without doubt, The Ones.
“As soon as we got home I ordered him to strip and put them on, and I made him cum in them. Colin, it did not take long. Not long at all. I told him to clean them up for next time, and then to put them in a special place so he knew exactly where they were.
“For the next week or so, every single time I made him cum, it was while he was wearing those shorts. I asked him exactly what it was about shorts in general – and these in particular – that turned him on, and because I’d got him to within a hair’s breadth of the edge at the time, and was intentionally keeping him there without letting him cum, he told me everything. In detail.”
Colin nodded, and chuckled.
“Well, I used that to develop techniques that increasingly removed what little self-control he had while he was wearing them. By the end of a couple of weeks I only had to tell him to change into them and he’d be almost cumming by the time he’d got them on.
“I told him to think of a name for them – apart from anything else I thought whatever he came up with might give me an insight into how he saw them. He didn’t even need to think about it. ‘They’re the Tossing Shorts’, he said.
“I asked him why.
“He was a bit embarrassed.” Terry chuckled, “But he said that he had different, private, terms for different kinds of cock work. ‘Wanking’, for instance, was just what you did to yourself or another guy cos you were horny and wanted to cum. ‘Jerking’, to him, meant group wanking, and he imagined that ‘milking’ meant extracting a guy’s spunk forcibly, but when the guy didn’t mind cumming anyway.
“So, ‘tossing’. According to Alistair, it seems that when he was younger he’d seen a couple of local bullies get another boy behind some bushes. The victim had been in shorts, apparently. One of the lads had said, slowly and gloatingly, “We’re going to toss you off… ” Alistair had watched as they’d held the boy down and made him cum in his shorts while he struggled against it. Alistair said that he’d always remembered that, that it had made a big impression on him. Ever since then, ‘tossing someone off’ had, to him, meant making a victim cum against his will. More like what you and I would call ‘cock-rape’, I guess, where the victim is really trying to stop someone from making him cum, but can’t.
“Alistair said that when he put those shorts on they did exactly that – they removed all of his self-control; if I wanted to make him cum he had zero choice in the matter. In his mind, they turned any kind of cock work into ‘tossing’.”
Colin shook his head in wonder. “Strange how words can mean different things to different people, innit?”
“Certainly is.” Terry took a swig of his beer. “Alistair is always horny at the best of times,” he continued, “but I hadn’t realised just how much more so those shorts made him – how much control they had over him. So I experimented.”
He marked points off on his fingers. “I tried teasing his cock head through the shorts – made him cum explosively.
“I tried putting my hand up the leg and working on his cock head with my fingers - made him cum explosively.
“I tried just gripping the shorts and sliding them from side to side over his cock – made him cum explosively.
“I tried all kinds of different positions: spread eagled, legs wide apart, legs tied together, hogtied, straitjacket, hooded, you name it – all of them, same result. He could not even begin to control himself. And if he had those shorts on, the more tightly I’d restrained him, the quicker he lost it.”
“So how long ago was all that?” Colin asked.
“About six months or so.”
“And do those shorts still have the same effect on him?”
Terry smiled. “Oh yes. They’re how I keep him reined in. I milk him a few times a day without the shorts, to keep his spunk at a manageable level, and to keep those shorts special to him, but the fun thing is that whenever he wants to go out, to a club or down the pub, where I know he’ll meet guys he might be interested in, I wait until he’s almost out of the door, then I say, ‘oh, before you go, get the Tossing Shorts.’
The smile became a wide grin. “I can see in his face that he’s fucking furious – he knows that those shorts will make him cum helplessly until his balls are empty, and so he’ll be a lot less interested in guys while he’s out – but he also knows there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s my slave, he has to do what I tell him. I tie him up, edge him in the shorts until he’s screaming, and then make him cum in them. At any other time he goes with whatever it is I’m doing to him, really gets into it, but at those times he fights like fuck against it, desperately willing himself not to cum, so sometimes I use the tip of a soft feather on his cock head while I’m moving the shorts around very slowly, to prolong it, give him more time to realise he’s gonna lose it and that there’s fuck-all he can do about it. It’s not easy aiming a feather up the leg of a pair of shorts, but I always seem to get it right.
“And then – suddenly – I fucking rape his cock . One hand forced up the leg, teasing his balls, the other milking his cock head quickly through those precum-slippery shorts. I tell you, Colin, those orgasms are the best he ever has. He screams into the hood, curses me, struggles like fuck, fights the restraints, but he’s helpless to control himself – the Tossing Shorts get him every fucking time. Gallons of spunk. And he knows he’s gonna be out of the running for the rest of the night. I fucking love doing that to him. I’m a bastard.”
Colin was staring at Terry. “Wow. That is mean . I like it. I like it a lot.”
“So. You might want to look for something you can control your boy with, Col. Something he can’t fight against.”
Colin thought for a moment, running through everything that turned Richard on like fuck, to find the boy’s biggest weakness. Then he nodded slowly, realising exactly what it was. A grin gradually appeared on his face. “Oh yes, Terry, I know the very thing…”