By TDG
Email: tadaemdg@gmail.com

Previous page

LUCIAN

- III: Saturday -

*

Günther was the first one to arrive, early on Friday afternoon. His butler/chauffeur opened the Bentley's door from which emerged the large, fat, loud, leather-clad German. From the other side, door opened by himself, emerged a small and thin and also leather-clad Lucian. Out of the trunk, squashed between suitcases, crept a fully shorn, muscled man, shackled and hooded, and wearing a monstrous, spiked, metal chastity belt. He waited at the trunk end on the gravel. When Günther's butler (assisted by two boys from the Mansion) hauled in the antique suitcases, he followed the tugs on his leash, crawling, as that was all the movement that his chains permitted.

Towards supper a well-known top arrived, who insisted, as he always did, of sleeping in a tent in the woods and having his breakfast there. Jeff asked him if he'd be fine being the external, non-Mansion referee for the challenge, to which he agreed.

The remainder of the guests arrived on Saturday. The first round of competitive edging would start at 2PM. James first made sure that the contestants (amongst whom were several tops and even capital-M Masters) reacted properly to his touch. If they came (none of them did) or he suspected any foul play (like wanking themselves senseless right before the competition, as several had done), they were barred without appeal.

The main playroom was filling up by half past one. Spectators crowded around an ornate table set against the side wall. It was covered in most of Fetters' catalogue and also carried a framed voucher, hand-written in stout German lettering and embossed with golden insignia ("gegr. 1789"), for a small wardrobe-full of the finest bespoke leather and rubber garments.

Master Jeff was looking on through the one way mirror, sharing a glass of his oldest Laphroaig with Günther (which was the least he could offer after Günther had given him a brand-new, luxury-boxed set of brandies that had been casked around the time Jeff's great-grandfather was a nipper). James was fiddling with a strap of Lucian's harness. Jeff thought it would be better not have the boy work on the victims wearing his German Günther-regulation clothing, which was in need - to placate the politically correct - of a smidgeon of censure. ("He is from that part of the family", James had warned. "Avoid politics.") Lucian was fine doing his thing in ordinary clothing, he said, but James, Günther, and Jeff (in decreasing order of vehemence) had all objected. Because Lucian thought he looked silly in the boots and rubber one-piece in which James had hoisted him (he disliked the codpiece in particular), James added a complicated harness and half a dozen spiked cuffs to his outfit ("Zey look gut! Don't argue!").

Lucian was fiddling with the straps around his wrists. "I look silly." he said, looking at his reflection in one of the mirrors. "This is all making me nervous."

"Pah, no need to." said James, still adjusting the harness, holding a strap between his teeth. "After what you showed us yesterday on that poor boy of Günther's… Herr Gott! Hold still. Zere! Vondeful! Stop complaining. You'll play zem like a fiddle."

"I can't play the fiddle."

James rolled his eyes.

"No need for!" shouted Günther (when he didn't shout, he barked), "Vy fiddle if you can play ze cocks better zan Paganini!" He laughed and applauded. Clumps of ash flew from his cigar.

"Paganini didn't play cocks." muttered Lucian. (James rolled his eyes again.)

"Don't worry," said Master Jeff, "I'm sure you'll do fine. And if things do go wrong, I'm sure you'll find a way to pay back that pile of Fetters stuff."

Lucian went white.

"It's no time for jokes now, Jeff. Please." said James, serious.

Jeff massaged the boy's shoulders. "No," he said, "don't worry lad. Say," he looked at James, "wouldn't it be an idea to get Lucian a mask of some sort?" Then he looked at Lucian, "It may make you feel more at ease. Lessen the stage fright a bit (cause that's what you're having). What do you think?"

Lucian shrugged, unsure. "Sure? I think?" he said, contradicting himself.

"Pervegt!" shouted James.

How he got hold of the mask was prestidigitation to all. (Did it come from a pocket, from a sleeve, or did he have an extensive collection of masks stashed somewhere inside his rubber macintosh?) Before Lucian could object at all it was zipped on and moulded to his face. James thought he looked cute as a button, or rather cute as an adorable little rubber gimp button (to which he would gladly do unspeakable things). Not an entirely threatening appearance, said Master Jeff, amused. Günther concurred, unamused.

"My leathers are much better." he said, "Add a bright red ball-gag to zat thing, and you have a lower life form."

"Psychological varfare." said James, tapping his nose. "Imagine ze humiliation for zose tough guys, ven this adorable gimp makes them plead and beg." He laughed. "Imagine zeir Masters' humiliation!" James was dripping with anticipation. His smirk would have driven the Mansion's boys to the woods.

At 2PM sharp, Master Jeff entered the playroom and climbed the makeshift edging stage.

"My dear friends," he started, "I'm not going to waste your time with unnecessary speeching, but before we start, I'd like to say a few words." Not a good start, thought Master Jeff. He felt he was waffling again. He really should put a little more preparation in those speeches. He prattled on, thanking those who'd come and those who'd helped getting things organised (he was certain that somewhere he'd forgotten to mention someone or something, and that, sooner or later, this unforgivable omission would lead to complaints). Next time, he'd have a literate slave write his speech, that'd be good. Put them to some use.

"For those who didn't read the rules of this game - this little edging game we have organised - I'll briefly summarise the essentials. The first twenty candidates are those who replied first to our invitation. They'll be called forth in random order by Master Eddie, our external referee and Master of Ceremonies. If time remains, or we haven't selected at least four candidates for tomorrow's challenge, we'll pad this session with later respondents either until we've got four challengers to the prize, or until our Expert Edger has had it. After all, he's only human. If he so decides, if he deems the candidates worthy, we may have more than four challengers."

"Now for the fine print: the candidates will be strapped into these stocks." James patted the solid wooden A-shaped construction. "One strap goes over the top of the pelvis, one over each thigh. This is just to keep the victims from moving too much. If the victim, I mean, the candidate cums, my Expert Edger has failed. He can then choose any item from the prize-pile (except the voucher) and I'll top it up. If a candidate asks, pleads, or begs to cum, expresses the need to cum, or anything else involving cumming, he's disqualified. Asking for it to stop too results in disqualification. Swearing is allowed. Obviously a candidate touching his cock or interfering with the edging also results in disqualification."

"In essence this game is simple: if you can take it, you make it." Jeff groaned. No more ad-libbing, ever. He cleared his throat. He should stop clearing his throat (which he did the moment he thought he should stop doing it). It always gave away he was embarrassed at something he'd done or said.

"And now, if you'd care to join me on stage: Master of Ceremonies," Jeff beckoned Eddie who, amidst applause got on the stage and shook Jeff's hand. Jeff turned to the other side of the stage and beckoning Lucian (almost) shouted "And our Expert Edger." Lucian - still feeling ridiculous - joined both of them. The playroom cheered, some whistled.

In a flurry of enthusiasm, Jeff took the mallet and gave the gong next to Eddie's chair a bungling crash: "Let the game begin!"

The first contestant to be called forth was Master Damien. Sniggers rose from the playroom when he had his leather jeans unceremoniously lowered and was strapped into the stocks; how it was possible for a respected top to let himself be publicly restrained and fondled by a puny gimp was for many a self-respecting onlooker beyond the incomprehensible. Lucian shifted his chair a bit, made himself comfortable, cracked his fingers (more for show than anything) and took hold of Damien's floppy cock and balls. Hiko (who Damien had dragged along), leaning against the wall towards the end of the playroom, felt a pang of shame seeing his top displayed, getting hard at the hands of that rubber thing, in front of a deriding audience. To his shame (which didn't help matters), he felt himself getting hard in his chastity device.

Damien grunted and screwed his eyes. He'd clasped his hands behind his head and was huffing as if chewing hot peppers. It had taken Lucian half a minute to get him hard (delicate fondling of his balls was his nemesis - how the boy had found out where and how to fondle them Damien could not understand). It had taken him another minute to force him to his first edge. Now he was keeping him there. When Damien humped the little he could, Lucian followed, all while squeezing and rubbing imperceptibly. The sheer intensity of the edge had washed over Damien like a fever. Tops cum, especially when they need to (and even more so after they haven't cum in over a week). They have their boys to suffer the burden of vicarious horniness. He bucked and unclasped his hands, groaning. Eddie, thinking Damien might have cum, leaned in. All was fine. Damien grunted and stomped, snapped over again, his face beading with the perspiration of ecstatic suffering. He hadn't been in such a state for ages, not since he'd gone top. It was wonderful, but only in small bits. This was more than he could take. To all onlookers Damien's squirming could not be in deeper contrast to Lucian's controlled immobility. Damien squirmed and stomped while Lucian sat there, holding his cock. His breathing became more erratic; on the exhale he was swearing in short bursts. He felt his armpits prickle with sweat. His muttering got louder, turned into a jumble of incantations to higher beings and crass expletives (not one of which worked). He bit his lip and threw his head backwards, moaning (he felt like a teenage slut), then clamped his hands under his armpits. Eddie, throwing a look at his watch, chuckled in admiration. Damien was just five minutes in, forced to ride a sustained, three minute edge. After a particularly long and rowdy ‘fuck' and a keening groan (which sounded more like someone being kicked in the balls), his hands shot down and he swatted Lucian off his cock. Looking apologetically at the audience he fumbled with the straps ("Get off you bastards!") and rushed off as fast as undone jeans permitted. Before he got through the exit he groaned, cock in his hand, and unseen to most but heard by all, just outside the playroom, he came, swearing in relief. Apart from some muffled ‘wow's, a grunted ‘wimp', and a ‘that's a top for you', the playroom was silent. Eddie called forth the next victim.

Next was a stocky boy with a cropped head, then a guy with a steroid and tattoo addiction. Both begged for it to stop within minutes. They'd held out barely longer than Damien. In the playroom, two masters looked thoroughly displeased (yet wistful, seeing the pile of Fetters stuff). In their minds, single-tails and hand-cranks were already doling out severe punishment (and none of that sissy crap).

The fourth contestant looked to be in his forties. He got announced as slave Eric, unowned. Fit, slim, and with silky smooth genitals, a natural blond, he looked almost hairless, with just a sprinkle of fuzz over his entire body. Strapped in, he paced his breathing from the beginning. When his cock went down halfway after having been made hard, Lucian changed the pace and the position, and the man's breathing turned into sharp inhales. He looked down, caught Lucian peering at his face and closed his eyes, but the sharp inhales stayed. Lucian stopped, slipped a nitrile glove over his left hand, applied some lube to his index, and gently, after circling the man's hole for a while, went in. With his other hand he gripped the entire cock, just under the head, giving it wet, rippling squeezes and the occasional rapid sequence of short tugs. The man moaned, looked at Lucian, and averted his gaze. His breathing was no longer under his control, nor were the fleeting sounds he made. The playroom listened in silence. When they thought he'd break - his moans were constant and he throbbed and shook - Lucian stopped, looked at the arbiter, and nodded.

With a smack on the gong (Eric relaxed) Eddie declared him the first to get through. Cheers and whistles went up. Eric stayed still, paced his breathing again, and dared only move after Eddie had helped him out of the hip-stocks. He got off the stage under wild applause.

By four o'clock Lucian had gone through the first eleven contestants. Only one more had got Lucian's approbation: a sinewy Caribbean boy with sensuous lips and deer-like eyes. He'd stood there quivering, shaking, drooling, and chanting hoarsely in creole. James had noticed that Lucian's codpiece was bulging while he teased the boy. He was convinced that he was holding back to be able to work on the poor lad in earnest on Sunday. How unsporting. Just like he'd taught him.

The boy's master - a tall black man with white hair - joined Jeff during the intermission. Jeff congratulated him on his boy making it.

"He's using magic Jeff, your boy, I've seen this before."

"Magic?" said Master Jeff, "No Camille, no such thing. A party trick, perhaps, but no magic."

Camille shook his head and beat his cane to the floor. "No no, I've seen this before Jeff. Long time ago. It was…"

"Ever so sorry to interrupt," said Damien, peeking in between Jeff and Camille, holding Jeff's shoulder, "but is there still a possibility to get a boy of mine into this competition-thing?"

"Hiko?" said Jeff.

Damien looked startled. "Oh, you remember him?"

"Course I do. And I saw him earlier."

"Ah, I see."

"Ask James. I'm sure he can arrange something."

"Thanks Jeff."

Damien apologised again and went off, meandering through the chattering mass. Jeff wished he could do the same.

At half past four the contest continued. Lucian, bored and going through the motions, disposed of a record eight guys - two of which by forfeit - in a little less than forty minutes. One of them (a known Master) threw the towel before it was his turn. The other was a jumpy boy with an infectious grin who was hard when he got on stage, got harder when he was being strapped in the stocks (Lucian was fearing the worst), and came before anything had touched his cock. He stared befuddled, smirking and biting his lip - a strange expression by any standard - at the scattered puddle he made. Eddie handed him a couple of tissues.

Günther's slave was next and the last of the first twenty respondents. He passed the test. That made three.

Lucian scanned the shuffling huddle of coming candidates while Eddie strapped in the next one. For reasons of fairness (ahem) but mostly for entertainment, Jeff and James had decided that at least four victims had to get through to the second round. One more. Lucian lingered on a PVC-clad goth boy. He was a black, spiky affair: spiky collar, spiky cuffs, spiky jeans and belts and boots; a likely number four. Two more people joined the group. Lucian's heart skipped a beat. He'd recognised Hiko.

He made kindling of the remainder of candidates but kept the goth. The boy reacted with gooey moans that made him melt. The way he wriggled to avoid the edging called for some proper edging on a proper bench with a properly restrained boy. He'd brought it upon himself.

Hiko was the last candidate. Lucian felt a violent urge to cum when he looked at the boy being strapped in. (In his defence: he'd been edging boys for almost four hours. His cock, cramped in the rubber codpiece, was swimming in precum.) Damien rushed to the stage when he realised that Hiko was still in chastity, fumbled in his pocket, got the key out, and was about to clamber on the stage to unlock the boy when Lucian stopped him, and held out his hand. Damien, taken by surprise, mumbled a near-incomprehensible half-hearted OK, and handed over the key. Lucian showed the key to Hiko, twirling it in his fingers, and slid it in the lock. He had a change of mind. Without unlocking the boy he started teasing his balls. The metal chastity device jerked up. Lucian, tickling Hiko's balls, stroking his thighs, and enjoying the huffs he teased out of him, was lost in the bobbing of the steel device. A fat glob of precum would soon dribble out if he continued this gentle work. Then he'd tease the boy's cockhead with his tongue through the slit in the tube. A rush of sadism fluttered in his chest. He felt his hard-on squelch against the rubber.

Eddie, reminded of the small print of the rules by some coughing and pointing of Master Jeff (himself reminded by grumbling in the audience - some people, to his surprise, had read the rules), leaned in, and asked Lucian to remove the device. No rings were allowed. Bare cock-work only. Lucian sighed. Just when he was enjoying this. Tomorrow they would all suffer for it.

Hiko's cock engorged as Lucian took off the tube (as cocks that have long been in chastity do). Once he'd taken off the ring, Lucian realised he had complete memory of Hiko's cock; the smell, the taste, the positions of his tongue that evening strapped down in the playroom all dovetailed together. The urge to take Hiko in his mouth became tangible.

Hiko soon got close. Lucian would need to be careful. As he leaned in to take Hiko in his mouth, Eddie coughed. "Hands only." he said, apologising. Lucian sighed. Even with most of his expressions hidden under the mask, Eddie could see that he was annoyed.

Five minutes in, the playroom was hypnotised by the unctuous motion of Lucian's fingers over the boy's cock. Liquid moans rippled from the stage, lapped against the walls, and drenched the audience. The constant, rising keening was concentrated aphrodisiac. Lucian had heard at least one onlooker stifle an ejaculatory groan. He was still giving the boy pure, overdosed pleasure only, keeping him at the sensual edge of torture - like he'd done with the Caribbean boy and the goth - but something was off. Something was grating. A tiny piece of gravel was grinding inside the boy's smooth machinery. Whenever Lucian pushed further, just into the realm of strangling need, the boy's reactions changed.

"Pl…," he'd breathe, then swore.

"I nh… Fuck!" He was sobbing now.

"P… let mh…"

And then he'd keen again, his cock would swell and twitch. Lucian kept him there, waited for the boy to breathe, and as he released him from the edge, with a wail, a fat strand of precum would glob out. Pushed further, the same hacked muttering repeated itself.

Lucian gave Hiko's cockhead three rapid, hard squeezes. It was a gamble.

"Don…! Aaah, fuuuck!"

Hiko contorted his entire body. Lucian grinned and gave Hiko another three.

"Plea… Shit! Oh God… fuuuck!" Hiko gasped, puppy-eyes and all.

Lucian knew enough. He tiptoed around the edge of the sensual and the torturous. No need to push the boy too much - he wanted him in good shape tomorrow - but he could afford to inflict some intense suffering. It would please the crowd but mostly he'd be indulging himself.

Eddie was squirming in his chair, following, hypnotised, the dangling strand of precum that wobbled at the end of Hiko's begging cock. The boy's now loud moans flooded the playroom - some people were drowning. Hiko writhed, gurgled, but neither begged nor pleaded. He was looking angry, desperate, and ecstatic - betrayed by his body and mind. Nobody knew how he could keep his hands off his cock. No-one in the audience could.

After one of Hiko's more unintelligible gulps for air, Eddie, hard and sweaty with arousal, gave the gong a timid ring. He - no-one - could take it any longer. Lucian, startled by the gong, had to force himself to stop touching Hiko.

"I think we have a fifth one." Eddie said, hoarse, pushing his cock down his leather jeans.

The room had to collect their wits. A timid cheer set off which then turned into relieved whistles and applause. Hiko was red, teary, and looking down at his cock in shock. Eddie undid the straps, Damien and Master Jeff helped the weak-kneed boy off the stage.

Master Jeff, who'd stayed on the stage, thanked everyone for their unlimited patience - the afternoon had been long for everyone - and invited the five back to the front of the playroom for a round of applause. He let them know that after this gentle Introduction to Edging, more gruelling horrors awaited them tomorrow (and added that they could back out at any time, if they so wished and had their Master's approval). When another round of whistles and cheering had abated, Jeff invited everyone outside on the lawn - the weather was beautiful - for the barbecue.

"Could I have a word?", said Master Jeff to a stretching Lucian, who'd just managed to peel off the mask and was about to stagger off the stage. "What happened with Hiko? That was uncommonly intense. Did you…?"

"No no." said Lucian with a faint smile. "But he's indeed been party-tricked. Not by me. At least, not recently. I went back to Damien with James a few times, after, you know, the Mansion expulsion."

Master Jeff pulled a sour face. "Please don't call it that."

"Sorry. Don't worry, it's just a term that I use. (I have to call it something.) I did do some suggestion and hypnosis on Hiko then, months ago. But nothing about not touching himself or avoiding certain sentences. It took me by surprise. I did exploit it a bit though."

Jeff nodded. "I see. I think I'll have a word with Damien." he said.

Weather was, certainly by English standards, beautiful. The lawn teemed with black and shiny people in various degrees of restriction, dispersed barbecues and food-stalls being plundered, a pack of pups doing naughty pup things (bad dogs), and the odd visitor (Lucian included) wearing plain clothes, all mingling, chatting, and eating and drinking far too much. Jeff had managed to reach Damien after fending his way through the lawn.

"Lucian noticed it too." said Master Jeff, handing an overflowing pint of tapped cider to Damien.

"Thanks." Damien took a slug. "I would've been surprised if he hadn't. It was a bit obvious, wasn't it?"

"If you know what to look for…" said Jeff. "Let's find some shade. It's getting hot in the sun."

Jeff and Damien got themselves more to eat and went to an outlying part of the estate. In the blessed shade of the old stables (now guest-room/playroom/garden-shed), they sat down in weathered wooden chairs around a round, rusty wrought-iron garden-table. A dog rose, reaching for the thatched roof, had started flowering.

"You know Lucian visited me a few times with James," said Damien, "to practice on boys."

"He told me." said Jeff. "James, back then, told me too. He never went into much detail though."

"Well, I agreed to Lucian's practising on my boys, on condition that he teach me that party-trick, hypnosis thing you'd first told me about. He did some on Hiko, the same he did to your boys, and he did some stuff I fancied on one or two other boys as well. I tried it myself, but I wasn't much good. Continued trying it a bit more on Hiko, on and off, reading up on the net. He's really deeply into denial, you know, insisted on it himself. Some of it stuck, apparently. The no-touch and no-plead bits worked. Rather well, to my surprise."

"I thought you did it on purpose for today."

"Oh no," said Damien, smiling, following a flock of shrieking swallows in the blue sky, "just a lucky accident. I didn't even think of getting Hiko into this thing. It's just that I wanted to see him edged again by that boy wonder of yours - especially after I got a taste of his medicine. It's just so fucking horny seeing him being edged."

"I have to agree with that." said Master Jeff.

"He's not going to make it through tomorrow's ordeal anyway."

"Probably not." Jeff laughed. "No-one is. Lucian is not going to keep himself in check tomorrow. It'll be all out."

 

Next page