"But it's only the 23rd ." Ash looked confused. "You want me to open it now? I'll be seeing you on Christmas Day."
Tom was grinning. "Yeah. Open it. You'll see why."
The frown on Ash's face deepened as he slit open the envelope and unfolded the sheet of paper. He read it. He read it again. Then he blinked, and looked up at Tom. "Whaat? You've rented a whole fucking castle? In Bavaria?"
Tom laughed. "Yep. Didn't you wonder why there was no present for your birthday last week? Specially as it was your 21st ?"
Ash's eyes were still wide open. Slightly dazedly, he shook his head. "I thought you'd probably forgotten."
"Would I do that? Oh, and flights and hotel are included. We leave this afternoon, stay tonight in the hotel, then the castle is ours tomorrow - that's Christmas Eve – from 9am until 6pm. Flight back at 8.00 from Munich tomorrow night, so we should be back here well in time for midnight drinks."
Ash blinked again. "I don't know what to say. This is brilliant! Thank you!"
"Well you're always on about medieval stuff. Thought you'd enjoy stomping around in a real castle. When I saw the ad I reckoned it was just the thing."
Ash was grinning. He looked at the letterhead on the paper again. "Qualenschloss..."
"Yeah. Not sure what it means, if anything." Tom looked at his watch. "You'd better get packing. Plane leaves at 3pm."
Snow was falling as the taxi rounded the bend in the forest road. The pines parted, and Qualenschloss stood there, its black-stone towers looking foreboding against the almost-full moon, half-hidden behind dark clouds. A line from a poem came to Ash as he gazed at it: The moon was a ghostly galleon, tossed upon cloudy seas... Pools of light from lanterns burning along the battlements gave spots of relief to the otherwise monochrome scene.
As their boots crunched over the snow-covered cobbles, a stable lantern squeaked as it swung in the wind, casting restless shadows. The air smelled of pine resin, wet stone, and woodsmoke from somewhere deep within the keep.
The heavy oak door yielded beneath Ash's push with a deep sigh, and a wash of warm, amber light spilled over the threshold as they stepped inside. The entrance hall rose around them, vaulted ceilings ribbed with dark timber beams, banners hanging in deep reds and forest greens. An enormous wrought-iron chandelier hovered above. Ash spun slowly, drinking in every detail: the suits of armour standing along the walls, the tapestries depicting battles lost in the mists of time. At the far side an impressive staircase swept up to the first floor.
"Wow. Fucking wow. This is unreal."
Tom grinned. "Let's find that fire. I can hear it." They walked in the direction of cracking wood.
The Great Hall was huge, with a high-beamed ceiling, long trestle tables, and at the far end, a hearth big enough to roast a herd of cows in.
Tom poured hot mulled wine from a flagon at the side of the fire, and they clinked glasses. "Happy birthday, Ash – and Happy Christmas!"
Warmer now – both inside and out – they set about exploring. The kitchen, off the Hall, had modern, self-catering facilities and a well-stocked pantry. "Well," sad Tom, inspecting the huge fridge and piled shelves, "we certainly won't starve." He picked up a container and raised his eyebrows. "Fresh Thyme! This gives me ideas."
Through more doors were storage and utility rooms, racks of old pole-arms, dusty shields, heavy wooden tables. They found a small chapel, and spiral staircases leading up to servants' quarters and dimly-lit back corridors. Further up, bare stone tower rooms. Looking out through a narrow arrowslit, the boys saw that the snow was falling more heavily now. It looked like Christmas.
Tom was shivering. "God it's cold up here. Let's get back to the fire."
They returned to the Hall, and warmed themselves again by the fire.
"I wonder if there's a dungeon." Ash was still grinning.
"Well you go look for a dungeon if you want," said Tom. "That is really not my sort of thing. I'm gonna explore upstairs, see what the bedrooms are like. I'll see you back here when you're done and we'll have something to eat."
"Ok." Ash walked back out into the entrance hall and inspected the walls. He knew that in castles like these, if there was a dungeon, the door to it was usually a heavy wooden affair that was sometimes half-hidden so as not to frighten the gentry.
He found it behind a small side staircase. The door opened onto stone steps disappearing downwards into complete darkness.
Ash took a torch from one of the wall sconces, got it going from the fire in the Great Hall, and then, holding it before him, he descended the stairs.
At the bottom he found himself in a room with a low vaulted ceiling. There was straw on the floor, and rusted iron rings hung from the walls.
The room was bare. He realised he'd been secretly hoping there would be something in it – the remains of iron maidens, possibly. On the opposite wall was another door, so he explored further.
Aha! No iron maiden, but there was a sturdy, heavily-stained, and clearly ancient, oak table standing in the centre of the room. It had iron rings set into the corners.
Most of the sconces on the walls were empty, but one had an unlit torch in it. He fired it from the one he was carrying, then put his own into another sconce. Now that his hands were free, he ran his fingers reverently over the oak table, then lay down on the wooden surface. Had unfortunate prisoners been tortured on this table? He bet they had. And how had it been done? He closed his eyes and let his imagination take over.
Ash had a secret. For as long as he could remember, he'd always been worryingly fascinated by torture. Not the pain itself – that held no interest for him – but just about everything that was associated with it and went with the controlled application of it – especially the chains, straps and other restraints; the gags, blindfolds, hoods; the masked, sadistic, leather-clad torturers. All of this turned him on like fuck.
But nobody else knew. To everyone else, Ash was a bog-standard, vanilla, gay guy with no interest at all in anything remotely kinky. His wanking fantasies consisted of helpless victims fighting inescapable restraints while sinister masked torturers did nefarious things to them (the exact nature of these nefarious things was always a bit vague, as he was mostly concentrating on the struggling). Despite his fascination for all of this, Ash had never had the courage to explore that sort of thing. But there was a new year starting next week, and, lying there on the table, he thought it was time he investigated that side of himself. He wondered what it would feel like to give up all control to someone else – especially if he fancied them.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the stone steps. He got off the table. "Hey, Tom, come and look at this."
Flickering light from a torch approached, and Ash's jaw dropped. Two figures stood in the doorway – and neither of them was Tom. One looked like a slightly smaller version of Arnie, the other was normal-sized. Both wore combat boots, black jeans, leather jackets, black ski-masks, and tight leather gloves.
For a moment Ash froze, his mind whirling. Who were they? Tom and he were supposed to have this castle to themselves today. Were these guys staff? They didn't look like staff, especially the slow, deliberate way they were advancing on him. He looked around frantically – the only door was the one that led back into the other room, and they were between him and it.
As they came closer, the wall torches created bright highlights on their jeans: they were not just black, he realised, they were leather . The big guy dropped a hessian bag on the ground; the other one had something in his hand too, but Ash couldn't see what it was. There was nowhere to run, nothing he could do.
He yelled as the big guy grabbed his wrists and pushed them behind his back, then gripped him in a tight bear-hug, holding him immobile while the smaller guy dropped a loose hood over his head, tightening it around his neck. Immediately he was enveloped in the smell of leather. What the fuck was happening? Who were these guys?
They stripped him, then forced him face up onto the table. He tried to escape, but the big guy held him down while the other one strapped cuffs to his wrist and ankles and secured them to the restraint rings.
Ash was helpless now – and he was terrified. Were these people going to fucking torture him?
For a while, nothing happened. Ash was moaning, his body trembling, expecting something dreadful to happen to him at any moment. When something did, he almost jumped out of his skin.
But it was only a touch. On his balls. Fingertips, stroking lightly. Then more, on his chest. After squeezing his nipples for a few seconds, they made their way down across his abs, stomach, and onto his legs. They teased his thighs, his perineum, and ended up at he base of his soft cock. They gripped and squeezed, working their way along the shaft to the head. Then all the fingers were gone.
The table creaked as one of the guys climbed onto it. He positioned himself in a press-up position over the boy, then slowly lowered himself.
Ash groaned as he felt the leather jeans and jacket make contact with his bare skin. The way these guys were acting was not what he'd have expected from sadistic torturers; it was more like some of the SM videos he watched at home. Perhaps they weren't going to crush bits of his body with pincers after all.
A hand pressed down on the hood. It moved around, pushing it tight over his eyes, then clamping down over his mouth and nose – cutting off his air briefly – before it was taken away. He heard a quiet, low chuckle.
A hand reached between the legs of the guy lying on him, found Ash's cock and pulled it up between the leather thighs. The guy closed them tight around it.
A moan escaped Ash's lips. His cock was enclosed in black leather. It was still soft, but it felt amazing – like nothing he'd experienced before. He pushed his hips, fucking the guy's jeans. His cock began to stiffen, and soon it was fully hard, sliding against the inside of the guy's thighs.
Inside the hood, Ash's eyes were shut tight. He could not believe it: he was in a castle dungeon, for fuck's sake, restrained helpless on a torture table, his cock fucking a sexy guy's leather jeans. His thrusts became faster and more urgent.
The guy opened his thighs, then climbed off the table.
Ash moaned in frustration – he'd been very close.
His cock jerked as leather-gloved fingers enclosed it and began to stroke it slowly. They travelled up from the very base to the head, over it, and back again. More fingertips were tickling his balls, and another pair of hands were gently running over the naked soles of his feet. Normally Ash would have screamed in ticklishness, but these fingers didn't seem to be trying to tickle him, rather just caressing the skin. His toes curled as he realised that it felt unbelievably horny.
He pulled at the restraints and sucked the leather of the hood into his mouth, wanting to feel his total helplessness as he got closer and closer to cumming.
He was on the very edge when his cock was released. With nothing touching it any longer it stabbed the air as he tried desperately to make himself cum. But of course he couldn't. The other guy was continuing to stroke his soles, and that just made it worse. He moaned into the hood.
A few seconds later the hand was back on his cock and the whole thing started again.
Ash lost count of the number of times he was brought to the very edge and then left there, unable to cum; and every time, the frustration was more unbearable. He knew that if these bastards let him shoot, it would be the best fucking orgasm he'd ever had. But he couldn't cum, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
As he lay there panting, he realised that he was indeed being tortured. He'd read about edging and seen videos, but he'd never ever understood exactly how acute, how unbearable it was. One part of him was demanding that it stop now – with a volcanic orgasm – but everything was so horny that another part of him wanted it to go on forever.
Eventually the hand went away and, this time, didn't come back. The ones on his feet were removed too. Big guy held him while Ash's ankle restraints were released, then he felt his legs raised and put over the smaller guy's shoulders. Ash groaned as the sexy leather brushed over his naked skin while they were doing this.
He heard a zip, then there was a pause, and a hard cock was pushed – carefully but firmly – into him. Ash had never been fucked before, and had no idea what to expect. His first thought was that this was going to hurt, but in fact the pain was minimal. As the cock slid in, he breathed out – first in relief, and then in surprised pleasure: it felt amazing. He'd been conscious of cold slipperiness, so he guessed they were using lube.
While the smaller guy fucked Ash, the big one removed the boy's hood. Ash saw the masked face looking down at him – but between him and the face was a large, hard cock. The cock was presented to Ash's lips. The boy had sucked cock before, so that wasn't so bad, but never one the size of this one. It was enormous. It seemed that the guy was clearly used to people having trouble with it, because he was very gentle. Slowly it disappeared into Ash's mouth and the boy set to work on it.
The cock in his arse felt wonderful, the one in his mouth did too – as did the restraints. His own cock was waving in the air and it needed attention. Just as he thought this, the guy fucking him gripped Ash's cock and began to wank it very slowly indeed. Ash was thrusting his hips but however hard he tried he couldn't get the hand to move any faster. He thought that it was all perfect, but then the big guy made it complete: he took the leather hood and pressed it down tight over Ash's eyes.
The smaller guy came first: he gave a massive thrust and Ash felt the spunk pumping out into him. He guy's movements slowed, but he stayed there. Ash felt the cock in his mouth harden even more, and he prepared himself to try to deal with the rush of spunk he knew was about to happen. As it did, the big guy clamped the leather hood down tighter over the boy's eyes. At the same time the hand on his cock gripped more firmly and speeded up. This triggered Ash's orgasm too, and, together, he and the Arnie-type came. Ash did his best to swallow everything, but much escaped and ran down onto the table. His own cock was jerking in the guy's gloved fingers as his spunk erupted. He could feel it sliding deliciously in the enclosing leather as he moaned and writhed in pleasure on the table.
When it was over, both guys pulled their cocks out. The hood stayed, resting on Ash's face. For a moment fear returned – was this just a prelude to proper, serious torture? Would the pincers come out now?
But no. They left him lying there for a while, still unable to see anything, and then the hood was lifted off. For a couple of seconds Ash only saw the two guys stood there looking down at him – but then he realised that Tom was with them too.
He was grinning. "So, how did you like being tortured in a dungeon?"
Ash shook his head. "That – that was - " He had no words.
"You look like you enjoyed it."
"But who – who are these guys?"
The two in leathers pulled off their ski masks. They were grinning at him. Ash recognised both of them vaguely, although he couldn't remember where he'd seen them before.
"Craig and Lester," said Tom. "We've known one another for ages, although they're into things I don't want to think about. When I rented the castle I thought it would be fun to give you a taste of things you like a lot, even though you think that nobody knows you're into them."
"How - ?"
"It's not rocket science. You're not good at hiding magazines. I mean, the last time I was at your place there was one on the floor under the bed. The time before, you'd left one half-covered on the fucking coffee table. And when you asked me to pass you a shirt from the wardrobe, the leather bike jeans were hard to miss, and the last time I looked you didn't ride a motorbike. You're really not good at that sort of thing, are you?"
Ash's face was going red. "But how are they here, now?"
The big guy laughed. "We came on the same flight as you. We were sitting right behind you. Then separate taxis here." He raised his hands palms up and did a bad impression of a meerkat. "Simples."
Ash closed his eyes. "Well, thank you – all of you. Scared the shits out of me, but it was something else." He sighed happily.
"Right." Tom looked around the dungeon. "Lets get out of this place. While you've been doing God-knows-what down here – and I don't want to know, thank you – I've been slaving in the kitchen. The banquet awaits."
They'd said goodbye to the two leather guys at the airport and now it was just Tom and Ash sitting in Ash's living room.
"I still can not believe that. It was fucking amazing, Tom. Thank you again."
Tom raised his glass to the boy. "Happy birthday, Ash – and Happy Christmas."
Ash grinned and gazed through the window. There was no snow, cars were parked nose-to-tail at the kerbs, and the street was empty. But his mind was in Bavaria, in a castle called Qualenschloss.
A church clock struck midnight. It was Christmas Day.