Gay Cum Control & Edging Video from Chaos Men
When Craig regained consciousness this time
he found himself in an odd position - he was standing spread-eagled,
pressed against a wall. But it was a strange wall: covered in shiny
black PVC, it felt slightly padded, and there was a shallow
depression the size and shape of his head, which made his position
quite comfortable. His arms were horizontal from shoulder to bent
elbows, and his forearms vertical. There were padded leather straps
over his wrists, just below the elbows, and over his biceps, two
wider ones across his back - one just below the armpits and the
other above the waist - and further straps over each thigh, calf and
ankle. Each strap held him tightly against the padded wall and
allowed no movement whatever.
Craig was unable to see his feet, but they felt as if they were
inserted into holes at the base of the wall - at any rate they were
facing forward, and held snugly but comfortably in the padded
He could feel a gentle pressure around his cock and balls - it felt
like he was wearing a cockstrap - and presumably there was another,
somewhat larger depression in the wall at his crotch to accommodate
Straining to look over his shoulder, Craig surveyed the room he was
in. It was large, but fairly featureless - the other walls were
brick, the floor was covered in what appeared to be black rubber,
and apart from a couple of chairs and a wheeled surgical equipment
table standing on the far side, bearing items which his position and
the distance made it impossible to identify, there was nothing else.
Craig's head was clearing now, but he was thirsty. A glass of water
would have been nice.
No sooner had the thought occurred to him than a door opened behind
him. The now-familiar figure of the hooded man appeared - his black
ski-mask bearing no trace of the spunk Craig had showered upon it
earlier. He approached the boy and stood by his side. In his hand
was a tumbler of water.
"You must be thirsty - the drug has that effect. Here, drink this."
Gratefully, Craig swallowed the water as the man held it to his
lips. He drained the glass in seconds flat.
Craig shook his head.
The man gazed at him for a few moments, whispered "Good grief, you
really are beautiful", and left without another word.
Craig waited for something to happen. He was, for once, completely
relaxed - nothing could happen to him unexpectedly, as he would hear
the door opening first as someone came in. Although he was standing,
the position he was in was very comfortable - the padded PVC and the
straps seemed to take most of his weight - and he felt good.
In fact, he was feeling quite horny again. How long had it been
since that last monumental orgasm at the hands of the masked man? It
felt like the best part of a day - but his time sense was not
working well, and when they kept putting him to sleep it made
keeping track of time very difficult.
Suddenly Craig yelled in surprise - something had touched his cock!
He strained to look down, but his restraints made it impossible. His
heart was racing. What was going on? Were there cockroaches in here?
There it was again - it felt like an insect crawling over the shaft
of his cock. Now it was on his balls. In spite of his fear, he
immediately began to get an erection. Then another joined it - now
there was something tickling his balls AND his cock.
And then he realized what was happening. The reason he felt like
he'd got a cockstrap on was because there was a HOLE in the wall,
and his cock and balls were sticking through it into another room.
There was someone on the other side playing with him. This blew his
mind. These people were inhumanly fiendish. He suddenly felt more
vulnerable than he had ever felt before. Here he was, strapped
helpless - and his cock and balls were in another room, separated
from him by a WALL, for fuck's sake. He couldn't see what was
happening, had no idea what they were going to do to him, couldn't
communicate with them, and couldn't prevent them doing anything they
liked to the most sensitive organ of his body.
In a sudden panic, Craig struggled to free himself. He squirmed and
writhed against the smooth black PVC, but the many straps held him
tightly pressed against it, helpless and defenseless. In a way, this
was worse than being blindfolded or hooded - at least then he'd been
in the same room as his cock. Not only could he not hear or see
whoever it was that was playing with him, but they couldn't see his
reactions either. This worried Craig a great deal. What if they hurt
him badly? They wouldn't know he was screaming in agony...
He tried to pull his cock back, but the straps around the tops of
his thighs and across his lower back were wide, and fastened extra
tightly. This was obviously designed to prevent any movement of his
cock through the hole, and it worked only too well. He had no choice
- he would just have to take whatever they decided to do to him. He
rested his head in the shallow depression, closed his eyes in
defeat, and concentrated on what was happening the other side of the
* * *
John had removed his mask and was smoking a cigarette, while
watching Adrian tease the boy's cock to full erection with a couple
of feathers. This was probably John's favourite room in the asylum -
although he'd used it many times, he still found the sight of a
disembodied cock and balls protruding through the wall mesmerizing.
In fact, the wall was only an inch thick (he could even see the head
depression from this side). It was made of a strong, rigid plastic,
and padded on Craig's side to disguise the fact. As far as the boy
was concerned, the wall was as solid as any other in the building.
Arranged in a semicircle whose centre was the protruding genitals,
were three chairs. The leftmost one was currently occupied by Adrian
(who had put the feather down now that the boy's cock was fully
erect), and the other two were vacant. John seated himself in the
centre one and pulled a cantilevered tray towards him. He snapped on
a pair of thin rubber gloves, and picked up a small aerosol spray
can. Carefully wrapping one hand around the shaft of the hard cock
(which jerked urgently at his touch), he sprayed the uncircumcised
head precisely with the chemical. A faint smell reminiscent of
acetone wafted round the room. John noticed the frown on Adrian's
face. "Local anesthetic. We know how sensitive his cockhead is, and
I don't want any stimulus on it just yet. That will be the main
Adrian smiled. His hand was on his crotch, rubbing his own cock
gently through his regulation leather jeans.
John replaced the spray can and took two small feathers from the
tray. "Never underestimate the effectiveness of feathers. They have
a devalued reputation." With that, he applied the tips of the
feathers to Craig's balls - one each side, directly on the front of
the scrotum and, with small, light strokes, tickled the boy
carefully. From this side of the wall, they immediately heard
Craig's pounding against the other side. There was a CCTV screen
which could show them his reactions directly from a concealed camera
in the other room, but very often John preferred not to have it
switched on - to him, the only important thing was that his victim
SUFFERED, and he liked the thought that - although that suffering
was intense, it was remote and somehow unconnected with what he was
doing. As he made the feathers dance round his victim's balls,
however, he was imagining Craig's beautiful face, screwed up in
ticklish anguish, and his sexy, hunky body straining at the
restraints in his futile effort to escape.
Armed with the detailed knowledge of the boy's most sensitive and
vulnerable spots, John targeted the feathers onto each in turn: the
back of the scrotum, the sides, and the bottom of the sac. He
exerted loving care on tickling each spot as effectively as
possible. At times like these, John felt like a surgeon - precision
and care were everything to him. He'd noted when working on the boy
earlier that the crevices at the sides of his scrotum, where it
joined the tops of his thighs, were an especially vulnerable area,
and so now, working first on the left and then on the right, he
carefully pulled the balls to one side and held them there with his
rubber-gloved hand, enabling him to get the point of the feather
right into the crevices, running it up and down mercilessly.
Craig's cock immediately began oozing precum, and Adrian placed a
white towel on the floor beneath it to catch the stringy liquid as
it fell in connected pearly beads from the tip of the foreskin.
John glanced at his watch. The desensitizing spray would be at
maximum effect now, and would be completely gone in about twenty
minutes. Time to move on. He began working on the base of the cock
shaft, using the feathers to stroke lightly - at first only touching
the fine blond hairs - round and round, up and down the engorged
rod. He continued to work on the boy's balls unpredictably now and
again, to keep them sensitive and ticklish - but his main target was
now the shaft. The veins stood out in relief as the twenty-year
old's cock responded to the unbearable sexual teasing by trying to
get even harder that it already was, and it twitched up and down
with almost every touch. This would have to be stopped, John thought
to himself. "Pass me the erection holder please, Adrian."
The chrome-steel device, as it stood on the shelf, comprised a base
plate with a 5-inch diameter hole in the centre, and three rods
which rose vertically from the plate, turned inwards at ninety
degrees, and converged onto a thin, smaller ring which they held
parallel to the base plate, some three inches above it. The height
of the three rods was adjustable, as was the diameter of the smaller
ring, which had a ratchet-like arrangement not unlike a single
Adrian handed the device to John who opened the small ring fully
then, steadying his elbows on the arms of the chair, very carefully
indeed placed the contraption over Craig's cock and clipped it to
sockets in the wall - all without touching the throbbing cock once.
Then, with equal precision, he adjusted the height so that the ring,
when closed, would grip Craig's cock just behind the corona.
Finally, and handling the boy's cock only at the very base of the
shaft, he guided it into position and closed the ring so that it
gripped the shaft, holding it immobile. It was still possible to see
the cock jerking, but now the movement was reduced to a linear
flexing, all other motion having been effectively prevented. The
open construction of the device made access to the whole organ easy,
and John continued to tickle and tease the shaft, going no higher
than the metal ring of the restraint.
John knew exactly what Craig was feeling - totally, absolutely
HELPLESS. He knew from personal experience that the position they'd
got him in at this moment was probably THE most unnerving and
intense bondage possible. The feeling of having one's genitals
isolated and in ANOTHER ROOM while still being acutely aware of the
slightest touch on them, was shatteringly intense. He smiled as he
took an ice cube between his rubber-gloved fingers from the bowl on
* * *
A stream of saliva ran from the bottom of the indentation, down the
shiny black PVC-covered wall as Craig, his eyes screwed shut in
concentration, thrashed about - moving the only part of his body
which wasn't securely held immobile by thick leather straps: his
head. He was sweating, and the PVC felt slick and slippery under his
bare skin as he tried to deal with the unbearable sensations of what
was being done to his cock and balls. He had no idea who - or how
many - were in the other room watching the work on his genitals; he
assumed the masked man was there, but there could have been an
audience of twenty for all he knew. He'd spotted the CCTV camera
long ago - a small lens high up in the corner of the room to his
right - and the entire fucking perverted staff of the asylum were
probably getting off on this. In a fit of rage, he spat as far as he
could towards the camera, but the saliva fell far short of its
After the initial teasing which had got his cock hard (he'd tried
everything he could think of to keep it soft - he'd been determined
not to give these bastards the satisfaction of getting him erect,
but a humiliatingly few strokes of what felt like a feather on his
cock shaft had bypassed his conscious efforts completely, and his
traitorous dick had risen to rod-like stiffness in seconds) - after
that first teasing, his whole body had jerked as he felt something
cold being sprayed onto the very end of his cock. Since then it
hadn't been touched, and he could feel nothing there at all. But his
balls and his cock shaft had been getting serious attention for the
last fifteen minutes or so. He'd never realized he was so fucking
TICKLISH on his balls - but the thing that REALLY got to him was
that all this was fucking TURNING HIM ON. Every stroke had made his
cock flex and jerk about like a thing with a life of its own -
until, that is, some sort of restraint had been fastened round it
just below the head. That had stopped its movements dead, and had
removed the last bit of defense he'd thought he'd had. He could
still flex it, but now the end didn't move at all. He prayed that
they would continue working on the shaft and not start on the head.
Time passed very slowly. Craig would never have believed that a
minute could seem so long. He tried everything - he willed himself
not to respond, not to be ticklish, but that had no effect at all.
He pictured the most un-sexy images he could think of in his mind,
but the very next stroke of the feather on his cock shaft shattered
them like a computer-generated visual effect, to be replaced with
the sight of his disembodied genitals sticking through a hole in a
wall and being tickled and teased by the guy in the ski mask. Each
time this image came into his mind his cock tried to get even harder
as if it was begging for more attention. Until the restraint had
been put on, he'd consciously made his cock move in an effort to
make his tormentors' work more difficult - to spoil their aim, but
now even that small defense was denied him. All he could do was
stand there, strapped down tightly to the shiny PVC and suffer - his
cock as hard as a flagpole and wanting MORE.
Apart from tickling unbearably, what they were doing to him was
making him want to cum. In spite of the humiliation, he would have
welcomed a firm grip on his cock and a good hard tossing. He tried
imagining that there was a beautiful, curvy blonde with big tits on
the other side, and that it was she who was working on his cock -
but the thought made him want to cum even more and, in spite of his
rapidly-increasing need for orgasm, he had a feeling these bastards
were not going to let him cum for a long time - and so thoughts like
that were not something he wanted to encourage at this moment. In
fact, now he thought about it, he had a major problem: on the one
hand he wanted to cum - in fact he was getting more into that idea
by the second - but on the other, he was buggered if he'd let these
perverts pull his strings and push his buttons like some damned
automaton. He was straight, he was master of his own responses, and
the fuckers on the other side of the wall could go to hell. He
squeezed his eyes closed and raged silently against them, planning
what he was going to do to the fucking perverts when he got free.
But his brain, it seemed, had other ideas. A sudden image flashed
unbidden into his mind: the masked guy standing over him, the man's
leather-jeaned and booted legs astride his bound and helpless body,
Craig looking up at the clearly-outlined hard cock under the shiny
leather as the man bent down and, laughing evilly, pulled a hood
over the boy's head, plunging him into horny, helpless,
Craig found himself stroking the PVC sensuously with his hands. He
made fists and shook his head to clear the image. For some reason
that picture had resonated more inside him than the one of the curvy
blonde. He was going to have some serious thinking to do when he got
out of this place.
He flinched as his balls were held to one side and a feather tip was
drawn up the crevice at the side of his scrotum - a particularly
sensitive spot, he'd come to realize (as, he knew, had they, the
bastards) and then became aware of slight pins and needles in his
cock head. Whatever they'd sprayed onto it was obviously wearing
off, but still it wasn't touched. Craig's cock head was his nemesis,
he knew - he should have been circumcised when he'd been young and,
as it was, his foreskin didn't retract, and his glans was
hypersensitive. He'd known another guy at college with the same
'problem' although for them it was just the reverse: it made
unbelievably intense orgasms possible by using the right technique.
The pins and needles were going now, and Craig longed to feel
something on the tip of his cock. He KNEW that a couple of firm
strokes rubbing the foreskin over his glans would cause the best
orgasm he'd ever had in his life - he could FEEL it. But the damned
tickling continued on his shaft and on his balls, and the wankers
refused to touch his cock-head. It was driving him insane.
The need to cum was growing by the second now. He found himself
flipping between two distinct and opposite mind-sets: first, the
restraints, the humiliating position, the CCTV camera, what was
being done to his cock through the wall, and all the rest were
negative things - hated and to be fought with every ounce of his
strength - and then, suddenly, it was all turning him on. His
helplessness, the possibility that others were watching, the straps
holding him down - even the black PVC on the wall - EVERYTHING was
making him horny. He even realized that at these times, his
ineffectual struggling became a voluntary thing, because it
heightened his sense of helplessness. He flipped back and forth
between these two realities - at first the trigger seemed to be
whenever his cock was stroked - but soon he was aware that he was
spending more and more time in the turning-on phase and less and
less in the negative. He knew that they were breaking him, but also
that there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop them. Fuck -
even THIS thought turned him on.
Craig's need for orgasm was becoming the only thing he could think
about. He could feel precum dripping from his cock, and the
sensation seemed more acute than it should. A tiny part of Craig's
mind began to worry slightly about that. With stunning clarity he
could feel each drop of precum ooze out of the piss-slit, gather in
the sensitive foreskin, and then lazily run over the edge to drop
slowly away. It was the only sensation he could feel on his cock
head, and he needed MORE.
Then, horrendous in its suddenness and unexpectedness - intense, icy
cold. It ran down the shaft of his cock, and round his balls. They
tried to shrivel back into his body, and his cock suddenly lost some
of its solidity. He let out a yell which surely must have been heard
by the whole asylum and grimaced in - not pain, exactly, nor
pleasure - but the sheer INTENSITY of the sensation. It continued
for a while (must be an ice cube, thought Craig), and then stopped.
He breathed in relief. However, this relief was short-lived when he
realized a couple of minutes later that as his skin returned to
normal temperature it was many times more sensitive than it had been
"FUCKING BASTARDS!" He yelled, fighting the restraints hopelessly.
As the tickling and teasing started again, always avoiding the cock
head which was by now screaming for attention, Craig's hard muscled
body fought against the straps. After a few minutes he stopped
struggling and, eyes closed in defeat, and as the unseen feathers
teased his balls and cock shaft mercilessly, he sobbed with pure
* * *
"Ok - time for some fun," said John.
Adrian chuckled. "You mean this hasn't been so far?"
"Oh, now it gets interesting." He picked up a variable-speed
hobbyist's drill from the tray, and attached a special head to it
which he handled very carefully: The head looked somehow shaggy, as
if it had once been long woolen strands, but had been plucked almost
bare. Fibres hung down limply - until he pressed the stud and gave
it a quick, high-speed burst, then left it rotating slowly. The
centrifugal force immediately separated the fibres and caused them
to stand straight out away from the head like the fur of a cornered
cat. It was now over an inch in diameter.
"Micro fibres," explained John. "Each separate fibre is thinner than
a human hair. Here - give me your finger." He touched the spinning
fibres gently to Adrian's outstretched digit and a look of amazement
crossed the apprentice's face.
"Ha! It tickles!" He overcame an urge to pull his finger away, but,
as John gradually increased the speed of the rotation, finally gave
in. "Ouch! That hurts when it's going fast!"
"Doesn't it just," smiled John. Imagine what that's going to feel
like on his cock-head. Completely adjustable from an intense tickle,
to severe pain." With that, he pulled the chair closer, and slowly
approached the very tip of Craig's hypersensitive cock.
* * *
Craig nearly jumped out of his skin. As it was, he gave vent to a
scream of surprise. For what seemed like hours he'd longed for a
touch on the end of his cock - preferably a firm grip, tossing him
off - and now there was something indescribable happening there.
Even when he was fully erect, as he was now, his foreskin just
covered the tip except for the very centre where the piss-slit was
visible within the ring of skin - and now, something was TICKLING
the very edge of the foreskin intensely. He couldn't understand it -
it wasn't stroking up and down, it seemed to be a constant
stimulation somehow. Was it electricity? He didn't think so.
Whatever it was, it was excruciating. Then, slowly, it began to move
over and round the whole of his cock-head. It teased the top, sides
and bottom of the glans, ran around the corona and returned to the
very tip in the most frustrating and horny way. It made him want to
scream - and it made him want to cum.
Craig lost track of how long this went on for, so lost was he in the
overpowering sensations. Eventually it stopped, leaving him at the
same time relieved, and also panting for more. He felt fingers on
his foreskin, gently pulling it back, exposing his bare glans. "Oh
no," he whispered, very frightened. The end of his cock was so
hypersensitive that even a gentle touch of a finger on the
unprotected glans was painful. But for a while nothing touched it.
Then something did - but it was cool, and liquid. It didn't hurt.
Lube! He'd sometimes wondered if lots of lube would make a
difference, but had never had the courage to try it. Then, so gently
that at first he didn't realize what it was, a finger WAS touching
it. The experience was intense, and frightening - but at the same
time it felt indescribably delicious. The finger moved over the
boy's naked glans, floating on a thick film of lube, until it was
directly on the piss-slit. Craig was holding his breath, reveling in
the most exquisite sensation he'd ever felt. It stroked there, up
and down, and the boy quickly felt himself approaching orgasm. Then
it was gone, the foreskin back to its usual position.
He banged his head repeatedly against the padded wall in
* * *
John put the device down and stood up. He looked at the clock on the
wall. "I'm going to fit the PS unit, Adrian. Keep him interested,
and work on his balls and shaft. You could try reaching the insides
of his thighs as well - but leave his cock-head alone for now. Is
"Yes Sir!" Adrian seated himself in the vacated central chair and
selected two finely-tipped paintbrushes.
John watched him work for a few moments, then smiled. "You're gonna
make one hell of a torturer," he said. He put on the ski mask,
adjusted it carefully, and left the room.
* * *
Craig heard the door open, and turned his head. It was the hooded
man, of course. His genitals were still being worked on, and a
sudden feeling of humiliation hit him that he didn't know who was
Without speaking, the man wheeled the trolley on the far side of the
room across to Craig, then thickly coated one of the surgical rubber
gloves he was wearing with lube.
Craig was worried - his arse had never had anything up it, and if
this man was going to fist him...
It was as though the man had read his mind. "Don't worry - I'm not
going to hurt you. I have to do a little anal exploration, but I'll
only be using one finger, and it won't hurt - in fact you'll
probably enjoy it."
Craig had never had anything up his arse before, and the thought of
it triggered stereotypical homophobic reactions in him. "You fucking
leave my fucking arse alone you cunt," he spat. "I'm not one of your
fucking bum boys. When I get out of this you are fucking DEAD." He
launched a gob of spit in John's general direction but his inability
to turn his head far enough spoilt his aim. It landed on the floor.
John smiled under the mask. "Ok - well all you've got to do is stop
me." He parted Craig's cheeks and touched the tip of his finger to
the tightly-clenched hole. "It's up to you, of course, but if you do
that, it's gonna hurt. If you relax, it'll feel good. Believe me."
Craig turned his head away. "Fuck you."
John shrugged and pushed the fingertip in as gently as he could.
Craig drew in his breath sharply. He let it rest there for a moment
while the boy got used to the sensation.
The boy's body had stiffened, but when the finger didn't move, he
gradually began to relax. After a few moments, he was surprised to
find that the sensation was unexpectedly pleasant. He stiffened
again with apprehension when the man moved it about slowly, but
relaxed once more when it became evident that it wasn't hurting.
Very very slowly the man's finger moved in, the lube easing the
entry, until Craig could feel the rest of his hand against his
perineum - it was all the way in now. Craig felt his cock become
fully hard again, and flex in its restraint at the intrusion he
could do nothing to prevent.
After a few moments, the man's finger bent slowly downwards inside
him, and he could feel it moving - exploring - until suddenly a
shock of such exquisite pleasure shot through him that he gasped out
"I think we've got it." The man stroked whatever it was he'd found,
and Craig felt himself beginning to approach orgasm. This was the
most fantastic thing he had ever felt in his life. It was as if the
finger was in direct contact with his orgasm centre, if there was
such a thing.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Craig croaked in wonder.
Under the mask, the man smiled. "That is your prostate gland. Never
had it stimulated before? You're in for the ride of your life, boy."
Apparently satisfied with its position, the man carefully withdrew
his finger and clipped a metal frame to the wall, over Craig's firm,
round arse. Then he took a device which reminded the boy very much
of a thing he used to demagnetize his tape heads at home - a
'degausser', it was called - a fat, pencil-like device with a long,
rubber-covered snout at one end. But on this one, the snout was very
curved. The man smeared lube along the length of it, and inserted it
gently into the boy's rectum. It was slightly thicker than his
finger had been, but also smoother, so it went in easily. Craig drew
a deep breath as the cool plastic barrel entered him, and frowned
slightly in discomfort once as the man moved it around inside him.
But then the tip found his prostate, and Craig groaned with
involuntary pleasure as it slid over the gland.
Working on the boy's reactions, the man centred the tip carefully,
and locked the device in position on the metal frame. He plugged the
trailing wires into a small socket in the floor, wiped some excess
lube from Craig's butt, and patted it gently. "Enjoy," he said -
then he was gone.
Craig tried to move his pelvis so that the device would rub over
that wonderfully sensitive spot inside him - but his restraints made
that quite impossible. He sighed in frustration, and his mind went
back to concentrating on what whoever-it-was was doing to him
through the hole in the wall.
Then, suddenly, the thought occurred to him that they were going to
use electricity on him - up his arse. Abruptly his cock began to
lose some of its hardness, and he started to worry. Once again the
restraints, his position, and everything else were hated things
which he would fight against. He'd show those fucking bastards who
was in control of his body.
* * *
John removed his mask and resumed his position in the centre chair.
Taking great care not to touch the virgin cock-head, he unclipped
the metal restraint ring, and removed the wire cage, allowing the
semi-limp organ to droop free. It came to rest pointing down at an
angle of about 45 degrees. "Now then, Adrian - you haven't seen the
Prostate Stimulator being used before, have you?"
"Ok - well we're going to try out a little idea of mine. See his
cock? It's going down. He's probably worrying about the fact that
he's wired up to an outlet in there. Watch - " John reached out to a
control panel on the wall, flicked a switch, and then very carefully
began to turn a small black knob. A needle moved slowly across the
face of a dial. The dial went from zero to 100, and John stopped it
at 20. "He'll only just be able to feel that. Watch his cock.'
As if by magic, the object of their attention began to harden
quickly and smoothly. It firmed out as the blood engorged it, and
rose like a phoenix, until it was back to its former steel-rigid
state, now pointing upwards by about the same angle - but this time
ABOVE the horizontal.
John attached a different device to the clips on the wall. Being a
prototype, this one had a home-made look about it. It was simply a
curved metal half-cup, shaped to cover the upper surface of the
cock-head, on an adjustable rod, to which a wire was soldered. John
positioned it a few millimeters above the foreskin-covered glans,
and locked it in place, and plugged the wire from it into a small
black box. He then disconnected the PS unit and rearranged the
wiring going to the control panel, inserting the black box into the
circuit. "I think we're about ready," he smiled, sitting back. "Now
we wait for his cock to go down again."
Slowly, the member began to lose its hardness and descend. John
flicked a switch on the black box, adjusted a control, and then
switched the Prostate Stimulator back on. "If this works, we can
both go and have a cup of tea."
Adrian was puzzled. "What's the box do?"
"Well, the PS unit in on now. You can see his cock getting harder.
It will continue to rise until the head - which we haven't touched
yet, and which we know is ULTRA sensitive - touches the metal cup
here. That will complete a circuit and he'll get a small shock
through his cock-head. It will also switch the PS unit off, and
start a timer. The shock will make his cock go down, and twenty
seconds later the PS unit will switch back in. Which will get him
hard again, make his cock touch the cup..... You see? Up, down, up,
down - and there's fuck all he can do to stop it - although, no
doubt, he'll try VERY hard..."
Adrian smiled and shook his head in admiration. "You really are an
evil bastard, Sir."
John sat back with his hands behind his head to watch the show. "Why
thank you, Adrian - that's one of the nicest things anyone's ever
said to me." He beamed happily.
* * *
Craig felt the most amazing sensation up his arse. It was a gentle
tingling, a bit like a vibrator - but its effect was devastating.
Instantly all thoughts of resistance vanished like phantoms in the
dark. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was on the road
to orgasm. His cock rose like it was on a string, and he could feel
his spunk gathering in his balls, ready to pump down the plumbing
and out of his aching cock with such shattering, mind-numbing
ecstasy that he actually shivered at the prospect. His cock felt
harder than it had ever been - and then it stopped!
"NO!" He yelled, beating the PVC with his fists. The phantoms rushed
back and he swore at the inhuman bastards behind that wall. He hated
them and everything about his fucking place with a fury wilder than
anything he'd felt before. His cock poised at full erection for a
few moments, and then started to go limp again.
Then something different - the restraint that was holding his shaft
was being removed. He felt his cock fall free, and actually
experienced a moment of regret. God, am I confused, he thought.
He waited for something to happen, but there was a pause of a minute
or so, and he began to relax. Perhaps that was it - they'd had their
fun - they'd probably been wanking themselves silly behind the wall
and had cum. He would be released soon.
And then the tingling began inside him again. "NO!" He said. "I will
NOT perform for you, you perverted wankers." He closed his eyes and
tried to ignore the electricity across his prostate, but it was
futile. In spite of his efforts, his cock began to rise again, and
the phantoms went away. It was all turning him on now - and this
time he KNEW he was going to cum. His cock continued to rise, he got
nearer to orgasm, that longed-for ejaculation appeared once again on
the horizon - and this time the tingling wasn't going to stop. His
cock, rigid and as hard as iron strained upwards at its fullest
extent - harder than it had ever been...
And then he screamed. A short, sharp, piercing yell of shock more
than pain - as the sensitive cock-head touched something above it
and electricity poured into it. Instantly all thought of orgasm was
shattered, and his cock lost its rigidity, mercifully moving it away
from the electric contact. But the tingling had also stopped. He
wailed in frustration as the shock to his system receded and the
need for orgasm returned unabated. His cock hovered, half-limp, half
erect, not knowing what to do.
And then the tingling began again. Completely beyond his control,
his penis began to rise once more, heading - he knew - towards that
contact. He poured every ounce of concentration he had into stopping
it, into keeping it soft - but the cursed thing had a mind of its
own. Harder and harder it got, up and up it rose, while he got
hornier and hornier pressed tight against the black PVC - unable to
move, unable to make himself cum, unable to stop himself responding
like a fucking PUPPET as these bastards pushed his buttons so
"AAAHHHRRRGGGHH!!!" He yelled. "SHIT!" The cycle repeated - his cock
backing away from the electric pain on its tip, and he found himself
involuntarily counting the seconds - eighteen, nineteen twenty,
The current began to stimulate his prostate again right on cue. He
realized without any doubt that this was automatic - that they had
inflicted the ultimate humiliation on him: the bastards didn't even
have to DO anything now - his own uncontrollable responses would
facilitate his own torture. If he could only stop his dick from
getting hard enough to touch that plate, the tingling inside him
would continue, and he'd be able to cum. More than anything else in
the world, he needed to cum. When the tingling was on, it was the
only thing he was capable of thinking about. His brain refused to
entertain any other thoughts whatsoever. He HAD to cum - it was a
compelling, driving NEED that REFUSED to be ignored. And his cock
responded - rising up, up, until it touched that damned plate and
made ejaculation an unreachable goal.
Every 35 seconds or so, regular as clockwork, he went through the
cycle - and it was driving him out of his mind. It wasn't that the
shocks on the end of his cock were so painful - although they were
not pleasant - it was that they prevented his orgasm. Each time, he
thought "THIS time - I'm not gonna touch it..." but each time, of
course, he did.
Craig had thought that he'd reached the very pinnacle of humiliation
- but two things proved him wrong.
The first one was when they started tickling the sides of his balls
again. His cock shot straight back up and fucking BUMPED against the
electric plate. And this time it stayed there. Even the pain of the
shock on his sensitive cock-head was not enough to make him lose the
fullness of his erection while they did that. He screamed in pain
and frustration as the devilish feathers tickled and teased his
balls and the tops of his thighs. Once, a smooth - presumably
rubber-gloved - hand gently gripped his scrotum and played with it,
stroking it teasingly. Mercifully they only worked on his balls a
couple of times, then once again left the electronics to make his
body torture itself.
The second - and most intense - humiliation was when the door opened
and two men entered with cups of tea. He recognized the hooded man
but had no idea who the other guy was. This one was dressed
identically - leather jeans, white tee-shirt and ski mask. Through a
haze of overstimulation, Craig was aware of their pulling up the
chairs to the side of him, and making themselves comfortable in
them. Between sips of tea, they carried on a conversation as if
Craig wasn't there.
"So what do you think of my idea then?" Asked John.
The other laughed. "It's brilliant. There's nothing he can do to
avoid the shocks, or stop getting hard. I loved it when you played
with his balls - that really freaked him out."
John chuckled. "I've been thinking of a few refinements. We'll
discuss them later. Shit - did you bring any biscuits?"
"No, sorry Sir. I'll go and get some."
Craig heard the man leave, and as the door closed his cock touched
the plate again. He had been determined not to make a sound, but the
expected - but nonetheless excruciatingly frustrating - shock made
him yell. "SHIT!" His failure to keep silent plunged him into a rage
of defeat. "Shit shit shit shit SHIT!" He pummeled the PVC with his
Then he heard his own voice. It was begging. "Oh PLEASE - PLEASE LET
ME CUM. I can't stand this any more. I'm going to go..." His voice
rose to a squeal as the PS unit cut back in and the cycle began to
He was dripping with sweat. His short blond mohican was plastered to
his head, and his whole body quivered as his unseen dick in the next
room began rising for the nth time.
The door opened, and the second man reappeared bearing biscuits.
Craig heard the crackle of the wrapper, then the contented munching
and slurping of tea. "Did you hear that?" Asked John.
"Yes, Sir. He seems to want to cum."
"What would happen, Sir, if we just left him there indefinitely?"
"Well, eventually he'd have to release his spunk, so he'd cum with
his cock touching the electrode. It would be extremely intense,
because at the moment of orgasm the pain of the shock would
transform into acute pleasure. It would be far, far more intense
than any orgasm he's ever had before. After that - well, the PS unit
would get him hard again almost straight away, and the cycles would
begin again. He might manage two or three orgasms before he stopped
responding. The long-term effects on his prostate wouldn't be so
"And how long are we actually going to leave him on it?"
John winked at Adrian. Aloud, he said, "Oh, we'll disconnect him
after the third orgasm."
Craig moaned in fear, then screamed as the cycle reached the
cock-shock point. He realized suddenly that his cock WAS staying
longer on the electrode than it had been doing earlier, and that he
was getting slightly closer to orgasm every time. One part of his
mind wanted off this thing NOW, and a second, larger part screamed:
"Just fucking make me CUM".
But what worried Craig most of all was a newly-appeared third part.
It was, as yet, small - but he had a terrible feeling it was going
This part said: "Yeah - make me suffer, TORTURE me."
* * *
"You're not really going to leave him connected that long, are you
Sir?" They were back in the control room.
"No - don't worry. I want him to cum once on it, then we'll take him
off it. But I want that orgasm to be one he'll remember for the rest
of his life."
Adrian nodded. "You could turn the current up a bit in the electrode
as he starts to cum," he suggested.
John smiled approvingly. "Good. You're developing a devious mind -
that's exactly what I'm planning to do."
They watched a couple of more cycles - the irresistible rise of
Craig's cock as the PS unit worked on the boy's prostate, followed
by the contact with the electrode, a pause as the rigid cock held
out against the pain, then the slight lowering - another pause, and
"Actually, I think it would only take a few more cycles to enable
him to cum - but I'm going to help him. Get the beaker to catch his
spunk, will you? And switch the CCTV on - in fact record it."
A picture of the suffering boy filled the screen as Adrian switched
the monitor on, and he pressed the record button on the VCR. Then he
took up position, holding the plastic container ready to catch the
boy's spunk as he ejaculated.
John placed one hand on the control box knob, ready to increase the
current both to Craig's cock-head, and to the PS unit - and with the
other began to tease and tickle the boy's vulnerable balls, running
the tip of the stiff feather up and down, getting right into the
creases at the sides of the scrotum - he knew that continued teasing
of these would help to push the young punk over the edge.
Immediately Craig's cock shot upwards and filled to maximum
erection. Hard against the electrode, it stayed there as John slowly
began to turn the control knob up. He knew that the two currents
being applied to Craig's body would try to force him to do two
different things at the same time - the PS unit would make him cum,
the cock-head electrode would cause him pain on the most sensitive
spot of his body. But he also knew that the boy was so indescribably
horny, had been on the edge of orgasm for so long and so many times,
that the Prostate stimulator would win.
It did. Poised waiting for it to happen, John saw Craig's cock
suddenly get even harder, and immediately turned the control up
higher. There was a split-second pause where his cock quivered like
a volcano on the verge of cataclysmic eruption, and then, with an
explosive force that stunned both of them, the boy's spunk began to
pump out. John turned the control up all the way and, together with
Adrian, watched in fascination as the hot, sticky liquid jetted out
with such force that it hit the bottom of the beaker and splashed up
the sides - some of it actually rebounding completely out of the
container. His hand on the control, John waited until the initial
intensity began to lose power, and then smoothly turned the control
down until it was off.
The boy's cock began to subside, and Adrian caught the last drops of
spunk as it dribbled out. Together they looked at the monitor. Craig
hung limp in the restraints, unconscious.
* * *
Again, the cycle began. The tingling in Craig's arse started his
cock on its ascent towards the hated electrode. Suddenly, he gasped
as he felt a feather on his balls - it was right up at the side of
his scrotum, its stiff tip running up and down the sensitive
creases. The fucking BASTARDS! There was nothing he could do as he
felt his cock rise quickly and the pain of the shock hit his
But this time, the tingling inside him didn't stop! In fact it was
getting stronger! And so was the shock on his dick! He felt himself
approaching orgasm again, and prayed to any gods who might be
listening not to let the perverts stop this time. A wail rose in his
throat as the pain increased on his cock-head, blossomed into a
scream as the intensity of both it and the prostate stimulation
became unbearable, and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that this
time they were going to make him cum. But he also knew how they were
going to do it. The current was getting stronger and stronger - the
pain on the end of his dick was excruciating - but he knew he was
going to cum anyway. There was no way he could do anything about it
- they were controlling his every response.
He drew a breath and shrieked as the very brink of orgasm appeared
like a bottomless pit before him - and then something unutterably
Like someone throwing a switch, the jolting, sizzling, searing agony
on his glans suddenly flipped to an indescribable rapture of exactly
the same intensity. At that moment, he thought he experienced as
intense an ecstasy as any human being had experienced in the history
of the universe. Time dilated - stretched as if someone had clicked
on a slo-mo camera: he felt his spunk gathering power, straining
with increasing might against the biological dam inside him. His
breathing froze - it seemed as if his very heart paused - and then,
with a force which blew his mind away, his spunk erupted from the
bulb, rushed unstoppably along his vas deferens, past his piss-slit
and burst out into the air of the room beyond the wall. He felt each
of these discrete and separate events clearly and sequentially, and
every one of the muscles of his firm, hard young body locked tense
as he strained against the straps which held him down. The sheer
INTENSITY of it was overwhelming. As his spunk pumped out of his
cock he screamed and screamed and screamed till his voice broke.
That tiny part of his mind suddenly became the ONLY part, and he
wanted to spend the rest of his life strapped down, helpless, and
being tortured by these fiends. The moment stretched to breaking
point - and then, with a final shriek of unimaginable ecstasy, he
To be continued....
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