“Vorsprung durch technik. ” James sat back in the chair. There was a series of loud creaks as he crossed his legs, bright reflections from the study lights moving about on his polished rubber jeans.
“What?” Master Jeff recognised the phrase from car adverts but he’d never been quite sure what it meant.
“Forwards through ze technology. Automation.”
Jeff looked at him over his glass of Laphroaig. James seemed unusually pleased with himself, he thought. That was rarely a good sign. “Automation?”
“Automation. Zat is ze vay to go. ”
Jeff waited for more, but nothing was forthcoming. The man’s German accent was strong at the moment, and in Jeff’s experience that did not bode well. “What, specifically, do you have in mind?” He knew he was going to regret asking.
“I heff much to do at ze Mansion, as you know, and my time is limited. I heff been talking to von of ze seniors about designing a machine for ze edging. Zomezink I can put on a boy and leave vile I get on viz ozzer zings.”
“I see. Vich - “ it was contagious. “Which senior?”
“I vos talking to Chris. He is creative – und quite ingenious.”
Jeff nodded non-committally. “Chris. Yes, he’s certainly that.”
“Indeed. Much progress is being made. I am expecting ze results any day now.”
“Right.” He waited for more details, but the man just sat there, looking slightly smug. Jeff sighed. This sounded like another of James’ schemes that had the potential for not ending well.
Success! Joey had only been at the Mansion for a week, but he thought he’d managed to give the seniors the slip. It was all very well being kept horny all the time – actually it felt wonderful – but sooner or later a boy has to cum. And if you’re seventeen, you have to cum often. They didn’t seem to understand that; one of the worse sins a boy could commit at this place was to have an orgasm at any time other than at one of your scheduled milkings. How the others coped with it, he didn’t know. But he’d made it to the toilets, got inside one of the cubicles, and had quietly closed the door.
He opened his leather jacket and slowly peeled his skintight jeans down. He loved tight jeans: they turned him on like fuck. Before he’d come here, he’d worn them whenever he could, over boxers, of course. But at the Mansion the bastards made him wear them all the time – and commando.
He’d never realised how much more horny they felt with nothing between the sexy jeans and his cock; even just walking got him hard, and he was always wanting to touch himself through them. If the idea was to keep him permanently on fire, it succeeded. He sat down on the loo, and brushed his fringe away from his eyes. His cock was like a rod of steel right now, and he took it in his hand. He began to wank.
If he’d thought about it, he would have realised that in a place where unauthorised cumming is forbidden, there would probably be some kind of warning system in the toilets. And indeed there was: a small camera above the door saw all.
In less than five seconds, an ear-splitting klaxon began to blare. Then he heard running footsteps coming closer; shouts; and finally the rattle of a key in the toilet door.
Joey panicked. At the sound of the klaxon he jumped up like he’d been electrocuted. His lowered jeans caught on the pedestal and he lost his balance, falling backwards onto the cistern. Two things happened at once: the toilet door burst open, revealing a couple of seniors, and the top of the cistern came away from the wall. There was a Niagara of water, spraying everywhere.
“Out!” Squinting against the torrent while getting comprehensively soaked, the seniors grabbed him and pulled him out of the cubicle. Dripping, they marched him out of the room with his hard cock waving in the air.
In a room upstairs, and at the other end of the Mansion, Chris had a pen behind his ear, and was holding two 3D-printed discs. One had thin strips of leather hanging from it, the other had strips of even thinner rubber. The disks could be suspended from a small electric motor, which was itself attached to a frame bolted to the side of the restraint table.
He attached the first disc, switched the motor on, and observed the way the leather strips moved. After a few moments he reduced its speed a little, and made a series of notes. Then he swapped the discs and repeated the experiment.
Yes, from what he was seeing, it was clear to him that the thin rubber strips were more effective. He nodded to himself, made a further note, then tapped his teeth with the pen, staring at the rotating disc.
Like everyone except Master Jeff, Chris feared James. As the Mansion’s chief torturer, James was obsessed with continually refining edging techniques – he was always on the lookout for anything that would increase the boys’ frustration and suffering. This, Chris thought, was a good thing in moderation – the Mansion was, after all, based on horny boys, fetishes, edging, and milking – but he thought James took it too far. And the man was weird: that accent of his, for one thing – it came and went for no apparent reason. Chris had heard him speaking perfect English, so he knew he could, but another time it was so thick that it was hard to understand.
It was always advisable to be on James’ good side – the man was in charge of punishment edgings, after all – so when James had collared him yesterday and had started talking abut an idea he’d had for an edging machine, Chris had decided that presenting him with a fait accompli – a finished machine that would do perfectly what the man wanted – would be a way to get further into his good books; perhaps James would think better of him, and take him a bit more seriously.
“I’ll show James how to make a real edging machine.” He was staring at the restraint table. “Something that will keep a boy really close and drive him insane with the need to cum, with no input required from the user at all. Oh yes,” he whispered, “this will work brilliantly.” Chris put the pen down, rubbed his hands, and walked to the door. “I’m going to find the demented German, and show him exactly how it’s done,” he said to himself. He chuckled as he closed the door behind him – and found himself face-to-face with James.
“Demented German , did you say? Show me exactly how it’s done? ”
Chris spluttered.
“Come with me, boy.”
Noooo! How the fuck had James found him? Chris had picked this room for his experiments because it was at the other end of the Mansion and was hardly ever used for anything. He should have known. Nothing got past James. Fucking nothing.
It had been a long time since Chris had suffered a punishment edging at the hands of James. When he’d been escorted into the man’s private quarters Chris had been feeling anything but horny, but within minutes of being stripped, strapped down on one of the two restraint tables and hooded, it was as if he hadn’t cum for three weeks.
The man was a genius with cocks. No devices, no implements this time – just his fingers, in thin rubber gloves, and lots of lube. They had begun by stroking supernaturally-lightly up the shaft and over the precum-glistening glans, over the sensitive balls, tickling his arse hole or entering it gently. They gripped the cock and milked it – but briefly, much, much too briefly – just enough to bring Chris closer to the edge than he would have thought possible – and then they were gone. Again and again. Different techniques: a single finger and thumb on the head; fingers shaped into an ‘O’ and rotated back and forth just below the ridge; tiny, firm, quick strokes at the top of the shaft; gentle tickling of the frenulum… Everything the man did to him was totally unbearable. To make it worse, under the thick leather hood, Chris was tightly – and quite unnecessarily – gagged. As well as being unable to see anything, he couldn’t even express his suffering. Or plead. Or beg. All he could do was lie there and take it.
As always when edging is prolonged, and carried out by expert hands, it got progressively worse – and it went on, and on, and on. Like all the boys at the Mansion, Chris was well used to being edged – but you never, ever got used to it; each time was like the first time. If you weren’t horny to begin with, you very quickly became so, and from then on things went downhill fast: it became more and more unendurable. And the intense frustration every time the fingers stopped, leaving you on the brink of a monumental orgasm, but totally unable to achieve it, was more than you could take. It was the worst thing ever . Nobody at the Mansion was ever tortured with pain, but Chris often thought it must be exactly the same: it was so acute that you were incapable of thinking about anything else at all.
Chris writhed, struggled, and moaned on the table, his mind completely obsessed with one goal: to fucking cum – but he was helpless in the hands of a sadist who derived intense satisfaction from denying that goal just when a boy was as close to attaining it as humanly possible.
He’d lost track of time ages ago; he was in a leather-black, private world of intense, horny, hell. He could just hear the ticking of the wall clock, and every second seemed like an age to him.
There had been many, many ticks, and the hand of the clock had crawled around many times before – at long last – Chris felt fingers on the hood. It was removed, along with the gag. He saw James – in his usual full black rubber, plus the rubber apron and mask he always wore when he was administering punishment edgings. The man’s eyes stared manically at him through the openings. Chris brought his breathing under control, and a long sigh of relief came from him. It had been the worst he could remember, but it was over.
Or not. James made it his business to be aware of the individual weaknesses of every boy in the Mansion, and he knew that Chris’s nemesis was black leather. Slowly, he removed his thin rubber gloves. Then, with a grin of pure sadism behind the mask, he pulled on a heavy pair of long, studded leather motorcycle gauntlets. He picked up a pair of shiny black leather jeans, and lay them on the boy’s naked lower body, wrapping them around and under his thighs.
There was a discreet knock on the door. James opened it, nodded to the senior who was accompanying a younger boy. The boy had a fringe of black hair, and was wearing a leather jacket, skintight faded jeans, and combat boots. He had a very obvious hard-on in his jeans, and his wrists were cuffed behind his back.
Chris recognised him: he was a recent arrival – he thought his name was Joey.
He expected James to tell the boy to strip, but he didn’t – after removing the handcuffs, the man got him onto the other restraint table just as he was, strapped him down with his legs up in stirrups, and placed a small, pen-like vibrator on the table, ready for use.
“Joey.” James’ voice was silky-smooth. “You heff to learn zat cumming vizzout permission at ze Mansion is not allowed. Zis is your first time, so I vill be easy on you.” He ran a finger thoughtfully along Joey’s thigh. “But, my boy, you vill find zat tight jeans are no protection at all against ze edging. In fact, for boys like you who have ze fetish for zem, zey make it much vorse. You vill see.”
Chris’s cock jerked; James intended to work on the boy through his tight jeans. Although Chris was into leather more than denim, he was looking forward very much to seeing that.
James returned to Chris, looking down at him. Then, as if he knew exactly what was going through the boy’s mind, he smiled and shook his head slowly.
He picked up a second pair of leather jeans, and fitted them tightly over Chris’s face. He lubed the gauntlets well, and resumed edging the senior.
As soon as the leather jeans had covered his face, Chris had moaned. Noooo! This was unfair, even for James. But he was so fucking horny he couldn’t stop himself: his tongue licked the jeans and he moved as much as he could so that he could feel the leather on his naked body. Moans of sexy pleasure came from him.
One gauntlet cupped his balls gently, the other enclosed his cock. Chris could feel the cool, slippery leather, and the metal studs on the long cuffs sliding over the insides of his bare thighs. Immediately, he knew he was going to cum.
But the hands were gone. Chris wailed into the jeans over his face.
A few moments later the hands returned, but more lightly this time. They just held his balls and his cock, not moving. Chris tried to fuck the leather gauntlet but the restraints on the punishment table were specifically designed to prevent any movement at all in that direction; there was loud creaking as his muscles tried to force his cock further into the infuriatingly inviting grip, but the wide, tight strap over his hips made that impossible.
He heard moans coming from the other table, and he knew that the boy Joey was watching – and even that made him more horny.
Slippery leather-gauntleted fingers teased along the shaft of his cock. He ached to feel them sliding over his glans and frenulum, but at the same time he prayed that they would not do that – he knew it would make him need to cum more than anything.
James knew that, too, so the fingers slid there. But so slowly and so lightly that there was no way Chris could cum. The boy was bouncing in his restraints, his head was shaking desperately from side to side, taking the shiny leather jeans with it. Groans came from under them, and he was begging James to do it faster, harder.
James was grinning sadistically beneath the mask, and his cock was rock-hard under the black rubber apron. This was what he lived for: to use a horny boy’s turn-ons and need to cum against him. To make him suffer.
The difference between ordinary edgings – which happened every day at the Mansion – and punishment edgings, was a matter both of degree and time. The goal of the daily ones, which were carried out mainly by selected seniors, was to keep the boys terminally horny: repeatedly bringing them fairly close to cumming. This was done every day, usually for only fifteen or twenty minutes at a time, as there were many boys to get through.
But punishment edgings were a different thing altogether. They were usually carried out only by James, and, as it was punishment, the intention was to make the boy suffer. This was accomplished by extremely slowly and carefully bringing him much closer than on the daily edgings - to half a hair’s breadth away from orgasm – before pausing for the minimum time possible to prevent his having a heart attack, and repeating. And repeating. And repeating. For a very long time. For the worst offenders, the boy’s weaknesses and fetishes were used against him to make it even more effective. Punishment edgings were excruciatingly horny, but the intensity of the frustration when all stimulation stopped a split second before you could cum, was designed to be more than a boy could bear. All the residents of the Mansion, understandably, lived in fear of punishment edgings.
The hands were removed, leaving Chris wailing piteously on the brink of orgasm yet again, and he heard James’ booted footsteps as he went over to Joey. Seconds later there was the quiet buzz of the little vibrator, and then moans from the younger boy. The moans quickly became more and more urgent. Chris did everything he could to move the leather jeans from over his face so that he could see, but the legs were tied behind his head, and they wouldn’t budge. Oh fuck – he needed to cum so fucking badly. He knew that seeing James edging that cute boy would make it even worse, but he still desperately wanted to look. It wasn’t fair – Joey could see him , but he couldn’t see Joey. And he was so horny that even the idea of that was turning him on.
After a while the buzzing stopped. A high, wailing voice: “NO! NO! Please! Don’t stop! I’m gonna cuuuum!”
A soft chuckle. “I don’t sink so, boy.”
Moments later, James’ gauntleted hands returned to Chris’s cock. They tickled and teased, stroked, caressed, wanked firmly for a few seconds, but then – always – they stopped just too soon. Chris swore; how did the fucker know to stop at exactly the right time? Every time? It seemed like a single millisecond more and he’d have been shooting his spunk all over the room. The man was inhuman.
Under the leathers, Chris’s eyes were screwed up tightly in concentration. As victims always did, he tried every trick in the book to mitigate the effects of what the bastard James was doing to him, but as always, none of the tricks worked – one touch of those irresistibly sexy, heavy, slippery, studded, cool black leather gauntlets on his aching cock was enough to make shooting his load the only thing in the world that mattered.
He was tearing at the restraints, trying to get his hand to his cock, but there was no way he could even begin to do that. This was torture, pure and simple, and there was fuck-all he could do about it.
At the moment James had one hand in a tight circle around the base of Chris’s cock and balls, and was holding them pulled downwards, into the tickling, teasing, precum-lubed leather fingertips that were working so slowly on the boy’s cock head.
A routine developed: James would work on Chris for a while, then swap to Joey, then back to Chris. Both boys were out of their minds with the need to cum, but James was too expert – and far too sadistic – to allow that.
Outside, unseen by either boy, the mid-day sun started its journey downwards in the autumn sky.
There came a time when Joey’s moans very slowly began to increase in volume, and his pleas became even more urgent. The pitch of his voice gradually got higher and higher. Chris could picture James concentrating, wielding the little vibrator like a surgical instrument to make the build-up to each orgasm as slow and as torturous as possible – probably tickling Joey’s balls through his jeans at the same time – causing the tip of that devilish vibrator to press lightly, just for a second, onto the tight faded denim over the young cockhead that was straining and stretching the boy’s thin jeans, before lifting it, pausing, and doing it again.
The sound of the buzz was slightly different when it was touching the bulge of the boy’s cock, and Chris could hear the contact – no contact – contact – no contact periods very gradually getting shorter, quicker, and closer together.
Then there was a long, drawn-out scream of ecstasy. Chris knew that the boy was cumming in his jeans: James had pushed him over the edge and was finally permitting Joey’s cock to jerk uncontrollably, and pump its spunk frantically into his faded jeans.
Chris writhed on the table. Oh God, he needed to see that. He could hear rhythmic creaking of the leather restraints and sharp, urgent yells of acute pleasure coming from Joey now – James must be gripping the boy’s cock, and milking him uncontrollably into his increasingly spunk-soaked, slippery, tight, sexy jeans. He could imagine in every detail what that felt like, and, more than anything in the world, he yearned to feel it himself.
James switched the vibrator off. “I allow you to cum as zis is your first time. Next time you vill not cum. But also, cumming has its consequences...”
Joey’s orgasm was over, but a moment later, desperate screams and begging to stop told Chris that James had now started working on the boy’s cockhead again, now that it was hypersensitive from that intense orgasm – gripping it and sliding the precum-wet denim over it mercilessly. He knew from experience how unbearable that was when you’d just cum. And James knew exactly how to do post-orgasm torture, even through jeans.
Joey was released, and dragged away by one of the seniors.
James was now able to give Chris all of his attention. He re-lubed the gauntlets, made himself comfortable on the stool at the side of the table, and sighed happily as he proceeded to apply all of his considerable expertise to the boy’s achingly horny cock.
Things proceeded in this manner for the rest of the afternoon. James liked nothing better than to take his time. 4 o’clock tea came and went, and he only ended the session half an hour before dinner.
Ten minutes before that, however, he enclosed Chris’s balls, gripped his cock with freshly-lubed gauntlets, and made the boy cum – forcibly and efficiently. The walls of the room reverberated both with the creaking of leather straps strained to their limits, and with with screams of triumph as the boy shot gob after gob of thick, hot spunk into the irresistibly milking, black leather fingers.
Immediately after that, the post-orgasm torture – the gauntlet gripping the shaft from above with the leather palm sliding over the hypersensitive glans, alternating with hard, gripping wanking – was so unendurable that it gave Chris nightmares for days afterwards.
James took the gauntlets off, wiped the spunk from them, and mopped up the lake of it that was on the table. He glanced at the clock – he’d been working on the boy for six and a half hours.
The distant dinner-bell sounded. Perfect timing. He removed the restraints and Chris staggered as he climbed off the table. He could barely stand.
“Deranged German, eh ? Show me how it’s done, eh ? Perhaps you should be more careful about what you say in future, boy. Next time, I will put aside a complete day to work on you. Is that clear?”
Chris nodded, his eyes on the floor. “Yes Sir.” A tiny part of his mind registered the fact that the German accent had gone completely.
“Christopher. You are a senior. I do not expect to see you here again in the near future.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Chris left as quickly as possible.
Dinner, as always, was interminable. After eating, there came the inevitable rambling speech from Master Jeff. Today it was worse than usual – it concerned, amongst other things, the fact that a small rodent had been spotted in a store room near the kitchen – so probably best to stay away from there (a man had been booked to come in and investigate); the impending visit of Master Kurt from the Isle of Skye, accompanied by a couple of his finest slaves, who would be taking part in a fun competition at the weekend (details to be released later); and the order not to use toilet No.4 until the cistern had been repaired. Although the speech was quite straightforward, Jeff had had to be corrected twice and prompted three times by the long-suffering James.
Finally it was all over. The boys stood, and exited the hall – but before most of them had reached the door, Chris was already sprinting up the stairs and towards the East Wing.
He heard it before he’d turned the final corner: unearthly wails of inexpressible anguish. He burst through the door.
The little disc, with its thin strips of rubber, was still rotating, just as he’d left it when he’d bumped into James at 10am – it was still rotating over and around the straining, aching cock of Alec, the boy that Chris had dragged with him this morning to experiment on.
Alec was covered in sweat and his blond hair was a mess. His wide blue eyes stared at Chris in need. “For God’s sake m ake me c uuuuuuuu um! ”
Chris switched off the motor, wrenched the wooden bar to the side, and took the boy’s cock in his hand. Immediately – and with a gurgling, inhuman, scream – Alec came. Then the boy passed out.
Chris thought he’d got away with it. He heard nothing for the rest of the day, nor the next. But at 8 o’clock the following morning, as he was on his way to breakfast, Brian found him. “James wants you in his private quarters. Now.”
“Christopher. Ve meet again, I see – and so soon. Please - come in.” Chris shuffled unwillingly into the room. James closed the door.
“Now, vile I commend your enzusiasm und creativity in designing zat machine, leaving a boy restrained und suffering unsupervised for many hours is not vot ve do here at ze Mansion. Zis is a bad zing.”
Chris really wanted to say that he’d been given no chance to tell the man that Alec was there, but he well knew that opening his mouth right now would only make things worse.
“Strip.”
Chris began to remove his tee shirt, leather shorts and trainers.
“No doubt you zought I did not know. But I did. I knew two days ago. But I also zought that I’d allow a couple of days from our last meeting for you to get nice und horny again. It is early, ve heff all day before us. All day for a punishment edging.”
Chris swallowed. Oh fuck.
“Before ve begin, do you vish to use ze toilet?”
Chris was staring at the floor. “No, thank you, Sir. I went a few minutes ago.”
“Goot. So, ve may begin.”
When Chris looked up again, he groaned as he saw that James was holding up a heavy, leather-lined, black leather straitjacket. The man pulled it onto him, crossed his arms in front of him, turned him around and fastened all the straps very tightly. He smiled to himself as the boy’s cock immediately began to harden at the feel of the sexy leather. Next came an even heavier leather hood.
James called a senior in and between them they manhandled Chris onto the restraint table – and into a leather body bag that was also lined with shiny leather. Once positioned, James zipped it up over the straitjacket, to the collar of the hood, and then arranged the double zip so that Chris’s cock and balls could be pulled out. He threaded the long cord through the eyelets that ran the whole way up, and pulled them much tighter than was necessary. Chris moaned in despair as he felt the black leather tighten around his bare legs, and the tension over his upper body. Three wide leather straps ensured that he would not roll off the table, and a fourth – fastened especially tightly over the boy’s hips – would make humping very difficult indeed.
The senior nodded and left, and James locked the door behind him. He pressed a button on the desk, illuminating the “DO NOT DISTURB” sign outside.
He ran his eyes over the leather-covered boy and nodded in satisfaction. Then he moved the wooden bar over, and checked the disc with the thin rubber strips on it. It was a good idea of Chris’s, but there had been room for improvement. The strips now were of varying lengths: the longer ones would caress the shaft of his cock, the medium ones would stroke over the ridge and glans, and the short ones would tickle the very tip of the head. Yes, he thought, much better. He switched the motor on and watched as the disc began to rotate slowly. Carefully he made tiny adjustments to the position, angle, height and speed, so that it would cause the boy the most anguish possible.
“As you are now aware, I heff had your machine moved here. I heff all day free today, and I heff much paperwork to do. So I vill leave it running all day. Do not worry – you vill not be unsupervised: I vill be here all ze time – I am looking forward to enjoying your reactions to it. Zink of zis as research: if your machine works vell, we may use it on boys in ze future.”
The grin on his face was now pure sadism. “Zere is shiny black lezzer all over your naked body, und you are completely helpless. I zink ze little disc will keep you amused for ze rest of ze day. Oh – and you vill not be permitted to cum today. Not at all.”
James sat down at the desk, got himself comfortable, and switched his computer on.
It was going to be a long day, but James sighed happily. He started Blender and stared at the screen, considering improvements to a restraint frame he was designing especially for boys who were susceptible to having their cocks held pulled back between their thighs.
A moan from Chris told him that already the machine was beginning to get to him. The boy’s cock was jerking now and again, and each time it did, it made the rubber strips dance over it even more.
His right hand moved towards the desk, but then he stopped it. A corner of his mouth lifted. No, zere is lots of time. Later, when ze boy is more desperate...
On the desk next to his hand was his latest toy: the sonic feather – and within easy reach were Chris’s naked balls.