The Telemachus Story Archive

By Hooder


Jed squinted in the sudden light. The hunky guy in the black ninja gear and ski mask folded the hood, carefully attached several sensor electrodes to Jed’s forehead, winked at him, and left. A clock on the wall read 11.55. The part of the room he could see was empty except for the table he was lying on. It was a strange sort of table: inclined, and shaped like a person with his legs apart and his arms a couple of feet away from his sides. He was naked, and held down by padded stainless-steel bands across his wrists, biceps and ankles, and by several more across his body, the topmost of which pressed his forehead gently to the table, making it impossible for him to raise his head. His hands were held open and flat by small, narrow steel bands over each finger, and the toes had a similar arrangement provided by steel frames to which each toe was secured separately. The surface of the table was also padded, and he was comfortable. He took a deep breath and waited for someone to come in.

Nobody came in. Jed closed his eyes.

He hadn’t expected to be strapped down. He was going to have serious words with Barry when he saw him. “Oh go on – the money’s good. A week of sex experimentation. It’ll be great! Scientific orgasms! What more could you want – a whole week of sex, and getting paid for it!” It had sounded good and he’d signed the contract – after all, it had guaranteed that he would not be physically harmed. But Jed was more worried now. Why was it necessary that he be restrained?

His eyes opened with a start at the sound of the door. A figure entered – whether it was the same ninja as before, he couldn’t tell, as this guy had a black ski mask on too. His stretchy black lycra body suit fit so tightly Jed could see every muscle. There was another guy behind the first, dressed identically. They could have been twins – same height, same shape, same clearly-defined, muscular bodies.

The ninjas walked behind Jed’s head, and when they returned they were each holding a single white feather. There were stools beside the table, level with his elbows, and both Ninjas sat down, one on each side. They were both looking at the clock on the wall.

The clock flipped over to 12:00

Leaning forward, the Ninjas began to stroke the feathers over the boy’s fingertips.

Jed stifled a laugh: it tickled! The feathers stroked lightly over his fingers, starting on the very tops just under the nails and slowly working their way down the length of each. Jed tried to curl his hands into fists, but the restraints made that impossible.

The tips of the two feathers tickled slowly along a finger, and when they reached the top of the palm they moved on to the next one. The soft points tickled like fuck, and Jed’s face was screwed up with laughter. This was quite bad enough, but when they got to his palms he found that it was a lot worse.

He had never realised that his hands were so damned ticklish. The fact that he couldn’t move them enabled the Ninjas to work on the unprotected palms unimpeded.

A single electronic beep came from somewhere behind Jed.

At this signal, the Ninjas moved on to his lower arms. The wrists were covered by the restraining bars so they’d had to skip those, but beyond them the feathers tickled slowly and maddeningly along both of his arms. Not an inch of accessible skin was overlooked, and the slowness with which the feathers were moving upwards was torture in itself. The untouched skin immediately above the soft points tingled with anticipation of their impending touch. Jed thought this must be what the Chinese water torture is like – making your own mind work against you.

Their timing was perfect: they both arrived at the elbows simultaneously. Again, Jed was amazed at how ticklish those joints were. His body shuddered and jerked as the ninjas did their work. It was excruciating. The very tickling seemed to be making him more ticklish. The hollow of the elbows were the worst.

Jed was worryingly aware that his entire body was getting more and more sensitive. The feathers stroking so lightly up his arms toward his shoulders were unbearable. He couldn’t keep still, or quiet.

He’d thought it had been bad so far but when the feathers reached his face he had to redefine the word ‘unbearable’. They worked on his ears, getting right inside them, his cheeks, his nose, around his eyes, and his lips – and each was worse than the last. Jed understood the purpose of the shaped bar across his forehead: he couldn’t move his head an inch to escape the tickling. He sucked in his lips and tried to scratch them with his teeth, but when he did this a Ninja would tickle the hairs just inside his nose. This brought a violent reaction from the boy, and while he was forgetting to hide his lips, the other one was ready to tickle them again. The spot exactly between his eyes was excruciating: as – going increasingly cross-eyed - he watched the tip of the feather approaching slowly, that spot began to tingle even before the feather reached it. The Ninjas were concentrating hard and Jed could have sworn that he saw the bastard grinning sadistically under the black ski-mask as he touched the soft point lightly to the boy’s skin.

Just when Jed thought he would go insane, the beep sounded again and the masked guys moved on to his neck – which was itself much more ticklish than he’d expected - then to his shoulders, and then to his armpits.

They began by circling around them, then slowly moved inwards. As the feathers hit the centre of the armpits, Jed tried to jump off the table. It was totally unbearable. He yelled and fought and did everything he could to close his arms tight to his sides, but the steel restraints held him helpless.

The Ninjas worked on the boy’s armpits for longer than they had on any other spot so far, and Jed knew why: when they’d begun tickling them, his cock – which had so far been soft – started to get hard. He didn’t understand this.

Onwards to the boy’s chest. Although he had never thought of himself as being into his nipples in the slightest, they turned out to be extremely responsive indeed. He yelled as the tip of the feathers teased across them and tickled around them. The soft points stroked over his pecs, then down his ribs and sides. Jed knew without any doubt that if the guys jabbed their stiff fingers in there, he would pass out – or pray that he could pass out. But there were no stiff fingers – only the soft caress of the feathers.

They had got to his navel now. Jed felt that the Ninjas had expected this spot to be extremely ticklish for some reason, but the skin around it – especially just below it – turned out to be much more responsive than the navel itself.

Again their timing was good: by the time they’d reached the bottom of Jed’s abs, the beep sounded once more.

Jed’s cock was still fairly hard, and he’d been longing for – and dreading – their starting on his cock and balls. But they by-passed these completely. The feathers teased their way down his hips, and then began on his thighs.

The feathers here were driving Jed out of his mind – especially when they worked on the insides of his thighs. His mind was screaming at him to clamp his legs together to keep the tickling feathers out, but he couldn’t. Even so, he couldn’t stop himself from trying, and his thigh muscles strained with the effort. But at the same time as tickling more than he could stand, it was also getting him horny. His cock was stiffening more by the second. His entire body was also many, many times more sensitive than it had been when they’d started, and now the slightest touch anywhere sent the boy into paroxysms of hysterics. But these weren’t just random touches; the ninjas knew exactly what they were doing: under their fingers the feathers worked on him cunningly and unpredictably, in the most effective ways possible.

The two feathers moved down his thighs at a speed that was almost too slow for the eye to detect.

When they reached the boy’s knees they stroked over the tops and sides, and got the feathers underneath to reach the backs – there were hollows in the table’s padding here to facilitate that. Jed was bouncing up and down in the restraints, his throat sore from hysterical laughter.

Eventually they moved on, down his calves. This was totally unbearable too – Jed thought there was no longer a single spot on his entire body that wasn’t insanely ticklish.

Down over the ankles, to his feet.

As they had done with his fingers, the Ninjas stroked lightly over each toe, starting on the tops of them and slowly working their way down the length of each. The thin steel bands over them held each toe separate and supremely accessible. Holding the feathers like surgical implements – or instruments of torture - they teased between them, using the edges, and paid special attention to where the toes met the foot.

When they got to his soles he almost wet himself. He had never thought of his feet as being especially ticklish, but now he knew differently. He howled and screamed in hysterics as the feathers stroked over his naked soles and along the sides of his feet. And the ticklishness was building up alarmingly. It felt as if the soles of his feet were glowing with sensitivity. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He knew with dreadful certainty that if the guy raked something pointed across it he would pass out.

The unendurable tickling continued.

Jed had never been so relieved as when the beep sounded again. The ninjas stopped working on his feet, and moved their stools back level with the centre of the table. Their target now was Jed’s balls.

When they first made contact Jed screamed involuntarily. He couldn’t keep still as they crept around them and investigated the warm recesses at their sides, darted behind them for a moment, then returned to the front.

Jed tried to arch his back. Every muscle tensed in an effort to escape, and he screamed as both feathers worked on his unprotected, sensitive testicles. Oh GOD that tickled! Even though Jed had been screaming most of the time that the Ninjas had been working on him, he had been doing his best to keep quiet as much as he could – notto give these sadistic fiends the satisfaction of hearing him laughing helplessly – but now even that was not an option. He yelled, he laughed, he begged them to stop, he pleaded, he threatened. But it made no difference: the feathers continued to work on one of the most sensitive spots on the boy’s body. Apart from anything else it made him desperately want to scratch his balls, but of course he couldn’t.

He struggled as hard as he could – it was impossible to stop himself – but the struggling only made things worse: it underlined the fact that he was helpless to control in any way what they were doing to him.

And his balls seemed to be becoming more and more ticklish. Every little movement was now sending unbearable shivers through him and his muscles ached from his efforts to try to get away from them. But he was also aware that he was getting very, very horny.

Jed’s cock stabbed the air as the feathers did their fiendish work beneath it. His hips tried to thrust but a particularly tight steel band over his pelvis held it down to the table. His groans were erratic, with moments of urgency as ticklishness and horniness washed over him in waves.

For a full sixty minutes they worked on his balls. The two guys had clearly done this before, as their choreography was perfect – they never got in each other way. When one feather was tickling the sides, the other was reaching around the back; when one was working on the front or the bottom of the boy’s balls, the other was pushing its pointed tip into the creases at his groin.

Jed thought he was going to go mad. He couldn’t stand it. He had never thought of himself as particularly ticklish, but these two sadists had got him screaming at every touch. His cock had been dripping precum for a long time, in a slow, viscous stream which, because of the angle of the table, made long sticky strands between the Y division of the table, down onto the floor.

At 3:00 there came a different sound – that of a soft gong - from whatever equipment was behind the boy. The door opened and two more ninjas came in. These could have been clones of the first two. They picked up their own feathers and took the places of the the pair who had been working on Jed so far. As the first two left, Jed noticed that at some point they had both cum in their skintight black Lycra suits.

For a few minutes the two new Ninjas worked on his balls as the first pair had done – but then one of them moved his feather onto the boy’s cock.

It confined itself to the very base of the shaft – but even that was enough to make him scream. He imagined a hand gripping his cock and wanking him off – but there was no hand, only the maddening feathers.

Jed’s breathing was becoming faster and more shallow. He needed to cum. The damned feather teased and tickled on his cock, but right at the base. It was intensely frustrating.

At another electronic beep, the cock feather began to move upwards. Millimetre by millimetre it worked its way up the shaft.

By 4:00 it had risen one inch. Mark groaned in desperation – at this rate it would be hours before it got to the head. He would go insane.

Jed writhed in the restraints as the feather teased and tickled so slowly up his cock. The feather had been changed many times as it had become soaked in the precum that had been oozing down the shaft for hours. On a rare occasion when he was capable of thinking, the thought crossed his mind that his balls must be bright blue.

And all the while, the other ninja was continuing to tickle those balls.

Eventually the feather had got to just below the head. It stayed there for a full thirty minutes, teasing around the very top of the shaft - just below the corona - while being careful never even to touch the ridge. Every few seconds his cock jerked, and the ninja held the feather away for a moment, but it always returned to the spot it had been working on again and resumed.

Jed was beside himself with the need to cum.

The gong sounded. It was 6:00. The feathers were removed and another pair of ninjas replaced these. Jed’s body relaxed for the first time since the last changeover. He ached all over, he was sweating, and he needed release with an intensity he hadn’t believed possible.

The new ninjas pulled on long, shiny black rubber gloves. Gently, Ninja 1’s smooth rubber fingers took the very base of the boy’s cock between them, pulled it towards his feet a little, and held it there lightly, not moving.

Jed threw back his head in ecstasy as the fingers gripped his cock; even though it touched only at the very base, it was one of the most indescribably horny things he had ever felt. He strained to thrust his hips, to drive his cock into the rubber grip, but he couldn’t move an inch in the restraints. The hand didn’t move, it just held the cock there. While this Ninja continued to hold the shaft, the other one brought a feather up and began to tickle the boy’s cock head with it. The soft point teased and stroked insanely lightly around the outer rim of the bare glans.

They had been working on him for over six hours, and this was the first time the boy’s most supremely sensitive spots had been touched. It was the most intense thing yet. Jed threw back his head and howled in desperation. The hours of torment so far had served to concentrate his area of sensitivity bit by bit until it was centred exactly on his cock head – it was now the ultimate sweet spot.

For the next sixty minutes Ninja 2 held Jed’s cock out so that the other sadist’s feather could tease and tickle the head. During the course of that hour it very slowly moved inwards towards the exact centre of the tip. When the point of the feather first touched the piss-slit, an indescribably violent shock of ecstasy went through him.

And all Jed could do was scream and writhe in helpless desperation in his restraints on the padded table.

As the second-hand of the wall clock reached vertical and the numbers clicked over to 7:00, the beep sounded, and Ninja 1 put his feather down. He took a black silicone butt-plug, lubed it well, and carefully inserted it into the boy’s arse through a hole in the table.

Jed groaned as it slipped inside him. He wasn’t used to anything in there and, after it had settled into place and the sphincter had closed behind it, it felt both unfamiliar and – in his present state - also incredibly horny.

The Ninja took the boy’s cock head between a single finger and thumb, and held it gently, hardly touching at all.

Jed thrust his hips manically, doing everything he could to fuck those rubber fingers, but the steel restraint over his hips made the slightest movement impossible.

Then the hand began to move. Almost too slowly to detect, the fingers slid upwards, over the head to the very tip. The journey from the ridges to the tip of the head took a full ten seconds.

Jed almost pulled muscles trying to fuck those fingers. He thrust with all of his strength but the restraints had clearly been designed specifically to prevent that. Nothing he did made the slightest difference; the fingers stopped, then started again in the reverse direction, moving so insanely slowly. His sphincter muscle was contracting rhythmically, and every time it did, it sent waves of lust through him which made everything else these bastard were doing to him so much worse.

Please! Please! For God’s sake do it faster!”

The Ninja either didn’t hear, or chose to ignore him. For the next half hour the hand repeated the slow, slow torture. Every time the fingers got to the tip of Jed’s cock head a flash of intense need swept through him like an electric shock.

Beep. The hand changed its technique. Now, it slid up and down the full length of the desperate cock from the base of the shaft to the base of the head. Slowly, it stroked the shaft, enclosing it lightly in well-lubed black rubber. It worked only on the shaft and was careful not to touch the head at all now – not even allowing the foreskin to slide over it the slightest bit.

Jed was moaning incoherently and drooling. Not once had his cock been gripped properly – every touch since this first began had been so light it redefined the word ‘frustration’. He would have sold his soul for a single firm grip, a single pump of his cock – and he would have cum instantly. No question. But the rubber hand continued to tease his cock shaft. It had been thirty minutes since his cock head had even been touched. It felt as if it was twice its normal size, and it was crying out to be stroked, rubbed, milked.

It was 8:00, and there came another beep. The rubber-gloved hand of Ninja 1 still encircled the very base of the boy’s cock, pulling it downwards, away from his body. Now, he used the feather in his other hand to go back to tickling the boy’s balls.

The second Ninja, continuing to stroke the shaft slowly with his left hand, now used a feather in his right hand to tickle the head once more with soft, careful strokes.

A continuous, animal-like moan came from the boy and drool was running down from the sides of his mouth. With eyes that were glazed, he was staring at nothing, his mind able to concentrate only on the indescribable sensations coming from his cock, and his desperate need to cum.

The feather tickled and teased all around the head, avoiding only two spots: the frenulum and the piss-slit. It stroked over the ridges, and danced over the shiny bare glans, the soft tip gliding on a film of precum.

Jed wailed. He yelled, he screamed. He pleaded and begged for orgasm. But the feather did not change its technique at all. For an hour the feathers tickled the boy’s balls and cock head with sadistic gentleness, while the rubber fingers stroked slowly up and down the shaft.

Although Jed was incapable of reading it, the clock read 8:30. He did hear the beep, though.

Things changed again: the hand no longer stroked the shaft, the feather no longer tickled the balls. Instead, Ninja 1 now moved his feather to the spot that was the boy’s most sensitive and erogenous: that place where the ridges of the head meet underneath the glans - the frenulum. It began its devilish work there. The other hand directed the sharp, soft point of the second feather to the piss-slit.

The feathers began to work on him – one teasing and stroking the boy’s frenulum, the other tickling the top and inside walls of the piss-slit. What these feathers were doing was now the centre of Jed’s universe. Several times they had to pause briefly so that the boy could breathe – he’d been holding his breath – before continuing.

Jed had never in his life experienced anything like this. Those two spots now were, for him, the absolute, concentrated essence of pure sex. Nowhere else on his body was being touched, except for the rubber hand that was holding his cock motionless and pointing slightly away from his head, to make it feel more accessible, more vulnerable, more sensitive. The point of one feather teased and stroked over his frenulum, the other tickled deep inside his piss-slit. And the butt-plug rode in and out of his arse with each involuntary contraction of his muscles.

He was suspended on the brink of what he knew would be the most overwhelmingly intense orgasm of his life.

The feathers did not stop.

As the clock flipped over to 9:00, a deeper, more resonant sound came from the equipment behind the table. The rubber-gloved hand and the feather were removed, leaving Jed on the very edge of cumming. He screamed and struggled in anguish, doing everything he possibly could to push himself over the edge into orgasm. But he couldn’t. He had suffered nine solid hours of unbearable torment.

The ninjas left. As with the earlier pairs, they had both cum at some point in their black Lycra body-suits.

Jed lay on the table, his cock stabbing the air, screamingly horny and incapable of doing a fucking thing about it.

Two men in white coats and with surgical masks concealing their faces came into the room, walked to the head of the table, and examined screens that must be just behind him. One of them wrote for a while on a clipboard.

Jed pleaded. “Please!!!! Please make me cum!!!!” His voice was desperate.

It was as if he wasn’t there. Both men ignored him completely.

“This looks excellent. See? The net’s suggestions are within 0.1 percent. I think we can put him straight on it tomorrow. It suggests a sleeve number...” he consulted the screen, “12 on the edging head – with suction and frenulum stimulator; a number 7 double-contact plug; and stimulators on nipples, palms, armpits, and external urethral orifice.” He noticed something else on the screen. “Ah – it suggests a blindfold or a hood as well. Look: blindfold +.6, hood +.9.”

The second man nodded, and made notes of his own.

“Excellent. We’ll put him on it in the morning. We’ll start at a fairly low edging level – I think 70 percent would be about right – for an hour. We can refine the adjustments then. It should be pretty much bang-on by that point. Then we can increase the edging level session by session – we should be able to get to 85 percent by the end of tomorrow, and – if all goes well – to 99.9 by the end of the week.


The man lowered his clipboard and gazed down at the boy. He shook his head slowly in wonder. “At the rate this net is learning, it’s not going to need much more calibration, it’s almost ready right now. Put a subject straight on the computer, let it read him for a few minutes, attach whatever edging head and stimulators it suggests, and start your interrogation. I think our lords and masters are going to be pleased.”

The second man nodded again. “I think so.”

Jed’s brain had only just processed what he’d heard. ‘99.9 percent edging level by the end of the week’? What? His mouth opened, but he was too stunned to speak.

“Oh, and we’d better bring the defibrillator in, just to be on the safe side.”

With a final look at the helpless, desperate boy, they left.