Jed covered the ashes of the campfire with the brown dusty soil, and swore. As usual, he was the last one to leave the campsite, his duties including - apart from being regularly raped by the filthy, smelly soldiers - clearing up after them and loading the last horse with the cooking pots and food. He looked around. He was a long way from home and he hated this foreign, hostile country: the endless deserts punctuated irregularly by coarse, hard places like this one whose only redeeming feature was that it boasted the only trickle of brown, bitter water for miles in any direction.
Jed was barely eighteen years old, but hard work and military exercise had sculpted his body into something amazing. Tall, slim and muscular, he was - in his opinion - as good a fighter as any of them. So why was he always given the crap jobs? He was a good-looking lad: his jet-black hair framed a cute, boyish face, and that - along with the fact that he had a big, juicy cock and a tight, round arse - was the reason that he was constantly fighting off sexual advances from the men. That's when he was able to fight them off - more often than not they now took him in threes: two of them holding him down while the third raped him; and then they'd change round. He was sore all the time, and he hated it.
He gathered the pots and stowed them roughly into the coarse canvas bags. Just then a noise made him look up - and he found himself staring at a group of four natives. Fearing for his life, he turned - but there were more behind him, cutting off his escape. How they'd managed to creep up on him without alerting either him or the horse, he had no idea. With lightning speed, he pulled out his knife, and crouched, cat-like, ready to defend himself. But they gave him no chance - there were too many of them. He managed to wound two, but soon he was bound, gagged, and laid over the horse, on his way to the natives' village.
They threw him into a dirty, rat-infested cell, and left him for a couple of hours. Then the door opened again, and he was dragged to another room. This one had a whipping-post in the centre of it.
Jed was interrogated for the rest of the day. All they wanted was to know the positions of the bands of soldiers, and when the attacks were planned. At first, faced with the threat of being whipped, the boy was quite ready to tell them whatever he knew - his alliegence to his comrades was undermined considerably by their treatment of him - but then, when the torture actually began, an unbreakable resolve to resist formed in his mind. Although the interrogators were not very skilful with the whip, the pain was considerable - but not more than he could bear. Every blow only had the effect of making him more furious, and reinforced his determination not to give these barbarians what they wanted. He hung from his wrists, his back bruised and hurting, but the hours passed without their getting from him what they needed.
Eventually they gave up. The chief interrogator shook his head. "Put him back in the cell, feed him, and get him ready. Tomorrow we'll let Borgon have a go at him."
Who the fuck was 'Borgon'? Jed wondered. It didn't sound good. He was thrown back into the cell and given a revolting gruel to eat, and he fell asleep feeling tired, and sore.
The next morning he felt a lot better. His muscles ached, but apart from that he thought he was in reasonable shape. They came for him early, tied his hands behind his back, bound his eyes with a wide strip of Kadir-skin, and lifted him onto a horse behind a man named Mortok, who smelled of grease. Mortok turned to check the boy was on properly, then gave the signal to the other two accompanying them, and they set off over the rough ground at a walking pace.
Sightless and unable to get off the mount, Jed endured a bone-shaking journey of three or four hours without stopping. By the time they got to their destination, he was hungry and thirsty.
The place they had come to was a kind of oasis with a couple of sickly-looking trees and a brown pond. Beyond the trees there was a sheer rockface, and in the centre of it, the dusty earth disappeared into the mouth of a cave. To the side of the entrance, there stood a pole with a sun-bleached skull on the top.
Mortok dismounted and lifted Jed down, It took the boy a moment for his legs to adjust. He still couldn't see anything properly, although he'd managed during the journey to work the blindfold down a little so that by squinting, he could just make out the top of a rockface to his right. Roughly, Mortok grabbed his head and pressed a cup of water against his lips. He drank the bitter liquid down gratefully. Pieces of unpleasant and fatty meat were offered to him next, and his hunger got the better of him. He chewed them without complaint. After he'd been fed, he was allowed to pee, his cock being held for him by one of the men. This had the unfortunate effect of making him begin to get hard, but a sharp slap on the shaft stopped that. Jed realised that he was as horny as hell.
Mortok sat Jed down on the ground, and tied his feet together. The boy waited, trying to hear a conversation that was going on near the rockface.
"..ok. Leave him here." said someone with a deep, resonant voice. "Borgon will get the information you want. What do you want doing with the boy afterwards?"
Morton was talking to an ugly, three-feet-tall dwarf - it was he who had the deep, resonant voice, quite out of keeping with his physical appearance. "I don't give a fuck what you do with him. He's useless." replied Mortok. Neither Mortok nor his men liked this place - it gave them the creeps, and he liked the dwarf even less. The sooner they got away from here the better. Then Mortok had second thoughts. "No - wait - he's a good-looking young man. Leave him here afterwards and we'll pick him up tomorrow. He might keep our lads amused for a while." They both laughed at this, and then, with a grunt, Mortok climbed onto his horse again and together the men rode away at a canter, leaving the boy tied up on the ground.
After a while, the dwarf reappeared. In his hand was a collar and chain. Not needing to bend down, he fastened the collar around Jed's neck and pulled the chain. "Come on."
Jed tried to move his head so that he could see the man - his voice was amazing - but his chain was jerked sharply and he was pulled to his feet before he got the opportunity. With his hands tied behind him and still unable to see anything, he followed helplessly - staggering and tripping over small rocks - as he was pulled into the cave.
The dwarf - whose name was Eidor - guided the boy into the centre of the large space, and picked up a cylindrical device. Holding it ready, he unfastened Jed's hands and removed the collar. "Strip!" He boomed.
Jed rubbed his wrists where the rope had dug into them, and then went to remove his blindfold. Instantly he felt a sharp and intense pain on his thigh. "AAAAAHH!!" He yelled.
"Leave that on," said the dwarf.
Jed didn't need telling twice. He removed his boots, trousers and shirt, standing in only his underpants.
"Completely...." taunted Eidor.
Self-consciously, Jed pulled his pants down and stepped out of them. He placed his hands over his genitals and stood waiting.
Eidor grabbed his arm and guided him to a sturdy post set in the ground, then started tying the boy to it. The post was actually in the shape of an upside-down 'Y'. He had to use the pain-stick once more on the lad, when Jed began to object to being tied, but soon, standing on a box so he could reach, he had the boy well trussed: rope held his wrists together at the top of the post, and well-used wide leather straps encircled his muscular chest and torso, holding him immobilized. More were tightened around his waist, and another three - at the ankle, across the shin and just above the knee - strapped each of his legs wide apart to the two angled halves of the post.
Next, Eidor forced a piece of cloth into the lad's mouth, and strapped it in place, gagging him. Then he turned his attention to Jed's blindfold. He tutted as he noticed where he'd worked it down a little. "This will never do," he said. He removed it, and replaced it with a strip of very thin, soft, black leather, tying it very tightly behind his head so that it stretched and moulded to the contours of the boy's face. When he was satisfied, the dwarf used one more strap around Jed's forehead, immobilising his head totally. By the time Eidor had finished, the lad was unable to move a single muscle.
Eidor was expert - he'd managed to remove the Kadir-skin and replace it with the leather without having allowing Jed even the briefest glimpse of him. Jed had no idea what he looked like, or that he was only three feet tall.
The dwarf inspected his work, pulling straps here and there to check for tightness, and finally zapping the boy once more with the pain stick to see how much he could move. The only response was a yell from the boy around his gag - the restraints held him motionless.
Nodding happily, Eidor selected a heavy circle of iron - it was in two halves and about an inch deep. Carefully, he pulled Jed's balls down and fitted the ring around the boy's scrotum above them, screwing the two halves of the ring together. The weight of the ring stretched the skin of his scrotum, and Jed's testicles hung beneath: round, smooth, and feeling worryingly vulnerable, dangling in the empty air between his spread thighs.
Jed began to get hard. The feeling of the ball-weight was extremely horny.
"Ok, you're done. Now you just wait for Borgon." The dwarf smiled at the sight of this beautiful, hunky boy, tied, gagged and blindfolded - helpless. "Don't go away."
Eidor left through a doorway, and Jed tested his restraints. They were comfortable, but totally inescapable. No matter how much he tugged and strained, he couldn't move an inch. Whoever - or whatever this 'Borgon' was, the man with the deep voice had made very sure that Jed couldn't fight him. Who were these people? He had no idea who had got him.
Time passed, then a shadow appeared on the earth in the open doorway. A figure emerged, dragging its right foot; stopped, and squinted towards its helpless victim. Borgon was female, and she was hideous. She was a witch out of every kid's nightmares: ancient, stooped, her green-mottled skin covered with warts and pustules; her tiny, pig-like eyes gleaming pure malevolence from above a huge beak of a nose. Thin, straw-like grey hair fell over her shoulders like ashes, and on her misshapen head sat a dented, conical black hat. She wore a filthy black cloak, the sleeves of which stopped short of gnarled, arthritic fingers like the talons of a bird of prey, which clawed the air in convulsive expectation.
Eidor approached the deformed hag cautiously and, taking her arm, walked her slowly towards the helpless Jed. When she was near enough for her myopic eyes to focus on the beautiful boy, a lustful - and sadistic - leer formed on her surprisingly soft, full, red lips - and a dribble of saliva ran down onto her hairy chin. She had not uttered a sound. She couldn't: she was mute.
Slowly, Borgon sank to her knees in front of Jed. She raised her hands, and moved her head forward.
Behind the blindfold, Jed was aware that more than one person had entered the room - and that they were very near to him - but try as he might he couldn't see a thing. He trembled, expecting at any moment more pain - or worse. But he couldn't understand why he had been gagged: surely if they wanted information from him, he must be able to talk?
Suddenly every muscle in Jed's body went rigid and he let out a gasp of fear - and then of pleasure - as something warm, soft, wet and beautiful encircled the head of his cock and began to suck gently. His cock went from fully soft to as hard as steel in about ten seconds. He had never in his life felt anything even remotely as horny as this. The soft wet lips rode up and down his cock, taking the full - and considerable - length all the way down to the root, only to slide back up again deliciously to the tip. Each stroke brought a groan of ecstasy from him, and made his cock jerk uncontrollably between his legs. This was pure heaven.
Borgon continued to do what she did best: her ancient and infinitely expert mouth sucked and teased gently and slowly, bringing the muscular, helpless youth to the brink of orgasm efficiently and irresistibly. And then she stopped. She closed her eyes in pleasure at the muffled moans and mewlings of frustration coming from the hunky boy. After allowing him to calm down a little, she began again.
Eidor watched, fascinated. He never tired of seeing Borgon work. His hand was pumping up and down on his own small cock, and his eyes took in every curve and hollow of Jed's beautiful body. Very quickly, in silence, he came. But almost immediately he, too, started again.
Over and over again, Borgon brought the boy to the brink, and then stopped before he could cum. After what seemed to Jed like an eternity of this unbearable frustration, Borgon got unsteadily to her feet. Reaching out a gnarled hand, she gripped the boy's cock shaft gently, and slowly brought him to the edge of cumming once more. Then, reaching into her cloak, she produced a feather. It was a wing weather from an Arkk - about a foot long, thin, silky soft as only an Arkk feather could be, and coming to a sharp point at the tip. Standing at arm's length, she looked at the boy for a moment. His muscles were pumped from straining against his restraints; sweat was dripping off him; his spunk-filled balls hung heavily under the iron ring; and his cock - pulled horizontal by the weight of the ring beneath - was on the verge of exploding. After been brought to the very point of orgasm so many times, and then sadistically denied release, the veins were standing out in sharp relief against the smooth skin of the shaft and the purple head was shiny and bloated, stabbing the air in a desperate attempt to rub against anything that would provide the tiny amount of friction which was all that would be necessary to bring him off.
Borgon raised the feather, and applied the pointed, soft tip to the exact centre of Jed's piss-hole. She tickled the two little mounds at the sides of the hole, and ran the point of the feather over the very tip of his achingly horny cock.
Jed screamed into the gag. He was so close to cumming, on the very edge of orgasm itself, and this was pure unmitigated torture. His cock jerked up and down wildly and uncontrollably - it had a mind of its own now - but with each movement the feather brushed lightly over the sensitive tip of his cock-head. The boy was out of his mind. He had to cum. He had no option:he simply had to cum - he had never in his life needed anything as much as he need to cum right now.
But he couldn't!
And then it got a lot, lot worse.
At a signal from the old hag, Eidor eased himself on his back between Jed's widely spread legs and - keeping well out of the way of Borgon's feather, began to tickle the boy's balls with a feather of his own. This one was shorter than the one Borgon was using, but equally as soft, and equally unbearble. An animal scream came from deep in Jed's throat, and he reflexively tried to close his legs together. But they were tightly strapped to the post and he couldn't move them. He had no choice but to endure the excruciating torture of having his balls expertly tickled while at the same time having the tip of his cock lightly worked on by another.
Under the blindfold, Jed was in his own world of darkness. Not a single ray of light penetrated the black leather or crept in around it. He had no idea who was working on him, except that whoever they were, they knew their business well. In his mind, it was two hunky, muscular, good-looking men who had got him. He was helpless and in their power. And that was turning him on like fuck.
But he couldn't stand the tickling. It had been bad enough when only his cock-head was being worked on, but now they were tickling his balls as well it made his need to cum even more compelling. He was a horny, eighteen-year old full to bursting with hot boy-spunk and he needed to release it - NOW! He had never in his life been in a situation like this before, where he needed to cum so badly but was unable to shoot. He'd never even guessed that it could be so totally unbearable. As one feather tickled his balls and the insides of his thighs, and the other tickled the very tip of his cock, he thought he was going to go mad. He couldn't take another second of this torture. He screamed and screamed into the gag.
But Borgon - and Eidor under her silent direction - continued to torment the boy at their leisure. The feather in the old woman's hand tickled the foreskin and the bare glans of the hunky, helpless youth, followed the ridges of the head, and continually returned to his most sensitive spot of all: the exact centre of the tip. Her eyes were like small coals, black and shining with sadism. Every time the boy screamed, begged, pleaded or tore at his restraints, she smiled cruelly. She knew, better than anyone else alive, how to make a young man suffer through his cock. It had been a lifetime's labour of love, to make men suffer the tortures of the damned through the organ that had reduced her to her sorry state. Revenge was sweet - and, happily, the opportunities to exersise it were frequent: the barbarians thought her a witch, and sent her offerings regularly to ensure success in battles, and good harvests. Ha! She was no witch, just a woman who had been infected by a man a long time ago, with a disease which had left her crippled, ugly and half insane. But she played up to the barbarian's beliefs, and she was happy - and never more so than at this moment.
She used the feather with consummate skill: caressing the precum-dripping tip of the boy's cock with it, flicking it, stroking it and tickling it mercilessly - and Jed sobbed into the gag with pitiful frustration. This was more than he could bear. He felt that he would faint at any moment. These people were inhuman.
It went on and on. Eidor brought himself off every few minutes, groaning with pleasure in his deep voice as he pumped his cock with one hand and searched for ever more ingenious ways to tickle the boy’s balls and thighs with the other.
Jed thought that this was as bad as it could get - but he was wrong. At a nod from Borgon, Eidor spat on his middle finger and carefully felt between Jed's buttocks for his arsehole. Then he gently inserted it as far as it would go. He knew from experience that doing this too quickly would make the boy cum, so he was extra careful. Once fully inside the lad, he bent the finger downwards and it landed on the boy's prostate, which he began to massage very, very slowly.
Jed went ballistic: the finger gently teasing his prostate sent urgent commands to his cock to release his pent-up spunk immediately. In order to ensure this happened no matter what, top-priority signals flashed up his nervous system to his brain, bypassing his voluntary control, and ordering him to cause friction on his cock to bring himself off. There was no compromise - it must be done - and NOW!
But of course he couldn't. There was no way he could make himself cum - and Borgon was making very sure that this state of affairs continued, in spite of ever more sadistic encouragement to his now hypersensitive cock-head.
This was an order of magnitude worse than it had been. Any one of the three things - the cock-head teasing, the tickling of his balls or the prostate massage - would have been impossible to deal with even on its own - but the three together was driving him insane. He had to cum.
He had to CUM.
OH FUCK, HE HAD TO CUM!!!
But the strong leather straps did what they had been designed to do, efficiently and indifferently: they held the muscular youth helpless and immobile so that he couldn’t fight against what Borgon and Eidor were doing to him. He had to endure the torture until they decided to stop. And that would not be for some time - they were enjoying it too much.
Jed lost all track of time. He existed in a world of blindfolded blackness, tingling nerves, and an unfulfillable desperate need to shoot his spunk. He was no longer a civilised man, he was an animal: his cock was the only part of him that existed - and that in a fiendishly-created universe of frustration the like of which he had never known.
The tickling of his balls stopped, and the finger was withdrawn slowly. Jed didn't know whether to plead for it to continue or thank the gods that it had ended. The feather on his cockhead continued to stroke and tickle, but slower now.
Eidor unstrapped Jed's gag, and the boy wailed pitifully. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease....."
The dwarf stood on a box and leaned close to the youth's ear. "What are the positions of your military forces? Tell us, and we will make you cum.” He whispered.
Jed couldn't talk fast enough. He told them everything they wanted to know, and Eidor wrote it down.
"There's a good boy," smiled the dwarf.
Then Borgon slipped her wet lips around the throbbing cock-head and, playing with the tip with her tongue for a moment, sucked the struggling youth's cock deep into her throat.
Jed tore at the restraints, opened his mouth wide and screamed with pure ecstasy as Borgon's talented mouth milked him. Wave after wave of desperate boy-spunk pumped into the hot, wet, sucking orifice and was swallowed by the ancient hag as he helplessly came and came and came. It seemed to go on forever.
With a final gasp, Jed fainted.
He awoke dressed, and tied hand and foot outside the cave. They hadn't replaced his blindfold - which was a mistake. Able to see now, he managed to work his tied hands over his feet to the front, and eventually untie the rope with his teeth. He had no idea where he was, but anywhere was better than here. He set off at a trot, his cock aching and every muscle sore from his desperate struggling.
A few hours later he saw the signs of one of the other bands of soldiers in the distance. He was about to join them - when suddenly he stopped. He couldn't get his experience out of his mind, and his cock was rock hard again inside his trousers. Did he really want to be with those unwashed, filthy bastards again, digging latrines, cleaning up, servicing the men? He thought again of the incredible feelings he'd had while he'd been tied up in the cave. Who were the people who had worked on him? What did they look like? Would they do that to him again?
A smile crossed his lips - the position of that campsite ahead of him might be useful information for the ones who had worked on him. Of course he would refuse to tell them the exact position of the soldiers, and they'd have to torture it out of him...
For a moment he hesitated, and then he turned round and set off back towards the cave. He found a piece of rough fabric, blindfolded himself with it, then sat down on the earth and waited.