The Telemachus Story Archive

By Hooder


It was Friday. Ayden wanted this job, he needed this job. It had been two months since he'd last worked and he was getting desperate. It wasn't that he was untalented - he was a bright, adaptable, creative and ambitious young man - but there were just so many jobs in website design and too many people wanting them.

He'd made it to the short list and he'd dressed carefully for the interview in a new pair of jeans, smart shoes, and a clean white shirt. His usual gear - the studded leather jacket, the bike boots and the tight leather jeans - had been relegated to the bedroom floor for once.

He didn’t know how many competitors he had for the position, but he kept telling himself that his chances were excellent. The interview panel, all in their early twenties, consisted of Trisha, a woman with black hair and a friendly face; and four guys, one of whom - a good-looking lad called Carter, with short cropped hair and deep blue eyes - stared at Ayden continuously with a slight smile on his lips all through the many questions. Under other circumstances Ayden would have thought the lad was trying to pick him up, but in his present situation he found it a bit distracting.

"What do you think you can bring to the job?" Asked Carl, the guy on the left. Ah, the inevitable question, thought Ayden. He cleared his throat and told them clearly and concisely how his talent for lateral thinking had served him well in previous positions of this type; how his creativity and artistic flair was exactly what the company needed; how he got on well with colleagues and could bring out the best in them... He went on for quite a while, but not for too long, he hoped.

At the end of the interview everyone shook hands and smiled. "Thank you so much for coming in, Ayden," smiled Trisha. "We'll let all the candidates know our decision within a week."

The lingering look that Carter gave him as they shook hands was unambiguously one of sexual desire, and Ayden actually blushed under the force of it as he said goodbye and left the office.

Outside the building, he leant against the wall. "Phew." He was pleased with the way the interview had gone, and reckoned that he'd given a good account of himself - but he’d thought that before, after other interviews. Whether he got the job was, he knew, in the lap of the Gods.

Back home in his flat, the first thing he did was to have a hot shower and get changed back into his leathers. Dressing in front of the mirror he contemplated his reflection. He'd always been extremely self-conscious about his looks and his body, despite being told often that he was ‘fucking gorgeous’, and had ‘a body to die for’. To him, his eyes were too far apart, his spiky black hair a mess, and his body not muscular enough - although he worked out at the gym three times a week. With a sigh, he pulled on his leather jeans - and the sigh changed to one of sexual pleasure as the familiar tight, unlined black leather slid up his thighs like an old and very sexy friend, gripping them. He loved leather - had done for as long as he could remember. It turned him on like nothing else. Well, apart from being tied up, or hooded, or...

He bent down and buckled his bike boots, then pulled on a black muscle tee shirt and finally his leather jacket. "Hmm..." He said, seeing his reflection again in the mirror, "you look a lot better in leather, Ayden boy." Grabbing his helmet from the table, he went out for a ride on the bike.

* * *

Friday evening. Ayden was lying on the settee eating chips from a paper bag and watching the Isle of Mann TT racing on the TV, trying not to think about the interview that morning, when the doorbell rang. He put down the chips, wiped a greasy patch off his leather jeans, and jumped up. Who the hell was this? When he opened the door he was confronted with the smiling face of Carter English - the lad from the interview panel.

"Hi Ayden."

"Er - hello. Carter, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Carter's eyes travelled down Ayden's leather-clad body to his bike boots. "Mind if I come in? There's something I'd like to chat with you about."

Ayden stood aside. "Yeah - come in. 'Fraid the place is a total tip at the moment, though…"

Unusual, he thought as he closed the door and showed Carter into the living room: interview results had always come by letter in the past – or occasionally by phone. Perhaps they needed to ask him some more questions. He moved a pile of bike magazines off the chair and Carter sat down opposite him.

"Tea? Coffee? Scotch? Beer?"

"Tea would be great, thanks, milk but no sugar." Carter watched Ayden's retreating arse as he went into the kitchen, then gazed around the living room. Ayden was clearly very into motorbikes - there were magazines and photographs everywhere, and what appeared to be most of an engine was sitting on newspaper under the table. Beyond it, and partially hidden by it, was another pile of magazines, and Carter noticed that these were not biker mags - there were naked guys on the front page of the top one. He smiled.

"There you go." Ayden handed Carter a mug of tea with "FUCK OFF " printed in large type on it. "Sorry about the mug - it was a present, and it's the only one that's clean at the moment..."

Carter rotated the mug in his hands, inspecting it, and laughed. He took a sip and placed it on the coffee table between them. "I see you're well into bikes - and leather." His eyes were on Ayden's shiny black thighs.

"Er.. yeah. I've got a CBR600. Love it to pieces."

"Those jeans fit you well. Tight."

"Mmm. I like wearing leather. Feels right."

"Looks pretty good on you too," smiled Carter.

"So - what can I do for you? Want to ask me some more questions?"

Carter sat back, his hands covering his crotch. The lad was very sexy, Ayden decided. His faded denim jeans were as tight as Ayden's leather ones, and they were tucked into a pair of well-worn combat boots. He had a firm, hard body, his cropped blond hair making him look quite skinhead-ish, but there was also a lot of the punk about him. He'd do very well at some of the bars Ayden went to, he thought - and in fact just looking at him was in danger of giving Ayden a hard-on.

"Not exactly... Listen Ayden, can you give me your word that whatever I say to you here, tonight, will go no further? To anyone?"

Ayden blinked. This was strange. He thought for a couple of seconds, and then nodded slowly. He was dying to know what it could be that Carter wanted to say.

"Ok. Well, your interview was good, you impressed everyone a lot. It's basically been narrowed down to you or one other guy. Trisha and Carl are for you; Matthew and John want the other guy - so it seems it’s all down to me. Whichever of you two I vote for will get the job, simple as that. We have a meeting on Tuesday morning and I’ll cast my deciding vote then. Both of you have a lot of promise - but I have to tell you that all things being equal, I'd probably go for the other guy." Carter looked down. "He's a friend of my brother."

Ayden considered this. "I see," he said. What was Carter going to ask? If the lad wanted him to sleep with him he'd certainly go for that - no problem at all!

"How badly do you want this position, Ayden?"

Again Ayden paused. "I want it," he replied at last, truthfully. "I need it." There was no point in pretending he didn't.

"Good." Carter leaned forward, took another sip of tea, then sat back again with his hands clasped behind his head. Ayden saw now what his hands had been concealing when they'd been covering his lap - the faded denim of his jeans was doing its best to contain a stonking erection. Ayden's own cock responded to the sight immediately - and Carter smiled slowly when he saw it.

"I have a proposal for you. The result could easily persuade me to vote for you on Tuesday."

"I thought you might have," said Ayden.

"But it's probably not exactly what you're thinking."

There was a pause, and then Ayden sat back too, making no effort to conceal his own crotch.

Carter gazed at the bulge in Ayden's leather jeans, looking as if he was deciding what words to use, how to put this. "I have a... particular... turn-on," he said.

"Go on, I'm listening," said Ayden. Looking at Carter sat there in those combat boots and tight jeans was very pleasant indeed, and he couldn’t think of many things he’d refuse to do quite voluntarily with this sexy boy even if his future didn't depend on it.

"I want you to come and stay with me at my house for a day – on Sunday. From ten in the morning to shortly after six pm."

Ayden looked puzzled."Go on....." He was intrigued so far.

"All you have to do is to get through the day without cumming. If, by six o’clock Sunday evening you haven't cum, I'll vote for you and you'll get the job. But if you cum before six, I’ll be voting for the other guy."

Ayden's cock jerked in his jeans. "And I suppose you'll be doing everything you can to make sure I cum before six."

"Oh, you have no idea." He fixed Ayden with a straightforward look. "I'll be truthful with you Ayden. I want you to lose, to fail this. I want Tony, the other guy, to get this job. My brother's asked me to do what I can to make sure that he does. Trouble is, I fancied you like fuck as soon as I saw you. My single biggest turn-on of all time is making guys cum against their will. I fucking love to see a guy struggling and squirming and fighting not to cum - and then to slowly make him lose control and shoot his spunk helplessly. And then to keep on milking him until his balls are dry. The thought of doing that to you is… well, let’s just say it’s a very pleasant thought. But in fact that’s not quite what I’ll be doing to you." Carter's hand had gone to his crotch and he was massaging his hard cock through the tight denim.

"So, Sunday you'll milk me?"

"Oh No. No, that would be far too easy. No, I will not milk you – just before six pm you will make yourself cum. What I love about controlling guys through their cocks, is fucking with their heads and breaking down their defences. It's a question of getting a boy so horny that the need to cum’s more compelling than the need to resist – even though it might be very important for him to resist. And I am an expert at doing that. I'll get you so fucking horny that you can't stop yourself from wanking off. I'm going to work on your self-control all day, and I'll do whatever’s necessary - fair or unfair - to make fucking certain that you lose it. I'll make you cum all right - but you'll have done it yourself, I'll have got my rocks off, Tony will get the job, and you'll only have yourself to blame."

Ayden shook his head slowly in wonder. It seemed a strange way to get a job, but he needed this one. "Ok, I accept. No problem. You'll never make me wank myself off, mate."

Carter smiled. “There is one other thing. Take your jeans down."

Ayden frowned, then shrugged and stood up. He unfastened the studded belt, unzipped his jeans, and pulled them down to his knees. His hard cock sprang out and stabbed the air.

Carter raised an eyebrow. “Commando. Nice.” He looked at the cock in front of him. “Hmm... this is not going to be possible with it in that state." He produced a plastic object which he showed to Ayden. "It's a CB3000. Chastity device."

Ayden had heard about these things but he'd never seen one before."You mean I'm not going to be able to cum before Sunday?"


"Oh fuck." Ayden was already horny, thinking about this. Carter couldn't have known, but he was finding the thought of being controlled so absolutely by this guy, a turn-on – although getting through all of tomorrow with that thing locked around his cock wasn’t going to be easy.

When was the last time you came?"

Ayden did a quick calculation. "Three days ago."

"And how often do you cum usually?"

"Usually a couple of times a day - when I'm bored, mainly. But I was going to go to London next weekend and I was saving myself up for that. Oh shit."

Carter grinned. "Excellent. That'll make things a bit more difficult for you, won't it?" He looked at Ayden's cock swinging in the air between his thighs, and turned the chastity device around in his hand. "We're going to have to get that soft before I can put this on you. OK – I want you to cum for me now. And after that, when your cock goes soft, I'm gonna lock this on you. You won't be able to cum again until I take it off on Sunday morning."

"So you want me to wank myself off now?"

"Yeah. Do it."

"Ok." Ayden knelt on the settee, knees slightly apart. "Come here," he said.

Carter got up and stood in front of him. The boy began to wank himself off with his right hand, and Carter watched carefully. His hand was gripping the shaft, and the thumb was rubbing over his cock-head with each stroke. It was a fairly common technique. But every few seconds he worked on the head alone, with just a finger and thumb. Interesting. Ayden ran the fingertips of his left hand over Carter's tight jeans for a while, and then buried his face in his crotch. His hand returned to his own leather thigh, stroking the black hide. "Mmmm... tell me you're gonna make me cum on Sunday. Tell me I'll have no chance..."

Carter looked down at the boy's spiky black hair as he sucked Carter's cock through his faded jeans and tickled his balls with his thumb. It was making Carter get very close to cumming himself. "You’ve got no fucking chance at all mate," he said, his voice heavy with sex. "I'm gonna get you so fucking horny that you won't be able to stop yourself from wanking off. You'll do everything you can to resist, but I'm gonna make damn certain you can't fight it. I need you to lose this. I’ll get you fucking helpless, boy. You'll do everything you can to keep your self-control - but I'll make fucking sure you lose it. And there won't be a fucking thing you can do about it...”

The words, his sexy voice, and the feel of the hard cock through those tight jeans had got Ayden very close. He shut his eyes, ready for orgasm.

Carter reached down and pulled the boy’s hand off his cock. “On second thoughts, let’s just wait for it to go soft, shall we?”

What?” Ayden groaned. “You bastard! I was going to cum!”

“I know you were.”

“Tell you what, let’s go into the bathroom and put some cold water on it.”

Reluctantly, Ayden led the way. A few minutes later the biker’s cock was soft enough for Carter to get the device over it, locking it into place with a click. The cold water might have made his cock soft, but it had done nothing to reduce his horniness.

“Ok. I’ll be off. See you on Sunday morning at ten. Don’t get too horny before then...”

Ayden closed the front door after him. He looked down at the plastic cage around his cock and grunted.


Sunday morning. Yesterday had been difficult: he’d been as horny as fuck all day, and the feel of that chastity device reminded him at every moment that his cock was going to be teased unbearably throughout the whole of today.

Carter was wearing full black leathers when Ayden arrived: short-sleeved black leather uniform shirt, Sam Browne belt, high New Rock boots with studs and buckles on them, and jeans that appeared to be sprayed onto him. There was not a single crease anywhere in the smooth black leather. He told Ayden to strip, and to put his gear in a pile on a chair by the door.

Ayden did so, placing his crash helmet on the top.

"So, how have you got on with the CB3000?" He asked the now-naked boy.

The thing had been locked onto him since Friday night, reminding him constantly that he was as horny as fuck but that he couldn’t do anything about it. For some reason knowing he couldn’t wank had made him want to even more. Bastard. "That device is an invention of the devil," said Ayden, grinning lopsidedly. "Oh fuck - it hurts when you try to get hard in it."

"Yes I know it does." Carter led Ayden into the living room. "Sit down. We'll have a cup of coffee before we start." He left Ayden to look around.

The living room was a revelation to Ayden - he'd never seen anything like it: all the furniture was stainless steel and black leather, and the walls were almost completely mirrored. The carpet was as black as midnight. He sat down slowly on the settee and sighed as the soft, cold leather moulded to his naked body.

Carter put the coffee on the table and sat down next to Ayden. “So tell me, when did you first realise that leather turned you on?”

Ayden thought before answering. “I don’t really know – there’s never been a time when it hasn’t turned me on, I don’t think. How about you?”

“About the same time that I realised how much making guys cum against their will blew my mind. That was a while ago.”

Ayden was fascinated by this – he’d never heard of anyone for whom this was their main turn-on. “What gets you off about doing that?”

“Control and unfairness. Using a guy’s need to cum to control him seems to me to be one of the most unfair things you can do. Intentionally making that need worse and worse, so that he’s less and less able to fight it, is even more unfair. Restraints, butt-plugs, hoods, blindfolds, gags make it even harder for him to resist, and the instruments of torture, they are the most unfair of all.” He gave his cock a squeeze through his leather jeans. “Using all of that to fuck with a guy’s mind is, to me, a very pure form of control, and it turns me on like fuck.

“What ‘instruments of torture’ do you mean?”

“Oh nothing to do with pain – things I use on victims to make them want to cum...” He smiled cryptically.

Ayden had been listening to that open-mouthed. Victims. Mmm.. He liked how Carter had used that word. His cock was straining to get hard inside the cage and it hurt like hell. “It’ll be a fucking battle ,” he said at last.

“Exactly that. A battle. Your conscious mind will be telling you NOT to cum before six this evening. But your body will be screaming at you TO cum. And I’m going to work on your need to cum until it overpowers your determination to hold out. You won’t just be fighting me – I’m not going to milk you - you’ll be fighting yourself - your own desperate need for orgasm.” Carter smiled dangerously. “And I intend to make very sure that you lose that fight.” He stood up. “Come with me.”

* * *

The room was large, and it was much more than a bedroom. There was indeed a bed in it, but there was also a St. Andrews Cross dominating one wall, its wrist and ankle cuffs and its black leather straps making it look like some medieval instrument of torture. A large, box-like bondage frame of some kind stood off to one side; there was a padded table; a couple of wooden chairs; leather objects hanging on the wall; and shelves of plastic boxes. Ayden couldn’t see what was inside them.

Carter stood the boy against the cross. “I like to explain what I’m doing so that you know exactly what’s happening, and why.” He began to buckle the cuffs around Ayden’s ankles. “These cuffs will make it impossible for you to kick, or to move your feet.” The straps just above the biker’s knees and over his thighs were next. “These will immobilise your legs completely. They’ll remove a lot of your ability to protect yourself. This wider strap across your pelvis is very important: if you can get your cock away from me it will be easier for you to resist...” He pulled the strap very tightly across Ayden’s pelvis and buckled it, “...and we can’t have you doing that. You won’t be able to move your cock at all if this strap’s tight enough.” The next one went over the boy’s chest just below his nipples. “Again, more immobilisation.” He moved upwards. “And finally the two pairs over the arms and wrists. Those are important – we control the world mostly with our hands, and if you can’t, it makes you very helpless. There. Try to move.”

The straps creaked as Ayden strained but he could hardly move an inch in any direction.

“Restraints are important. As time goes on you’ll feel the need more and more to be able to control what’s being done to you. You’ll realise you’re getting dangerously horny, and it’ll become urgent that you stop me from making it worse. And that fact alone – that you’re completely unable to control what’s happening – will itself make it worse. A lot worse. There are variations on that which we’ll explore later. But for now, let’s just begin. I think we can take that thing off you now.” He unlocked the CB3000 and removed it. Ayden’s cock sprang up, hardening visibly as he watched.

Carter took a pair of thin leather gloves from the waistband of his jeans and pulled them on slowly. Ayden’s eyes were fixed to the black, skintight leather fingers as they flexed – they looked sinister. And they looked unbelievably sexy. He cupped the boy’s balls in one hand and stroked his thumb slowly over them. Ayden closed his eyes and smiled with pleasure. “I don’t know about you,” said Carter, “but I love the feel of black leather on my balls – and especially on my cock...” With his other hand he gently held Ayden’s erection, stroking the base lightly.

Ayden moaned softly. “Mmm...”

The leather-gloved fingers slid gradually up the shaft. Ayden shuddered as they reached the head. They stayed there briefly, teasing the bare glans, then they were gone.

Ayden was unbelievably horny, and it was only half past ten. He’d been here half an hour and he needed to cum already.

Carter took a leather thong and began to wrap it around the base of Ayden’s cock and balls like a cock ring. When it was tight but comfortable, he tied it. “I usually find that this makes a cock even more susceptible to edging. It sort of separates it from your body a bit and makes it feel a lot more vulnerable – and a lot more sensitive.” The cock was now much harder, the veins standing out clearly on the shaft. The first small drop of precum had appeared on the tip of the bulbous, shiny head.

“Something else that makes it more responsive is this...” He tied another thong halfway up the shaft, and then attached a small weight to the other end. When he lowered it and let go, the weight pulled the boy’s cock down against its stiffness so that it was almost horizontal.

“I once saw a brilliant drawing by a guy called Franco, where hooded monks had a victim in an arrangement like this, and were tickling his frenulum with the tip of a feather. I’ve always remembered that picture – it turned me on more than just about anything else I’ve seen. I’ve always wanted to try that, and now seems like a good time.” He pulled up a stool and sat down, then showed the boy a soft white feather. It came to a sharp point. Carter touched the tip of the feather to the underside of the cock-head and teased it up and down, from side to side.

Ayden had also seen that drawing (he’d wanked over it more than once) and the thought of having it done to him was dangerously horny. The actuality was worse. His cock felt worryingly vulnerable, held down by the weight, and also it seemed much, much more sensitive than usual. When the feather made contact he gasped as currents of lust coursed up his cock and through his body. “Oh fuuuuuuck...”

“Although the frenulum is the most sensitive spot, this sort of thing seems to be more difficult to deal with if it’s not worked on continuously,” said Carter.

This conversational discussion of what he was doing to the boy was getting to Ayden.

“It’s more effective if the ridges and the head are teased for while – and even the shaft, or the balls – before coming back to the frenulum...” The feather mirrored his words as he spoke them and when it returned to that most acutely erogenous spot, Ayden groaned. He needed to cum.

Carter kept this up for an hour, by which time Ayden was straining at the straps. He’d realised that what Carter had said earlier was very true: the more horny he got, the more urgently his brain was yelling commands at him – but they were two conflicting commands: one part of his mind was insisting that he do something to stop this - before he lost control completely; and another part was insisting just as loudly that he CUM, NOW! Such urgent signals were impossible to ignore and the boy found himself pulling at the restraints, fighting to get free, to get his cock away from those devilish fingers and from that feather, or to get his hand to it so that he could make himself cum. But he was unable to do either: the more he strained, the more he was conscious that he couldn’t move, that the restraints were holding him helpless; that they were designed to do exactly that. This increasing feeling of being unable to do anything about it was making everything much worse.

How the hell was he going to be able to last out until six o’clock?

Ayden was tied to a straight-backed wooden chair. His wrists were cuffed behind him, leather straps held his legs to those of the chair, and another strap over his thighs kept him down to the seat. These restraints would allow him to move much more than when he’d been on the St Andrews cross, but Carter wasn’t touching him at all at the moment – he was sat in an identical chair, his knees close to Ayden’s.

“Do you fancy me?”

Ayden looked at the guy. Carter was good-looking, with short blond hair, and blue eyes. His body was firm and more muscular than his own, and it filled his black leather short-sleeved shirt and leather jeans wonderfully. His pecs stretched the leather of the shirt; the bulge of his hard cock was huge, lying across his left thigh; and the studs and buckles on his sexy New Rock boots glinted in the light.

“Oh fuck yeah.” In his present state Ayden would have given anything to have fallen at this guy’s feet, licked his boots, rammed his tongue into the guy’s mouth, and cum by fucking his skintight black leather thighs.

“And do you want to cum yet?”

Ayden was still very horny indeed, but not as much as he had been on the cross, when Carter had been teasing his cock with the feather. He smiled and shook his head. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Carter smiled back. “Oh, I intend to.” He pushed the chair back, and stood up, his legs between Ayden’s, the leather of his jeans touching the boy’s bare skin. Very slowly and sensuously he ran a gloved fingertip up and down the length of his own bulging cock. Ayden’s eyes were riveted to the finger. Carter gripped the shaft, making it jerk, and then squeezed it.

Ayden was hypnotised by the sight, and his own cock had returned to full erection again in seconds.

Carter straddled the boy’s thighs. “Lick.”

Ayden leaned forward and licked it. He used his teeth and lips. The black leather smelled gorgeous and tasted as horny as fuck - and the hard resilience of the warm cock under it felt wonderful. He felt it jerk in response as he scratched his teeth over the head. He tried to take the whole head into his mouth as far as the jeans would allow it. He sucked the leather-covered cock-head.

Carter’s eyes were half closed and he was moaning quietly. Suddenly he bent down, grabbed Ayden’s head, and crushed his lips hard against the boy’s. They kissed for a while, then Carter knelt down and took the boy’s cock into his mouth. Slowly and very carefully his warm, wet lips sucked the cock, his tongue teasing the tip of the head inside his mouth with each long stroke.

Ayden felt himself rapidly approaching orgasm – but then Carter’s head was no longer there: he had stood up again and was unzipping his leather jeans. His own hard cock flopped out into the air and he enclosed it with a leather-gloved hand. He began to pump it - slowly at first, but then with increasing speed.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cummm….” His body convulsed as he shot his load. It covered Ayden’s face, running down his cheeks and across his nose. “Yeeeaah!”

Carter was breathing hard. He squeezed the last drops out of his cock, wiped it with a tissue and zipped his jeans up again. “It’s good to be able to cum when you want...”

“Bastard.” The sight of the hunky guy cumming, and the feel of the warm spunk on his face had made him long for orgasm even more – but he was determined to hold out until six o’clock. At least, he thought, Carter would be less motivated for a while now that he’d cum.

This proved not to be the case. After wiping his spunk of the biker’s face Carter moved the chair to Ayden’s right-hand side, sat down again and leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. “Time for some edging, I think.”

He gripped the boy’s cock in the same way he’d watched Ayden himself do it on Friday night, and began to stroke it. Just as he had done, every few seconds he transferred his fingers to the head and worked on that alone.

It was clearly having an effect – very soon Ayden’s breathing became faster, more shallow. His muscles tensed, and -

Carter let go. Carter was expert at edging, but as yet he wasn’t familiar enough with this boy’s reactions to risk getting him too close. But he knew that before long he would be. And then the fun would start.

And he was right: he was soon able to read Ayden so well that he could get him to the very edge of orgasm without allowing him to cum. He settled down for some serious boy torture.

Ayden had only been edged once before, and then only for about five minutes. A guy had brought him close two or three times and had then gone on to other things. Never had he had it done to him continuously for as long as this. Brought to the very edge - and then suddenly denied all stimulation just when he knew he was going to cum. Over and over and over again. He had not in his wildest dreams imagined that anything could be this frustrating. And the longer it went on the worse it got. He thought he was either going to pass out or go mad. Every time he ended up clawing at the restraints, holding his breath, and then bellowing in frustration as the slow, irresistible stroking - or the fast, squelching wanking - stopped completely. In the odd moments when he was able to think rationally he was actually grateful for the fact that he was restrained: he seriously wondered if he’d have been able to stop himself from grabbing his cock and finishing himself off, if his hand had been free.

Carter was already hard again inside his leather jeans. Ayden had watched his cock slowly grow as he edged the helpless boy. This bastard was a sadist. He had picked up the feather again and he spent the next half-hour using it to torment the helpless, horny cock.

* * *


Ayden nodded. He was lying face up, hanging from thick bungee cords suspended from the top corners of the steel box-like bondage frame. There was one going to each of his ankle and wrist cuffs – which themselves had been buckled around thick leather fingerless mitts; a pair of extra-thick bungees was attached to each side of a wide leather belt that he had around his waist; and four more ran horizontally, connecting each cuff to the vertical corner posts. Carter had spent a few minutes adjusting the tension and the length of the cords, until now the boy was almost perfectly flat. He felt like he was floating. He was wearing some very loose leather boxing shorts that Carter had made him put on. The legs came down to a couple of inches above his knees and the shorts had shiny, thin leather on the inside as well. They felt cool and dead sexy against his skin.

“Frustration is a strange thing,” said Carter. “Sometimes being totally immobilised can be frustrating – but so can being able to move, but not enough to do you any good. Take your present position, for instance...”

Ayden wondered who’s benefit all the explanations were for - his, or Carter’s? He had to admit that he found the constant commentary on his positions horny, and somehow humiliating.

“...You can move, but those bungees are strong. Your muscles will soon get tired of pulling at them. And because they give, pulling at them doesn’t really get you very far anyway, as you will shortly see.” He went over to the shelves and took an object out of one of the plastic boxes.

“And talking about seeing, you’ll want to see what’s going to happen next. In fact you really are going to need to be able to see.” He held up the object in his hands.

Ayden groaned. He’d guessed right; it was a hood. This guy really was a bastard.

“Hoods are truly wonderful things. They can make a boy so fucking helpless...” He pulled the hood roughly over Ayden’s head and strapped it up tightly. “Now, remember, don’t let yourself get too horny. Forget that you’re restrained. Forget that you’re hooded so that you can’t see what’s going to happen. Forget that those shiny black leather shorts are sliding over your cock. And forget that I’m determined to make you lose this contest, boy. Forget all of that, just relax and enjoy yourself...”

Ayden swore under the hood. It was as if Carter knew exactly what his buttons were and how to push them. He stared wide-eyed into the black leather of the hood, willing himself to be able to see through it, waiting for… what?

Ayden yelled as fingers grabbed his cock through the thin leather shorts. He reflexively tried to turn his body away from the hand, but he didn’t move very far. As he pulled on the left-hand side bungees they stretched, but the other ones kept him more or less where he had been – the net result was only a very small rotation. He tried the other way, with a similar result. He’d managed to get his cock away from the teasing hand, but a second later it was back. The fingers gripped the shaft through the shorts, and moved the soft, cool leather up and down. Ayden felt the shorts moving over his thighs and stomach as well. It felt fucking sexy.

The hand was gone. Ayden’s cock was as hard as a rod, tenting the front of the shorts out. The fact that they were loose kept them cool, which meant that he could feel the leather against his skin – it didn’t warm up and become less noticeable as tight ones would have done.

Leather-gloved fingers stroked up the inside of his thigh, just below the shorts’ leg. He closed his knees together to keep it from invading further – but the strong horizontal bungees were pulling his feet apart and he couldn’t keep his thighs closed. Very quickly his muscles tired and he had to relax them. As soon as he did that, the hand quickly slipped up inside the leg of the shorts to the very top of his thigh. The fingers tickled there.

For some reason that felt indescribably horny. If Carter had touched his cock-head he would have cum instantly – he knew it.

The fingers had found his balls, and were now tickling them. Ayden’s body was thrashing about in the restraints as he tried to get away from the invading hand. He could feel it moving the leather shorts as the fingers worked on his balls and, with every movement he made, it was as if the shiny leather itself was intent on making him lose control. Again and again he tried to close his legs, to turn over, to pull himself somehow away from that hand – but whatever he did wasn’t enough. The bungees pulled him back eventually; he couldn’t hold any position for long enough to get away.

He lay there panting into the hood. Carter had taken his hand out, and Ayden’s muscles were vibrating with tension, expecting a touch at any moment, and not knowing where it was going to come from, or when. He cursed the fucking hood.

The touch, when it came, was from a completely unexpected direction. He felt fingers touch the centre of his back. Automatically he arched his body away from them – and delivered his cock directly into the grip of the other, unseen hand. Shit! If only he could fucking see! The hand gripped, and slid the leather over his cock-head once. Then it was gone.

That had been enough to bring him almost to the point of cumming.

A few moments later he felt a hand slide up his shorts again. The fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, and pulled it downwards, the leather of the shorts sliding over it. Oh shit, that felt so fucking horny… Then he felt the opposite leg move as the other hand slowly teased its way up. For a moment nothing else happened – and then he felt that fucking feather on the head of his cock again.

Noooooooooooooo…..!” He struggled to get away but the bungees made it impossible – Carter was easily able to follow his movements. The feather worked on his cock mercilessly and the shiny, cool black leather of the shorts teased all the places that Carter wasn’t himself touching. Within seconds he was on the edge – and then it stopped. The grip around the base of his cock relaxed. He did everything he could to make himself cum – he tried to thrust his hips to fuck the hand, or the leather of the boxing shorts, but the bastard Carter was holding the loose shorts out, away from his cock. It couldn’t reach it. Ayden tried everything, but it just was not enough. He screamed in frustration.

“You getting horny yet?” A quiet voice asked.


The only reply was quiet laughter.

Ayden was bent over some kind of table. He was still hooded so he couldn’t see exactly what it was. His legs were strapped to the table’s legs, his arms down to the other side, and his cock had been pulled back so it was held against the side of the table, pointing directly downwards, the underside exposed and accessible.

Carter lubed just his right index fingertip, and applied it to Ayden’s cock, directly on the frenulum. He slid it smoothly up and down, just where the ridges of the head met.

Ayden raised his head and moaned into the hood.

“How’re you doing, Ayden? It’s half past one now. You still think you’re going to be able to resist making yourself cum when I release you at six?” The finger slipped and slid on the film of lube over the horny, hard cock.

The boy replied through tightly-gritted teeth. “I – will – NOT – cum – for – you.”

“Oh, I think you will. You see, the effects of edging are cumulative. It gets worse and worse. I’m going to work on your cock in this position for an hour or so. By the end of that you will sell your soul to be able to cum. You will have no choice. I’m going to make very sure you have no choice. I’ve had guys in exactly the position you’re in now who have promised me money, valuables, all sorts of things if only I would let them cum. Of course I didn’t.”

Ayden squeezed his eyes closed under the leather hood and tried not to listen. How could he get through this? He had been on the edge of cumming today more times than he could remember. He was close now. Would he be able to resist wanking himself off, he wondered, if his hand were free? He didn’t know.

Then a thought occurred to him. What if he could get Carter to make him cum? That way, by Carter’s rules he would not have lost the contest! Yes! That was it! So, what he had to do was to control himself very carefully indeed, so as not to alert Carter when he got right to the edge. If he could do that, the guy would continue to work on him, not knowing he was so close, and would accidentally push him over into orgasm. Perfect!

He concentrated hard.

“It feels so horny when you try to fight it, but you can’t, doesn’t it…?” Carter’s finger was now sliding mainly on precum – lube was no longer necessary. “I so wish I could see what’s going on in your mind, watch the battle. You need to resist. You know you mustn’t let yourself get so horny. If you do, then when I release your hand you won’t be able to resist finishing yourself off. But you’re helpless. You’re hooded. You can’t see, you can’t fight, you can’t defend yourself, you can’t protect yourself, you can’t get away from my hands, you can’t stop me working on your horny cock-head...”

Again, Ayden tried not to listen. But those words were going directly to his cock. He was very close again. Very close indeed. Just a few seconds more. Do not react. Do not let the bastard know how close you are. Pretend you’re nowhere near it yet…

The fingertip stroked in small circles over the sensitive, naked glans.

Ayden was right on the edge now. He was going to cum… YES!!!

The finger was gone.

The boy threw back his head and howled in frustration. How did the bastard fucking know?

Carter clicked his tongue. “Trying to fool me, eh? I’m a lot too experienced for that, Ayden.” He chuckled. “Still, feel free to try again.”

The fingertip resumed its unbearable teasing.

Ayden was back in the box frame but this time he was strapped into a leather sling. His legs were wide apart, his feet hanging in cuffs from ropes. The position made his arse, cock and balls very accessible from between his legs, which was where Carter was standing now.

He felt something cold on his arsehole, and then he groaned as some kind of butt-plug was inserted. It wasn’t very wide but it went in deeply and he felt it make gentle contact with his prostate. Oh fuck no…

“Prostates are wonderful things,” said Carter. “They can exert a lot of control over a boy.”

Ayden knew this already.

“This is a prostate stimulator – all I have to do is move the thing a little bit - like so...” He pushed and turned the device slightly, “and the effects are quite remarkable.”

Ayden moaned into the hood. The thing was making him need to cum very badly indeed.

“Now, if I work on your cock-head as well, that’ll make things a lot more difficult for you, I think.” The fingers slid lightly over the engorged head. His voice dropped to a sexy whisper. “Imagine what it would feel like to cum now… “

The fingers teased over the piss-slit.

“Feeling the spunk going from your balls into the base of your cock, getting ready to shoot...”

The fingers ran gently just under the ridges.

“That beautiful feeling when orgasm first starts...”

The fingers traced up the shaft slowly to the head.

“Then the contractions beginning...”

The fingers squeezed the head very lightly.

“That feeling of pure ecstasy as your cock jerks in my hand, your spunk finally forcing its way through the piss slit and pumping out…”

The fingers glided over the shiny glans.

“My black leather fingers gripping your cock-head, slipping and sliding over it on the lake of spunk… milking you. Imagine what it would feel like being milked… cumming… cumming...”

The fingers weren’t milking, they were just teasing slowly and lightly over the head, while Carter’s other hand pushed and turned the device in the boy’s arse, caressing his prostate.

Don’t listen! But Ayden’s mind was desperate for exactly what Carter was describing, and every word made him want – need it more and more. His body was preparing for orgasm. His muscles were as tight as guitar strings, his breathing was fast and shallow, his fists were clenched, his eyes tightly shut, the floodgates holding in his spunk were on the verge of exploding open…

But then the fingers were gone, the voice silent.

Ayden didn’t make a sound. He was past screaming, past swearing. The torture of frustration overwhelmed him completely. He suffered helplessly in his restraints and under the tight black leather of the hood. He had never in his life been so horny, for so long. This couldn’t continue. It was absolutely unendurable.

But for a while now - as well as the need to resist so that he wouldn’t make himself cum when Carter released his hand - another feeling had been growing. This feeling was pure rage. Rage at Carter for using his need for this job to get his rocks off at Ayden’s expense; rage at the total unfairness of how it had all been set up; and most of all, rage at the dispassionate way the bastard was working on him. He felt like a laboratory rat being experimented on; an object being made to suffer as much as possible. His determination to beat this fucking bastard at his own game had been growing constantly and now it burned in him like a white-hot flame.

Time passed. Carter continued to work on his cock and his prostate. At various points he slid cool, sexy, shiny black leather jeans and jackets over the boy’s bare skin, between his legs, around his balls. He used the feather again right on the head of his cock; he slid an oiled leather thong backwards and forwards over the frenulum; he sucked the desperate cock slowly and gently; he did everything he could think of to get the boy so insanely horny that when the time came to release his hand it would break the sound barrier getting to his cock to finish himself off.

And Ayden agonised through it all. His cock had been so hard for so long that it ached – but it was still every bit as sensitive, and each touch felt even more compellingly horny as time went on. He didn’t think it was possible for him to get any more horny than he was right now. But still he raged at the boy who was using him so blatantly, so coldly, so fucking dispassionately.

Ayden was on his elbows and knees now, restrained to the padded table. Straps kept his legs immobile and apart, and more over his arms made it impossible for him to move.

“This is one of my favourite positions,” Carter said conversationally. “If I reach under you with one hand and grip the base of your cock… like this… and push it back hard between your thighs, I can tease it with the other hand from behind. It makes your cock feel unbelievably vulnerable, doesn’t it? And so sensitive. It’s good for milking victims – they’re helpless to hold out for long when I do it in this position. And it’s good for teasing too. See…?” His fingers were sliding up and down the shaft and lingering on the head, tickling gently.

The bastard was right again, thought Ayden furiously. It did make his cock feel like that. He could understand exactly why boys couldn’t stop themselves from cumming helplessly when they were being milked in this position. It would be fucking impossible.

The prostate stimulator had been replaced with a normal butt-plug, and Ayden could feel it riding in and out inside him every time his muscles contracted involuntarily – which was just about every time Carter’s fingertips touched his cock.

“Here’s something you might enjoy...”

There was a sudden high-pitched buzzing sound. Ayden yelled as the business end of an electric toothbrush touched his cock-head briefly. He felt an intense surge and thought he was going to cum – but the touch had been too short. He geared himself up for the next one: it had been so powerful that he was convinced that he could, at last, make himself cum when it touched next time.

He waited. Then the toothbrush made contact again, directly on his frenulum. The boy’s face was screwed up in concentration as he forced himself to cum…

But the brush had gone. And he couldn’t fucking cum.

“Bastard! BASTARD!”

Carter laughed quietly. “It’s almost time. Let’s try this a few more times, and then I’ll release your hand”.

Six more times the brush touched the boy’s frenulum for half a second, with long gaps between them. Each time seemed to get him closer still to the edge – closer than he had ever been so far. He was sure that if Carter fucking blew on his cock he would cum. But try as he might, he just couldn’t push himself over the edge.

He was desperate. He had never needed anything as much as he needed to cum right now. It was the only thing he was capable of thinking about.

“Almost time,” purred Carter. “Just one more little unfair thing to make it even more difficult for you...”

Ayden felt hands grab his head, and a cloth clamped over the leather hood’s air holes. He breathed in poppers. “Noooo….” He fought and tried not to breathe but the guy held the cloth over his struggling head until he was forced to breathe the fumes in. His head began to swim and suddenly the horniness he’d felt before was as nothing compared to how it was now.

After a final touch of the toothbrush to his glans, which made him thrust his hips in desperation, he felt hands undoing the straps over his right arm. It was not released, however – Carter held it down while he teased the boy’s cock-head one more time with his fingertips.

OK – GO FOR IT!” He released Ayden’s hand.

Orgasm was a hair’s breadth away. His hand shot towards his cock. It got to within an inch of it, and then froze. It stayed there, trembling. Ayden was fighting between the desperate need to wank his cock to longed-for orgasm, and the need to make the bastard Carter realise that he had lost – to make the cunt pay for what he had done.

For five seconds the hand stayed there, and then, with a superhuman effort of will, he slowly moved it back to the top of the table. “No! I will NOT fucking cum for you, Carter!”

There was silence for a moment, and then Carter sniffed. “Hmm. You have more willpower than I gave you credit for.” He slapped Ayden on the arse. “Ok, you’ve won. You can make yourself cum now if you want to.”

Ayden’s hand started back towards his cock, but then stopped again. He was hooded, and so couldn’t see the clock. He didn’t know if it was past six pm, and he wouldn’t be at all surprised if the bastard resorted to trickery. “No, you make me cum.”

Bollocks,” Carter whispered. Then, louder, “Don’t trust me? Hmm.” he set about releasing the boy’s restraints. “I’m not going to make you cum, Ayden.”

Ayden squinted in the light as the hood was pulled off. He sat on the table - muscles aching, still as horny as hell, his cock still dripping precum - and looked at the clock The minute hand was just coming up to the hour. If he’d brought himself off when Carter had said he could, he would indeed have lost.

He looked at the bastard. The guy was still as sexy as fuck in his leathers, but Ayden saw something different in him now. Anyone who would use someone like he had used him was not a nice person. It had been unbelievably horny, but it had all been for the wrong reasons.

The boy hopped off the table and headed towards his pile of clothes that had been brought in. He began to get dressed.

He paused, and looked at Carter. “I don’t want the job. Give it to your brother, or whoever it was. He can have it. I don’t want to work with somebody like you, Carter.”

Monday afternoon. It was half-past two when the phone rang.

“Hi. Ayden? This is Trisha.” It was the woman from the interview panel.

Ayden took a deep breath and got ready to tell her his decision.

“I’m sorry for the delay – I wanted to let you know on Saturday but it’s been a bit busy around here. I’m delighted to say that you’ve been successful. We’d like to offer you the job.”

Ayden thought for a moment, then he frowned. “Saturday?”

“Yes, we made the decision Saturday morning.”

That bastard Carter had been lying through his teeth. The whole thing had been a set-up just so he could get his rocks off.

“That’s strange – Carter told me he would have the casting vote at a meeting tomorrow.”

“Really? That is strange. No, not at all. Actually Carter has left us. A personal matter came up at short notice, I believe. He said something about moving out of town.”

“Oh.” Carter had gone? That changed things. A lot. “Well… well, thank you!”

* * *

It was a couple of months after this that Ayden came across Carter again. The guy messaged him out of the blue on one of the pervy sites - Ayden’s name was ‘leathermask’ on there. The guy said how hot he thought leathermask looked, how gorgeous he thought his body was, how horny he thought it was that he was always masked and never showed his face, and how he would love to get him strapped down and edge him insane for an hour or two.

Ayden replied, saying that was exactly what he was looking for.

Two days later Ayden started his motorbike, pulled his black visor down and set off. In his backpack were some handcuffs, lots of zip ties, and a tight, thick leather hood.

And behind him, on the pillion, was Grant – a solid, muscular friend of Ayden’s who was looking forward very much to meeting this bastard Carter. Ayden had told him everything.

And the things Grant was into were not nice things. Not nice at all.