TREE HOUSE TORTURE GAMES - PART FIVE
By Mark Robinson ibfoasm62@gmail.com
NIFTY: This is the fifth installment of my story "Tree House Torture Games" that is listed in both GAY > AUTHORITARIAN and GAY > HIGH SCHOOL
Story to post:
Thanks to everyone who emailed me encouragement (and their own hot boyhood
experiences!) about this series so far. All episodes can be found at
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/tree-house-torture-game. IF you
haven't already, you should read those first for the background of this new chapter
This story is fiction about consensual sex, bondage, and BDSM between teenage boys. If it is illegal to read such material in your jurisdiction, or if you are under the legal age to do so, please exit this site immediately.
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[At the end of part four my friend Kenny had tortured me into agreeing to something that both horrified and intrigued me: to give a blow job to our mutual friend Lance, the hottest guy we knew in high school and at 15, a year older than both of us.]
I was mortified with how shaming it would be to be revealed to Lance as someone willing to blow a guy, especially as Lance had such a reputation with us as a ladies man, the only one among us to have sex with an actual girl to this point. Of course, all of that was from his own bragging and unconfirmed, but we were ready to believe Lance. We wanted to believe him; he was like our sexual pioneer, bringing back hot stories from what for us was an unexplored territory, but one we wanted to get to.
Kenny got back to me the next day and told me that my meeting with Lance was to take place at Lance's house that coming Saturday afternoon, when the rest of his family would be away at his sister's soccer game in another state.
And then Kenny added another twist. He told me that Lance had made him reveal more about what we had been doing. So Lance knew not just that Kenny and I had played with each other sexually, but that the play had involved erotic torture games, with me primarily as the sub. Kenny went on to tell me that Lance thought that was pretty cool, and now he didn't want just a blow job, but wanted to torture me, too.
I didn't think to ask Kenny at the time, but later was intrigued by the way he'd phrased his revelation to Lance: "he made me tell him." What did he mean by that? Did Lance torture Kenny to get this out of him? The thought made me instantly hard, and I filed it away mentally as something to explore later on.
[NOTE: From this point I'm going to organize this chapter by "The Four Stages of Erotic Torture" created by my friend SlaveMeatSwitch on Fetlife.com. The moment I read his list, it clicked with me as totally how I experience this, going all the way back to those teenage days.]
FOUR STAGES OF EROTIC TORTURE: 1. KNOWING THAT I AM TO BE TORTURED BY SOMEONE WHO WILL ENJOY IT
There were three days between Kenny's new revelation about what Lance wanted to do and Saturday when it would happen. I could barely sleep each night until then as it was hard to think about anything other than what was coming on Saturday. I alternated between a sense of shame and fear about Lance knowing about me, about my lust for guys and my desire to be bound and tortured, and fevered fantasies about being played with by and made to serve the hottest guy in my school.
A couple of times I thought about ways I might get out of it, or maybe even just not showing up. But those thoughts always got defeated by two things: not wanting to anger Lance (whose esteem I wanted so desperately), and not wanting to disappoint Kenny. I was probably becoming more dependent on the sub relationship with Kenny than I realized at the time. The play we had done so far in his treehouse was the most exciting stuff that had ever happened to me so far. It had given me my first ever sexual experiences, and I didn't want it to stop.
Oh, and I guess there was a third thing that kept me from backing out: my uncontrollable lust for Lance and the thought of him enjoying my body. It was another night time fantasy coming true, and that overcame my shame and fear...mostly.
For most of those three days the battling thoughts weren't too intense as it seemed still a long way away, but when I woke up on Saturday morning it instantly sprang into my mind, and I broke out in a cold sweat. Today was the day it was going to happen. Oh my God!
Every moment of that Saturday morning was all about what was to come at 1 pm when I would knock on Lance's front door. During my morning shower I looked over and touched every part of my body I could reach, thinking about how in a few hours Lance (LANCE!!!) would have full access to this or that part. I stretched myself out spreadeagled against the shower wall and let the shower jets play over my nipples, imagining it was Lance's fingers. I got so worked up it was hard not to jerk myself off, but I wanted to save it all for Lance.
Of course such lustful moments were still interrupted from time to time by waves of shame and fear. Back in those days of the 70's, being thought of as gay was the absolute worst thing that could happen to a guy. What would Lance think of me after this? What if he told other kids at school? How could I handle living with all that?
But every time as soon as I pictured myself tied up and Lance moving toward my naked body, lust pushed out all the shame and fear, and I knew I wanted it to happen no matter the consequences.
The few hours until I would leave for Lance's house seemed like days. I just wanted it to be here, to happen, to not have to think about it anymore. But then again, thinking about it was so hot too. With each passing hour the thought "Only x more hours until this happens" filled me with excitement. I was committed now. I knew I was going to do this. I was not going to chicken out. For better or worse, this was going to happen.
When it got down to the final hour I took a second shower (wanted to be super clean for Lance) and then picked out what I would wear. Being just 14 and still at that stage where my mom bought my clothes, I didn't have much that anyone could consider "sexy," but I did my best. I picked out a pair of cutoff jeans shorts, got some scissors, and cut them even shorter, so they barely covered any of my thighs. (Remember, this was the 70's!). I found an older t-shirt that was now maybe a size too small for me so it was really tight on me. In short, I did my best to look like a pint-sized 70s porn star (even though I hadn't yet seen any gay porn; no Internet in those days!).
And now it was coming up close to the time to leave for the 10 minute walk to Lance's house. I could do nothing but sit and watch the clock. Just as it ticked over to ten minutes to 1:00, I heard the anticipated knock on my door. I had talked Kenny into coming with me for my walk over to Lance's. In part this was to help my courage by not walking over alone, but it was also just some insurance to make sure this wasn't all some horrible prank. I wouldn't put it past Kenny to have made the whole thing up about talking to Lance, and I could just imagine the horror of me showing up at Lance's door dressed like a gay twink hooker if he knew nothing about this!
FOUR STAGES OF EROTIC TORTURE: 2. THE VOLUNTARY JOURNEY TO THE PLACE OF MY TORTURE
Kenny looked as nervous and excited as I was. Probably understandable, as he had set this thing up. He probably felt responsible for whatever might happen, and also knew that any "outing" of me would probably mean an outing of him as well. At the same time, knowing how much he shared my particular pervs, he was probably excited too, fantasizing about what was soon to happen to me.
"So...you ready?" he asked.
"About as ready as I'll ever be, I guess," I responded. Somehow taking that step out my front door felt like one of the biggest steps I'd ever taken. Walking down the sidewalk beside Kenny, both of us silent, was yet another point of extreme commitment, another physical act that said, "Holy shit, I am really going to do this."
As we rounded the corner of Lance's street and his house came into view, I experienced that moment that I've come to know very well over the years since then. It's that moment when you really are fully committed to what's to come, when all thoughts of backing out or running away are banished. All that consumes you is the delicious anticipation of what's to come. Simultaneous with that moment came a familiar feeling down below, a slight hardening in my pants. At that moment something else takes the driver's seat in your brain, and it has the peddle to the floor and the steering wheel locked at dead ahead.
Now we were standing at Lance's front door. The door into my future. The door into getting to experience what just a month ago I so longed for but would have been absolutely sure would never happen.
"Hold your hands out and cross your wrists," Kenny suddenly ordered. I looked at him confused for a moment, but obeyed. "Lance asked me to do this."
Kenny took some thin rope out of the small backpack he'd been carrying, stepped in front of me, and tied my wrists together. I got a little bit harder. Of course, this was yet another "point of no return" moment, but it was also a little sexy to be getting tied up on Lance's front steps, where anyone passing by could easily see.
Once my wrists were secured, Kenny rang the doorbell. There was an eternity...and then I heard Lance's heavy footsteps coming toward the door. Lance opened the door and stared at both of us for a few seconds, mostly at me.
"Woah. You really came. Wow."
He obviously hadn't believed this would really happen. I'm sure he was more than half certain that Kenny had been joking around with him, pulling a cruel prank. But here we were, me with my hands obviously tied.
"Yep, we did. He's all yours." With that, Kenny held out the rope attached to my wrists, and Lance took it. I started breathing heavier. There was something so powerfully erotic about that moment, when the only torture master I'd ever known, my 14-year-old friend Kenny, willingly handed me over to the hottest guy I knew, 15-year-old Lance, who also wanted to torture me. At that moment, I realized I was a slave, and I liked it. It was a moment of abandonment to the slave persona. A true loss of rights and control. I was being handed over as a possession from the ownership of one person to the permitted total control of another.
Lance tugged on the rope, and I stepped across his threshold and into a whole new erotic adventure.
"Can I come in, please?" Kenny asked. I noted a very different tone in his voice, uncharacteristically submissive.
"No," Lance responded. "This is all for me. You've had your fun with him. I'll call you later. Be ready."
I was amazed by how readily Kenny accepted this, how quickly he stepped back from the door, even though his disappointment was obvious on his face. He clearly had hoped to watch, maybe even get to help out with, my torture, but Lance was refusing him, and he just accepted it. Again, I filed away this behavior for later reference.
Lance shut the door, and then lifted the rope leash up so that my hands were now over my head. You may remember that I'd noted that even though he was only 15, Lance was already over six feet tall, so it was easy for him to do this. He spent a moment looking me up and down, which gave me a chance to check him out as well.
Lance was long and lean, without a hint of teenage baby fat anywhere on his body. Today he was dressed in a pair of gym shorts and a cutoff t-shirt that exposed his perfectly flat abs. He had a handsome face with piercing green eyes, and the kind of long, thin nose that for some reason I adored. His hair was long in the style of the day, with just a little bit of curl in it.
"So, you're into this? You're OK with what we're doing here?"
I was knocked off course for a moment by that. Lance was looking at me with a sort of pleading look, not at all the hard Master persona he had been putting on since he answered the door. It dawned on me that this whole thing was as scary and potentially shaming to him as it was to me. He had probably been both dreading and looking forward to this all week, just like me, and like me his dread of the possible consequences of what we were going to do was probably just as strong.
It hadn't occurred to me before that moment, but of course if this ever got out, it would be as shameful and humiliating for him as it would be for me. After all, he was about to be the one playing with my naked body! I realized this was mutually-consensual (even though I couldn't have even spelled that word at the time!), and also a mutually-shared risk. That made everything better, safer. If we went through with this we both had good reasons to keep it to ourselves. Suddenly all the fear was gone.
"Yeah, Lance, I'm OK with it. Really, I think it's kinda cool, y'know. It's just a game, like our war games in the woods. I want to do it." I felt a real need to reassure him, to let him know I was into it, that I was OK with him being into it, and that he didn't have to fear I was going to betray him somehow.
I could see the relief in Lance's face, and he quickly switched back to Master mode. "OK, then slave, prepare yourself to be tortured. I found out that you gave up the location of our war headquarters to Kenny, and for that you must be punished. Do you accept this?"
It surprised me that he so quickly entered into a full role playing situation, but it also excited me. I instantly decided to play along. "Yes, sir. I confess to betraying our army, and I accept that I must be punished."
"Good, slave, that's the right attitude. Your punishment will be long and hard, fitting to how bad your crime was." Lance was really good at getting into his role, and I liked it!
"Yes, sir, I understand," I responded. "My body is yours to do with as you please."
"Yes. Yes it is," Lance said, and with that he reached out with his other hand, the one not holding my wrist rope over my head, and ran it over my t-shirt, feeling my chest and abs through the material. This caused me to draw in a sharp breath, close my eyes, and throw my head back, releasing a small groan of pleasure.
"Oh, you like that, do you?" Lance said this with an evil twist, but also with a hint of relief and pleasure, pleased with this confirmation that I not only didn't recoil at another guy's intimate touch, but obviously enjoyed it. I'm sure this served as one more confirmation that this was going to be okay, and fun for both of us.
"Good, then let's begin. Come with me to the torture dungeon."
Those last two words may have been the most exciting I'd ever heard in my young life. "Torture dungeon." Those words embodied the center of all my hottest masturbatory fantasies. They described the place I wanted to be more than any other. And now I was being invited/ordered there by the hottest guy I knew.
FOUR STAGES OF EROTIC TORTURE: 3. STRIPPED NAKED, READY AS A WILLING VICTIM FOR MY TORMENTER
Lance brought my wrist rope down to his waist level, and then turned and began to climb the stairs, pulling me behind him. We went up two levels, as Lance had the whole attic of his house as his bedroom. That room had figured often in my fantasies because its bondage possibilities seemed endless, just like Kenny's treehouse. And now I was heading up there for the very purpose I'd fantasized about!
We reached the top of the stairs and he led me to the center of his room. I noticed he was looking up to make sure I was positioned under one of the overhead beams. I of course guessed why, and it made me very excited.
Lance then began to untie my wrists. This disappointed me at first; I'd wanted him to hoist me up by my bound wrists, stretching my arms above me. But I soon found out why he'd untied me so quickly.
"You're really, really sure about this, Mark?" he said, once again stepping out of character for a moment. "Last chance to back out. No hard feelings if you do."
"Well, uh, Lance, do you want to do this? I mean, you seem like you do." I have to admit, my eyes were begging him to say yes.
"Uh, sure, I guess. I mean, yeah," Lance gulped. "It could be fun right? And like you said, it's just a game, right?"
"Yeah, sure, a game. Except I think it excites you as much me," I giggled, pointing at the very obvious (and huge!) tent in the front of his gym shorts.
"Yeah, heh, I guess it does," Lance laughed, giving his cock a quick tug through his shorts. "I mean, I've always been into torture scenes in movies. And I think about torture a lot when I'm jerking off."
"Me too!" I assured him. "Just thinking about torture makes me hard and stuff. So...sounds like we can have a lot of fun with this, right?"
"Well, as long as you're into it, too...sure!"
I wanted to show him I was truly into it and eager to get started. So impulsively, I pulled my shirt off over my head, and then stood with my fingers linked behind my head, my feet wide apart, my chest thrust out toward Lance.
"I'm ready to submit to your tortures, Master," I said, getting back into character. That seemed to jolt Lance back into Master mode as well.
"Very well, slave, let me prepare you," returned Lance.
He went over to a chest of drawers, opened a lower drawer, and pulled out a coil of rope of about the same thickness as the rope Kenny had tied to my wrists. I noticed that one end of the rope was tied to a wooden dowl, maybe about two feet long. On either end of the dowel a metal hook had been screwed into the wood. Lance's dad had a full wood shop in their garage, and Lance had always been good at woodworking projects at school.
This drawer of Lance's was really starting to intrigue me, as he then pulled out of it two small dog collars, like the size you'd put on a Chihuahua. It made me hot to think that he had put this much thought and preparation into our torture session.
Lance came toward me. "Hold out your wrists, slave," he commanded. He fastened one of the tiny dog collars around each of my wrists. He went back to the drawer, took out two more collars, and kneeling down, fastened one around each of my ankles. I had to admit it got me really hot and bothered just seeing those collars on my extremities. This was the real thing!
"Now, to get you completely ready." Lance hesitated for a moment. It seemed like he was gathering courage to say whatever he wanted to say next. Finally, I could see his lust and excitement overpower his fear. "I plan to torture every part of your body, so I need it all accessible. Strip, slave. Everything off."
I also had lost all fear or shame now. I wanted this so bad, and I was now sure Lance did too. Without a moment's hesitation I pulled down my short shorts and flung them aside. Then I gripped each side of my tighty-whitey undershorts, and with one swift move pulled them down and off my feet. I stood back up and resumed my "position," with my feet spread apart and hands behind my head, but now with my rock hard 4-inch boner pointing out straight at Lance.
I heard a small but clearly audible gasp emit from Lance as he stared at my rigid little cock. I was so hard now you could have hung a coat on my rod! My boldness to get naked once again knocked Lance out of character for a moment.
"Oh wow. You really do get into this! I mean, wow, you've got a boner already!" So did he, but I remained silent.
"Go ahead, sir, you can do whatever you want to my body. And I mean whatever. I belong to you and you can do as you please with me." I was trying to get us back on track, but Lance was still trying to deal with the site of a hot, naked boy standing submissively in his own bedroom.
"Um, er..." Lance stammered, "Anything? Like, touch you anywhere, do whatever I like with all of your body?" As Lance said this, I noticed his own penis once again pushing out the front of his gym shorts.
"Yes, anything," I shot back. And then, not in my slave character for a moment: "Really, Lance. I'll enjoy it, I promise you. And I want you to enjoy it too. It's OK, really."
Lance gulped, and seem to regain his resolve. "OK then, slave, let's finish preparing you for torture!"
FOUR STAGES OF EROTIC TORTURE: 4. BOUND AND SECURED AND NO WAY OUT
Lance went back over to the large chest of drawers and picked up the dowel with the long rope coil attached to its center. He came toward me and commanded, "Put out your wrists, slave."
I obeyed, and he slipped the metal ring on each of my wrist collars, the ring you'd attach a leash to if it were on a dog, into one of the hooks screwed into the end of the dowel.
As he put the first hook into the first ring, it was one of the most erotic moments of my life up to that point. I was now locked in. He had me under his complete control, and no matter what I would not be able to resist or escape from whatever he wanted to do to me. And instead of being scary, that thought, and seeing it visibly manifested by my wrists being locked to the wooden dowel, was incredibly sexy.
Then he took the coil of rope and threw it up over the attic roof beam above my head. Grabbing it as it came down, he pulled in the slack until it began to pull my wrists upward. Lance kept pulling in the rope until my arms were stretched tightly above my head and I was only just able to keep my feet flat on the floor. He then took the end of his rope over to a side support post and tied it off.
So there I was, stretched out tight, totally naked, my hard cock swinging in the air in front of me. Sure, I had been in a similar position with Kenny a few times in the past month, but this was different. This was in front of f'in Lance, the hottest guy I knew, the guy of my dreams. I was in heaven.
Lance stood back for a moment and looked me up and down. He was obviously liking what he saw as he began again, perhaps unconsciously, rubbing his own cock through his light gym shorts. Then, in a flash, he had removed his own shirt. I had seen his naked chest many times before at the swimming pool, but this was even better because of the situation. He looked SO sexy with his hard, flat abdomen and the slight definition of his pecs. His prominent pink nipples were already hard from the excitement, and being a nipple guy myself, I was totally fixated on them.
After a moment, Lance returned to his "chest of horrors" over against the low wall of his attic bedroom/dungeon. Now he took out a thick leather belt. For a moment I thought he was going to plunge right in with giving me a whipping, but instead he fastened the belt around his chest, pulling it really tight just under his pecs. This made them stand out even more, which made me crazy with lust for him. I think he was trying to recreate the slave master look he'd seen in movies.
Next he took from a drawer another dowel. This one was longer than the one my arms hung from now, and instead of hooks, attached to each end were those silver metal clips like you'd have on the end of a leash to attach it to a dog collar, the kind with the little sliding catch that closes it around a metal loop so it couldn't come off.
He came back over to me, holding the rod in one hand. I think now overcome by the lust that I could see was taking control of him, he impulsively reached out and ran the fingers of his other hand from my shoulder down over my chest and down just past my twitching cock to my right thigh. I think he noticed how I jumped when he passed over my left nipple because he now gave it a couple of finger flicks. He seemed fascinated by how I swooned with pleasure when he did that, throwing my head back and groaning.
"Hmmmm, we'll make use of that later," he said, with a cute little giggle.
Now he got on his knees and placed the longer dowel down on the floor behind my feet. With his hands he pushed my feet apart until my ankles were at either end of the dowel. This had my feet spread pretty widely, increasing the pull on my arms, which I found very sexy. Being stretched has always been very erotic for me.
He attached each end of the dowel to the rings on my ankle collars, and my bondage was complete. He stood back again to admire his work.
"Man, that really looks hot," he said, and I had to agree. I smiled at him.
"It feels awesome," I said.
"Really?" Lance replied. "Doesn't it hurt?"
"Sorta, but I like being stretched. Makes me feel sexy." And then I got a little bolder: "Also I like being naked and helpless in front of you, Lance...er I mean, Master."
Lance looked me over for another minute or so, the went back to his "chest of horrors." He rummaged around for a moment and came out with a bottle of baby oil. He walked over to me and then brought the bottle up over my chest and squeezed out a lot of oil. It ran down my chest and over my stomach. Some got onto the base of my cock and dripped down from it. I looked down and enjoyed the sheen of my skin.
Then Lance began to use his hands to rub the oil all over my chest. It felt so incredible to have his hands on me. He was standing close enough that sometimes the tip of his jutting cock made contact with the tip of mine through the thin material of his gym shorts, and I knew it was intentional.
He started circling his fingers slowly around my nipples, but not touching them. I was breathing heavily now, and trying to will him with mind power to make contact with my hard nipples.
"You'd like me to touch them, wouldn't you?"
I nodded yes vigorously, and squeaked out a muffled, "Uh huh."
"Hmmmm...then I guess if I don't that's a kind of torture, isn't it?"
I groaned miserably, a tacit acknowledgment that it was torture indeed, even if an especially delicious one.
"Beg me to touch your nips," Lance whispered in my ear.
"Please, sir, please touch my nips!" I didn't hesitate to beg for it.
"Hmmmm....not. quite. yet" he teased, continuing to circle slowly around them, occasionally circling in quite close but not quite making contact. This drove me crazy. I knew what it would feel like to have his fingers on my very erotically-charged nipples, how insanely good it would feel. I wanted it more than I wanted my next breath. And he knew it.
Finally, finally, when I'd given up all hope, he let his index fingers flick just over the tip of each nipple. I nearly screamed with pleasure, again thrusting my head back and pulling tightly on my wrist restraints. Oh god it felt so good! Like electricity going from my taught nips to my rock hard cock.
Lance obviously enjoyed this effect on me and so he began to flick his fingers over the tips of my nipples, over and over again. I moaned and groaned with the pleasure, and began to trust my cock toward his pelvis. He moved a bit closer so now my cock head was rubbing up against his through his shorts.
After teasing my nipples for quite a while, leaving me sweaty and writhing in my bonds, he started moving his hands slowly down my abdomen. Suddenly I was still as a statue. I looked down transfixed as his hands were moving ever so slowly toward my cock, which twitched in anticipation. When he reached the top of my pubic hair, he spread his hands apart and pushed the baby oil down to my thighs, rubbing all over them and just under my hanging balls. Again, just as with my nipples, this coming so close to my cock but not touching it was a delightful torture, and he knew it.
As he continued to run his oil-soaked hands all around my pubic region, he looked up at me shyly, and once again broke character.
"Mark, can I tell you a secret?"
"Sure Lance, you can tell me anything."
"Will you promise to never, ever tell it to anyone else?
"Of course, you know I'm your friend. I wouldn't ever tell anyone." I began to wonder what it was that was so secret that he wanted to tell me. The fact that he was running his fingers around the most intimate part of my body this whole time made me think I might know, but how could that be? Lance was such a macho guy, and so into the girls at school.
"And would you also promise that you won't laugh at me, or make fun of me, or think I'm weird?"
"Yes, Lance, I promise, no matter what it is." Wow. Now he had me really wondering.
"Well, it's like this." There was a long pause, and then suddenly: "I think I'm bi."
"Buy? What does that mean? Buy what?" I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. Again, remember this was the 70s and there was no Internet. Our sexual education was pretty limited.
"No, bi as in bisexual."
"What's that? I never heard of it."
"My uncle told me about it. It's when you like having sex with both girls and guys."
Both girls and guys. I honestly didn't know that was a "thing," but of course, it's what I was! I was obviously enjoying what I had been doing with Kenny in his treehouse, and what was happening right here with Lance, but at the same time, I was still into the girls at school, and could get off on a Playboy found in the woods with pictures of naked female models. Suddenly what I was had a scientific-sounding name for it, and that seemed to make it more okay.
"Oh, yeah, oh THAT bisexual!" I replied, pretending I'd just misunderstood. "Oh yeah, I'm cool with that. I'm bisexual too."
"Really, Mark? Wow, I thought I was the only one. So...doing sex things with a guy wouldn't creep you out?
"No, Lance. I mean, I like girls, but I like what we're doing now too," I said with a giggle, nodding down at my still quite rigid cock. And if we're bisexual, then we're not gay, right?"
"Yeah, that's right! Of course we're not gay! I mean, yuck!" Lance looked as if the idea that being bisexual wasn't the same thing as being gay was new to him, but he immediately embraced it. It's obvious to me now these years later that all this talk was just giving each other and ourselves the out and permission to do what we were doing, without the horrible (in those days) stigma of being "gay."
"Well, cool then. We're both bisexual, and my uncle says that's perfectly normal, especially for young guys like us. He says that pretty much all young guys fool around with their guy friends at least some. So this is cool."
"Yep...so why don't we continue?" I said to him with a wink.
"Yes, yes we should." Lance thought for a moment, and then I could tell he was jumping back from Lance, the worried teenage friend, into Torture Master. His face went stern. "Slave, I want your torture and punishment to be intense. I want to drive you crazy with torture, to make you beg for it to stop. That means this torture is going to be really, really long."
"Yes, sir, I can take it. Do whatever you want for as long as you want."
"Good. Then here's another thing I know, from doing tortures on myself. You can take a lot more torture if you're really sexed up. So before the real torture begins, I'm going to make you feel so sexed up you'll be able to endure hours of pain. Do you understand, Slave?"
"Yes, sir, I understand. Go ahead and do whatever sex you want with me. My body is all yours."
Lance stepped back and licked his lips for a moment, again letting his eyes wander up and down my stretched-out body. God how I loved having his eyes on my nakedness!
Then suddenly, with no warning, he pulled down his shorts and there was his cock in all its glory. And I do mean glory! Christ, it must have been 7 inches. Maybe my memory is exaggerating it after all these years, but I know mine was about 4 inches fully hard at the time, and his was way, way bigger than that. It was pretty much the most incredible thing I'd seen up until then.
Lance smiled, now visibly more comfortable after our previous chat, and pointed down at his dick. "You like it?"
"Like it?" I gasped. "I love it! That's incredible!"
"Heh hehe, thanks," Lance giggled adorably. "Maybe if you're good I'll let you play with it later."
"Woah, I'll go through any torture you can come up with to get to play with that thing!"
"Oh really? I just might take you up on that. But for now, let's get back to you. Where were we? Ah yes, we were getting you sexed up so that you could take lots of torture."
With that, Lance disappeared behind me. After a moment, he brought his hands around in front of me, with the bottle of baby oil in one hand. He flipped open the top of the bottle and poured oil into his other hand. It spilled over the edge of his palm, and he moved his hand so that the overflow dripped down onto my horizontal cock. He moved back and forth, totally coating both his hand and my prick.
Now he hugged my torso, pulling his body up against my back. It was so sexy to feel his body up against me, but especially his waggling tool, which was poking all around my bare ass. I thrust back against him, and at some point his oil-soaked cock (he had apparently put oil on himself while he was behind me) slid down into my ass crack. I loved the feeling, and slid back and forth on him for a few minutes. As I did he began to play with my nipples again, which of course was driving me crazy.
Now he moved his cock so it was pointing upward, and slowly slid it back and forth in my ass crack, every so often poking its big head just into the start of where my asshole was. I'd hear of butt sex among gays, but always thought that it would be gross and would hurt too much, but now I was so sexed up that I was actually hoping he might stick it in me, but he seemed content for now to just hint at it.
In the meantime, his hands left my nipples and again traveled down my front side, making swirling motions as they traveled slowly downwards. When they reached my pubic hair, I expected that he was going to torture me again with circling around my groin without any contact to my cock, but this time he surprised me. He ran the palm of one hand right out along the top of my cock until the oil-soaked palm was slowly rubbing the upper (back) side of my cock head.
I drew in a sharp breath and threw my head back onto his chest. (Remember that he was over a foot taller than me at the time.) I pushed my body back onto his, both wanting to give him more pleasure but also trying to thrust my cock deeper into his hand. He would have none of that, however, because this was designed to be a new torture, where he just slowly rubbed the backside my cock head but nothing else.
Like a lot of guys, the back side of my cockhead (the side facing toward my chest) is super sensitive, but more in a ticklish sort of way. The sensation was making me insane. It was simultaneously super pleasurable but also unbearable, and I gyrated about as much as my tight bonds would let me. He just laughed and kept it up until I was crying tears and begging him to stop.
Finally, after what seemed like an unbearable eternity of tickling torture, he pulled his hand away just an inch. For several moments I hung there breathing heavily, sweat beading out on my forehead. Then, still holding his right hand just above my pulsing cock, he brought his left hand up and began to tweak my left nipple. That nip is my more sensitive one, and I think he'd already picked up on that. The oil that had been there was now mostly dried up, so there was now more friction. He used that to gently pinch the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sometimes pulling it out a bit from my body.
This sent big electric shocks through my body and straight to my cock, which if possible got even harder than it had been. While keeping up the regular gentle pinching and pulling of my nipple, he now formed his other hand into a fist but slightly open at the fingers, so his hand formed a tube right in front of my still oil-soaked cock.
I looked down and saw him ever so slowly moving that oily tube closer and closer to my cock head. I thrust forward as far as my bondage would all me, but it wasn't quite enough. He kept moving that flesh tube back and forth just out of reach, as if he were jerking an imaginary cock right in front of mine.
"Do you want my hand around your cock? Do you want me to jerk you off?" Lance queried.
"Yes! Yes! Oh please yes!" was my quick and desperate reply.
"What will you do for me if I jerk you now?" Lance asked?
"Anything! Anything at all! You name it, just please put your hand on my cock!"
"Hmmm, ok. I'm going to save that promise for later. Don't forget that you made it."
Then, finally, Lance moved his fist back until it made contact with my cock head, then slid over it and down my shaft, until his big hand and long, slender fingers engulfed its entire length.
My brain went into erotic overload, and without thought I began to thrust wildly into this tube of pleasure.
"NO!" he yelled, and pulled sharply on my nipple. Immediately I stopped my thrusting.
"No! I control your pleasure. Do you understand?"
"Yes, yes, I'm sorry! I understand! You control me!" I blurted out quickly. This nipple pull really hurt!
"Good. Don't forget that." He released my nipple and I started breathing again.
After a moment or two, he began very slowly moving his fist up and down my cock. Every few strokes he would take some time to rub his oily palm all over my super sensitive cock head. I was in absolute heaven. Nothing had ever felt so good in all my life. But I wanted so bad for him to stroke me faster, to make me cum. Cumming now became my reason to be, the center of my universe, all I could think of.
"You are not allowed to cum until I decide. Don't disobey me on that, or you won't like what happens. So you must tell me if you're getting close to cumming. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Lance, I mean Master! Yes, I understand. I will tell you if I feel like I'm going to cum."
"Good boy." With that, he began to stroke me just a bit faster.
It started to feel really good, and I wanted so badly to start thrusting my hips to make the strokes go faster and deeper, but I remembered his command and I so wanted to please him. That was another new sensation. I didn't know it at the time, but I was entering more deeply into the slave role, where my chief desire would be to please my Master.
After what seemed like a long, long time, Lance began to stroke a little faster, then faster still. At the same time he was pinching and pulling on my left nipple a little harder, which was exactly what I did when I was masturbating and wanted to make myself cum.
It wasn't long before I felt the familiar buzz in my cock and whole body and I knew my cum was on its way.
"Master, sir, I'm gonna cum! Please keep going! Please make me cum!"
Lance took a few more strokes really fast, pushing me right up to the edge. I could actually feel the semen moving toward my cock. And then he stopped. Took his hands away from my body entirely and stepped back around in front of me.
"NO! NO!" I screamed, twisting in my bonds. "NO, PLEASE MAKE ME CUM. OH GOD I WANNA CUM!"
Lance just laughed, standing there slowly stroking his own enormous rod.
"Welcome, slave, to the real torture. It's called `edging' and its another thing my uncle told me about and I've wanted to try out. It's called edging because I'm going to keep you on edge, getting you so close to summing over and over and over, but never letting you cum."
I sagged in my bonds, my poor cock bouncing up and down and leaking pre cum like crazy, wanting more than anything in the world to have something, anything, to stroke into.
And then I knew I'd found the perfect sexual torture master.
TO BE CONTINUED
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