The cane falls on my arse again, burning stripes on the tender skin around my hole, between my stretched buttocks. I yelp and gasp, trying to wriggle away from the cruel strokes.  But my movements only pull hard on my aching, stretched balls and harshly clamped tits.  Ms Sarah is so hard on me – it’s so unfair.  I start to cry again.  She laughs and mocks me, speeding up the blows, landing the cane vertically across my sore hole, so that I jump and shriek.

This is just the final part of my day, as we await my real Mistress, the divine Miss Helen.  Today is a day I have been waiting for, longing for….looking forward to for the past 180 days.  I have finished all my back-breaking chores; I have worked out, washed and shaved.  The past few hours I have been sweating and crying under the cruel ministrations of the relentless Ms Sarah, as she has gradually broken me down.

In particular, she took great trouble to beat my long, smooth thighs, until they glowed and burned, just so she could watch my desperate, young cock harden inside it’s tight Kali’s Teeth Bracelet restrainer. She tickled my full, aching, shaven balls and gently stroked the head of my cock, until even the vicious metal teeth of the restraint could not make it go soft again.  Then she wiped the clear juice leaking from it all over my sobbing face.

One hundred and eighty days I’ve waited for this - one hundred and eighty days of the strictest chastity…six months…without relief.  My last orgasm, which was painful and humiliating, was in July last year, and it is now January.  Mistress has not even relieved the pressure during that time by milking my prostate, she has just watched and enjoyed as the mounting pressure has crushed me, relishing my desperation and pleading.  And everyday for six months, she or Ms Sarah or their friends have spent hours teasing and playing with me, bringing me to edge of orgasm again and again and again, laughing at my begging and crying, always denying me any mercy at all.  Hour after hour each day spent with my rock hard cock twitching helplessly on the very edge of cumming, while they laugh at me and remind me how long I have yet to wait for the slightest chance of relief from my desperate need to empty my balls.  I feel crazed with the need to cum, my cock is almost always hard, even in the hated restrainer, and I feel as if the slightest thing could cause me to cum.  But I know that the punishments which await me if I do so without permission are truly terrible, and I have struggled and fought to remain chaste and please my Mistress all this time, while she and Ms Sarah have worked to make my struggle ever more difficult and exacting.  But today, today Mistress was to consider whether or not I had deserved some mercy, some relief from my all-consuming desperation.

My name is josh, and I am an owned slavetoy, body and soul. This has been my life since I turned eighteen, and now I am twenty – I will turn 21 in May, four months hence.  Can you think of any other twenty year old boy who has not cum for six months?  Can you imagine the pressure which has built up in my poor, swollen balls? I know that boys my age cum five, six, seven times a day….or more, sometimes many times more: they cum more in a day than I have cum over the last two years.  Orgasms are so rare for me that they do not even give me much relief, especially as they are more often than not “ruined” by Mistress taking her firm hand away as I climax, or even starting to lay the tawse on my bruised burning thighs or arse, so that pleasure is lost in pain.  Mistress thinks in time she might be able to bring me to orgasm just by beating my long, firm thighs – my cock hardens whenever she does this – and that if that is so, perhaps she will always use this method, and save the crop and tawse for my cock, instead of the privilege of her beautiful hand. Of course, she also talks of only ever milking my prostate and never ever allowing me an orgasm, usually, when she is not happy with my go-go dancing in one of my vile little girly outfits. 

I often wonder what it must be like to be able to touch my own cock whenever I wish, and to bring myself to orgasm after orgasm until I am fully drained and exhausted.  But it seems I will never know, and after my rare spurtings, my desperate cock doesn’t even soften, until the Ladies thrash it with crops and straps, so they can force it back into the cruel bite of the ktb restrainer, while I weep and beg, for the pain of beatings after orgasm is like no other pain, and I am always exhausted from the hours of teasing and torment I will already have endured by then. Sometimes the enormity of what I have done becoming a slave, the privileges and freedoms I have relinquished seem so great and I wonder if I can bear it any longer.  But what I can bear, what I feel or wish is no longer of any relevance to my life, and no amount of hoping or pleading will prevent my body from being bound and tortured, and my cruelly denied balls and cock teased to the point of insanity for hours at a time by my Mistress.

An hour ago, Ms Sarah finally bound me in my present predicament to wait for my Mistress.  First, she forced the largest of my ball gags between my teeth, making my jaw start to ache almost immediately.  Then she took a thin leather lace and tightly tied it round my scrotum, until my balls stretched, packed taut and aching in the bottom of the sac, pulled far from my body.  She smiled at me, as she batted the tight little package back and sending shockwaves of pain into the pit of my stomach. I whined into the gag.

She took a jar of vicious metal alligator clamps, and gleefully flexed one in front of my face, so that the sharp teeth glinted.  Then she started attaching them along the shaft of my cock, each one burning like a point of fire on the tender skin. I shrieked and shook my head as my cock seemed to be swallowed by a gnawing, biting, sharp toothed mouth.  I yelled and tried to beg through my huge gag, as she attached them around the ridged head of my dick, and screamed as the last one pinched my urethra shut.  Only the unforgiving shackles holding my wrists fastened to my collar stopped me trying to defend my agonised genitals.  Only the large spreader bar holding my ankles three feet apart and fastened to the floor stopped me from trying to get away.  The pain was unreal, unbearable.  My tortured cock was on fire.

She laughed.  “It’s all that useless tiny, little thing is good for, isn’t it slut?”

She ran her hand through the clamps, which was so unbelievably painful I could hardly breathe.  It took a frozen moment to drag the air into my outraged lungs to shriek and sob.

“By the time I’ve finished with you, young man, you’ll be begging me to just cut your teeny, tiny, pathetic little appendage off!”

I wept bitterly. 

Ms Sarah is so mean….she isn’t even my Mistress, but Mistress lets her do anything she wants with me, and what she wants is always so cruel and merciless.  She always makes me feel so young – though she is not much older than me – like a small boy – or worse, girl, when the mood takes her.  She behaves as if my cock and balls had never grown, and I worry that they are in fact tiny. 

But I don’t think they can be.  My cock is certainly bigger than the one man Ms Helen forced me to suck off, using the whip as encouragement, and though his balls hung much lower, I think mine are also bigger, though they sit tight and full right under my cock.  It’s so hard to remember what it was like to have my own dick in my hand, but it was fat and stiff and protruded beyond my fingers.  Not that it matters anymore, its primary function now being to bring me pain and frustration.

Then, Ms Sarah guided me onto my knees – which was difficult as my ankles are locked so far apart, pushing my straining thighs far apart.  For good measure, she attached a spreader at my knees as well, stretching my legs still farther.  Then she added her favourite, biting clamps to my tits, which were already sore from her mauling them earlier, as well as the clamps Mistress has been making me wear in the gym lately as “encouragers”.

Then she pushed me down, kneeling, legs far apart on the hard floor, arse forced up and chest and face pressed down to the ground.  She locked my collar to a point on the floor, stretched my tit clamps out and fastens them down in similar style, so that I could not get up or move.

Her high stilettos clicked ominously on the floor as she paced round behind me.  Looking down, I could see the clamps pulling at my firmly muscled chest, the taut surface of my stomach and long thighs, with my tightly bound balls and painfully restrained cock, covered in the foul clamps, hanging between.  Her feet appeared behind me, and I felt her taking hold of the cord hanging from my balls.  I grunted as she pulled it taut behind me, dragging my balls painfully back between my stretched legs and rattling the clamps on my cock, making them flash with new fire.  She must have run the cord through an attachment point behind me and she pulled hard, stretching my balls way beyond their natural limits, making me buck with pain, pulling on my other restraints and torturing my own nipples.  She laughed, and stretching my balls as far back as she could, she fastened the leather lace, so that they could not retract, held as they were, pulled out behind me, vulnerable and hurting.  When she hit them lightly with her hand, shaking the clamps on my burning dick, I screamed as hard as I could, dizzy with agony.  She giggled and crushed the tender nuts in her fist, enjoying my desperate howling and crying, before leaving me there, sobbing and drooling on the floor.

I had closed my eyes when she came back, and initially it felt as though she was rubbing a cooling salve on my balls and then between the clamps on my cock.  She giggled again, and I opened my eyes as the heat suddenly flared in my balls.  Looking down I felt sick with terror as I realised she was wearing heavy duty rubber gloves, to protect her hands from…oh god no!....the juice of the freshly cut chilli she was rubbing into the soft skin of my cock and balls.  I cried out in fear again, and struggled with my bondage, not caring about the pain of my tits as my cock and balls abruptly caught fire, burning as though Ms Sarah held a blowtorch to them.

My begging and pleadings for mercy were reduced to blubbering spluttering rubbish by the huge invasive gag.  And Ms Sarah took up her heavy cane, to blister my up-raised arse, as well as landing a few horrific blows on my caught, burning, over-filled balls.  I felt like I was going to die.  Why was she so mean to me when Mistress was not there?  I had tried so hard to be respectful, so hard to be a good boy.  The Ladies always took delight in trapping me, forcing me to do wrong, so that they had an excuse to reach for their tawses.  But I had done all I could to please, tried to remember all the complex rules and protocols which govern every micro-second of my day, sleeping and waking, desperate for Mistress Helen to decide in my favour and grant me an orgasm.  But Ms Sarah delights in my agony, and she was not in the mood for any mercy on this day of all days.

Now, after an hour or so, I am already a wreck.  I cannot stop crying - for every part of my body is screaming with pain – though my screams have become hoarse long since.  My arse sizzles with cane welts, across the buttocks and over the exposed, sore hole.

My knees and shoulders strain and ache from the hard floor, my tits are unbearable, my cock felt as if it had been shredded and my full, swollen balls are pulsing shockwaves of pain through my whole body.  They are still bound, and throbbing from the cane strokes which caught them, causing me to panic and writhe desperately.  And now they are crushed in Ms Sarah’s hard fist, as she uses them as a handle to help her work the long dildo in and out of my abused boy-hole.

She has kept me awake with salts through this, but the sound of a second pair of heels in the corridor brings me to full alertness.  Ms Sarah stands up, leaving the fat rubber cock in my stretched hole, letting it close over the narrow neck near the base, battering my prostate and making my cock drool helplessly.

She is here!

“Well, my dear, yet again I salute you.  You always put the little slut through his paces!”

The two Ladies laugh, and I imagine them looking down at the straining, sweating, tortured slavemeat of my firm young body.

“Come here, bitch!”

I try to raise my head and see Her shining shoes a little way ahead of me.

“Show your respect for me – lick!”

I groan and try to shuffle forward towards Her, every inch is atrocious, straining my whole body and pulling cruelly on my balls and tits. I cannot, I cannot go any further.  I start to cry.  The cane lands on my burning arse in earnest and I jump forwards as they laugh again.

“Here, you stupid slutboy! Let me help you!” Ms Sarah’s tone is mocking.

But, despite the appalling pain, I have found Mistress’ boots with my tongue, and I slobber desperately over them, weeping shamelessly, hoping for clemency; yearning for Her approval; aching, even now, for the orgasm only She can give me, even as my balls feel like they are being pulled off.

“Well now, boy, it’s your big day isn’t it?  Let’s get you up, so I can see what’s going on here.”

Slowly, some of my bonds are released so that they can help me to kneel up - and finally stand on shaking legs.  My legs remain spread impossibly far apart, and my wrists are still pinioned behind my neck, so Ms Sarah has to hold me upright, until I have been once again tied, wrists now spread above my head, held up by my bonds in a cruel spread-eagle.  The dildo is like a spike up my spine.

Mistress is before me, raking Her nails down my smooth chest. She cups my wet face, wiping away the sweat, the snot, the tears, the drool with a rough cloth.

“Aw, poor baby?  Has naughty Ms Sarah been mean?  Has she hurt my little lambkin?”

I cannot help myself from breaking down again, weeping like a child, helpless before the Woman who was once like a Mother to me, but who is now my Owner. She catches my eye and smirks.

“Good.  And your pain will only get worse, you filthy whore.”

She starts to examine my cock, covered in steel clamps.

“Golly, you poor dear!  These must be pretty sore!”

I wail into my gag, and beg, incomprehensibly, for Her to remove them.

Which She does, slowly and cruelly, pulling at each one and listening to my cries.  Every clamp that comes off is a starburst of unbelievable pain, as the blood rushes back into the crushed skin of my dick.  Every time She sadistically rubs the sore spot left, enjoying the excruciating torment as it rips through my body.  Ms Sarah has to help hold me upright by the time this is finished, and smelling salts have been administered more than once so that I do not miss a moment of the horror.

Finally all the vile, hated clamps have gone, leaving my cock raw and hurting.  Mistress strokes it firmly a few times, which is hell, but then She reaches down and actually unlocks the restrainer, releasing my tormented cock completely.

“Not hard, baby?  Perhaps you don’t really want to cum!”

I start to beg and plead, but She sharply back hands my dick, slapping it back and forth again and again, until it is red and glowing….”just to get the circulation going again!” She giggles.

At last, I gasp as She grips my shaft and strokes me.  I am still very sore and it hurts so much, but after six months of deprivation, even this painful stroking has me rock hard and drooling, and close to cumming after just a few minutes.

“You don’t have permission yet, slutchild!”

But She knows my body so well, knows every inch of me, knows my every response, my every reflex, that She recognises the signs as I get closer and closer to the edge, and She casts my twitching cock aside and moves back, to allow Ms Sarah to bring the cane down on my straining flesh.

My Mistress smiles as I shriek, dragged back from any hope of relief by the burning stripes now being laid along the shaft of my cock by Her fellow tormentress.

Ms Helen strokes my sobbing face and smirking once again reaches for my burning cock, stroking me back to straining, painful hardness.  I start to grind my hips, wailing through my gag, pulling at my restraints as hard as I can, trying to get my hands to my cock.  I have to cum! I have to cum! Please, Mistress, mercy.  My whole body burns with the need for release. I arch my back and thrust my groin forward as far as I can, yearning, burning. 

And howl as the cane lands whistling on the striped, bruised, bitten flesh again.  Once again Ms Sarah’s cruel thrashing cools my passions, though I know my cock continues to drool its frustration endlessly onto the floor.  I pull back sharply, trying to get my cock away from the white hot cane.

“Now then, my pet!” Mistress slaps my sobbing face hard, back and forth, ‘til my ears ring “Surely you are not pulling away from me? Stick it out so that we can play with it!”

I try to comply, but through the corner of my eye, I see the cane move, and jerk back again.

My head flies sideways as another, harsher slap rings out.

“You filthy, disobedient little slut.  How dare you!  You will pay for that, my boy!”

She slaps me again.

“That cocktoy is mine – do you understand? – mine! And if I decide it is to be tortured and beaten, then that is exactly what will happen.  But if you cannot obey so simple an instruction, then we will fix you so that you have no choice, slut.”

Ms Helen takes hold of the loose cord hanging between my legs from my tightly, cruelly bound balls and pulls them forward.  I am forced to thrust my groin forward, bringing me sharply up onto my toes.  My wrists and ankles still spread far apart and behind me, Ms Helen continues to pull my balls until I am trembling and stretched like a bow, pulled impossibly forward by my full balls.

She runs her hand over the firm undulations of my stretched abs.

“Good!” she says “Now we can continue!”

And once again She grips my raw cock, and roughly masturbates me, using my own frustration juice as lube, working me to a fever of anticipation.  I am so close again….so close.  A scream of pure frustration begins somewhere deep inside me, and I cannot stop.  I shift frantically from toe to toe, shaking all over and trying to thrust my hips. She gradually lessens the pressure on my cock as I get nearer and nearer to orgasm, until She is just gently stroking the twitching, iron-hard shaft with a couple of fingertips.

“Look at you baby!  So precious!  I bet you really want to spill that cream, don’t you? Do you want to cum now?  180 days is so long isn’t it, baby? Especially for a young fucktoy like you, so hot, so horny, so full of hormones?  Are my slaveballs aching to be emptied? You’d do anything for a chance to drain them right now wouldn’t you?

The huge gag turns my yells into primal grunting, into incomprehensible screaming.  Yes Mistress, please Mistress!  Anything, I’ll do anything Mistress! Just let me cum, please just this once, Mistress have mercy, please! I’m your boy, I’m yours! Please Mistress…..please!

But Her hands moves away, and my pleading yells of frustration turn to simple shrieks of agony as the cane lands square on the head of my cock, especially as the impact also lands hard on my stretched balls. I writhe helplessly, trying to pull my cock out of harms way, only succeeding in torturing myself still further.

This time, as the cane continues to thoroughly pummel my Mistress’ hard cocktoy again, another fierce pain stripes my buttocks, as Ms Helen canes my clenching buns, making the huge dildo twitch inside me.

One lady covers every inch of my poor cockshaft in burning welts, while the other thrashes the back of my thighs and arse.  Then Ms Sarah moves her attention from my softening cock to the front of my stretched thighs, which instantly causes my cock to harden fully once again.

I do not know why this happens, but it is simply the case that whenever my thighs are beaten, my cock hardens - to the cruel delight of my Ladies - allowing them to torment me with this simple trick while still in my ktb restrainer

Once I am hard again, Ms Helen grips my sore cock again, this time raking it cruelly with Her fingernails, so that I squeal and twitch helplessly, roughly milking me, so that it hurts more than gives me pleasure, but still brings me ever nearer to orgasm.  This time She is careful that the build up is slow and steady, until I am wriggling and struggling with frustration, making weird noises into my gag, trying to break out of my restraints and finish myself off. 

The terrible pain in my limbs, my tits, my arched back, my burning arse and thighs, my sore hole, my aching, stretched balls and my brutalised cock cannot hold me back from orgasm.  I am flying on a burning cloud, which swirls like acid over my body.  I am fuelled by the pain, brought to life by it – stripped bare and borne up by it. I feel as though I am travelling at high speed.  Every muscle is straining and stretched, I try to shove my cock into Mistress’ hand.  But She pulls away, and the cane lands, like lines of bright fire, but this time I continue to strain and I feel like I might still cum. My body is a bright flame and each white hot line of pain fuels the blaze.

But Ms Sarah brings the cane down in one mighty blow, and after shrieking and gasping for some time, I realise that both Ladies have left the room.  I start to calm down, coming out of my “ecstagony” and back to the screaming aches and pains of my body, stretched to a ‘D’ shape by my bonds.

I am not alone for long – every few minutes Ms Helen returns to play with my cock and make sure it is fully hard and twitching, but She says nothing, and never stays long, ignoring my muffled pleading and sobbing.  I can only imagine the Ladies are relaxing, sipping a good wine, and laughing at my predicament.

I have to cum. I have to cum. I have to cum.  Surely the end reward of all this cruelty is a moment of relief, and a brief lessening of the terrible ache in my balls, a fleeting, tiny instant.

When both Ladies return, it is only for more of the same – more endless rounds of rough masturbation, followed by the cane landing on my cock flesh to bring me away from orgasm. I feel like my mind is crumbling under the constant assault.  Once again I end up burning with an ecstatic fire that makes me feel like am defying gravity, but they keep me always trembling on the edge, the very brink, never allowed fulfilment.

By the time the Ladies eventually relent and release me from my bondage, I feel barely human, far past the point of screaming, shaking and sweating, floating like a glowing cinder above the roaring bonfire of an orgasm I cannot quite reach.  They untie my balls, and unwinding the cord from the sac – bringing me back down to my tormented flesh - making me scream.  My legs give out from under me and they bear me up between them to the bondage bench, lie me on my back and loosely bind my wrists and ankles to each corner – loosely enough to massage a bit of life back into them and stroke me with mock sympathy as the cramps and pins and needles work themselves out.

Finally, with strict commands to be silent, they ungag my frozen mouth and let me work my agonised jaw free.

Ms Helen leans over me, looking very strict and very beautiful, Her glorious red hair falling round Her shoulders, gleaming gold and copper in the light.

“Now then slut child – I want you to listen very carefully to me.  For once in your worthless existence, I am going to give to you a choice.  An actual choice about what is to happen to you.  This is a reward for being exceptionally good for the last few weeks, so enjoy it.”

She giggles evilly, and I cannot help but dread what is to come.

“As you know, today is the end of your 180 day chastity, the day I was to consider whether to grant you an orgasm….I expect you’d like that, wouldn’t you, you shameless whore? You may speak.”

I plead incoherently, starting to cry desperate tears again.

“And I have decided that, despite a few minor lapses, which you have more than paid for, your behaviour has warranted this privilege.  I will therefore grant you an orgasm today, if you desire it. Speak!”

I babble gratitude, ‘til She silences me.

“However….”

And just the way She says it makes my blood run cold….

“….that is not what I want.  It is not what I desire.  It is your twenty first birthday in May – four more months away – and I want you to wait for your birthday to cum.  We have all kinds of celebrations planned…and I want you on good form, in particular, I want you absolutely desperate for an orgasm and willing to do anything.  That would make me very, very happy.  And just so you know, between now and then, we will of course be subjecting you to all your usual torments and teasing….making you squeal and sob with frustration at least as frequently as before.  Indeed, we may step up your teasing regime and make these four months the most demanding ever.”

This can’t be happening.

“So, you can have an orgasm today, as promised.  And because it was a promise, I will not punish you, but it will really, really disappoint me.  Or you can decide to really please your Mistress, earn her praise and her love, make her proud of the man her boy is becoming - make her happy, make her joyful, fill her days with delight – just as you have been trained to.  For once, Josh…”

I started at the use of my name – She must mean business.

“….you have a real choice.  What will you do?”

There is a long pause; absolute silence.

Through my mind flashes the hours of horrible torment I have already suffered today, thinking I was going to earn my release, not to mention the endless hours, weeks, months of teasing, aching balls, crying and begging I have endured.

I start to cry.  I’m crying because I know what my answer is.  It is the only answer I could possibly give.

I’m your boy, Mistress, I adore you.  Your happiness is everything to me.

She slaps my face hard, once. Her hand burns like a benediction.

“What will you do?”

“I want to please you, Mistress.” I am wailing.

She smiles like a panther and can see her arousal sweep over her as her hand strokes the glowing print She has just left on my face.  Weeping, I try to kiss her palm.

My cock is livid with welts and bruises and swelling from it’s thrashing, but that does not stop the Ladies using ice to shrink it enough to go back into the toothed embrace of the ktb restrainer.

“Well now, you gorgeous little whore, you’ve made me so wet this evening with all your squealing.”

She lifts Herself gracefully onto the bench, kneeling next to my head.

“And I am exhausted from all the hard work and attention you’ve needed tonight!”

She places one knee either side of my head, facing toward my feet, and starts to slide Her skirt up.  I am overwhelmed by Her heat, by Her fragrance, Her glory, I start to strain upward to taste Her, to pleasure Her.  My cock is already filling against the fierce spines of its prison.

“I think it’s about time you give me some attention, slutchild.”

Yes Mistress – I love you.

The cane falls on my arse again, burning stripes on the tender skin around my hole, between my stretched buttocks. I yelp and gasp, trying to wriggle away from the cruel strokes.  But my movements only pull hard on my aching, stretched balls and harshly clamped tits.  Ms Sarah is so hard on me – it’s so unfair.  I start to cry again.  She laughs and mocks me, speeding up the blows, landing the cane vertically across my sore hole, so that I jump and shriek.

This is just the final part of my day, as we await my real Mistress, the divine Miss Helen.  Today is a day I have been waiting for, longing for….looking forward to for the past 180 days.  I have finished all my back-breaking chores; I have worked out, washed and shaved.  The past few hours I have been sweating and crying under the cruel ministrations of the relentless Ms Sarah, as she has gradually broken me down.

In particular, she took great trouble to beat my long, smooth thighs, until they glowed and burned, just so she could watch my desperate, young cock harden inside it’s tight Kali’s Teeth Bracelet restrainer. She tickled my full, aching, shaven balls and gently stroked the head of my cock, until even the vicious metal teeth of the restraint could not make it go soft again.  Then she wiped the clear juice leaking from it all over my sobbing face.

One hundred and eighty days I’ve waited for this - one hundred and eighty days of the strictest chastity…six months…without relief.  My last orgasm, which was painful and humiliating, was in July last year, and it is now January.  Mistress has not even relieved the pressure during that time by milking my prostate, she has just watched and enjoyed as the mounting pressure has crushed me, relishing my desperation and pleading.  And everyday for six months, she or Ms Sarah or their friends have spent hours teasing and playing with me, bringing me to edge of orgasm again and again and again, laughing at my begging and crying, always denying me any mercy at all.  Hour after hour each day spent with my rock hard cock twitching helplessly on the very edge of cumming, while they laugh at me and remind me how long I have yet to wait for the slightest chance of relief from my desperate need to empty my balls.  I feel crazed with the need to cum, my cock is almost always hard, even in the hated restrainer, and I feel as if the slightest thing could cause me to cum.  But I know that the punishments which await me if I do so without permission are truly terrible, and I have struggled and fought to remain chaste and please my Mistress all this time, while she and Ms Sarah have worked to make my struggle ever more difficult and exacting.  But today, today Mistress was to consider whether or not I had deserved some mercy, some relief from my all-consuming desperation.

My name is josh, and I am an owned slavetoy, body and soul. This has been my life since I turned eighteen, and now I am twenty – I will turn 21 in May, four months hence.  Can you think of any other twenty year old boy who has not cum for six months?  Can you imagine the pressure which has built up in my poor, swollen balls? I know that boys my age cum five, six, seven times a day….or more, sometimes many times more: they cum more in a day than I have cum over the last two years.  Orgasms are so rare for me that they do not even give me much relief, especially as they are more often than not “ruined” by Mistress taking her firm hand away as I climax, or even starting to lay the tawse on my bruised burning thighs or arse, so that pleasure is lost in pain.  Mistress thinks in time she might be able to bring me to orgasm just by beating my long, firm thighs – my cock hardens whenever she does this – and that if that is so, perhaps she will always use this method, and save the crop and tawse for my cock, instead of the privilege of her beautiful hand. Of course, she also talks of only ever milking my prostate and never ever allowing me an orgasm, usually, when she is not happy with my go-go dancing in one of my vile little girly outfits. 

I often wonder what it must be like to be able to touch my own cock whenever I wish, and to bring myself to orgasm after orgasm until I am fully drained and exhausted.  But it seems I will never know, and after my rare spurtings, my desperate cock doesn’t even soften, until the Ladies thrash it with crops and straps, so they can force it back into the cruel bite of the ktb restrainer, while I weep and beg, for the pain of beatings after orgasm is like no other pain, and I am always exhausted from the hours of teasing and torment I will already have endured by then. Sometimes the enormity of what I have done becoming a slave, the privileges and freedoms I have relinquished seem so great and I wonder if I can bear it any longer.  But what I can bear, what I feel or wish is no longer of any relevance to my life, and no amount of hoping or pleading will prevent my body from being bound and tortured, and my cruelly denied balls and cock teased to the point of insanity for hours at a time by my Mistress.

An hour ago, Ms Sarah finally bound me in my present predicament to wait for my Mistress.  First, she forced the largest of my ball gags between my teeth, making my jaw start to ache almost immediately.  Then she took a thin leather lace and tightly tied it round my scrotum, until my balls stretched, packed taut and aching in the bottom of the sac, pulled far from my body.  She smiled at me, as she batted the tight little package back and sending shockwaves of pain into the pit of my stomach. I whined into the gag.

She took a jar of vicious metal alligator clamps, and gleefully flexed one in front of my face, so that the sharp teeth glinted.  Then she started attaching them along the shaft of my cock, each one burning like a point of fire on the tender skin. I shrieked and shook my head as my cock seemed to be swallowed by a gnawing, biting, sharp toothed mouth.  I yelled and tried to beg through my huge gag, as she attached them around the ridged head of my dick, and screamed as the last one pinched my urethra shut.  Only the unforgiving shackles holding my wrists fastened to my collar stopped me trying to defend my agonised genitals.  Only the large spreader bar holding my ankles three feet apart and fastened to the floor stopped me from trying to get away.  The pain was unreal, unbearable.  My tortured cock was on fire.

She laughed.  “It’s all that useless tiny, little thing is good for, isn’t it slut?”

She ran her hand through the clamps, which was so unbelievably painful I could hardly breathe.  It took a frozen moment to drag the air into my outraged lungs to shriek and sob.

“By the time I’ve finished with you, young man, you’ll be begging me to just cut your teeny, tiny, pathetic little appendage off!”

I wept bitterly. 

Ms Sarah is so mean….she isn’t even my Mistress, but Mistress lets her do anything she wants with me, and what she wants is always so cruel and merciless.  She always makes me feel so young – though she is not much older than me – like a small boy – or worse, girl, when the mood takes her.  She behaves as if my cock and balls had never grown, and I worry that they are in fact tiny. 

But I don’t think they can be.  My cock is certainly bigger than the one man Ms Helen forced me to suck off, using the whip as encouragement, and though his balls hung much lower, I think mine are also bigger, though they sit tight and full right under my cock.  It’s so hard to remember what it was like to have my own dick in my hand, but it was fat and stiff and protruded beyond my fingers.  Not that it matters anymore, its primary function now being to bring me pain and frustration.

Then, Ms Sarah guided me onto my knees – which was difficult as my ankles are locked so far apart, pushing my straining thighs far apart.  For good measure, she attached a spreader at my knees as well, stretching my legs still farther.  Then she added her favourite, biting clamps to my tits, which were already sore from her mauling them earlier, as well as the clamps Mistress has been making me wear in the gym lately as “encouragers”.

Then she pushed me down, kneeling, legs far apart on the hard floor, arse forced up and chest and face pressed down to the ground.  She locked my collar to a point on the floor, stretched my tit clamps out and fastens them down in similar style, so that I could not get up or move.

Her high stilettos clicked ominously on the floor as she paced round behind me.  Looking down, I could see the clamps pulling at my firmly muscled chest, the taut surface of my stomach and long thighs, with my tightly bound balls and painfully restrained cock, covered in the foul clamps, hanging between.  Her feet appeared behind me, and I felt her taking hold of the cord hanging from my balls.  I grunted as she pulled it taut behind me, dragging my balls painfully back between my stretched legs and rattling the clamps on my cock, making them flash with new fire.  She must have run the cord through an attachment point behind me and she pulled hard, stretching my balls way beyond their natural limits, making me buck with pain, pulling on my other restraints and torturing my own nipples.  She laughed, and stretching my balls as far back as she could, she fastened the leather lace, so that they could not retract, held as they were, pulled out behind me, vulnerable and hurting.  When she hit them lightly with her hand, shaking the clamps on my burning dick, I screamed as hard as I could, dizzy with agony.  She giggled and crushed the tender nuts in her fist, enjoying my desperate howling and crying, before leaving me there, sobbing and drooling on the floor.

I had closed my eyes when she came back, and initially it felt as though she was rubbing a cooling salve on my balls and then between the clamps on my cock.  She giggled again, and I opened my eyes as the heat suddenly flared in my balls.  Looking down I felt sick with terror as I realised she was wearing heavy duty rubber gloves, to protect her hands from…oh god no!....the juice of the freshly cut chilli she was rubbing into the soft skin of my cock and balls.  I cried out in fear again, and struggled with my bondage, not caring about the pain of my tits as my cock and balls abruptly caught fire, burning as though Ms Sarah held a blowtorch to them.

My begging and pleadings for mercy were reduced to blubbering spluttering rubbish by the huge invasive gag.  And Ms Sarah took up her heavy cane, to blister my up-raised arse, as well as landing a few horrific blows on my caught, burning, over-filled balls.  I felt like I was going to die.  Why was she so mean to me when Mistress was not there?  I had tried so hard to be respectful, so hard to be a good boy.  The Ladies always took delight in trapping me, forcing me to do wrong, so that they had an excuse to reach for their tawses.  But I had done all I could to please, tried to remember all the complex rules and protocols which govern every micro-second of my day, sleeping and waking, desperate for Mistress Helen to decide in my favour and grant me an orgasm.  But Ms Sarah delights in my agony, and she was not in the mood for any mercy on this day of all days.

Now, after an hour or so, I am already a wreck.  I cannot stop crying - for every part of my body is screaming with pain – though my screams have become hoarse long since.  My arse sizzles with cane welts, across the buttocks and over the exposed, sore hole.

My knees and shoulders strain and ache from the hard floor, my tits are unbearable, my cock felt as if it had been shredded and my full, swollen balls are pulsing shockwaves of pain through my whole body.  They are still bound, and throbbing from the cane strokes which caught them, causing me to panic and writhe desperately.  And now they are crushed in Ms Sarah’s hard fist, as she uses them as a handle to help her work the long dildo in and out of my abused boy-hole.

She has kept me awake with salts through this, but the sound of a second pair of heels in the corridor brings me to full alertness.  Ms Sarah stands up, leaving the fat rubber cock in my stretched hole, letting it close over the narrow neck near the base, battering my prostate and making my cock drool helplessly.

She is here!

“Well, my dear, yet again I salute you.  You always put the little slut through his paces!”

The two Ladies laugh, and I imagine them looking down at the straining, sweating, tortured slavemeat of my firm young body.

“Come here, bitch!”

I try to raise my head and see Her shining shoes a little way ahead of me.

“Show your respect for me – lick!”

I groan and try to shuffle forward towards Her, every inch is atrocious, straining my whole body and pulling cruelly on my balls and tits. I cannot, I cannot go any further.  I start to cry.  The cane lands on my burning arse in earnest and I jump forwards as they laugh again.

“Here, you stupid slutboy! Let me help you!” Ms Sarah’s tone is mocking.

But, despite the appalling pain, I have found Mistress’ boots with my tongue, and I slobber desperately over them, weeping shamelessly, hoping for clemency; yearning for Her approval; aching, even now, for the orgasm only She can give me, even as my balls feel like they are being pulled off.

“Well now, boy, it’s your big day isn’t it?  Let’s get you up, so I can see what’s going on here.”

Slowly, some of my bonds are released so that they can help me to kneel up - and finally stand on shaking legs.  My legs remain spread impossibly far apart, and my wrists are still pinioned behind my neck, so Ms Sarah has to hold me upright, until I have been once again tied, wrists now spread above my head, held up by my bonds in a cruel spread-eagle.  The dildo is like a spike up my spine.

Mistress is before me, raking Her nails down my smooth chest. She cups my wet face, wiping away the sweat, the snot, the tears, the drool with a rough cloth.

“Aw, poor baby?  Has naughty Ms Sarah been mean?  Has she hurt my little lambkin?”

I cannot help myself from breaking down again, weeping like a child, helpless before the Woman who was once like a Mother to me, but who is now my Owner. She catches my eye and smirks.

“Good.  And your pain will only get worse, you filthy whore.”

She starts to examine my cock, covered in steel clamps.

“Golly, you poor dear!  These must be pretty sore!”

I wail into my gag, and beg, incomprehensibly, for Her to remove them.

Which She does, slowly and cruelly, pulling at each one and listening to my cries.  Every clamp that comes off is a starburst of unbelievable pain, as the blood rushes back into the crushed skin of my dick.  Every time She sadistically rubs the sore spot left, enjoying the excruciating torment as it rips through my body.  Ms Sarah has to help hold me upright by the time this is finished, and smelling salts have been administered more than once so that I do not miss a moment of the horror.

Finally all the vile, hated clamps have gone, leaving my cock raw and hurting.  Mistress strokes it firmly a few times, which is hell, but then She reaches down and actually unlocks the restrainer, releasing my tormented cock completely.

“Not hard, baby?  Perhaps you don’t really want to cum!”

I start to beg and plead, but She sharply back hands my dick, slapping it back and forth again and again, until it is red and glowing….”just to get the circulation going again!” She giggles.

At last, I gasp as She grips my shaft and strokes me.  I am still very sore and it hurts so much, but after six months of deprivation, even this painful stroking has me rock hard and drooling, and close to cumming after just a few minutes.

“You don’t have permission yet, slutchild!”

But She knows my body so well, knows every inch of me, knows my every response, my every reflex, that She recognises the signs as I get closer and closer to the edge, and She casts my twitching cock aside and moves back, to allow Ms Sarah to bring the cane down on my straining flesh.

My Mistress smiles as I shriek, dragged back from any hope of relief by the burning stripes now being laid along the shaft of my cock by Her fellow tormentress.

Ms Helen strokes my sobbing face and smirking once again reaches for my burning cock, stroking me back to straining, painful hardness.  I start to grind my hips, wailing through my gag, pulling at my restraints as hard as I can, trying to get my hands to my cock.  I have to cum! I have to cum! Please, Mistress, mercy.  My whole body burns with the need for release. I arch my back and thrust my groin forward as far as I can, yearning, burning. 

And howl as the cane lands whistling on the striped, bruised, bitten flesh again.  Once again Ms Sarah’s cruel thrashing cools my passions, though I know my cock continues to drool its frustration endlessly onto the floor.  I pull back sharply, trying to get my cock away from the white hot cane.

“Now then, my pet!” Mistress slaps my sobbing face hard, back and forth, ‘til my ears ring “Surely you are not pulling away from me? Stick it out so that we can play with it!”

I try to comply, but through the corner of my eye, I see the cane move, and jerk back again.

My head flies sideways as another, harsher slap rings out.

“You filthy, disobedient little slut.  How dare you!  You will pay for that, my boy!”

She slaps me again.

“That cocktoy is mine – do you understand? – mine! And if I decide it is to be tortured and beaten, then that is exactly what will happen.  But if you cannot obey so simple an instruction, then we will fix you so that you have no choice, slut.”

Ms Helen takes hold of the loose cord hanging between my legs from my tightly, cruelly bound balls and pulls them forward.  I am forced to thrust my groin forward, bringing me sharply up onto my toes.  My wrists and ankles still spread far apart and behind me, Ms Helen continues to pull my balls until I am trembling and stretched like a bow, pulled impossibly forward by my full balls.

She runs her hand over the firm undulations of my stretched abs.

“Good!” she says “Now we can continue!”

And once again She grips my raw cock, and roughly masturbates me, using my own frustration juice as lube, working me to a fever of anticipation.  I am so close again….so close.  A scream of pure frustration begins somewhere deep inside me, and I cannot stop.  I shift frantically from toe to toe, shaking all over and trying to thrust my hips. She gradually lessens the pressure on my cock as I get nearer and nearer to orgasm, until She is just gently stroking the twitching, iron-hard shaft with a couple of fingertips.

“Look at you baby!  So precious!  I bet you really want to spill that cream, don’t you? Do you want to cum now?  180 days is so long isn’t it, baby? Especially for a young fucktoy like you, so hot, so horny, so full of hormones?  Are my slaveballs aching to be emptied? You’d do anything for a chance to drain them right now wouldn’t you?

The huge gag turns my yells into primal grunting, into incomprehensible screaming.  Yes Mistress, please Mistress!  Anything, I’ll do anything Mistress! Just let me cum, please just this once, Mistress have mercy, please! I’m your boy, I’m yours! Please Mistress…..please!

But Her hands moves away, and my pleading yells of frustration turn to simple shrieks of agony as the cane lands square on the head of my cock, especially as the impact also lands hard on my stretched balls. I writhe helplessly, trying to pull my cock out of harms way, only succeeding in torturing myself still further.

This time, as the cane continues to thoroughly pummel my Mistress’ hard cocktoy again, another fierce pain stripes my buttocks, as Ms Helen canes my clenching buns, making the huge dildo twitch inside me.

One lady covers every inch of my poor cockshaft in burning welts, while the other thrashes the back of my thighs and arse.  Then Ms Sarah moves her attention from my softening cock to the front of my stretched thighs, which instantly causes my cock to harden fully once again.

I do not know why this happens, but it is simply the case that whenever my thighs are beaten, my cock hardens - to the cruel delight of my Ladies - allowing them to torment me with this simple trick while still in my ktb restrainer

Once I am hard again, Ms Helen grips my sore cock again, this time raking it cruelly with Her fingernails, so that I squeal and twitch helplessly, roughly milking me, so that it hurts more than gives me pleasure, but still brings me ever nearer to orgasm.  This time She is careful that the build up is slow and steady, until I am wriggling and struggling with frustration, making weird noises into my gag, trying to break out of my restraints and finish myself off. 

The terrible pain in my limbs, my tits, my arched back, my burning arse and thighs, my sore hole, my aching, stretched balls and my brutalised cock cannot hold me back from orgasm.  I am flying on a burning cloud, which swirls like acid over my body.  I am fuelled by the pain, brought to life by it – stripped bare and borne up by it. I feel as though I am travelling at high speed.  Every muscle is straining and stretched, I try to shove my cock into Mistress’ hand.  But She pulls away, and the cane lands, like lines of bright fire, but this time I continue to strain and I feel like I might still cum. My body is a bright flame and each white hot line of pain fuels the blaze.

But Ms Sarah brings the cane down in one mighty blow, and after shrieking and gasping for some time, I realise that both Ladies have left the room.  I start to calm down, coming out of my “ecstagony” and back to the screaming aches and pains of my body, stretched to a ‘D’ shape by my bonds.

I am not alone for long – every few minutes Ms Helen returns to play with my cock and make sure it is fully hard and twitching, but She says nothing, and never stays long, ignoring my muffled pleading and sobbing.  I can only imagine the Ladies are relaxing, sipping a good wine, and laughing at my predicament.

I have to cum. I have to cum. I have to cum.  Surely the end reward of all this cruelty is a moment of relief, and a brief lessening of the terrible ache in my balls, a fleeting, tiny instant.

When both Ladies return, it is only for more of the same – more endless rounds of rough masturbation, followed by the cane landing on my cock flesh to bring me away from orgasm. I feel like my mind is crumbling under the constant assault.  Once again I end up burning with an ecstatic fire that makes me feel like am defying gravity, but they keep me always trembling on the edge, the very brink, never allowed fulfilment.

By the time the Ladies eventually relent and release me from my bondage, I feel barely human, far past the point of screaming, shaking and sweating, floating like a glowing cinder above the roaring bonfire of an orgasm I cannot quite reach.  They untie my balls, and unwinding the cord from the sac – bringing me back down to my tormented flesh - making me scream.  My legs give out from under me and they bear me up between them to the bondage bench, lie me on my back and loosely bind my wrists and ankles to each corner – loosely enough to massage a bit of life back into them and stroke me with mock sympathy as the cramps and pins and needles work themselves out.

Finally, with strict commands to be silent, they ungag my frozen mouth and let me work my agonised jaw free.

Ms Helen leans over me, looking very strict and very beautiful, Her glorious red hair falling round Her shoulders, gleaming gold and copper in the light.

“Now then slut child – I want you to listen very carefully to me.  For once in your worthless existence, I am going to give to you a choice.  An actual choice about what is to happen to you.  This is a reward for being exceptionally good for the last few weeks, so enjoy it.”

She giggles evilly, and I cannot help but dread what is to come.

“As you know, today is the end of your 180 day chastity, the day I was to consider whether to grant you an orgasm….I expect you’d like that, wouldn’t you, you shameless whore? You may speak.”

I plead incoherently, starting to cry desperate tears again.

“And I have decided that, despite a few minor lapses, which you have more than paid for, your behaviour has warranted this privilege.  I will therefore grant you an orgasm today, if you desire it. Speak!”

I babble gratitude, ‘til She silences me.

“However….”

And just the way She says it makes my blood run cold….

“….that is not what I want.  It is not what I desire.  It is your twenty first birthday in May – four more months away – and I want you to wait for your birthday to cum.  We have all kinds of celebrations planned…and I want you on good form, in particular, I want you absolutely desperate for an orgasm and willing to do anything.  That would make me very, very happy.  And just so you know, between now and then, we will of course be subjecting you to all your usual torments and teasing….making you squeal and sob with frustration at least as frequently as before.  Indeed, we may step up your teasing regime and make these four months the most demanding ever.”

This can’t be happening.

“So, you can have an orgasm today, as promised.  And because it was a promise, I will not punish you, but it will really, really disappoint me.  Or you can decide to really please your Mistress, earn her praise and her love, make her proud of the man her boy is becoming - make her happy, make her joyful, fill her days with delight – just as you have been trained to.  For once, Josh…”

I started at the use of my name – She must mean business.

“….you have a real choice.  What will you do?”

There is a long pause; absolute silence.

Through my mind flashes the hours of horrible torment I have already suffered today, thinking I was going to earn my release, not to mention the endless hours, weeks, months of teasing, aching balls, crying and begging I have endured.

I start to cry.  I’m crying because I know what my answer is.  It is the only answer I could possibly give.

I’m your boy, Mistress, I adore you.  Your happiness is everything to me.

She slaps my face hard, once. Her hand burns like a benediction.

“What will you do?”

“I want to please you, Mistress.” I am wailing.

She smiles like a panther and can see her arousal sweep over her as her hand strokes the glowing print She has just left on my face.  Weeping, I try to kiss her palm.

My cock is livid with welts and bruises and swelling from it’s thrashing, but that does not stop the Ladies using ice to shrink it enough to go back into the toothed embrace of the ktb restrainer.

“Well now, you gorgeous little whore, you’ve made me so wet this evening with all your squealing.”

She lifts Herself gracefully onto the bench, kneeling next to my head.

“And I am exhausted from all the hard work and attention you’ve needed tonight!”

She places one knee either side of my head, facing toward my feet, and starts to slide Her skirt up.  I am overwhelmed by Her heat, by Her fragrance, Her glory, I start to strain upward to taste Her, to pleasure Her.  My cock is already filling against the fierce spines of its prison.

“I think it’s about time you give me some attention, slutchild.”

Yes Mistress – I love you.