Revisiting Cum Denial

================================================================== Standard disclaimers apply... If you're under the age of legality in your location, or not supposed to read this for other legal reasons, you ought not read this -- legal consequences apply if someone finds out what you're doing. Additionally, if male-male homosexual acts are not to your tastes, then don't be reading this. ===================================================================

"Revisiting Cum Denial, part 1" by cumcontrolboi

It was a dark and stormy night. Yeah, I know that's really cliche, but what can I say? I mean, it was dark, and there was a storm out all night. It wouldn't do very well to say "it was a bright and sunny night" so I'm being honest with you.

Okay, so the point? Well, I was online, browsing the gay erotica on my computer, and the Internet. I saved most of it because I was on dialup, and I liked the idea that I wouldn't have to go far to find it. I saved a lot of it on floppy disk, too.

As far as you know, I'm gay, and I'm actually in high school. I've known I was gay for quite a few years. I've had quite a few crushes, and I've learned to get over the swoon phase, but I've never really found anyone I was strongly interested in. Well, I jerked off to a lot of guys, many of them in my school. But I've never told anyone my specific interests. I'm out at school, but I'm careful about any details. Only a couple of my closest girl- friends know. I've gotten the IM names of a few guys at the school who I hang out with on weekends at the local LAN center/cybercafe. We'd get together at the center and play some regular games there-- Counterstrike, Starcraft, Rainbow Six, and basically anything else that was pretty cool to do multiplayer. I was pretty "normal," I wagered. That is, except for my sexual interests.

While I'd been pretty normal as far as typical teenager interests go, I'd been developing an interest in bondage, chastity, and many other sexual turn-ons, to the point of where my fantasies were overflowing in my mind over who I wanted to do what for me. All my fantasy guys at the school were controlling me, moving between one and the other, whoever suited the personality I was looking for most in the moment. Sometimes it was the Marine Corps boy who would be dominating and giving me commands, and when I needed a casual boy, I'd get a cute one from the LAN center, who I would be commanded to service... my fantasies included any and every one of the hottest guys at my school, and a couple celebrities, too.

I'd developed, what I think, was an unhealthy interest in being dominated, exposed, and tormented.

I wanted to be dominated by someone, and he would take control of me by taking advantage of my horniness. He would use my dick and my libido against me. He would tie me to his bed and tease me up to the edge for hours. He would then make me sign papers that admitted to being a horny, worthless fag who couldn't control his own dick and needed someone to control it for him. He had a nest egg and had an acquaintance of his send off for a chastity cuff, which he would lock onto my dick. He counted on me not having balls or money to get anyone like a locksmith to remove it. He counted on me to not tell anyone anything what went on with him because I had signed those papers, and he even had me write a couple of them. He had a digital camera and he had printed out a few photos of me, helpless and hard, with cum on my face, with his dick in my face wearing his cum, licking it and a few of me wearing a plug, and marker on my body saying "I AM A KINKY LITTLE BOI". He shaved my crotch. I was his.

I had a habit of doing creative writings like this for myself, using my name, and all the boys I liked. It was a series of shorter stories jumbled together, slightly readable in flow, and went together and I used it often as my jerkoff material. I had it printed out for later at night when I would read it with the bedside light, lubed up and holding myself off from orgasm. I loved being on the edge. It was almost like I was perpetually cumming, without actually shooting, and felt amazing as long as I was on edge. If I went for a while, I would begin to sweat, and I would not cum for a while. But I would keep myself on edge, because I didn't want to stop--it felt too good. But I wanted to cum, and I refused to cum until I'd either finished the story, or found another story, or made a complete fantasy that just looped repeatedly...

I would imagine James, the Marine Corps boy, short, about 5'7" and powerfully-built for his height. He had dark teal-blue eyes, and a very cocky demeanor, no doubt instilled in him by the few and the proud. Of course, if I had his body, I would be proud, too. He always had his hair at just the right spiking length, to me. It was dirty blonde, but usually highlighted/bleached, and styled perfectly--I envied him and wished I knew his trade secret, but he was homophobic. In my fantasies, his homophobia played several roles: me challenging him, me attempting to seduce him, him dominating me, him abusing/using me.

So, back to the story. So, it was a dark and stormy night, and I was online, browsing and checking my mail. The computer was acting up and I probably shouldn't have left it on during the storm. We had a surge protector, but I'm sure that that doesn't do THAT much against lightning. I've heard the stories. Because, of course, it shutdown when there was a lightning crash nearby. Well, that pretty much put a damper on my night of erotic porn-browsing. Especially when I remem- bered that I had just come very close to losing my computer. I unplugged it, and laid down on my bed, and got my fantasy and lube from my nightstand. The rain on the roof had a calming effect, and tonight's fantasy took a more calm tone, most likely because of it.

James had me. He'd got me in the locker room. I'd checked him out one time too many. He gave me a glare and said to me, "I bet you want this body," in a seductive voice. I knew he was playing a game with me. I knew he wanted me to want him. I wanted to want him. It's my fantasy, so I wanted him.

"Yeah, I do," I said quietly, loud enough for him to hear, but for nobody else to hear. Nobody else is around, though, but this is fantasy logic (or dream logic)--anything is normal. He shoots me a glare.

"Yes, what, boy?" I shudder and shake. This is so hot. But I don't want to immediately submit... I want to make it tough on my- self. I want to just cream myself, knowing he wants to make me his, but I want to play my little resistant sub boy side out... to make it feel like I have no control. I purposely wait, head and eyes cast downward, looking at his crotch, ever so subtly out of my peripheral vision. He comes over to me.

"I'm giving you one more chance." He gets up in my face, and holds his body right in front of me. I can see his pecs, his crotch, his cock, which is getting hard. He's a god to me, right now... He could do anything to me right now, and I would love it. He grabs my dick. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You don't deserve to speak, any way. All you want is my body, and to worship it."

He takes my cock and strokes. I exhale strongly -- not sharply and not deeply. Just a strong exhale for a few seconds as I go through whatever routines I've instilled in myself to resist cumming, and hold myself off from the edge. I know if this kid gets me to the edge, he will own me. He holds my dick as he pushes on my chest, back and down onto the locker bench behind me, and has me laying down on it.

He lays down on my chest to reach behind me as he lets go of my dick, and pull my arms behind me, down to the floor. His chest is grinding into my crotch, and I can feel myself slowly getting more and more up to the edge. He reaches downward, and I feel metal snapping around my wrists. He has my arms cuffed down to the ring in the floor. I can't fight with my hands and he quickly does the same to my feet, together.

He sits back on my upper legs, and reaches to my crotch and begins to play with my dick... He's intent on making me cum... We both know it.

He strokes slowly and lightly at first. He speaks in his best mocking, sarcastic voice... "Look at the poor, helpless boy. He's all trussed up, unable to do anything. And he's got a hard-on. Shame on you, boy, for having a hard-on whie being completely helpless. You are such a disgrace for enjoying this... The Marines would laugh at you and use you for this..." His dirty talk is turning me on intensely. I am still holding myself back as much as possible. Part of me wants him to force me up to edge, and part of me wants to let him get up to the edge as quick as possible by letting down my barriers. He'll enjoy it and so will I... no matter how long he goes on me.

He changes what he's doing on me. He grabs my dick firmly in one hand, and he put the palm of his other hand on the head of my dick. He begins to slowly circle on the head, "polishing the apple." It is, for me, almost unbearable... I let my defenses go, as I know he won't let me cum anyways, and I buck as much as I can, arching my back, and moaning... I can't tell him anything... my mouth is gagged now... My vision goes dark as a blindfold slowly covers my eyes. I have no sense of sight, and my sense of sound and touch take over... his touch is even more electric to me... He continues polishing the apple, faster and faster until he has me completely on edge... he keeps going, as he holds me on edge while doing it... I feel like I can cum, but I know I can't. It is a perfect torture, to feel so close and be unable to... I begin exhaling and inhaling heavily, moaning, hoping any of it will help me cum... I know it won't -- it only serves to make me hornier and edge faster. I moan a whimper out and he slows down as he speaks.

"Aww... does the little boy want to cum? How pathetic. You already want to cum, and it's only been a couple of minutes. You don't have a single bone in your body that can resist cumming. I control your cock. You haven't got any control at all. I could just give you a few hard strokes and you would shoot..." He punctuates this by beginning to stroke me quickly, forcefully. "And if you cum without permission, I'm going to milk you dry. You don't get to cum, boy. All you get to be is horny, and helpless. You don't deserve to cum. You wanted my body, and you get anything that my body wants. My body wants you to be a helpless little milktoy, quivering and hoping to cum, but not wanting to because you need permission... And I'm not giving you it."

He begins to stroke me hard, and faster, and I think I'm so close to shooting, and then he stops and lets go, even standing up from my body. My cock juts up into the air, hoping for something from him to let me cum... I can't cum... I want to cum... If I cum, I know he won't have mercy. He'll hold to his word.

I wait a long moment before he assails my cock again, as he takes his hand again, and slowly polishes the apple... I want to cum so bad... I want to ask permission, but his hands speak for me -- I know I'm not getting it anyways, no matter how hard I begged, or what I begged for. No matter what I promise, he won't let me cum. He has total control over me.

He spends several minutes slowly polishing as he keeps me so close to the edge. He stops and switches to stroking... 10 slow strokes, 10 fast strokes, 10 slow strokes, 10 fast strokes. He is exceptional at this. He keeps me helplessly on edge, trying so hard to not cum, despite the fact that I would like it more than anything else in the world right now... He goes mercilessly over my dick on the 10 fast strokes. I can feel him heaving and breathing each time he strokes me, as though his entire body and essence goes into every stroke. His deep breaths exhaling keep me turned on, as all I know of him is his hand and breathing. Each time he strokes me quickly, I fight cumming with all my essence, and he fights to have me cumming with all his essence. I moaned and whimpered as I fought cumming each time... wishing I could cum, but knowing his penalty for cumming would not be worth it...

He began to stroke me slower now... He took his time. He REALLY took his time. He spent at least 15 seconds just going up my shaft, lubed with my prelube. It was painful, aching, begging to cum, and I knew he was just smiling a devilish smile... knowing how much I wanted to cum, and had no power to do anything but hold off...

He kept going at this pace, slowing down, as he knew these strokes were so light, yet I could cum so easily... He had me on the edge, and suddenly gave me hard, fast strokes. I half-screamed, half- whimpered, half-moaned into my gag as I fought cumming... He stroked and I could feel it coming, he stroked again, and I lost my will, but disciplined myself, to hold off, maybe he would be merciful... He gave me another hard stroke, and let go... I fought with all my endurance and discipline, then sighed... no cumming, yet again.

I fought the urge to wish to cum, and just to please him... A survival game... If I please him, he might be merciful... I can feel myself strongly slipping into sub-space. Whatever he wants, I want. I want to not cum. But I want to cum without permission, so he can milk me. I know he wants this. He knows when I'm going to shoot. He knows when I'm going to cum. He knows when to not stop. His games is to make me wonder when he truly won't stop. He knows my body well and how to use my sex drive against me... He knows I'll hold off as much as possible, even though I might play with getting close.

He starts stroking me again. "You have 10 seconds to cum with permission." He starts stroking me quickly, and I try hard to get there... and fail. He stops stroking me. Then he starts again, at a leisurely regular pace. We know the signal for "you didn't cum, so I get to have some more fun." A pause, and then a resume.

He says "30 seconds" as he slows down his pace... I am so on edge, I want to cum, I'm ready to cum, if only he would go a little harder or faster... I try to buck my hips to get his hand. He lets go. "You still have 18 seconds" and he isn't even touching me. I flex my body and my dick, I deeply inhale to get oxygen through my nose, I moan out deeply to resonate my body for orgasm... but without his touch, I am nothing. Unable to cum...

And why do I want to cum without him? I want him to be the one to make me cum. I need his touch. I need him. I'm nothing without him and his touch. Without it, I'm incomplete. It's not his touch... it's the control he has over me through his touch. It's his control. It envelops me and guides my body, mind, and spirit to his will.

His touch returns... it is his mouth on my dick head. His tongue plays over the head of my throbbing boydick. It plays with my slit, and rolls around in circles... My Master, the Marine, James, he who masters my dick, has graced me with his mouth on my dick. He takes it off for a moment.

"Yeah, that's right. I control your dick now. I'm your Master because you wanted it, begged for it, needed it..." He pauses. "And if you even think about shooting off in my mouth, you'll pay for it."

Too late. But he knows he said that just to make me think about it even more. He is purposely making it hard for me to hold off. He holds my dick in his hand, and begins licking on the lower side of my dick, from about halfway up to the top, repeatedly... I have to try so hard to not cum... I want him to let me cum, and he does, too, but we know that can't be. He lubes it up heavily with his spit and uses it as extra lube on my dick and goes back to stroking me off...

"Yeah, you want to cum so bad. So bad. And look at me," he removes my blindfold, and I once again get to stare at his gorgeous body next to me, pumping his hard cock, dripping... I stare at it and he removes my gag and simply feeds me the head to suck on... he continues to stroke me, as I find it harder and harder to not cum as I have his dick in my mouth, tasting his precum.

He leans over me and gets into a semi-69 and thrusts into my mouth as he works my dick hard and I begin moaning, loudly, hoping he'll remember to stop... He gets his mouth on it and strokes it off into his mouth, working the head... Shit, no, he'll make me shoot. I can't cum. I have to focus on not-cumming, and I have to work his dick over, even as he pounds me with it... He keeps going on my dick... stroking it off, sucking it into his mouth, going down on it more and more each time he strokes, and I find myself fucking his mouth... I stop, and suck him, and focus purely on his dick, at the expense of sensing my body...

He begins moaning on my dick, ready to shoot his load into my mouth... I am begging for his load, his cum, and begging for NOT my load, not my cum, screaming it in my mind...

He begins to shoot off in my mouth, and pulls it out and arches his body off my dick, and moans and thrusts into it as he shoots off his load into me, and pulls it out, and shoots on my face and chest as he continues thrusting his cum out onto me...

And I am left on edge... ready to explode, but his cum is not enough to send me over... Helplessly bound with my Master's cum all over my face and body, on the edge of an amazing orgasm... and not yet there... I revel in it, glowing with the pleasure he has given me. He has me clean off his cock, and I moan/whimper, thrusting slightly, hoping he will continue to work on me. It is a gift, his attention to the cock that belongs to him. No longer my cock. I am his cock, his slave, to do as he wishes...

He steps back, and his body glistens with sweat. A thin sheen of it covers him, catching him in the locker-room's fluorescent lights, making him stand out in it... I admire his muscles, as the sweat beads on his nipples, and his chest is even more pronounced. He is breathing heavily, and I can feel it; I am breathing heavily as well...

He gives my cock a couple quick strokes and gets a little faster and a little harder, getting me ready to explode again, and then he goes off and leaves. He leaves my sight.

I can hear, in the distance, a shower turn on. I imagine him soaping up his body, lathering, and enjoying the cascade of water as it cools and refreshes him. He gives his cock and balls a gentle fondling as he washes them off, and I see his barbed wire tattoo around his bicep as he flexes it with pride to get his back and neck clean...

Time goes by and I hear the water shut off. It must have been a good ten minutes that he spent in the shower, and I'm not subsiding.

He has left me here, exposed, for anyone who could walk in, and ready to explode, hard, a disgrace to me... not only could someone see that I was helpless, but helpless and hard... sweating, ready to shoot off a load with only a few strokes... wearing my Master's cum all over my face and chest, staining me, marking me as his... Is it a disgrace, or it is a sign of pride? I am his! I don't have to think of myself... All I have to do is think of him. He'll protect me, he'll keep his toy safe. He wants me like this. I trust him like this. He could do any- thing to me, and I would trust him right now. I know he wouldn't do anything to betray me. He and I know what I need and he needs...

Any jock could walk in... or even a cute boy with glasses, who wants to get his rocks off before the next class... I'm clearly a suck slave as the cum is dripping from my chin down my neck to the bench, and it is all over my chest... I'm hard and bound... ready for anyone to torment me...

If they wanted to make me cum, they would only have to give me a few strokes. If I resisted, they could go harder, and make me shoot off a dirty little boyload... They could walk in and wrap their hand around my poor throbbing cock--correction: Master James' hard cock and, without his permission to cum, make me cum. I would be screwed. I would cry. I cannot cum. Nobody has permission to make his cock cum except him. I would be powerless to protect his property, his cum... They could just grab it hard, give me just a few deep strokes to get me back to the edge and then give me a few fast ones and--

Shit!

"Stop stroking!" my mind screams. "I'm going to cum!" I can't scream or let anyone know I'm about to shoot... someone will hear my degradation...

Another stroke and I--

I moan deeply and the hand lets go...

Master James is back. He noticed me in fantasy and gave me that... My eyes could shoot daggers, right now, and yet I find myself silently thanking him for the attention to my cock again.

I moan deeply and repeatedly as I bask the the glow of an almost orgasm, but quickly realize he is no longer touching it... He doesn't intend to touch it.

He takes his time and stands there, in a posture of no special expression, just waiting... it is tense for me...

I ache to cum, and I know not to for him. If he would let me cum, I know I would be eternally grateful to him... I know I only feel this way because all I can do right now is think with my cock... He knows that, and he knows I have no will right now... I would give up the ability to cum right now, if he would only bring me off once...

He stands there, and I lose thought of what to think. I can no longer think. I'm as blank as he looks.

Then, he reprimands me.

"You're a mess. You want to cum, you're sweating, you're even wearing another man's cum on your face and chest. You're wearing cum on your face, you dirty little fag. And you want more of what I've been giving to you. You would beg for it. You disappoint me. You're ready to just shoot off a little boyload, and that's it. You want to use me to cum. That's all you want from me. You won't get that, either. You want to cum, you have to earn it... and you can't. You swallowed my cum, and you're practically begging for more. You're no man. You're a little fag boy. And little fag boys don't deserve to cum... You can't even think without your little cock being relieved--I could. And I did. But you... you're a slave boy. An omega... you have no place among men like me. You don't even deserve a man like me... you deserve only another little fag like you. You don't even deserve that. You don't even deserve that cock."

He grabs it, and all I can think of is how thankful I am that he still touches me. He squeezes hard, and I'm close, but not all the way there.

"But...," he begins stroking, "If you can prove you're even half the man I am, I'll keep you."

I feel intense joy as he says this.

"I'll test your endurance like this, starting now. All you have to do is to hold off from cumming until the end. No matter how much you want to, I want you to hold it back. You are to hold off, and this will test your limits."

He begins stroking me hard, but at a regular pace.

I can feel my cum building up.

He edges me, and slows down for a couple of minutes.

All I can think of is resisting cumming, yet how much I want to just shoot off a hot load--

"STOP thinking about this!" my mind screams again. Thank the heavens that my trained mind said that to me.

He starts stroking harder and faster than last time...

I am fighting, a little bit more now, to cum, but I'm still holding off... and he edges me, again, and I want to cum so badly... He doesn't slow down, and I can feel it... I fight it... it gets closer... and he slows down... but I can feel it right on the edge...

All he has to do is a couple more strokes a bit harder and I would shoot... I take all my stamina to resist that... and he slows down...

I let go of my thoughts for a second as my mind and body try to cool down from the edge...

He starts stroking me fast and hard...

"NO!!!" my mind screams.

My defences are down; there's no way I'll get my resists back up in time...

It is too late for me to resist any thing, but I try anyways, having failed him for that moment.

He stops stroking it and I feel the cum rise...

I can feel it...

It's on edge...

It's going to shoot...

His hand is still on it...

But I stop... all my mind and body processes that I can control I turn down, I focus on negating my orgasm... holding back... not a single muscle of mine is moving...

The cum rises...

And stops.

I keep my focus and try to will it down and away. I love the edge but that was too close...

His hand, ever so slowly, starts moving again.

I can feel myself 98% of the way there, ready to shoot off, and he strokes me so slowly up to 99%, ready to cum again, if he changes his stroke, or a single extra muscle on either of us moves, I'll shoot.

I breathe as lightly as possible, to hold off, and he holds me on edge, mentally screaming to cum, and fighting my mind to not cum-- that he will give me permission when he is ready... He may not even let me cum, but I have to be on edge for him since he wishes me to be.

He stops stroking again.

I have my eyes closed.

I am fighting myself, my will versus his will, to let his will win over me.

I let go, again, and let his will flow through me.

I can sense his breath near me.

His breathing, so pleasurable to hear, to know he is still with me. He lets me go down from the edge. He calmly and kindly talks to me.

"That's a good boy. You only have a little left to go through. I trust you to be able to handle it. You can do it. You just have one more. You don't cum, and I'll be not only proud of you, but I'll even suck you off and let you cum in my mouth..." he trails off to quietness and I feel my strength return.

My mind jumps and I am hopeful. It gives me the motivation and self-power to do it. My Master gave me a motivational speech. He cares for me. He wants me to succeed, and he'll reward me... I know I can make it, with his words.

I redouble my efforts as he goes to work on my cock once more... He has to get me just a bit further. He starts slowly, and begins to slowly increase his speed...

A little faster every two or three strokes... I can feel my orgasm building up to an edge... I can be so close... I fight it with all my strength...

I can hold it off... He keeps speeding up. I'm going to have to work harder to fight it. Just a little longer. I put more energy forth, and he begins going faster... He's got a speedy, light stroke on me...

Then he grips it with his full hand and strokes. I choke. I quickly exhale and try to gasp and breathe in through my nose. I put more energy forth into resisting. I can feel myself... 97%... More energy... But I hold the 97% barely...

He grasps hard and begins forcefull stroking. I put all my energy into fighting. Surely, he's near ending. I lose ground. It pushes to 98%...

I feel my cum rising. It gives me a surge to fight back, but he strokes harder...

He leans over and I hear his breathing into my ear... He whipsers, "You can do it..."

He pauses for a moment, not letting up... I fight as much as I possibly can. Just a moment longer, right? All my energies go into it and I fight... My cum is almost there, and I need to stop it...

I lose ground as I hear him breathe hotly into my ear; 99%. My mind is screaming for him to finish and stop.

"Don't..." he exhales, with another hard stroke on my ready-to- explode dick, "cum." He lightly moans.

I whimper...

I cum.

I shoot all over myself. Ribbons of hot jizz fly over my chest, landing on my face and my chest... He hand gets covered in my hot, dirty, little-boy load...

His hard stroking doesn't stop, rubbing over my glans with each stroke, making my orgasm that much more powerful each time he does it.

I whimper more in frustration at being so unable to hold off from cumming, as I prepare for his punishment. I knew what it meant to cum.

"You just couldn't help yourself." He tsks.

He puts on his mocking yet serious attitude.

"You just go and shoot off without any permission..."

He continues stroking me, harder... orgasm unsubsiding...

"And cover my hand in jizz," he switches them without missing a beat as he said it, holding it up for me to see.

"And you failed the test."

He strokes me upside-down with his left hand, as my orgasm subsides, and my glans becomes sensitive with every stroke... He knows this -- his stroke couldn't be better for torturing me...

He scoops up some cum off my chest, as I begin to writhe from his stroking.

He removes my gag and sticks his hand in, and I clean it off as quickyl and thoroughly as possible, as it becomes harder and harder to focus on anything but his stroking on my dick.

He cleans my chest and face of cum over the next few hand-loads and I am gritting my teeth when his hand isn't in my mouth, and I am cleaning it.

He is satisfied and then goes to work, polishing the apple of my dick as I begin to be no longer able to take it... A few palm-circles on it and I am gagged and beginning to form a scream at the back of my throat, trying to resist the pain... Fighting...

--

I wake up from my dream.

It's morning. The sun is shining brightly into my room, right onto my face. My alarm is going off.

It's time for school...

And my pants are wet. I came in the night... did I never finish stroking off? What happened? That was the most intense wet dream I've ever had...

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