Craig curiously attends an "edging party" and soon finds his limits extended by group of horny men in this new story from Dixon.
Safe Word - Part 1
by Dixon
It was a usual Friday night, Craig and Tim picking a new bar to wash down another week of sales. Craig was buying, Tim settling into a booth where a couple of their friends sat while Craig went up to the bar to pick up a pitcher. He saw a man pull up beside Craig engaging in conversation.
Neither Bryan nor Caleb knew the guy, but Tim became increasingly concerned he was putting a move on Craig. He was getting animated, using his hands like some Italian hustler.
Craig finally returned with their pitcher of beer, not sliding into his seat before Tim hit him with questions.
“What was that fellow trying to sell you,” he asked, “Some property in Iceland?”
“What?” Craig looked puzzled, unaware Tim had been watching so intently. “He was just being friendly.”
He didn’t volunteer how friendly, or his persistent invitation for Craig to experience edging that would propel his sexual prowess like he couldn’t imagine. Monty and a few of his friends got together every weekend playing around, experimenting with amateur BDSM to get each other off. It was a brazen come on, Monty unaware he had planted the hook with his reference to improving Craig’s prowess.
He had slipped Craig his cell number, telling him to give him a call if he wanted to join in for kicks. Of course, Craig wasn’t going to hook up with a bunch of strangers into bondage. It wasn’t until the middle of the next week that he called Monty, curious if not taking the bait
“No, no man,” Monty assured him, “We’re not a bunch of pervs. Yeah, we restrain each other so you’ll experience a little vulnerability, but you’ll get a safe word to stop anything if you aren’t comfortable.”
“Tell you what,” he added, “I’ll be your sponsor, which will give me the authority to call the shots. Trust me, buddy, the guys respect me and will listen. For starters, you can watch a session with one of the guys.”
It sounded reasonable to watch someone else surrender control, get edged to the point of having an unprecedented ejaculation. He’d have opportunity to size up the guys in this little amateur BDSM club. Monty tugged the line and reeled Craig in for the next Saturday session.
He didn’t tell Tim or anyone else his plans. They’d think he was crazy or insist he take someone along in case those ‘other guys’ were a bunch of sadistic bastards, recruiting suckers as their sex pawns. He considered telling Tim he was meeting some business associate for dinner at the location, but reconsidered, leaving a note on his desk with Monty’s number and the location he had given him. (It didn’t cross his mind that Monty might not be his real name, or that the location was where he’d ask Craig to hop in his car to be transported to some dingy dungeon where he’d be gang raped.)
There was no transport, no dingy location. The guys met in a 4th floor apartment, five of them including the young fellow already restrained, undergoing his session. He looked smug and self-confident, although Craig should have noticed his mouth was sealed with duct tape, unable to utter his safe word if he wanted to.
The session progressed, a second man joining in to pull his genitals out of his jeans, twisting his ball sac down hard to wipe that smug look off his face and get a muffled grunt. His cock went fully erect when they tied off the balls, looping the rope up around his shaft. He tested his restraints, wrangling his bound wrists around trying unsuccessfully to reach his dick.
The two guys prolonged the edging by molesting his nipples, one on each tit, nibbling then biting, sending the guy’s head bobbing backward, his grunting rising in volume. Craig got a boner watching his struggle, expecting him to launch at any second. It was an eternally long fifteen minutes before that happened, the volume of his ejaculate shooting out a good eighteen inches.
He watched the man go limp as the two men untied him, ripping the duct tape off last where he took a deep gasp of air. Craig had to interrupt the proceedings.
“Would you have begged out if you could have shouted out your safe word?”
The guy didn’t answer, stuffing his junk back into his pants. He didn’t volunteer that Monty had conned him into subjecting himself to “a little edging”, or that the rush of that climax would subject him to future sessions.
Jacob, the tenant of the apartment, saw the new fish flopping around the edge of the net.
“Duct tape doesn’t mean we don’t know when a man has reached his limits. We can translate those grunts and a man’s body language to back off before he strips a gear or strains a muscle.”
Monty added that duct tape was simply insurance that a newbie didn’t put up a fuss that attracted attention from the neighbors. Craig would have to admit that first-timers might be nervous and anxious, ready to bail because they panicked just losing control of their bodies.
Bernie started to add to the mix, Monty giving him a non-verbal signal not to say too much to spook Craig. He didn’t say that every subject got some kind of gag, depending on the group’s assessment of how quick they might be to halt the session. None of the guys wanted Bernie to start recounting the sessions they all talked about long after the recruit had experienced their experiments with bondage, escalating to pure S&M.
A duct tape gag had kept macho Mason as they dubbed the gullible athlete, from halting his session when he figured out he was being set up to be fucked. They had him prone, peeling down his underwear, not groping his groin but slapping his fleshy buttocks.
Mason did try to grunt out “Enough”, the safe word they had given him, but when it didn’t halt hands on his ass, he flashed the ‘fuck you” middle finger.
It was Monty who translated that gesture as his consent to be fucked. “He want’s it,” he concluded, the first to climb up and mount him, generating a litany of unintelligible verbal sounds. Two others took sloppy seconds and thirds, the gang bang knocking out Mason’s involuntary emission of his wad. The group had a very broad definition of edging. Mason had simply provoked them with his defiance, becoming a new member of the versatile club. It wouldn’t be the last time he edged out a load on a dick.
They could have tried to convince Craig that the duct tape gags weren’t prohibitive of a subject begging out. There were the premature ejaculations, guys so revved up by the restraints that the crew didn’t even get started with abuse or molestation. There were disappointing boy toys who looked like studs but had tiny dicks that challenged the CBT experts, and surprisingly well-endowed recruits who seemed to relish sustaining a raging boner, humming instead of growling beneath the gag. They still talked about having to improvise using a sounding rod on Rico to clean his pipes. A short jab only made his shaft veins bulge out against the encircling rope; he only erupted when they pulled out the depth charge.
One of Jacob’s favorite stories was how one tough young recruit had mastered the pain of nipple clamps. He whined when they first clamped them on, bucking his chest up like a horse trying to throw off a saddle. His taped mouth squealed until Jacob taped the chain holding the clamps up taut to his jaw. He wrapped a second layer of tape around his head, his nipples tugged up half an inch from his chest.
The whining subsided, the kid numbed by the constant pinching. Within a few minutes he started thrusting out his chin, tugging to revive feeling in his nubs. Funny, he started humming what Jacob later called the tit tune. The subject advanced to suction cups to get his tits enlarged where the slightest nuzzling got his boner bouncing.
The crew gave minimal assistance, letting the punk edge himself jerking his nubs with a steady rhythm. An occasional slap against his waiving erection knocked it forward, the kid arching his pelvis up trying to get the head to make contact with his abs. Any touch of that throbbing knob would have achieved the eruption the recruit wanted desperately, the numbness in his tits defying that he’d jerked them as hard as his cock.
He set the edging record before his deep groan celebrated his unprecedented eruption, a hands-free ejaculation with his balls sucked up leaving his scrotum a fold of excess flesh. The groan ebbed as the cock fell down limply curled over his groin, unresponsive to Monty’s gentle stroking to force out the last drops of churned butter cream.
The edging Craig had observed was kid’s stuff compared to the tit tune symphony Macho Mason’s gang bang core assault. Bernie edged up beside Craig, gripping his left arm above the elbow, concerned that the new recruit was waffling about having the crew edge him. Craig tensed, trying to pull away, when Monty stepped in on the right, gripping his right arm.
“Come on guys, back off,” Craig said.
“What safe word would you like to use,” Monty responded.
Craig bristled, flexing his muscled biceps, challenging being double-teamed. Bernie slid behind him, drawing both arms back while Monty ran both hands down Craigs arching chest.
“What fucking difference does having a safe word matter if I’m gagged with duct tape,” Craig protested.
“Maybe you’d prefer a ball gag, you know something to chomp down on if it gets too rough, where you can still mutter out that order for us to stop,” Monty insisted.
Bernie chuckled, remembering Andy’s frantic muttering when he attached his ball gag, the safe word ‘enough’ sounding like ‘get rough.” When he got the gag cinched in tight Andy’s tongue folded down behind it, his teeth locked against the hard rubber preventing any chance of muttered expression. Andy would chomp down on that rubber ball, his bottom teeth cutting in as he felt the surging pressure of his cum surging past the tight noose around his nuts when Jacob finger-fucked his asshole. There was no muttering, only the gasp of him sucking air as he experienced a painful climax. The amateur bondage crew decided that edging was only painful if the subject fought to keep control, defying being restrained. They learned to pace the process, soothing the subject to reduce his anxiety, using the pain/pleasure principle instead of just forced milking. Bondage discipline won out over sadism.
Monty wasn’t thinking about Andy’s session when he mentioned a ball gag instead of duct tape. He was just stalling Craig from bolting. Jacob would come up behind him, silencing him from making excuses by wrapping three rounds of duct tape around his wildly rolling head.
The three men wrestled Craig to the floor where they stripped off his shirt and tied his wrists behind his back. Bernie unbuckled his jeans and couldn’t resist groping the fabric of his jock strap, curling his palm under to squeeze Craig’s trapped balls.
“Well Monty,” Jacob interjected, “You recruited this chunk of fresh meat. How you want him?”
Ready or not, Craig’s edging session had begun.
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