I would have been fascinated by the technology behind the machine currently slurping and spinning on me hadn’t it been for the fact that I knew it wouldn’t let me orgasm. I mean, I was fascinated. The awesome, life-like feel of the warm, fleshy insides and the way it moved in different ways in perfect unison was nothing short of spectacular. As a masturbatory aid, this slick steel tube put any other toys for men to shame. It was cock worship on a biomechanical level, the bumpy, lubed interior massaging, stroking and licking every spot on my cock from tip to base, lavishing me with slow, knowing caresses.


                Blowing my load whilst worked like this would be positively toe-curling, mind boggling pleasure, but as I knew, from Christie’s constant assurances, that the machine would not let me cum no matter what, I wanted it off me as soon as possible. I didn’t want this thing to “learn” me through the pulse of my cock and the pads placed in half a dozen places on my body so that it could keep getting me closer and closer to an orgasm, keeping me in that state just shy of ejaculation before switching off.

                Christie had called it an “edging machine”; a robotic device for orgasm control. I was familiar with the concept. I had tried edging a bit on my own over the years, but I could never take it for long before the urge to orgasm became too great, making me “force” myself to get off right away. Now, however, I wouldn’t be able to do much but take what was thrown at me.

                Tugging on my restraints feebly, not because I was trying to get away but because of the way the machine working my cock made my body tingle all over, I moaned repeatedly with the gag in my mouth, unable to do anything but feel everything that was visited upon me.

                Warm lube kept pouring into the device at a steady, even flow, the excess lubrication spilling out now running down my butt cheeks and asshole to drip onto the sheets, which was also getting moist by the sweat on my back.

                With barely a sound at all, the machine kneaded my poor cock, rushing me towards orgasm for a second time despite moving slowly, deliberately and with mechanical attention to monotony and detail.

                I wanted so badly to empty my balls into the tight insides already, wanting – needing – to feel how an orgasm would be whilst having my cock worked in this way.

                Still between my knees, still alternating between grinning, biting her lip and licking them, Christie’s eyes darted between the machine and my face, one hand stroking my thigh, the fingers of the other gently rubbing against my balls.

                “Oh baby you look so hot right now. Mmm, I’m getting so wet hearing you struggle.”

                She was loving this, and her caresses did not help making me want to spew any less. Despite being kidnapped and subjected to what was essentially mechanical rape, I had never felt this horny before, never quite needed to cum as much as I did now.

                Whilst it seemed a betrayal to women everywhere to think down those lines, a girl’s vagina felt nowhere near as good as this edging machine did. Even if it was a girl I cared for, in a position I enjoyed, hearing her pleasured whimpers from me sinking my shaft all the way into her, it still came nowhere close to the raw sexual enjoyment this machine visited upon me.

                But then, it was a device created solely to feel as good as possible, to make me want to nut in it more than anything, so, surely, it stood to reason that I would feel that it felt beyond incredible.

                Taking me the final stretch towards orgasm, my body tensing all over, I forgot all about Christie’s warning, thinking that this time the machine was going to let me cum. It was no way it couldn’t get me off now that it had taken me so close to the edge.

                Head falling down on the mattress, hands clenching as it felt like my body was trying to pull my limbs towards my centre, restraints or no, I let out a long, ragged sigh as the cunning machine and its warm and slick insides was going to let me ejaculate.

My captor was actually help me get the orgasm she had claimed I wouldn’t receive by stroking my thigh and tickling my balls.

                Almost... There…
                …

                It switched off.

                The spongy, bumpy insides of the machine slacked, withdrawing from my meat, the tube still holding my cock pointing straight up, clamping around the base to keep me from making it move around at all.

                My flushed face came up to verify what was happening. Letting out a long whimper, I tried thrusting into the machine, but got nowhere with that. The promise of an imminent orgasm still lingered in my swollen cock; it merely needed another touch to get off.

                But all I got was Christie’s sexually haughty face, her giggling filling the room.

                “You have no idea how hot you make me,” she panted, leaning down to lick the cylinder, making me whimper again to be so close but still so damned far from relief.

                “That’s two,” she murmured with a smile, counting off the number of edges.

                Then the pleasurable sensations in my cock started to recede, taking with them any chance of a swift climax. My head slumped back and my limbs relaxed, defeated. Unable to keep myself from doing it I let out a long, frustrated moan.

                This was nothing like edging yourself. I hadn’t been able to get myself quite that close to orgasm and be able to stop in time. Moreover, the intense pleasure you felt from the machine, as opposed to your hand, made the edge ten times worse, for the promise of pleasures lost when they were denied you were unfathomably harder to lose.

                “If you are going to make me this horny by not getting an orgasm, I just might never let you get one at all!” my captor stated gleefully, and looking into her smiling blue eyes I feared she was being quite serious.

                “Only two edges in and you are already this frustrated.” She slid her hands up my thighs, past by hipbones to my lower abdominals. Then she put her nails down and scraped them, playfully and gently, down my belly and thighs.

                “Now I am dying to see you on, like, the tenth edge.”

                “Tenth?!” I exclaimed in alarm, but the word came out a muffled “bemph”. Then I yelped in surprise when the machine decided I was ready again, the warm, lubed, fleshy and bumpy sleeve clamping down around my throbbing hardness, resuming its mechanical motions.

                “What? Did you think I am playing games with you with this expensive tech? No, no, no,” she shook her head, grinning. “When we do something together we’ll do it properly. It’s not as though I’ll edge you just a couple times and then move on to something else, oh no.”

She leaned in again, putting her face next to the cylinder, looking at me like she was way past ready to jump my bones to get herself off. “When I want to tease you, you can be sure that I will be teasing you a long, loooooong time…”

She kept my gaze, turning her head slightly to kiss the tip of the machine. “Like… Hours.”

My heart sank at hearing her promises, my cock starting its third journey towards that elusive climax, still feeling incredible, still wanting to fill the tight, bumpy canal with thick hot seed more than anything.

Smiling like the devious bitch she was, Christie turned her head towards the security camera. “Could you turn the TV on for him?” she asked it.

A moment later the flat screen behind her switched on, resuming its POV porn marathon, starting with a chesty blonde girl giving an eccentric titjob.

“You know,” she said, resuming sliding her soft hands up and down my thighs. “You’re my first plaything that is mine. I was an apprentice edger up to a month ago, so I’ve been with a lot of the slavegirls, but they were never mine. And while we’ve been talking about getting a male captive for the past half year or so, I had no idea I would be so lucky as to be your handler, the first handler of Hamilton Industries to have a male pet.”

She cupped my balls after I moaned from the awesome feelings of the machine sucking on me. “I am overjoyed they saw enough potential in me to make me a handler straight  out of my apprenticeship, and to give you to me, no less. Do you know what they told me when they revealed I was to be the male’s handler?”

Of course I didn’t, but I would listen to literally her whole life story if she just would let me cum this one time. My begging expression and pleading moans did nothing but make her wetter and smile broader, it seemed.

“They told me that ‘we haven’t seen somebody with such talent for edging be so pitiless in her sessions since our first edger, Allison’. To be compared to her, a legend in our trade, is nothing short of a true honour. And I can promise you, my little slaveboy, while I may have much to learn yet, I will live up to their expectations.”

I struggled in my restraints. The slow-moving machine was racing me towards the apex once again, making me shudder and moan, making me even more desperate to orgasm.

Suddenly I was at the precipice, again I was at that point where I was no longer in any doubt that I was going to cum. It was going to be a massive climax, and it was going to feel spectacular.

                “That’s it, my hot boy,” Christie cooed, massaging my thighs, the girl on the TV using her boobs to make the male actor splooge on her face. “Hit that edge for me.”

The machine kept me at the edge. I needed to cum more than I needed a heartbeat. My body had transformed to steel in anticipation of the coming climax. I wasn’t aware I was holding my breath, clamping my eyes shut and pulling on my restraints with all my strength, my toes curling and my hands clenching.

It was going to let me cum now. It was taking so long. No way was I not going to cum.

The machine felt like it was getting tighter around my cockhead, like it was focusing more on the tip the closer I got, the bumps circling and rubbing the rim of the cap.

Any second now. Any nanosecond now I was going to cum, I was going to erupt like a volcano and quite possibly pass out from the violent pleasures that would rave through me, and the load I would shoot would risk overflowing the tight cylinder.

Just… any…..
second……
now………………

The machine switched off.

Eyes screwed open, I cried in disbelief and incomprehensible frustration as the cylinder’s interior slacked again. More than life itself, I needed that orgasm. The diabolical machine had no right to take it away! It was impossible that it could hold me at the edge for so long without making me erupt!

Between my trembling legs, Christie was panting with her mouth partially open, her hands groping my inner thighs.

“Oh… fuck…” she moaned, digging her fingers into my thighs, looking like her panties were about to overflow.

“Fuck that’s so hot… And it was just the third one.”

I shook on the bed, yet again trying in vain to break my restraints, trying to move my cock inside the tube. If I could only angle it so that it could rub against the slackened insides, it would be enough to make me explode. If only I could get loose I could overpower my captor and maybe use her to get myself off before I fought my way out.

Once free, I’d get the police to this unholy location as fast as humanly possible.

My desperate manhood pulsed and heaved – it felt like – inside the cylinder, the cock ring feeling like it was pressing harder against me now, although, naturally, it didn’t.

It took a long time for my rod to descend from the peak – it definitely didn’t help that Christie was touching me all over whilst speaking sultry nothings to me, while two Asian girls on-screen gave a lucky cock an oily massage.

When the machine started again, rubbing and sucking on my cock, a sob escaped me, my brain really starting to comprehend that every time it started would result in another denial of pleasure.

Watching me for a minute, dragging her bottom lip through her teeth repeatedly as she tugged on her nipples through her shirt, Christie eventually let out a sigh.

“I don’t want to, believe me, but I have to leave,” she said, regret in her voice. “It’s dinner soon, and while I want to sit here and drool over your struggling and sweet whimpering, I’m actually famished.”

She straddled my leg, and then slid out of bed, careful not to tug on any of the wires connected to the electrodes. Standing next to me, she leaned over to plant a surprisingly tender kiss on my forehead, her boobs pillowing against my upper arm.

“I’ll make up for the time when I get back,” she whispered, almost romantically. “The machine should have learned all it needs from you by then. Just thinking about seeing you kept right at the edge for a few minutes each time makes me want to fuck you so hard and fast right now.”

She pointed with a thumb towards the TV. “At least you won’t be alone! The ladies on the screen will keep you entertained in my absence.”

I tried begging her not to leave, tried imploring her to either get me off or take the machine off me. Despite her being party to my captivity, despite deploring her for what she was doing to me, the prospect of being left all alone with an automatic machine that would keep working me but never letting me orgasm was terrifying.

“Bye-bye, now!” She opened the door, throwing me a kiss. “Please make a loud show of yourself. You’re being filmed, you know!” She pointed to the camera before the door slid shut, locking her and her laughter outside the room, leaving me alone with my whimpering moans as the machine took me towards the fourth edge.
 
***

Part of what made a robot a robot was its uncaring nature, which was part of what made a robot scary. A robot didn’t have emotions, it had programming. It didn’t have opinions on what things it did, it just did them. As such, while it worked with mechanical precision and merciless efficiency, the edging machine did not care that I was begging it to stop.

It didn’t care that it had now edged me five times, being able to keep me right on the brink of orgasm for several seconds longer each time before shutting down, retreating its warm, fleshy walls from my cock the split second before I came.

It felt no sympathy for me as I writhed underneath it, sobbing and pleading for relief, not wanting anything in life as much as I wanted that orgasm it wasn’t giving me.

It knew, using not only the information it learned by itself, but also what it was fed by the electrodes monitoring my body in several places, when I had lost enough sensation to start over again. Getting to that stage took longer and longer after each subsequent edge, the slick insides tightened around the cock again, resuming stroking, pumping and sucking, resuming coating it with lube, resuming making me scream through the gag for mercy.

It felt like my balls were throbbing now as well, pulled as tight up against me as they could be, squeezed as they were between the cock ring and the bottom of the machine.

The TV kept showing me lewd scenes of hot girls looking into the camera as they pleasured cocks until they jetted over or in them, their sexy voices and sultry expressions only adding to my frustrations. Between the monitor and the machine, I felt certain that someone just brushing a finger over my hard nipple would be enough to make me erupt, but being alone in the room – which was scary enough as it was – meant that, of course, I’d get no such relief either.

After the sixth edge, the continuous denials were making me angry. I’d had enough of this game by far already, but now it was beyond everything. I did not care for being restrained and I certainly did not want the fucking machine on my cock anymore as it was clearly not going to do me any favours. Sweating and huffing, I growled at the camera filming me, giving it the stink eyes. I was ready for a confrontation, ready to break the bonds and visit brutal violence upon my captors at this point.

I’d had enough. I was pissed.

And still I sobbed and begged when it finished the next cycle, keeping me on the edge for close to forty-five seconds before shutting off.
 
***

Christie had shuffled off to her private quarters on the floor above the “entertainment rooms” for the slaves to put on a pair of sweatpants and sandals to wear for dinner, to look a little more descent for the others when they were all eating. It was certainly not for any sense of modesty on her part, for part of her job was to expose herself, and as soon as she left her private room she was filmed wherever she went and whatever she did.

She did not live at Hamilton Industries – she had an apartment downtown – but her room on campus was nearly as good as home. It was spacious with an adjacent private bathroom, fully equipped with a washer and a shower. At the wall opposite the entrance was her wide bed – not quite a double bed but wider than a common single bed – under a window that was partially opened to admit fresh air. Two cabinets for several changes of clothes and a bookshelf lined the wall on the right, and on the left, a two-seater couch and a squat coffee table upon which were her laptop, cell phone and a half-empty cup of tea she had not had time to finish earlier in the morning. She had a widescreen TV mounted on the wall next to the door at a perfect height and angle for her to watch whilst on the couch.

The red curtains were pulled away from the window, and the daylight coming through the northwards facing glass was more than enough so that she didn’t have to flick the switch for the lamp in the ceiling.

Whilst she put on the sweatpants and checked her phone for any messages, she grabbed the remote for the TV from her couch and punched in the numbers for the channel where she knew she’d find her new plaything.

He looked so hot and so helpless, struggling against the machine and his restraints, his face not quite deciding whether to lock down a worried, begging or infuriated expression.

Watching him dance on the edge of orgasm when he hit it, fighting the urge to stick her hands down her pants, biting her lip, she switched off the TV just after Jan’s pleading groans came spilling out of the built-in speakers. With a giggle, she threw the remote back on the couch, then replied to her girlfriend Sophia’s text, asking Christie if she would be home today and if she would want something to eat:

Will be home around nine. Am horny as fuck so I suggest you prepare for a wild ride! ;D <3

Putting the phone back down on her table, she left her room, heading for the elevator.

The mess hall was already occupied by around half the HI staff when she arrived. Like most other large business that had its own kitchen to cater to its employees, the mess hall was dominated by several long tables with chairs on either side – most of the tables seating eight people – and a buffet line close to the kitchen. Today’s dinner, as revealed by the weekly menu the kitchen staff put up every Monday, was lasagne with salad and toasted garlic bread. Homemade, of course.

Christie helped herself to a portion, glad that most of the people that were in the mess hall were already eating and not contributing to forming a clogged line to the food, and then grabbed a glass of water with loads of small ice cubes. Next, she headed for one of the tables, one of the short ends of which were against the wall lined by four wide windows, allowing natural light in and a nice view of the skyline out.

Sitting alone at the table closest to the wall, fork in one hand and phone in the other as she ate, was Allison, one of Christie’s closest confidants at Hamilton Industries, and the one colleague she looked up to the most.

She was unremarkably clad in a baggy grey hoodie, grey sweatpants and white sneakers. Her black hair, usually worn in a ponytail and bangs, looked damp, like she had recently showered, and was balled up in a messy bun that didn’t do her beauty much justice. When Christie sat down opposite her, her green eyes flicked up from her phone to meet her. Seeing who it was, Allison put her phone away as Christie put her tray of steaming food down.

“So?” she arched an eyebrow, giving her unofficial protégée a conspiratorial, tight-lipped smile.

“Ohmigod he’s sooo hot!” she let her arms flap onto the table beside her tray for emphasis. “And he whimpers from the slightest little touch on his cock!”

“I saw,” Allison smiled, anybody looking probably mistaking her turned-on expression for arrogance. “And I kept watching for a bit after you left. That machine is really doing a number on him, and it is nowhere near close to keeping him on edge for as long as it can.”
“I know!” Christie was so giddy she had nearly forgotten how hungry she was. “He’s gonna be so much fun.”

“Looks like,” Allison resumed eating, reminding Christie to start. “And he is attractive, I’ll grant you that. Hasn’t got the largest ‘tool’ I’ve seen, but–“

“Big enough,” Christie cut her off, blowing on the piece of lasagne on her fork to cool it off. “Besides, any bigger and we’d soon find ourselves with a limited supply of toys that’d fit him.”

“True,” the black-haired woman offered as Christie decided her meal needed more salt, reaching for the shakers standing on the table. “And we know size isn’t all. Sensitivity, however, is everything.”

“True that, Ally,” said Christie after her next bite, digging into her salad.

Allison gave Christie a puzzled look, accompanied by a curt smile, when the blonde burst out giggling, apparently thinking of something funny, or plotting what she’d do to her new toy. Knowing Christie, it was most likely the latter.

“I am so fucking lucky,” Christie beamed at Ally. “Thank you for pushing through to get us a male captive, and for recommending me to be the handler.”

“Well I know you know your way around a cock,” Allison gave a low, throaty laugh. “Besides, it was not only for your benefit. Edging women and denying them orgasms are fun, but nowhere near as fun as edging men. At the end of the day, most women can shrug off a denied orgasm, because it is just an orgasm. Men, on the other hand, are able to think of little else when you tease them just right.

“So I am quite looking forward to edging Jan for the first time tomorrow. He’ll learn soon enough that, while our machines are quite capable, they won’t come close to the psychological frustration a talented, devoted edger can add to any session.”

“I am looking forward to seeing the live recording,” Christie bit her lip. “I have big plans to be in bed, the volume on the TV on high, and the magic wand vibrator between my legs set to the same. Together we’re gonna make this boy a begging mess!”

Allison smiled, taking a sip of her water. “Yes, we will.”

Being a handler was different from being an edger, they both knew. While Christie aspired to be as talented as Allison when it came to tease and denial – and she had the potential to be as good one day – being a handler meant being more physical with the subject, and at times she would have to let him orgasm in order to strengthen the bond between the slaveboy and his handler, so that his eyes would primarily be for her.

Allison didn’t have to worry about any of that, though. The boy would never see her completely naked, and she would never let him have an orgasm. She would dress scantily to add to the tease and fuel his imagination, but she would never bare her breasts to him nor remove her panties.

The boy – Jan – would soon learn that any time he was handed over to Allison, his brain had a better chance of shooting through his dick than his cum would.

Christie, however, would be expected, at times, to be naked with him, to take a more “hands on” approach with him, for as a handler it was important to give the subject what he wouldn’t get from his edger. That way, the subject would be far more distraught when being handed over to the edger rather than the handler, for the subject knew there would be no chance to get an orgasm from the former no matter how long their sessions were.

At least with their handler, if they behaved, there was a chance, no matter how tiny, that they might get off. This psychological difference in the subject’s mind was important so that the subject would always be in different frames of mind depending on with whom they were with.

“So what are you gonna do to him tomorrow?” the blonde asked, her big blue eyes all but shining anticipation at the master edger.

Ally gave another tight-lipped smile.

“Dear, sweet Christie. You’ll see.”