Chapter 1 - Machine Learning
I was sitting in a chair, fully naked, as my friend and co-worker Eli slid my dick into a machine designed to edge me. Eli and I were grad students, working in a psychology and neuroscience lab. We were studying the brain in different states, and one of particular interest to us and our advisor was what happened in the brain as one approached orgasm. Of course, measuring someone’s brain as they’re about to cum is hard for a number of reasons - many we wouldn’t be able to solve with this device - but one we hoped we could: it is surprisingly hard to keep someone on the edge of orgasm long enough to get substantial data.
Eli had a knack for computers and coding, and a particular interest in machine learning. I had no shame and a willingness to try new things, so together we made the perfect team to create and test out a machine that would keep a man on the edge for as long as a researcher needed. And so, here in the lab, late one night, Eli slides my dick into a machine that looks and feels like a penis pump with a velcro strap that runs along my waist and between my legs to keep it affixed to me while it jacks me off. He puts the sensors on my forehead and walks over to his computer to start the first test run.
“You ready Anthony?”
“Yes Sir!” I smile. Eli rolls his eyes and goes red in the face. He’s been acting very clinical and professional, overcompensating for how awkward he feels. Which I can understand, it is a little bit awkward getting jacked off in front of a coworker and friend. He clicks the mouse and the machine begins, slowly gliding up and down my cock while I sit there in the chair. Call me a freak but it doesn’t take long for me to get hard. Eli’s eyes are tactically pinned to his screen. He doesn’t really acknowledge me, save for an occasional “you good dude?”. And fuck, I am. I’ve always been pretty quick to cum, and the edging machine brings me close to the edge very fast.
No doubt responding to whatever signals are coming from my brain, it tries to slow down. I also try to stop myself, but it's too late, and I cum involuntarily.
I stifle any noise my body tells me to make, not really for my own ego but more to save Eli any embarrassment. Eli is merciful and stops the machine and then helps me get unstrapped from the velcro harness.
“Sorry dude”, I say, cleaning myself off, “I know that wasn’t what we were hoping for”
“No worries,” Eli says, “It’s part of the process. The software is teaching itself, calibrating to your body, and it's doing it with trial and error and a fuck-ton of linear algebra. We just need to do this enough that it figures out your body and brain.”
No complaints on my end. For the next few nights we meet, and I help calibrate the edging machine. The second and third day I last even shorter than the first. After that though, the learning-algorithm gets on the right course. On day four I lasted 15 minutes, nearly twice as long as the first night. On night five it takes me 23 minutes to cum. That night, I can’t help but thrust my hips and moan as the machine brings me over the edge. Thankfully by that time Eli has gotten a bit more chill about everything. He lost a lot of his awkwardness as the week went on; we’d chat while I was getting edged, and he’d even playfully raz me a bit. As I sat there, taking deep breaths after the machine pumped a load out of me, Eli actually came over and cleaned me off. Which somehow felt more intimate than anything else that had happened in this week of getting an a.i. handjob.
We took a break from work on Friday and Saturday. I was surprised when he called me up on Sunday not for work reasons, but just to go see a movie. We’d been close in the lab but hadn’t really hung out one-on-one. It was nice. Not awkward at all, which was good because the next week the pilot study was going to require us to get a lot closer.
On Monday night, as I sat there in the chair, I realized very quickly the machine had figured me out. It brought me to the edge and then stopped, over and over. Any semblance of professionalism melted away as I rocked and thrusted in the chair. But the machine knew when I was getting close and slowed down. Every time. Without fail. It was excruciating, I needed to cum. I moaned and whimpered. I caught a glimpse of Eli chuckling to himself. I didn't care. I didn’t care about anything. I had to be coming up on an hour of perfect, relentless edging. I grabbed the machine and started manually jacking myself off with it.
It only took a few strokes before I shot my load. I shook and shuttered, and sunk back into the chair.
"Fuck." I was shaking. Slouched back in the chair. Sweaty and spent.
Eli came over and helped me out of the machine.
"That looked pretty intense Anthony," he said "are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah dude," I slowly regained composure, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have grabbed the thing. I just, I needed to you know-"
"No worries," Eli said, "it was kinda fun to watch honestly. You're cute when you're so desperate."
I thought about that sentence for the next few days. We'd always had good rapport in the lab, but that seemed like a bit more than a coworker thing to say. Granted, nothing about being naked and edged nightly is a traditional coworker thing, but still. We were getting closer.
We skipped a few days because of other commitments. I returned to the lab later that week a little unsure of where to go from here. We still needed to test the machine, and to get really good data we needed a person on edge for a few hours. The problem was I would 'end the study' long before that.
Eli had a solution.
"Let me tie you up," he said, "last time the test only ended because you caved and grabbed the device. If your hands were tied you couldn't do that. You'd have to endure the full duration."
"Eli you're a freak" I smiled. I wasn't against it. Like, I trusted Eli, and call it the effect of near daily edging sessions but I was starting to find myself into the whole situation and the cute, shy nerd who experimented on me. I was a bit nervous, the last edging had been brutal, and with no way to stop it I had no idea how long I'd have to endure the erotic torture. But that was also kind of exciting.
"I'm down," I said, "tie me down!"
I held my hands out, in front of me. I think expecting rope or tape or something. I'd never been tied up before, I'd only ever seen it in cowboy movies and old superhero cartoons that in hindsight I probably enjoyed too much. Instead of rope, Eli came over with leather cuffs.
"I did some research," he said, leave it to Eli to make bondage nerdy "leather cuffs are safer for beginners. I don't know how to use rope effectively yet."
His cuffs were comfortable, and fit snug around my wrists. They had a little belt-like buckle. Eli checked my circulation and comfort.
"Remember, you can always end the study" he said "these just stop an automatic physical response. Say ‘red’ if you need the test to end."
I nodded. He led me over to the cushioned chair we'd been using. Before I sat down he walked behind me, gently led my arms behind my back, and clipped them together with a small carabiner.
It was a strange feeling -a very hot feeling- being naked and tied up. My arms pulled back, giving up control to this man I trusted. This man that was about to torture me in the name of science. At least that's what we told ourselves - that it was for science. It felt a little more personal now, a little more extracurricular. He reached down and grabbed my balls, I leaned my naked body against him and instinctively arched my back out. He grabbed my cuffed hands and pulled me flush against himself. I reached around as much as the cuffs would let me and tried to grab his cock through his jeans, but he pulled my hands away.
"Anthony," he smiled, turning me around and sitting me in the chair, "we have work to do, save that for later."
The edging began. Once again the machine was perfect, bringing me to the edge again and again. Never letting me cum. At first, the cuffs did their job. When my need to cum got too strong, my hands being linked behind my back would give me just enough pause to grit and keep baring it. It was simultaneously wonderful and horrible. It felt so good, but I desperately needed to cum. It was maddening, I was shaking and thrusting in the chair. I moaned and whimpered, I may have even let out a quiet "please". I didn't care. I couldn't help it.
Eventually, though, my body and the cuffs betrayed me. They were only connected by a simple carabiner. I fumbled with my hand until I could reach it. I unhooked the carabiner, brought my cuffed but disconnected hands around front, and brought myself over the edge. I went limp in the chair, closed my eyes, and took long relieved breaths.
"Eli I -" he stopped me before I could finish. He grabbed my hair and kissed me deeply. I reached around and grabbed his ass. I tried to stand but my legs were weak. He pulled back, held my chin up with his hand, and looked me in the eye.
"Looks like I'll need to secure you a little better next time," he said.
I smiled, a big mischievous and eager smile. I liked where this study was going.
* * *
The next day he cuffed me behind my back with a padlock. He dangled the key in front of me as he walked back to his computer. Once again the edging machine did its job. And once again the cuffs failed to restrain me. I couldn't undo the padlock that connected them, but the cuffs themselves were only secured with a simple belt buckle, something I could pretty easily undo even with my hands tied.The next day he ditched the cuffs. This time he duct taped my hands behind my back. As the machine edged me, I wiggled and writhed to get out of the tape. Eventually I was able to pull and twist my arms enough that the tape was loosened to the point I could slide a hand out.
The next day he tried rope.
"I thought you said it wasn't safe," I asked. "That you didn't know how to use it?"
"I've been reading some stuff online," he said, "plus everyone's gotta start somewhere, and you're a great test subject".
He bound my hands with a double column tie. It wasn't very good. I broke out pretty quick. The next day it was a little better. But I was still out in 20 minutes. The past couple days I'd begun my escape attempts earlier and earlier, long before my body forced me to. I told myself I did it because, given enough time if I could escape I would, and so it made sense to escape sooner rather than later. But really, I was just enjoying it. I liked being tied up and trying to break out. The hottest part of bondage were those first few minutes when I didn't know if I could get free. Once I found a weakness, it wasn't bondage anymore.
Thankfully, Eli seemed to be enjoying the process as well.
The next day he tied my hands behind my back, and with the extra rope tied a chest harness. He sat me down, and used another rope to secure me to the chair. Then he came to my ankles and tied them up as well.
I tested the bonds, I couldn't move my hands much, and being secured to the chair made it hard to get much leverage. I struggled for a while, long enough that the edging machine became a torture again. It was so frustrating and so hot, I needed to cum, but I couldn’t. The ropes kept my arms behind me, and forced me to endure. I was a mess, I begged Eli to stop the machine, to untie me, to let me cum. But I never said ‘Red’. After over an hour, I found some slack. I pulled my sweaty hand free, and finally came. I didn’t bother to remove the rest of the ropes securing me, just the one hand needed to get release. Eli came over, ran his hand along my naked body, and played with my nipples as we kissed.
The next day there was a new chair. Gone was the comfy office chair. In its place, a sturdy wooden chair -one of the ones mass produced for dorms- with two solid armrests. I stripped, he strapped the machine to me, and had me sit in the chair.
“I’ve been enjoying our little competition,” he said, “you’ve gotten very good at breaking free. I should have realized sooner I need to keep your hands apart.”
He tied one wrist to one armrest, and the other to the other armrest. I tested the bonds.
“Shit”, my wrists were secure, I couldn’t use one hand to help untie the other. This was going to be tough. Eli moved to my ankles, and tied each one to a different leg of the chair, spreading my legs apart. Then, he tied my body flush against the cushioned back of the chair, making an ‘x’ across my chest with rope that ran behind the chair.
He stepped back, surveying his work. He walked to the computer, turned the machine on, and then came back to me.
I fought the ropes as he walked toward me, not able to get myself free.
“You always have so much fun Anthony,” he said, “I wanted to join you this time. The computer really doesn’t need me.”
As the machine edged me, and the ropes held me down, Eli ran his hands along my body. He played with my nipples, giving them a painful squeeze right as the machine would bring me close and slow back down. He gently held my neck, never choking me, but making me incredibly aware of how powerless and vulnerable I was. He played with my hair while I whimpered and begged him to let me cum. I never said ‘red’, how could I, the whole situation was so hot, he was so hot. I felt like a captured spy, being driven into saying anything my captor wanted me to. I was a kidnapped victim, suffering the sick perversions of a captor that had total control of my body.
After nearly an hour, Eli must have been ready to cum. He pulled down his pants and stood so his hard cock was in my face. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head forward, forcing his cock into my mouth. I sucked his dick, squeezing my bound hands and struggling against the ropes. I’d given plenty of blowjobs before, but this was different. I was being used. I’d pull away to gasp for air, only for him to grab my hair and force me to keep sucking him off. He came in my mouth while I stayed painfully on the edge, and before I could spit it out he covered my mouth with his hand and forced my head back against the chair. I swallowed. He stepped away, tussling my hair and releasing his hand from my jaw.
I expected him to untie me, to turn off the program, to let me cum. But instead he walked over to the desk, and started typing. The bastard was writing a paper. He’d fucked my throat, and left me rigged up to a machine that refused to give me the same release as him. I begged him to let me out, to stop edging me, to come back and use me again. Even if I couldn’t cum I wanted his hands on me, I wanted his cock in me. He ignored my pleas, leaving me to suffer at the hands of a program that neither listened nor cared.
Can't wait to see where you take this
