Black Leather Cops and Revenge – Part 1

By Alex Ironrod © 2021

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form


Hi, my name is Jim, Jim Barnes. I used to be Highway Patrol Motorcycle Officer # 3758, Barnes J, but now I’m on the run. On the run from a blackhearted, black-leathered HP Sergeant, who tricked me and raped me and on whom I had my revenge. In case he catches up with me, I want to tell my side of the story. So here goes.

I heard the siren and saw the flashing lights too late. I’d had a few beers with friends after work, before zipping up my leathers and climbing onto the Harley. It was a cool spring night as I turned onto the freeway. The warmth of the engine warmed my balls and prick, as I clamped my knee-high black boots to the bike. Down came the visor; up went the speed and my body responded to the vibration of the machine. My penis expanded, seeking release from my tight leather pants.

Two Highway Patrol motorcycles were following me, as I slid into the slow lane, looking for a place to stop. One bike and officer overtook me, signaling for me to take the nearby exit; the other followed closely behind. From my military days, I knew there was no point in not obeying.

As I took the exit, I found we were out in the country, further from town than I’d realized. The first bike had stopped at the bottom of the slope and a tall figure in black leathers swung off the saddle. His six-foot frame was impressive as he came towards me, black leather jacket and slightly flared breeches tucked into high black boots. His face was in shadow under the white helmet, with the single street light reflecting on his plain glass shades. “Do you know how fast you were going, sir?”, a gravelly voice asked “I’m sorry, officer. It’s a new bike and I wanted to open her up” I countered. “License and registration please. Turn off the engine and come over to me, sir”.

I reached for the wallet chained to my pants, when I felt movement behind me. I’d forgotten the second officer, who grabbed my arms from behind; our leathers creaked together as he hustled me forward into the light spill and helped himself to my wallet. “Pat him down, Jake “ came the order from the first officer, “check for alcohol and drugs”.

Officer Jake was even taller and built like a brick wall. His gloved hands patted me from the chest down, slowing as he reached my groin, where my hard-on betrayed me. “Hey, Sarge, I’ve got a live one here, with a real rod poking out”. The sergeant, who’d been looking over my papers, came up to me, smiling, and checked my breath. “I thought so. We’ll need to do a breathalyzer test at the station. Mount up and come with us, sir. Don’t try any tricks, as I’ve got your license right here in my hand.”

There was nothing for it but to ride along with them a couple of miles along a quiet road, until the sergeant turned into a small Highway Patrol complex. It seemed deserted at this time of night, one cruiser in the parking lot and a couple of lights in the building, as our boots crunched across the gravel. Our black leather clad figures cast giant shadows when I followed the sergeant into a empty office.

“Take your helmet and jacket off,” he commanded, “and let’s get a look at you”. At 6’ and 210 pounds, I’m not in bad physical shape for my early-twenties, and I keep my blonde hair short for ease of biking. “I’m Sergeant Tyrell, and this is Officer Witkowski – and I see you still have your hard-on. Why is that? Do you like the look of us – or our outfits?”

Indeed, they both filled out their gleaming leather uniforms very smoothly and I noticed that Witkowski seemed to be more than filling, even twitching in the front of his breeches. “Follow me downstairs with your stuff”, he continued. I was puzzled – where was the breathalyzer testing equipment, but I did as I was told, shivering in my tee shirt as we marched downstairs, high boots clanking on the metal rails.

I stopped at the entrance to a dim basement room, until Witkowski shoved me inside. “This is my playroom”, smiled Tyrell, “and we’re going to play with you. What do you know about man-sex?”. “I’ve done nothing seriously wrong to deserve this, and, no, I’m not interested in same sex play”. “Well, now’s the time to start. Your prick is giving you away”.

And it was true; for someone with no previous experience of gay sex, my penis was excited, squirming to get out of my pants. Was it the tight black leather uniforms, the helmet and glasses that darkened in the lights, giving Tyrell’s square jaw a more threatening look. Or was it the room, with chains suspended from walls and ceiling, ropes coiled on an old bed, beams dividing the space and an open cupboard with whips and other strange leather objects?

“OK, Witkowski, cuff him and undress him”. The handcuffs had snaked round my wrists before I realized what was happening. As they locked, my arms were jerked up over my head, attached to a chain from the roof. “Hey, what are you fuckers trying to do. Help, help”, I shouted at the top of my lungs. Tyrell laughed “Shout away; no-one will hear you; you’re mine until morning”. As Witkowski moved round front to grab my leg, I lashed out with my heavy boot. “OK, you want to play rough. So can I.” I kicked and yelled, but the officer was too strong when I was off-balance. One booted foot was yanked sideways and roped to a ring in the floor; then the other pulled out and lashed down.

I was hopping mad, but helpless. Tyrell stood in front of me, yanking at my belt, and then unzipping and pulling down my pants to my knees. “For tonight, we’ll manage with you this way. Cut off his tee shirt and boxers and let’s see the prick”. Witkowski obeyed and I hung defenseless, as Tyrell picked out a riding crop and tickled my expanding organ. “Not bad”, he grunted, coming right up to me, kissing me full on the mouth, forcing himself between my lips.

His gloved hands ran through my hair, moving to my back and down to my asshole, as his leather chest and pants entwined me. I could feel his own hard-on; he moved to unzip his pants and a healthy 7” penis sprang into view. “You don’t look bad for a beginner. But it’s time to begin our lessons. Officer- hang him high”. I heard the officer’s leathers creak, as he pulled my arms higher; I tried to struggle, but Tyrell held me in his powerful leather grip.

Then he moved away to the open cupboard. “A first whipping to get you warm and compliant”, sneered the sergeant, bringing out a long thin cane and sliding it past my open mouth. “Warm it with your spit and I’ll get to work. Witkowski – get yourself ready”. I twisted in the chain, as the bull-like officer smiled and pulled his tool out of his pants. Its 8” length glittered against the black leather, and I was fascinated, my own member surging forward against my will.

The crack of the cane and a stinging pain across my buttocks brought me back to reality. Two more strokes followed in rapid succession, as I yelled and wriggled and cursed. Then the sergeant gave me ten of the best, while his officer held my head in one of his gloved hands and tweaked my nipples with the other. His giant erection bounced against mine, as I tried to evade the blows.

“Now that should have you warm enough, and your ass is nicely red. I didn’t really break the skin in too many places this time, as I want to break your cherry ass-hole and give you your first man-fuck myself”. Tyrell stayed behind me, his gloved fingers exploring my aroused hole. One finger went in, moving around, feeling for the sphincter muscle, smearing my ass with some lube on his glove.

A second digit followed as I groaned – partly in pain, but partly in a shudder of pleasure. “I’ll take it easy the first time”, Tyrell whispered in my ear, his leather boots banging against mine, still anchored to the floor. The fingers were withdrawn; a harder piston was inserted slowly as he worked his prick into my virgin hole, gradually moving his creaking leathers against my writhing body. I strained against the ropes and chain that held me, but his penis warmth and the caning I’d been given eased his way to my sphincter. He pushed his member forward and I screamed as the pain hammered through me. I was being torn apart, but he broke through the ring and then withdrew. Then came again harder, driving his penis further in by inches, ignoring my cries, but now holding my twisting, sweaty body in his strong leather grip.

Further and further his member slid into my aching chute, as I caught my ragged breath in the endless pain. Finally I could feel his bush and his balls at my ass, as his gloved fingers moved round my chest to pull on my nipples. I moaned and struggled uselessly, but he laughed triumphantly, as he reared and plunged in my narrow hole.

Witkowski watched from the front, playing alternately with his purpling member and my dancing prick and breathing more heavily as the rape went on. Suddenly Tyrell shouted; I could feel his balls tighten and a gush of hot sperm invaded my body. My own rebellious prick tightened in turn and a spray of cum shot out, some landing on Witkowski’s gleaming tall black boot.

Tyrell pulled out and slapped my butt. “Not bad for a first fucking, but you broke the rules by cumming without permission. Now it’s Officer Witkowski’s turn. You can begin by licking his boot clean and then sucking his cock”.

“I don’t know how, and I don’t want to learn”, I spat out. “We’ll see about that”, and, as Witkowski lowered my aching arms, Tyrell grabbed my prick and gave it a vicious twist, forcing me to my knees in a grotesque position with my still roped boots. From his other hand came a length of thin leather cord which he wrapped around my penis, yanking it downward and attaching the end to my booted ankle.

I was effectively hobbled and Witkowski simply stood in front of me, moving his boot towards my mouth. They forced me to kiss and then lick my cum from that black polished boot until its mirrored surface returned. His engorged penis swam into view, as the officer grabbed my head by the ears and drew my reluctant mouth to kiss the pre-cum leaking from him. I kept my teeth closed, but Witkowski simply took his hands from my ears, grabbed my hair and my nose, and his member was in my mouth as I drew my next breath.

Tyrell knelt behind me, his creaking leather jacket warm against my back, his hands on my tool again. “Suck, my young student, coat his prick with your mouth’s juices and rub your tongue along his ridge. If you try to bite him, I’ll mangle your own penis”. And he twisted the leather cord to prove it. I groaned, furious but helpless, as more of the monstrous member invaded my mouth. I was gagging as it pressed on to my throat and couldn’t catch enough air to breathe.

“Easy, Officer, this is a virgin mouth. You’ll have to go gently”, ordered the sergeant from behind, tweaking my tits. I tried, God knows I tried, licking and sucking as best I could. Fortunately, Witkowski was so excited and ready that he came in my mouth in a couple of minutes. The cum flowed in all directions, some down my throat, some tickled out of my mouth and onto my sweating chest.

“You’ll have to do better than that next time and swallow it all”, said Tyrell. “What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” I spluttered. “I’ll see to that, my toasty virgin” he replied. “Now we have to go back on patrol, so we’ll get you ready”.

With that, he untied the penis cord from around my ankle and lashed it round my neck, so that my quivering prick was instantly awake again. Witkowski raised my aching arms back above my head, as Tyrell waved a long gleaming black dildo in front of me. “We want to keep you open, so this goes in now”, he grunted, and I groaned as it slide partway into my reluctant ass chute, which stretched to receive its new torment.

“I don’t want you shouting when I’m not around”, said the sergeant, ramming a ball gag into my surprised mouth, shoving it in and cruelly tightening the strap round my head. “There now, my not-so-virgin apprentice, you’ll do for the present”. They both straightened their uniforms, zipping up their pants, patting and pinching me as I wriggled helplessly. I heard the squeaking of their leathers, the clanking of their boot taps on the stairs, as they laughingly left me in the basement gloom.

I must have dozed off, but suddenly I heard the roar of bikes and then their voices above me. Tyrell burst into the room. “A good night’s work; we were able to rough up a couple of drunks and to piss all over them. Now I’m feeling randy again and need another fuck before I turn you loose. We need to keep this one quieter and quicker, as it’s almost dawn”.

He untied my booted ankles, but I was too tired to struggle. Leaving my arms up in the air and my leathers around my knees, he dragged over a padded sawhorse and draped me over it, ass up, prick down, anchoring my boots tightly to the sides with leather straps. “Imagine you’re back on your bike, speeding ahead, while I give you a few more strokes to liven things up”. The ball gag muffled my moans, as he thrashed me again, and then, without warmup or lube, yanked the dildo out of my ass and shoved his penis straight in.

I tried to close up the narrow hole, but he kept pushing, rocking his member up my chute and climbing onto my back. I was raw and enflamed, but Tyrell didn’t care. I was there as his plaything, and my whimpering couldn’t be heard round the gag. He bounced up and down, sliding his penis partway out and then back in, and building up the tempo for his enjoyment.

My treacherous prick also responded, crushed beneath me on the sawhorse. Finally he came with a triumphant roar. His cum shot down my hole again and left me feeling totally used and abused. Tyrell untied the straps and chains and invited me to stand up. I couldn’t do it, so he grabbed me by my short hair and pulled me up on my quaking knees.

“You’ve got two minutes to pull your leathers back on, grab your helmet and get out of here. Of course, I won’t be surprised in the future to find you loitering on the freeway, waiting for more lessons. You may be new to man-sex, but your body betrays you. Come and ask for me here most evenings; Grant Tyrell is the name – Sergeant Tyrell to you. Oh, and don’t try to complain to the authorities. We videotaped the session – your face in closeup and recognizable, we as dark shining uniforms – and I’ll send copies to your employer and your family. Yes, I got the details from your wallet. Here it is; now get out”.

I staggered up the stairs; my boots felt like lead and my pants stuck to me in front and behind. Witkowski grinned at me in the office, twirling my bike keys on his gloved finger and slapped my ass in passing. I made it to the Harley in the yard, managed to swing into the saddle, but my butt was still hot and stinging as I tried to sit down.

As I tooled towards the freeway, my temper began to rise. I was damned if I was going to come back to the sergeant, and I began to think about how to revenge myself on these black leathered bastard cops. My prick must have heard me, as it wiggled in my leathers – to remind me that it had enjoyed some of the activity. But I wouldn’t let them get away with my rape. There had to be a way of getting back at them. And a voice whispered, “If you can’t beat ‘em, then join ‘em”.

To be continued …

Metal would like to thank the author, Alex Ironrod, for this story, which is posted here with his permission.

Find much more from this author at his website — — and on his author page at Amazon.


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