Black Leather Cops and Revenge – Part 2

By Alex Ironrod © 2021

PART TWO – INITIATION

With my violated and beaten ass and aching arms, I made it back on my bike to my apartment in town. I pulled off my high black boots, stripped off my once shining leathers and took a long hot shower. It didn’t wash away the memory of my rape and I brooded in silence. What could I do alone to get my revenge? How could I get close to the leather-shirted Sergeant Tyrell and learn his tricks and his weaknesses?

Gradually a plan of action emerged. I would join the Highway Patrol and become a motor cop. With luck and careful planning, I could meet Tyrell again and I would take it from there. After all, I knew all about bikes; I’d been riding them for almost ten years, and my three-year military experience should count for something. I gave up my computer sales job and got ready.

I spit-polished my boots until they gleamed, put on a fresh pressed shirt and pants, slung my leather jacket round my shoulders, walked into the nearest Highway Patrol station – and signed on. It was easier than I dared to hope, with my existing background paving the way. Soon after I was called up to the Academy for training.

Being a cadet was harder than expected and I slogged through courses on criminal law and the judicial system, spent hours in weapons training, put my body muscles through hell to meet the physical requirements and spent more time driving HP cruisers rather than bikes. There were about thirty cadets on the course, and I palled around with a bunch of them in what little free time we had. One in particular shared my love of motor bikes. Colin Foreman was a year or so younger and an inch or so shorter, but the rest was pure muscle under a chunky angelic face.

After about a month of training, we were given a weekend pass. Colin suggested that we gear up and blow away the cares of the course with a long ride. So, early on Saturday morning, I rode the Harley round to his apartment. Out came a fellow leather man, dressed in gleaming black from his helmet to his leather jacket, from his slightly flared pants to his knee-high boots, complete with spur straps. I swallowed hard and we hit the highway. It was a clear day, and the ride was exhilarating. I felt the sun warming my leather top and the engine warming my leathered groin and prick.

We stopped for the night in a small motel by the road and lurched our way back to our room after dinner and a few drinks. Colin shrugged off his jacket and stood there, the light reflecting on his leather pants and boots. My treacherous penis began to stir.

“Jim, in case you haven’t guessed, I think it’s only fair to tell you that I’m gay and into the leather scene. I’m keeping it quiet in the Patrol until I graduate. Now, what about you?”, Colin began.

“I don’t know; I don’t think so, but I’m not certain”, I mumbled. “I can tell you’re interested from the wriggling in your pants”, he laughed and drew me into a tight hug. I stood there lost. “Let me help you”, he drew off my shiny jacket and kissed me – first, briefly and then with more passion, pushing his tongue past my reluctant teeth and laving my mouth.

I seemed to respond without thinking, and my tongue went out to tangle with his. “Let’s have another drink”, he suggested, “it will relax you; you’re as tight as a steel coil”. Slowly but surely he started to undress me as we swigged our cold beers, moving us both to the bed. Our pants and boots squeaked together and then he pulled them off.

“You have a great body”, he whispered [and I thanked all those exercise hours]; he slid one hand lightly across my nipples, while the other smoothed my face. My penis grew larger, as his hand explored lower. Cupping my balls in his hand, he tickled and caressed my member and I groaned with pleasure.

“Now I’m going to pleasure you by sucking you to a climax, and then maybe you’ll do the same for me”. I relaxed as his strong mouth swallowed my eager tool. I could feel the tip reach the back of his throat. Lovingly he slid his tongue around it, warming and laving it with his mouth juices. He drew back and let his teeth gently glide over my engorged prick, and then he went to work in earnest.

I was enjoying every minute of Colin’s gentle ministrations, to my surprise – and concern. Had my experience with Sergeant Tyrell changed my sexual persuasion, or had he merely opened the door for me. Suddenly I felt a rush of liquid coming, and I spewed into his mouth a lavish milky way. Colin slurped it all down happily, licked his lip to catch the last drops, unzipped his pants and invited me to perform on his waving 7-inch penis.

“Take it gradually into your mouth, an inch at a time”, he murmured, moving astride me so that his tool could tickle its way to the back of my throat. “Now, relax, and let me explore further”. His snake slid into my throat, and I gagged. “Gently, gently”. He soothed my throat muscles on the outside and I could breathe again. His shining leather pants brushed my face, and his heavy boots clasped my sides, as he moved in and out of my throat and mouth, bringing himself to climax.

At the last minute he withdrew and his cum sprayed across my face and chest in a long white arc. I licked from the stream and like the salty taste. Paul collapsed on me, laughing at how simple it had been for me and how much he had enjoyed it. “I withdrew at the end, because normally I’d wear a rubber for protection and I didn’t have one”, he explained.

“Now we should rest for a while, before we move onto the next stage. I’d like to fuck you tonight, if you’re willing”. He rolled me over. “My God, what are all those bruises on your buttocks?” It had been six weeks and little of Tyrell’s thrashing remained – but enough. I sighed, “I should have told you about my only other experience of man-sex; it wasn’t friendly”.

I told him of my night in the hands of Sergeant Tyrell and Officer Witkowski. Paul was horrified, but even more disturbed by my vaguer plans for revenge on the black -leathered rogue cops. “What are you going to do? How can you take them on by yourself?”, he asked. “I haven’t thought it through yet, but I must, and I mean to, avenge my rape,” I ground out.

“Well, for the moment, let me love you gently tonight, and get some rest”. So I fell asleep in his arms, with our dormant pricks intertwined.

Early next morning, I awoke to find Paul gazing at me intently across the bed. “We don’t need to start back yet, and I want to show you a way we can pleasure each other simultaneously. It’s called 69ing”’ he explained. Carefully he positioned me with my mouth on his now-erect cock, which had climbed out of his leather pants, and he took my more drooping member into his mouth opposite me. “Imagine you’re having ice-cream for breakfast and lick the stick gently but firmly”, he explained.

To my surprise, it worked, and I began to slurp and moan, as he moved his half-leathered body against mine, sliding teeth and tongue against our tumbling tools. I moved in and out as he did, building a rhythm to our sucking. Suddenly I felt him tense, and then his cum shot into my mouth and down my throat. I spluttered and gurgled, as my own climax approached and I released into his eager orifice, as he expertly swallowed. We collapsed on one another, embracing tenderly.

“Well, Jim, for a beginner, you catch on fast. Maybe you’re beginning to see the possibilities of a leather life style after all. And next time, we bring rubbers in case we need protection”, Colin chuckled. I sighed, “ With you, it’s loving, not raping, and I need to think it out for myself”. “Fine, but let me help you”, he offered, “We need to be prudent and careful around the other cadets, as I don’t know if any of the others are gay. Get leathered up, and I’ll race you back to town”.

We didn’t race; I’d grown cautious about speeding on the freeway, but the weekend formed the basis for a growing relationship. We studied together, we shot together on the range, but we were careful to keep any show of a physical relationship to the occasional evening off.

As we approached graduation, those who were keen to become motor officers were allowed to spend time practicing on the bikes and taking care of them. We didn’t have the full uniform, but we were allowed old leather pants and boots to ride in. One day, as I wheeled the bike back into the yard, I heard a voice I well remembered. There, looking smart and sleek was Sergeant Tyrell in full uniform, with his sidekick Witkowski. Their leathers and boots gleamed in the sunlight, as they looked over the new cadets. “That’s the man”, I whispered to Paul, who had followed me in. “I’ve been told he has the best record in the district. I wonder why he’s here”, was the reply. Tyrell walked around us, checking out our buffed bodies and boots; he didn’t recognize me at first. Then he came back and looked me over more closely.

“I know you from somewhere – in those black leathers”, he queried. “Yes, Sergeant, I was your plaything for one night in your basement”. He laughed and pointed me out to Witkowski. “What are you doing here, for fuck’s sake?”.

“Exactly that, sir. You said I’d come back for more, and I’m hoping to join your special team in the Valley district. My mate and I have been getting some useful experience together and I think you could make use of us”. I couldn’t believe I was saying all this, but it was an opportunity not to be missed, and the sergeant seemed amused.

“Well, boy, let’s see you go through your paces at graduation. If you pass, there might be an opening, as the last two recruits failed my personal tests”. Witkowski leered at me, while the sergeant looked Colin over, with an interested gleam. Colin gleamed right back, aware of what was happening. Tyrell spun on his booted heel, “Give me your names and I’ll check it out with your instructors. No promises, mind”.

This encounter added to the tension as graduation approached. There was some relief when we went “shopping” for a regulation motor cycle officer’s black leather jacket and two pair of slightly flared regulation breeches, as well as regular shirts, pants and protective gear. I shot some of my savings on a pair of real custom-built boots and, when they finally arrived, I had to                                                      spend hours spit-polishing and waxing them until they sparkled in the sunlight to my satisfaction.

Finally the day arrived; we marched in formation across the parade ground; we listened to the remarks of the top brass and we received our diplomas. Then a quick change into our new leathers and boots for a series of bike team drills, at which Colin and I excelled ourselves. We were Highway Patrol Motor Officers.

Colin and I were in the garage, cleaning up, when a well-known voice cut through the rumble of engines. “OK, boys”, Tyrell announced, “I’ll give you both a try-out in my station. A week’s duty with an experienced officer, and then an initiation test”.

He walked around us, checking the fit of our new uniforms, his leathers creaking as he moved closer. “It’s my own private test to see if you’re man enough to ride with me”, he smiled as he tousled my hair with his black gloved hand, “Good-looking boots, by the way”. A hard slap on my rump and he was gone.

I exhaled loudly and slumped against my bike. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” Colin asked anxiously. “From your own experience, his could be a rough final test”. “I don’t have any alternative”, I murmured, “how else can I get close to him and get my revenge?”. “Then we better use this free weekend to get you in shape”, Colin suggested “You know what kind of man-sex tests he’ll have in mind for us, and you need to be ready. I need to give you a proper fucking, to open you up again – but I’ll try to be gentle”.

During training, we’d limited our sex encounters to 69ing in loving fashion. That weekend I needed to gain more experience rapidly. We went over to Colin’s apartment, where I knew he kept some simple sex apparatus and “toys”.

After an introductory session of kissing and sucking, Colin turned serious. “I’m going to work your ass over, Jim, but in a kinder fashion. Now, look at me”. He’d changed into full leather uniform, with a leather mask obscuring part of his face. My body reacted swiftly to the gleaming black leather drawn tightly round his robust body with straps and loops. Soon I was naked, except for my knee-high boots and my leather gauntlets.

“I’m going to gag you and tie you down before I begin, as I don’t want the neighbors to complain”. I bit down on the leather gag he pushed into my mouth and moved over to the padded bench at the foot of his bed. As I bent over, he shoved a couple of pillows under my abdomen, to raise up my buttocks, before anchoring my booted feet to the feet of the bench, stretching me out fully and running leather loops round my arms and hands at the other end.

“This is going to hurt – and hurt a lot, but I’ll go as gently and slowly as possible”, Colin warned me, as he doubled the thick belt around his wrist. It whistled through the air ten times and striped my protesting butt, before he was satisfied. “That has made you warm and rosy. Now for some lube – and I’ll slide on a rubber now my prick is properly extended”.

I felt his fingers explore my hole, going in one at a time and smearing me with warmed lube. I struggled on the bench, testing the firm bonds and rubbing my own tool along the leather. One, two, three fingers slid in and out, exploring, warming, testing, before I felt the rubbered tip of his penis replace them. As he had promised, he moved carefully, but inexorably to the sphincter muscle. I moaned through the gag, and his gloved hands caressed my hair and covered mouth.

Four or five inches of his rod went in, pushed past the ring of muscle and then came out again. I suddenly felt the size of Colin’s member, but it was too late now, as he moved in another inch and I moaned in pain. Still further he went until the full seven inches were imbedded in my narrow hole. I was being split open, but, as he moved in and out, I also felt a first tingle of pleasure.

Colin lowered himself onto my back, the buckles of his leather jacket dug into my flesh and his booted legs banged and bucked against mine. His breathing began to rasp and mine followed in return; we groaned as he began to speed up. His rubber-covered prong thrust in and out of my narrow, but lubricated passage. Then, as he approached his climax, he withdrew and ejaculated into the rubber along my back. His gloved hands explored my excited prick, and pulling me slightly, he brought me to a quick gushing release.

He sighed deeply and moved away to his box of toys. “I’m pushing a butt plug into your hole, Jim, to keep it open for the next few hours”. We repeated the fucking and butting a couple of time over the weekend. It still hurt considerably, but I was starting to get used to the feeling of a penis or plug in my ass. I had to be ready for whatever Tyrell had in store for us during the next week. And in between, Colin cradled me in his strong and loving arms, soothing the involuntary shudders and jerks of my battered body.

In fact, our first week at the station started quietly. Colin and I were assigned other officers to ride with on our first shifts during daylight hours. Only in the evenings, as the building quietened down, did the sergeant appear, looking stud-like in his gleaming leather jacket, pants and boots. I don’t think Colin and I looked too bad either, and, after all the physical training, we filled out our uniforms in exactly the right places.

After three uneventful days, we were moved onto night duty and the first evening the sergeant ordered me to accompany him onto the freeway. It was cold, and we zipped our jackets all the way up, over our protection vests. Tyrell moved behind me and rubbed himself against my leather butt, running his gloved hand across my mouth. But that was all. “I’ll wait for the weekend”, he smirked, and we mounted and roared off into the night. The following evening he ,took Colin out and they both came back smiling. I had to do with pats and leers from Witkowski, who took us off the freeway at regular intervals, but only for coffee and food.

Friday night started the same, but Tyrell suddenly announced he wanted to go back to the station for the lunch break. We clattered across the empty building, the metal taps on our boots striking sparks on the metal stairs to the basement. “OK, Barnes, for lunch, I want you to suck me off and then I’m going to butt-plug you for the remainder of the shift, for fun.

On your knees and unzip my breeches. I’m making this easy for you”. And indeed I was grateful. His prick sprang out from its black leather nest, fully engorged, and my tongue brought him to climax in five minutes. I even managed to swallow most of his cum, which seemed to surprise and please him.

“Now, pull down your pants and briefs, while I find a suitable plug for you to lick before I stick it up you”. My saliva was the only lube the plug got before he rammed it up my hole and I groaned loudly. “Let it settle in. Moving around on your bike saddle will give you an extra thrill and ensure it stays home. He was right on both counts. As I swung my booted leg onto my bike and settled into the seat, I could feel it sliding securely into place and it irritated and excited me for the rest of the night. Tyrell laughed at my anguished face, as we rode back on duty. “Wait ‘til tomorrow night, when I initiate you two babies into my stud”.

Saturday evening, we were both told to report in at 18.00 and to make no arrangements for the rest of the weekend. I gritted my teeth; Colin comforted me with strong embraces. We steeled ourselves, pulling on our full uniforms, gloves, glasses and helmets.

The black leather gleamed, as we fell in at 6pm and the sergeant and his subordinate seemed pleased with our turnout and ordered us into the basement playroom. “I’ve made some improvements since you were here last, Barnes, and I want to try them out on the two of you. If you resist, I’ll taser or stun you and you’ll find that more unpleasant. Take your jackets off. OK, Witkowski, join them up”.

At first we stood mute, as the officer pulled us to face one another and pulled off our tee shirts. My gloved hands were cuffed together, then yanked up into the air on a pulley, so that I dangled on my toes. The sergeant did the same for Colin. Then they tied our ankles and then our knees with leather cords, so that we scrambled to keep our balance.

“Leave us alone”, I shouted, as they pulled our penises out of our leather pants, slapped them into action and then bound our pricks together with thin cords, round and round from base to tip.

The sergeant’s reaction to my yells was to grab an inflatable gag and shove it into my mouth, tying it securely round the back of my head and inflating it until I could gurgle no more. For Colin, they produced a rope gag, to slip around his tongue, like a hackamore on a horse, but this forced Colin’s tongue beyond his teeth to his lips before it was secured. This was followed by a half face mask, which blocked his eyes and made his slobbering, violated mouth more vulnerable to me.

“OK, Witkowski, clamp ‘em”, came the order. The officer grabbed my left nipple, rolling and twisting it in his gloved hand, before suddenly opening a metal clamp onto the nub and closing the teeth expertly. My scream was audible even through the black shiny gag; then Colin screamed as he was clamped to the other end of the connecting chain on his right tit. He gurgled through his tied tongue, as his left nipple was aroused and then clamped. I tried to back away as Witkowski came towards me, but that produced paroxysms of pain from the nipples already clamped and from our bound-together pricks, which were trying to grow larger with excitement in their cord prison.

I had to submit and watched as weights were attached to the connecting chains, and Colin gurgled again from the pain, his saliva dripping off his tortured tongue. Suddenly our waists were secured together with a thick belt, and finally our heads were bound together at the necks, leaving me staring into Colin’s leather-masked eyes.

“Lick him”, Tyrell ordered Colin, whose tongue just reached my face. He labored around my leather gag, but tightly bound and without sight, his efforts were largely futile. “Harder”, came the command, as a whip suddenly whistled through the air, catching Colin off balance, so that he lurched into me and then back away, sending agonizing pain through our joined clamped nipples. One of my clamps slid off after the second blow. Witkowski growled, grabbed my right tit and forced the teeth of the clamp even tighter over the wounded nipple.

I could only hiss through the shiny gag and watch my partner swing on the tips of his heavy boots, as the whip creased his back another six times. The knotted edge flicked round onto his chest, drawing bright specks of blood over his ribs.

There was a momentary pause, and then it was my turn. I scrambled to avoid the blows, pulling both of us off balance, as our boots tried to retain a hold on the concrete floor. With our ankles and knees each laced together, it was even more difficult, and the sweat ran down our heated and bound bodies.

Colin’s gurgled screams and harsh breathing mingled with my inaudible groans, as our bodies jerked and humped, our leather pants creaked in unison, our cocks tugged and expanded with desire, and our clamps and chains triggered pain to equal the stripes being laid on my back.

The whipping stopped; our steamy bodies swayed together, and our boots tried to keep a footing on the floor. I mumbled soundless messages to my helpless partner. “Go on, kiss him”, the sergeant ordered me, “You know you want to”, and he forced my shiny covered mouth onto Colin’s rope gag, crushing his tongue against my black leather.

He moaned incoherently. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it”, Tyrell said, and I saw his leather jacket out of the corner of my eye. “We’ll leave you in peace for a little while, while we go out on patrol. But don’t worry, we’ll be back for the real treat”.

With a vicious kick from his leathered leg, he forced our boots off balance, and we hung there desperate to regain our footing, as the steel taps on our boots scrabbled across the concrete. We swung back and forward, our black leather pants creaking, as our bound pricks explored one another, and our tits were stabbed time and again by the teeth clamped across our chests.

With our heads bound tightly together, I could look at Colin, but couldn’t speak, while he could feel me all around him, but could see nothing and his now parched tongue was swelling up as the rope gag bit into it. “How much more can we stand?” I thought, “What is the price I’ll pay for my revenge?”

To be continued …

The author, Alex Ironrod, has granted permission for this story to be posted here. You can find much more from this author at his website — alex-ironrod.com — and on his author page at Amazon.

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