Several weeks passed. Clark found himself surfing more and more and built up quite a collection of photographs of men in severe steel bondage. At night, he often lay in bed, thinking of how it had felt to be helpless in restraint – and of Vickers and his threat (promise?) of a longer test next time. He still approached his work in the same way, though several times he found himself ruminatively running his hands over the sets of prisoner transport chains and wishing they were heavier. On one of these occasions he caught Morrison watching him, and vented his frustration by slamming his baton across the back of Morrison’s knees several times as he escorted him back to his cell.
He had almost given up on Vickers, when he received an email from Arcturus35. It was short, with an attachment. “Interested?” The attachment was a picture of a metal yoke laid out on what Clark recognised as Vickers’ carpet. Clark had seen yokes before, but they did not interest him. The originals were basically a carved wooden bar that went across the back of someone’s neck. Chains or leather straps then secured their neck and hands to the yoke, with the hands stretched out at least 1 foot from the neck. The idea was to keep the person helpless, while still able to move around – and in some cases be used to drag carts or ploughs. Modern versions all seemed to be made of very thin steel. To Clark, they looked more cosmetic than anything else and not for a collector like himself.
The picture Vickers had sent him was very different. The central collar looked to be 2 inches wide and about 1/3 inch thick. Each side of the collar had parallel iron bars that led nearly 2 feet to wrist manacles of the same thickness of the collar. There was also an arrangement of metal plates and chains attached to the collar that Clark could not see the purpose of. Whatever it was, it looked heavy and restrictive and his response was just as simple.
“Yes. How much?”
Vickers responded almost immediately with a price that made Clark blanch. However, this was a truly unique piece and the reaction of his cock in his trousers means he had to have it. He would have to go into his savings for it, but it was worth it.
“Deal. When can I collect?”
“Yes. I can be there in an hour.”
“Good – and remember our deal. Expect to be here for a few hours.”
Clark slipped on a pair of camouflage pants and combat boots and tucked his black t-shirt into the trousers. He grabbed his MA-1 and headed out to his keep. He stopped off at a cash point and arrived at Vickers’ house in less than 20 minutes. Vickers grinned as he opened the door “Damn, you’re keen. Come on in, Mr Clark.”
Vickers led Clark into the front room, where the yoke was still laid out on the floor. It looked even bigger and heavier in person, and Clark could feel his cock stiffening as he looked at it closer.
“Nice design. What’s all the stuff attached to the collar for?”
“Well, I thought as it was designed to be attached to a cart or plough, a harness would mean that the slave could apply their strength properly.”
Clark grunted. The workmanship was excellent. Like the Scavengers Daughter, it was excellently made and anyone locked into it would be unable to escape unaided. “I’ll take it.”
Vickers tutted. “Remember our deal. Only if you get locked into it for a while first. And, I want to take some photographs. I can use them for advertising.”
Clark made to complain, but he really wanted that yoke on him. “Yeah, but nothing showing my face.”
“No problems – I can photo-shop it out.” Clark looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Vickers grinned and held his hands up “So you don’t trust me, OK, OK, I get that. I got a hood you can wear – how about that?”
“Ok, then. So – get yourself stripped down to your waist.”
Clark turned in shock “What?”
“Well a slave wouldn’t be wearing clothes, and I want the pictures to look as authentic as possible. Also, that harness won’t work over clothing.”
Clark couldn’t reject the logic and stripped off his jacket and T-Shirt. Vickers took them and put them to one side, giving a low whistle as he did. “Damn, been working out Mr Clark? You are looking buff.”
Clark glared at Vickers “Can we get on with this?”
Vickers grinned mischievously. “Sure we can – but don’t glare at me like that. Remember, you’re the one wanting to get chained up.” He laughed to make it a joke.
“Ok – get down on your knees and face away from me.” Clark did so and heard Vickers grunt as he lifted the yoke. He moved behind Clark and Clark soon felt the chill of the thick metal pressed against the back of his neck. Vickers adjusted it slightly and the mass of metal and chains pressed against Clark’s chest and upper back and he shivered at the chill of it.
Vickers closed the thick metal collar around Clark’s neck. It was a snug fit, so he was cautious about crushing Clarks Adam’s apple. But he had judged it well and it went on without causing damage. He snapped a heavy padlock around it and then adjusted the attached harness. Moulded metal plates went across the front of each of Clarks shoulder. As he put them in place, Vickers explained that the slave would be able to push against them. They were held in place by a set of chains that linked to steel rings that sat between Clark’s pecs and shoulder blades. He adjusted them, tightening the harness, leaving lengths of chain hanging down Clark’s back, like leading reins. He snapped smaller padlocks on the harness, securing it in place. Clark could feel the weight of it and the way it restricted his movement slightly. He shifted uncomfortably – his cock was rock hard and had caught painfully in his briefs.
Vickers misinterpreted the movement. “Second thoughts? Last chance to change your mind. Once your hands go in, you really can’t get out.” In response, Clark reached out and placed his hands in the wrist restraints. Vickers chuckled and locked them in place with large padlocks, again pleased that he had judged the larger mans wrists correctly.
“Great – you’re all secure.” He helped Clark to his feet and then turned him around to face a mirror. Clark gasped twice – once with relief as his cock sprang free of the painful catch it was in, the second as he saw himself stripped to the waist and locked in the heavy metal yoke.
“Yeah, yeah that looks good,” he gasped, his voice gruffer than normal. “Glad you like it. Right – time for the photographs.”
“WAIT,” yelled Clark. “Hood first.”
“Ah of course, silly me.” Vickers went outside and came back with a leather hood. “Sorry, this is a bit heavy but it’s the only one I have on hand.” He held up the hood for Clark’s inspection. The hood was made of thick leather, and clearly had thicker leather around the ears. It was secured at the back with a zip and laces, which made the three leather straps around the hood almost irrelevant. One of the straps ran across the eyes, which Clark could see no need for as the hood had no eye holes. The strap across the mouth had a small, metal-lined hole which aligned with a breathing hole in the hood. The final strap ran across the others from under the chin. Clark balked. “Hey, I’m not interested in that.”
“Awww — so you’re going back on our deal? I guess I’ll just sell to someone else.”
Vickers stood there, turning the hood around in his hands and waiting. He didn’t have to wait long. Clark nodded “Ok, OK,” and bent his head down towards Vickers. Vickers didn’t need a second invitation and he pulled the thick hood over Clark’s head. Clark was plunged into darkness and as the hood slid into place, he could head nothing apart from the sound of his breath and the thump of his heart. He was worried about breathing, but once the hood was in place, the hole in the hood seemed sufficient to get enough air in. He felt Vickers zip the hood shut and then secure the laces. Then he found out what the straps did. The two horizontal straps tightened the hood until it felt as though it was moulded to his head. The vertical strap forced his mouth closed and he realised he could not speak even if he wanted to.
With a crackle, he could hear Vickers’ voice in his ears. “Hey there, Mr Clark. I had this hood fitted with speakers so I could talk to you. Of course, you can’t talk to me, so just nod if you understand.” Clark nodded. “Great. OK. So I’m just going to get some shots. These are going to be GREAT!”
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Metal would like to thank lthr_jock for this story!