By lthr_jock

Clark reacted with shock as they headed towards the door – surely Greg didn’t mean to parade him in public like this. He held back and the leash tightened. Without looking around, Greg yanked on it and Clark felt his upper half jerk forward. He tried to brace himself but something made him lose his balance and he staggered forward. Greg turned as Carl burst out laughing. “Greg, you were right. Those boots work a treat.”

Clark looked down with confusion – the boots looked just like the heavy boots he had seen skinheads wearing in the street. But for some reason they felt slippery and unstable under his feet and he had to concentrate to keep his balance on them. Carl picked up another pair of the boots and turned them around so Clark could see the soles. Instead of a normal heel, they had a 2” heel on them and instead of a thick rubber tread they were smooth. “You see, the heel puts your balance off and the slippery sole makes it easy to pull you further off balance. We call them the Slave-maker.” Greg frowned and Carl continued “Ok, the name is a work in progress, but lucky you, you get to road test them for us.”

Greg yanked on the leash again and Clark stepped carefully towards the door. He was having to concentrate on where he was stepping and was taking steps so small that the boot shackles were almost irrelevant. Before he realised it, they were at the lifts. Greg stood there, tapping his crop against his boot with impatience. He turned to face Clark with a wicked grin on his face “You know what, let’s take the stairs.” Clark tried to complain but the gag filled his mouth stopping him and he could do little except hobble along behind Greg as the leather clad man tugged him towards the stairs.

Greg started down the stairs slowly to let Clark find his footing. It wasn’t easy in the boots, but Clark managed to struggle down the first flight, at which point Greg started walking faster. Clark desperately tried to keep up, urgently trying not to lose his balance as they descended. He slipped once, but caught himself on the banister. Greg looked around and with a grin stepped forwards – Clark assumed it was to help him. Instead he lashed Clark across the buttocks with the riding crop. “Stop fucking around, boi. You’ll get more of that every time your clumsiness slows me down.” With that he yanked on the leash and carried on down the stairs. Clark flushed with anger, pain and humiliation at the feeling of the crop and hurried after Greg as fast as he could. As the pain in his arse subsided to a dull warmth he realised that throughout all of this his cock had remained hard.

Somehow Clark got down the stairs without slipping again and he breathed a sigh of relief. The gag in his mouth was making him drool and he had to suck hard on the gag to drain it all down his throat. Before heading through the door at the bottom of the stairs, Greg checked the straps on the straitjacket. Seeing that some slack had come into the jacket as Clark had settled into it, he tightened each strap. He then loosened the straps holding the muzzle in place, before re-tightening them. He ruffled Clarks mussed hair as it poked out around the straps. “You really should get that trimmed down if you’re going to wear gear like this.” He then took a heavy padlock out of his inside pocket and showed it to Clark before using it to lock the collar of the straitjacket. “Now, in case you’re interested, Carl has the key for that – and he’s gone to bed now. There’s no-one else can get you out of that jacket. Do you understand?” Clark nodded.

“Good.” Greg pushed Clark back against the wall, his crotch grinding against Clarks and his hands running over the restrained male. His leant right into Clark and licked the faceplate of the muzzle and let his hands travel down Clarks body until they rested on the leather covered globes of Clark’s arse. He started to squeeze them “Clarkie, you are one hot boi. You come over all innocent and nervous, but your cock says you’re enjoying being trussed up like a prize bitch.” His hands kneaded Clark’s cheeks and Clark could feel his cock swelling. Greg pushed his gloved fingers up against Clark’s arse zip, pushing it into his crack. “Damn, boi, I love a hunky muscled stud – especially a helpless one. You’ll make a Top very happy some day.”

He stepped back, re-seated his uniform cap and grinned. “Party time.” Yanking hard on the leash, he pulled Clark towards the door.

Clark was confused by the feelings he was having. As Greg ground into him and groped his arse, he had found himself aroused – for the first time he couldn’t just blame it on the bondage. As he thought about this, Greg led him across the lobby and into the function room. Clark looked around at a sea of people wearing a wide array of gear – from those in normal street clothes, to some in full rubber. He needn’t have worried too much about being recognised as everyone was clearly having a good time and the two men blended into the crowd.

Clark’s reverie was halted by a sharp yank on the leash and he followed Greg through the crowd, his boots slipping on the slick floor. As people pressed around them, he felt the heat of their bodies against him and hands which were stroking his things, his arse and his crotch. He tried to flinch away from them, but they were all around him and even that sudden movement caused him to nearly lose his balance.   Greg headed for one corner of the bar where a group of men dressed like Greg were standing. They all seemed to know him and greeted him cheerfully as he arrived. Greg stopped and turned to face Clark. With one finger he pointed at the floor “Kneel.” Clark stared back at him, unsure if he had heard correctly. Greg frowned and leant around Clark to strike each arse cheek once with the crop. “KNEEL.” Clark obeyed and knelt down. Greg ruffled his hair and then turned away from him to talk to the other men.

Clark knelt there wondering what to do. The standing men talked amongst themselves and he could see Greg supping down a pint of beer. As the drool gathered in his muzzle again he had to gulp it down again. His arms were starting to ache in the straitjacket and he tried to move them but found it impossible to do anything but slightly wriggle them. As he did, his predicament struck him again and he felt his rock hard penis reminding him that he had asked for this treatment. From where he was kneeling, he could see little past Gregs muscled butt and legs. He peered past them to see the legs and crotches of the other men and beyond them a couple of figures like himself kneeling on the floor. One was in full rubber and wearing a dog hood, the other was in a similar leather uniform to the other men but wearing a thick collar around his neck. He looked up to see Clark looking and gave him a wink.

Clark jumped as he felt a hand ruffling his hair. He looked up to see one of the men running his fingers through his hair while he spoke to Greg. He tried to pull away from the mans hand, but looked up and saw Greg glaring at him, so stayed where he was. He realised the man was petting me as he would a dog and wondered if that was how he was being viewed. He had not been listening to their conversation, so now tried to tune in to it.

“…been training a new one, but frankly the people volunteering are very poor quality. Lots of twinks, no-one with any muscle, no personality either. Looks like you found a good one here though, Greg.”

“Thanks. He’s very new. In fact, it’s his first night out.”

“Oh? Let’s have a look then.” Greg nodded and pulled on the leash “STAND.” Clark struggled to his feet, the boots making his feet slip a little. Greg handed the leash to the man and he then walked around Clark making sounds of approval. He grabbed Clark’s biceps through the leather of the straitjacket and raised an eyebrow. He then ran his hands down Clarks legs and again nodded in approval. He then handed the leash back to Greg. “Very nice. Good build. If you need to get him trained, send him up to me for a couple of weeks.”

“Thanks, Ben, I’ll bear that in mind. Can you excuse me, I’d best just water him.” Greg grabbed a pint from the bar and, dragging Clark behind him, steered him towards a doorway signposted “Dark Room.” Inside it was virtually pitch black. Clark and Greg made their way between the forms of various people. All around them was quiet conversation and the sounds of sex. Greg found a corner and faced Clark against the wall. He started to unstrap the muzzle. “ It should be too dark for anyone to see your face in here, but keep facing the wall just in case.” Pulling the muzzle off, he lifted the pint glass to Clarks mouth. Clark wanted to spit out the drool from his mouth, but had no choice but to drink it down along with the beer. Greg paused “That OK?” Clark nodded then realised Greg couldn’t see him. “Yes, Sir.” He almost felt Greg’s grin as he called him that. The glass was lifted to his lips time and time again until it was empty. When Greg lifted the muzzle to his face, Clark opened his mouth and it was soon secured in place again.

Clark expected they would both head back out to the bar. Instead, Greg turned him around and Clark felt him unzip the front of Clarks shorts. Clarks impressive cock fell out, still partially erect and slimy from his sweat and precum. Greg started running his gloved hand up and down Clarks cock, enjoying the muffled grunts the other man was making. Clark felt his cock growing harder and harder and the precum start to flow. Greg chuckled and at that point stopped and zipped Clark’s shorts shut again. Clark groaned in frustration and Greg laughed out loud. Greg leant forward to whisper in Clarks ear “A boi never comes before his Boss. If you behave, I might let you cum later – though I might make you beg for it.” He started to lead Clark out of the dark room and then stopped. “Of course, there is another way for you to earn that privilege.” He pushed Clark back against the wall, with his muzzled face against it. Clark felt Greg’s fingers slowly pull down the arse zip on the chaps and then those fingers slowly ran down Clarks crack and tickled around his hole. They lingered there, one gently pressing against his rosebud. Clark stiffened in fear and concern and relaxed when he heard Greg chuckle. “ Hey, I’m not into rape. But if you decide you need something in there, you just let me know.” Then he zipped Clark back up and dragged him back out into the main room.

Clark was sweating and nervous and not sure what to think. As he returned to concentrating on maintaining his balance, he also noted that his cock was still solid. They returned to the group of leathermen and this time Greg showed Clark off to the others, explaining to them the items Clark was wearing and encouraging them to stroke and touch him. Clark remembered Greg’s earlier earning and stood stock still, even when one of the men grabbed his cock. When this happened, there was a roar of laughter from the men as they pointed out how excited the well hung sub was. Clark didn’t know where to look or what to do, so simply hung his head and looked at the floor, unwittingly copying the submissives behind the other leather men.

The time passed in a daze for Clark. Greg took him to the dark room another three times for drinks and each time took the opportunity to fondle Clarks arse and cock. The party started to think out and Greg ended up sat on a bar stool talking to Ben. Clark looked carefully at Ben’s submissive, who was well built but not as muscled as Clark. He started to wonder what he would look like in the same gear, when a familiar voice spoke from close behind him.

“Why, Samuel, whatever are you doing here?”

Clark twisted around to see Vickers smiling down at him.

 

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Metal would like to thank the author, lthr_jock, for this story.