Busman’s Holiday – Part 18

By lthr_jock

Clark stood outside Vickers’ house and swore under his breath. He looked at his open top jeep and then down at himself. The boiler suit was gaping open, revealing his shaved chest and harness to the world. He tried to pull it closer but the suit was clearly too small for him and nothing he did made it any better. He thought about hammering on Vickers’ door but after the way Vickers had been acting, Clark was sure that the door would not be opened. After a couple of minutes of indecision, Clark got into the driving seat. He winced as he sat down and the cock cuff caught in the material of the boiler suit and he reached down to try and make it comfortable. He soon discovered that it couldn’t be fully comfortable and decided to drive off after he looked up and saw one of Vickers’ neighbours peering at him between their curtains.

Clark turned the key in the ignition and to his surprise the normally efficient engine turned over a few times and then coughed, spluttered and died. He tried again with much the same result. Clark groaned – he would hate to have to call the RAC dressed like this. He tried again and this time the engine caught, although as he started to pull away the jeep lurched strangely. Clark headed for home concentrating on nursing his vehicle back to his garage.

Vickers smiled from his computer where he had been watching the whole thing via his security cameras. Clark would have serious problems reaching home as earlier Vickers had siphoned out half of the diesel in the petrol tank and replaced it with unleaded petrol. He wondered how far Clark would get before the engine seized up. His gaze wandered from the screen to the mobile phone on his desk – and he wondered when Clark would realise that he had left his phone behind.

As Clark drove along he realised there was something wrong. His engine kept misfiring and the normal smooth running was jerky and difficult. He was glad that it was getting dark as it stopped so many people seeing him in his current clothing. He did everything he could to drive smoothly and carefully. He tensed as the lights of a police car appeared behind him, but pulled over and they drove past clearly on their way to something else. But that proved to be the last straw for the car. The engine stopped and nothing he could do would get it started again. Clark groaned and rested his head on the steering wheel. He popped the bonnet and opened the engine – a smell of burning greeted him but he couldn’t see what the problem was apart from that. He sighed – he would need to call the RAC. He reached for his phone – and then realised he didn’t have it. Swearing he wondered if Vickers had somehow planned this.

Clark looked around. To his relief the road was a rural one with no houses visible – nor were there any vehicles that he could see. It was getting chilly as he got dark and not for the first time he wished he had more on than the harness and boiler suit.   He walked up and down near the jeep, hoping someone would come along soon – and that they wouldn’t make too much of what he was wearing.

After about 15 minutes, Clark saw lights coming towards him. By now it was pitch dark. He grabbed a torch from the jeep and flashed it at the approaching vehicle, hoping that they would stop.   To his relief they vehicle pulled up just short of his and he heard a vaguely familiar voice say “You got some car trouble there?”

As Clark tried to identify the voice, he realised the vehicle was too large to be a car – it was more like a van. He headed towards it to get a better look and as he got past the headlights he saw that it was a pickup truck. The passenger door opened and a familiar figure got out “Damn, you do seem to get yourself into some interesting gear, fella.” Clark blushed as he recognised the man who had previously seen him in the slave shackles and rubber gear. “ Yeah, look can you guys give me a tow?”

The young man nodded, “Sure we can help you out. You got towing chains?”

“God, thanks, I thought I’d be stuck here all night.” Clark went around to the rear of the jeep and opened up the small boot and started to get the towing chains out. As he did, he heard footsteps behind him as the other guy followed him. Clark grabbed hold of the chains and as he did, he felt the man grab his arms and in a swift and practised move, twisted them behind him. Clark started to yell and stood up, banging his head as he did so. The pain distracted him long enough for the man to snap thick handcuffs on Clark’s hands, securing them safely behind his back.

Clark went to yell and as he did, a thick red rubber ball was slid into his mouth and then secured behind his head. Clark started to kick out and the man braced his legs against the back of the jeep so that he couldn’t fight. Clark carried on struggling “Hey, Barney, get over here. This guys a fighter.”

Clark heard the sound of someone running and soon four hands were on him, wrestling him to the ground. Rope was looped around his ankles and knees and he relaxed as he saw how useless it was to struggle.

“Good. I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you for weeks, stranger.” Clark felt the man’s hands on his back and shoulders, then working their way own to his buttocks and squeezing them. “Got some good muscle on you there.” He squeezed hard again then stopped. Clark couldn’t see what he was doing, then he heard tearing. The man was using a knife to cut the boiler suit off him. Soon Clark was naked, the chain harness and his hairless body fully revealed. “Now doesn’t that look good? Hmm?” The other man said something but Clark couldn’t make out what it was. “You’re right, too public here.”

The two men lifted Clark up and onto the flat-bed of the pickup. They then dragged him to the gleaming steel toolbox secured to the back of the cab. It was opened up to reveal that it was empty – except for chains, shackles and securing points. Clark started to struggle again, but handcuffed and roped as he was, it was futile. The men lifted him into the box and sat him down. They loosened the ropes on his legs and replaced them with steel shackles around his ankles and chains around his knees. His boots were taken off and thrown away. They took hold of his handcuffs and slipped a metal shackle around each wrist. They then removed the cuffs and as Clark tried to move, pulled on the chains attached to the shackles, securing his wrists to the sides of the box. Finally, a chain went over his neck locking him in place.

The man looked down at him. “ I told you I’d like to party with you – and now I guess I will.” He reached down to add one more thing – a leather blindfold – before closing and locking the toolbox. Clark tried to struggle but the shackles were secure. More worryingly, his cock was as hard as it could get in the cock cuff.

As the two men got back in the car, the passenger got his phone out and made a call. “Hey, Vickers? Yeah it’s Dave here. We found him – a bit further on than you thought he would be. He’s nicely secured. We’re heading home.”

Clark had no idea how long he was locked in the tool box. He could feel every bump in the road and each one emphasised the tightness of the bondage. He was totally helpless and that knowledge just made him hornier. Eventually the pickup stopped. He then heard something that sounded like a garage door and the pickup started again – but this time the engine sounded like it was indoors. It didn’t run for very long – only a few seconds and then it stopped. He could hear the soft sound of voices which faded away. Clark tried to yell – it was clear the men had left him here – but all he could do was grunt and cause the drool running out of his mouth to spatter over his face and chest. He still shouted though and so almost didn’t hear the footsteps as they approached the pickup. He felt the vehicle move as someone stood on the flatbed and then he heard the tool box being opened. He hoped he would be released, but although the chains were slackened they were still attached to shackles which stayed on him.

Clark was pushed along and then assisted off the back of the flat bed. He shuffled along, hearing nothing but the clank of the chains. He could feel concrete under his feet and then he felt carpet. He was steered up some stairs and then left standing. He stood there, head moving to and fro, wondering what would happen next. Clark was surprised when he was pushed violently from behind and he crashed onto a soft, springy surface. He was dragged fully onto it and then rolled over on to his back. Under him was a strange substance – it smelled vaguely lemony and it was cold against his shaved skin. It seemed to have been lubed. Clark’s ankles were unshackled and his feet were pushed together. The cold material was stretched over them and then zipped tightly up, holding his legs tightly together. His hands were released, only to be pushed into tubes of the material to either side of him. Before he could pull them out, the material was secured over his torso, locking his hands to his side. Clark wriggled and he could hear the material squeaking as he did so. He realised he was in a rubber sleepsack.

As he realised that, the gag was removed from his mouth and the blindfold was yanked off. A bright light was shining at him, so he couldn’t make out anything more than shapes before a thick eyeless rubber hood was pulled down over his head, the lube inside squishing against his face, beard and hair. The hood was buckled tightly in place and then a thick rubber collar went around his neck. Clark felt the whole thing tightening as straps and buckles were secured. He could imagine what he looked like – a secured rubber worm and he felt his cock try to swell at the thought.

He wondered what would happen now. He felt the men pull at the straps holding him in place until he was turned around and he felt the support under his head disappear. His head fell backwards, held in place by the collar. He started to ask a question but before he could, he felt something warm and fleshy being forced inside his mouth. He started to resist and to push the cock out, but then he reflected on how helpless he was – so he started to work it in the same way he had worked the plastic cocks that Vickers had tricked him into sucking. Judging from the grunts of pleasure from the man facefucking him, he was doing a good job and soon he felt the warm splash of fluid as the man came down his throat.

Clark gasped. He went to spit the cum out but before he could, the cock was replaced with another one. This one was larger and the man seemed to enjoy making Clark struggle for breath. As he fucked Clark’s face, he pinched Clark’s nostrils shut until the big man whined and writhed as he struggled for breath. When he came he pulled out with a satisfied, “Fuck, you have a good mouth on you, boy.” Clark gasped to get breath into his lungs and started to reply, but it was choked off by the ball gag being thrust back into place. Clark was pulled back so that his head was now supported.

Vickers watched the scene unfold with delight. Clark’s webcam beautifully captured the whole thing, now leaving Clarks helpless form on Clarks own bed. Vickers would make good on his promise to release Clark once he got home – after he had a little more fun. Vickers texted through to Dave praising him for the good performance he had put on and then made a phone call.

“Hi, is that Andy? My name is Vickers, I’m a friend of Clarkie’s. He’s had a couple of workmen doing some repairs in his bedroom and he just wants you to check they’ve done it properly. Yes, if you go around now you should spot it easily.” Vickers hung up and grinned wickedly, wondering what the webcam would capture next.


Click for next part

Click for previous part

Click to start at Part 1


Metal would like to thank the author, lthr_jock, for this story! If you like it, be sure to leave comments in the comments section below.



2 thoughts on “Busman’s Holiday – Part 18”

  1. Oh wow, it’s getting ugly now. I hope that Vickers is the one who ultimately falls out, Clarke doesn’t deserve this at all.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.