Gagging Orders

By PrisonerX

Part 1

It was that time of year again. The long winter had passed and as spring was moving towards summer, Sandro knew it was time for his motorbike to have its annual service.

His thoughts turned to the first time he had taken his bike to the motorcycle centre which was about 80km from the city in which he lived. That was a weekend he would never forget.

Although he knew when he first arranged to go to the centre, that it offered more than a bike service, he had not expected quite everything that he experienced that weekend. Such was his experience that he agreed, (rather hastily he thought afterwards), to take a job as “escort” (as the owner of the centre, Dirk, called them), which meant having to travel there practically every weekend. Indeed, he found himself obliged to return there on a regular basis as the circumstances of his departure left him with little or no alternative.

He thought about the last moments of his first visit just before he set off for home. It all came back to him…….the metal cock cage was locked back in place. He tried to object but Dirk had interrupted him saying, “you agreed to take the job of escort including all it entailed. I hold the key to your belt so I reckon we can be sure of your attendance here next weekend and every weekend after that! And don’t worry about wearing the belt, you will get used to it. Ask the other escorts”.

Sandro looked at the escorts expecting a reply. But there was just silence. He said to them, “have you nothing to say?” They had nodded their heads in silence and as they did so they removed their helmets, revealing their hooded heads and the fact that they couldn’t speak as they were tightly gagged. Dirk had just smiled and repeated, “I did say all it entailed”.

That was a year ago and a lot had changed since then, not least the fact that his manhood was no longer imprisoned in a metal cage. Sandro came to regret his acceptance of the job of escort. He realised that he had been far too hasty and knew he had been thinking with his cock rather than his head. It was just not practical or desirable to have to spend most weekends at the bike centre. He had his life to lead, with many friends and interests, all of which he would miss if he spent his free time at the bike centre.

But he faced a dilemma. Since returning home, he had to deal with the fact that he was wearing a metal chastity belt from which there was no escape without the key. His most intimate functions as a male were no longer in his control and this he found intolerable. There was the inconvenience of course but most of all he was unable to relieve any sexual feelings which was not something he was used to. But Dirk had the keys……..

After nearly a week living as a neutered male, and now not looking forward to his first weekend as an “escort” at the bike centre, Sandro returned home one evening after work to find an email waiting for him from Dirk. His heart sank, as he expected it to contain his instructions for the weekend but as he read it, his heart leapt in joy. It did indeed contain Dirk’s instructions for the weekend, but in it, Dirk said he expected him to travel to the bike centre on Saturday “so that I can unlock the belt after which you are free to return home”. Sandro was not going to question this. It was the best news he had had all week. He was no longer obliged to work as an “escort”; he was free to do as he pleased at the weekends.

So on that Saturday, he set out for the bike centre first thing and within the hour had arrived. Dirk greeted him and led him through the door at the back of the workshop into the area he remembered from his last visit. Dirk told him to drop his leather bike pants thus exposing his imprisoned cock, and within seconds the belt was unlocked . Sandro felt a wave of relief as he saw his manhood for the first time in a week. Dirk explained to him that he had locked him in chastity merely as a mind play and that he would not expect him to work at the bike centre every weekend. But, noting that Sandro had not contacted him demanding immediate release from the belt, he hoped that that was an indication that he would continue to use the bike centre to service his bike and all that went with it.

Sandro confirmed that he was happy with the service he had received and that he intended to return again when the next service was due the following year. As he left, Dirk said to him, “just email when you want to make an appointment and I shall make the necessary arrangements without further reference to you. All you have to do is show up,” he concluded with a slight smile on his face.

That was a year ago and now Sandro was on his way to the bike centre on a Saturday morning in late spring. He had turned off the autobahn and was just a few kilometres from the small town where the bike centre was. As he rounded a bend in the road, he saw what looked like a police road check up ahead. He was not unduly concerned as he was not breaking any speed limit and his driving licence was clean. Approaching the road check, he noticed two police motorcycles parked beside a police car. A motorcycle policeman raised his hand and Sandro brought his bike to a stop. As he dismounted and pulled his bike onto its stand, the policeman approached him and was joined by another policeman. Both were wearing crash helmets with reflective visors so obscuring their faces. The first policeman addressed him asking him to remove his crash helmet. As he did so, Sandro was grabbed from behind, his hands were cuffed behind him and as he made to shout a ball gag was pushed into his mouth and fastened tightly. All went dark as a heavy duty spandex hood was pulled over his head. He was pushed forward and felt himself being lifted up and eased into the boot of the police car. As he tried to kick out, he felt his booted ankles being grabbed and leg cuffs being attached. There was a soft thud as the boot lid was closed. The engine started and Sandro felt the car begin to move.

For a moment, Sandro was confused as everything had happened so quickly. One moment he was on his bike, the next he was lying hooded, gagged and cuffed in the boot of a police car. Or was it a police car? He realised he had not seen the faces of the motorcycle policemen as they approached him. What was this? Had he been kidnapped? He tried to struggle but the metal cuffs prevented him, if at all and the confines of the car boot left him with practically no room to move. He felt saliva dripping out of his gagged mouth and soaking into the hood tightly covering his head. In spite of his feelings of apprehension, his cock began to harden and stretch the fabric of his briefs.

Within minutes, Sandro felt the car slowing down and then coming to a halt. He heard doors opening and slamming and voices. He strained to listen……was that Dirk’s voice he heard? Not sure,  too indistinct. He felt a rush of cool air……..the boot lid was opening. As he was manhandled out of the boot, he tried to form some words, but the ball gag held fast and all that emerged from his mouth was an unintelligible mumble accompanied by dribbles of saliva. He was carried inside the building through the workshop where he heard sounds of mechanics at work. He now knew for certain that he was back at the bike centre although the manner of his arrival was not what he expected.

He heard the sound of the door at the back of the workshop opening, a sound he was familiar with from his first visit and one that was imprinted on his mind. His captors, (for that is what they were), put him down on the floor and then helped him to his feet. His cuffs, (ankle and wrist), were removed and he was stripped of his boots, socks and motorcycle leathers. Nobody had spoken a word. Again, Sandro, tried to form some words in order to speak, but once more his gag made it impossible for him to make any sense. He felt his cock stirring and starting to harden. He knew that, clad only in his briefs as he was, it would soon be noticeable to his captors. He tried to think of something else, anything to soften his cock but it was to no avail. As it swelled his briefs began to tent outwards but strangely his captors remained silent. Then Sandro remembered his last visit. Perhaps his captors were not the “policemen” who had kidnapped him. Maybe they were the “escorts” employed by Dirk. This seemed to make sense as his last vision of them, before he was released the last time, was of two hooded and tightly gagged men. This explained the silence now, he thought. He started, as a hand roughly caressed his erecting cock causing t to harden more. He  grunted into his gag as yet more saliva dribbled around the ball fixed in his mouth and dripped to the ground. As he did so, the hand caressing  his now rock hard cock pulled at the waistband of his briefs and ripped them off him. As this happened he grunted loudly again and he could hear muffled sounds emanating from the stuffed mouths of his captors. This was indeed a dialogue of the gagged.

His right was grabbed followed by his left and he felt some thick leather mitts being pulled over them and the sound of padlocks closing. His ankles were kicked apart and as he concentrated on keeping his balance a heavy duty leather harness was strapped around his torso and around his thighs. His mitted hands were locked to the harness on either side. His ankles were then pushed together and tightly bound by a stout leather strap as were his thighs, just above his knees. Then his captors, as if to make sure he couldn’t break free, adjusted each of the buckles and straps that made up the harness or restrained his legs. As they did so, Sandro’s cock stood erect, rock hard and now leaking pre-cum as if to mirror the continual dribble of saliva which was soaking into his hood.

Sandro was finding it difficult to maintain his balance as his ankles were tightly bound together and his wrists were padlocked fast to a leather strap encircling his waist. But that problem was solved for him as the part of the harness that crossed under and over his shoulders was connected to two chains hanging down from a horizontal bar , (which itself was hanging from the ceiling), above him. A motor started and Sandro felt himself being pulled upwards a little so that he was now forced to stand tip toe. A hand reached for his hood and it was pulled off which was a relief to him as it was getting increasingly damp from his ball gag induced saliva. Sandro blinked as the light hit his eyes  and saw for the first time where he was.

He was in a small cell like room with no windows and just a doorway which was blocked by a barred gate. His captors were, as he had thought, the “escorts” he remembered from his last visit. Clad from head to toe in black leather, wearing black leather gloves, they were hooded with only their eyes showing, and both wearing tight black gags secured behind by a padlock. This sight drove Sandro to ecstasy as his rock solid manhood twitched up and down as his pre-cum dripped, as if in slow motion, to the floor. One of his captors moved behind him and released his ball gag. His jaw was stiff from the intrusion in his mouth and he gingerly moved his jaws to relieve the stiffness. At that moment, he remembered his motorcycle. Where was it, he wondered? He asked his captors what had happened to his bike but was met by total silence. They were of course unable to speak.

Having removed his gag, the same captor then walked behind Sandro again and pulled a heavy duty leather hood over his head and having pulled the drawstrings tight, buckled the various straps securing each buckle with a padlock. Sandro could no longer see anything. He felt his lips being pushed apart as one of his captors inserted two fingers into his mouth forcing him to open it wide. As he did so, his ripped briefs were pushed into his mouth and secured in place by a leather strap which covered the mouth hole of the hood. At the same time, Sandro felt the hands of the other captor around his balls as he strapped a leather parachute around them. Sandro moaned into his gag, (for sure the gag belonged to him!), as the parachute chain was pulled downwards and secured by a tension line to the floor. The motor started again and Sandro was pulled upwards by a couple of centimetres. He was now suspended in mid air, hooded, gagged, securely bound and totally helpless. The tension line stretched and as it did so, it pulled his balls downward.

All this time his cock had remained rigid pointing upwards like a metal pole. The pre-cum dripping from it betrayed the high sexual arousal that the suspended victim was experiencing. Sandro was desperate to cum; he wanted to; he needed to. He tried to jerk his cock as if fucking the air, but all he succeeded in doing was to pull painfully on his balls, bound as they were in the parachute linked to the ground.

Sandro heard the sound of the barred door slamming and the locks being driven home. All was silent. He tried shouting out, but no sound emerged from his gagged mouth, but equally no saliva either, for what remained of his briefs, now stuffed humiliatingly in his mouth, soaked it up before it could drip.

Unknown and unseen by Sandro, Dirk was observing him through the barred door. As he did so he was issuing instructions to one of his mechanics about the service to be carried out on Sandro’s motorcycle. “While you look after the bike, I shall look after its faggot owner”, he chuckled as he watched the almost naked, leather bound, hooded and gagged victim, suspended and helpless desperately trying to avoid the slightest movement to prevent the parachute pulling tightly on his balls. One thing was obvious to any observer: the victim was most certainly male. His erect, rock hard, twitching, dripping and chained cock made that crystal clear!


Part 2


Sandro had no idea how long he remained suspended and bound. He could see nothing, hear nothing,  apart that is, from the sound of his own breathing. The tension line pulling his aching balls towards the ground remained taut and nothing he tried to do relieved this tension. His mouth, stuffed with cotton fabric began to feel dry. He tried again to shout for attention but no intelligible words formed. But uncomfortable as he was, with aching balls and a dry mouth, his manhood continued to stand to attention and his desire for some sexual relief did not diminish. His cock felt so hard that it was almost painful. He began to wish that he would lose his erection, but when he thought of the sight which met his eyes when the spandex hood was pulled off his head, his cock twitched and he thrust his pelvis forward as best he could in a vain attempt to achieve some relief. And so the cycle began all over again ending up with him trying to stop any movement to release the ever present tension on his balls. Sandro was left alone, suspended and struggling until the workshop closed, which on a Saturday,  was a little earlier than during the week.

As he began to wonder how much longer he would have to endure his dilemma, he heard the sound of voices and then the unlocking of the door. At once, he started to shout into his gag but, as usual, just a jumble of mumbled noise came out of his mouth. Suddenly the motor kicked into life and he felt himself being lowered slowly to the ground and being grabbed by somebody to help him steady himself after his hours of severe bondage. The straps restraining his legs were removed as was the body  harness, the waist belt and all the other bonds in which he was tied. To his great relief the parachute strapped to his ball was also taken off as were his mitts.

He was led out of his cell by, he thought, two people who, again, uttered not a sound. After a short walk he was pushed down onto a chair and the leather strap securing his gag was removed. He immediately spat out his gag and before he could ask, was given some water to drink. His hood was then removed and as his eyers adjusted to the light he saw he was seated at a wooden table in a brightly lit large room. One side of the room was lined with two rows of steel cages, one on top of the other. At first he thought that they were empty but, as his eyes scanned the top row, he saw what he realised were human forms in each of them. He looked at the cage immediately opposite him from which a leather covered head of a man protruded through an opening in the bars. The head had no features, other than a small hole where the mouth must be, enabling the victim to breathe. The victim was in a kneeling position, covered from head to toe in leather . Sandro could just make out that his ankles were secured to the floor of the cage at the back and saw that his hands, locked in mitts, also protruded through the bars either side of his head. The cage next to that contained a large canvass sack and, it appeared, nothing else. But as Sandro stared at this he noticed a slight movement and heard a grunting sound. There was somebody or something in the sack! A third cage slightly larger than the first two, and somehow different, but he didn’t dwell on that, was occupied by two guys. One was sitting with his back to one end of the cage while his legs stretched out towards the opposite end to which his ankles were secured by shackles. The other faced in the opposite direction restrained in the same manner. Their wrists were shackled and those shackles attached to steel collars around their necks. Each wore a head harness and although able to see, they could not speak. They were naked apart from heavy duty steel chastity belts which were locked around their waists.

Sandro was aware that his cock was standing vertically again as he took in the sight before him. All this time, his captors stood in silence watching him. All he could see of them were their eyes staring out from the eye holes in their hoods, their gags ensuring no communication was possible. Dressed all in black leather, the only other feature was a prominent bulge in the groin area. Their eyes continued to stare at him as he sat there stark bollock naked trying to conceal his rock hard cock under the table Soft moaning sounds continued to come from the sack while the muzzled occupant of the cage with two captives in it also stared silently at Sandro.

At last, the silence was broken by the arrival of Dirk accompanied by two guys. Unlike the others, these guys were wearing normal motorcycle leathers and boots and were chatting quietly with Dirk. Dirk explained to Sandro that his bike would be ready the next day but until then, he would provide overnight accommodation for him. “As you can see”, he said, “we already have some overnight guests staying. Maybe not the most luxurious accommodation but certainly quiet and secure. My assistants here will prepare you for your overnight stay. As we have had problems recently with some of our guests making a lot of noise as they seemed not to be happy with the accommodation offered to them, I have introduced what I call a “gagging order”. All guests are required to be gagged for the duration of their stay here”.

As he was saying this,  Dirk’s assistants moved towards Sandro and while one held him, the other strapped a leather head harness around his head which had a built in rather large gag. No less than three padlocks ensured Sandro would not be able to remove it. “I can see from your eyes, that you are not happy about this”, said Dirk, “but that is your hard luck. At least it will ensure peace and quiet for you tonight and hopefully you will find it more comfortable than what remained of your briefs. Sorry about that, I will replace them. Now I hope you will co-operate with these fine fellows as they prepare you for the night ahead. Have a good night!” With that, Dirk turned and left the room.

There was nothing Sandro could do. It was four against one…….two assistant and two escorts who clearly took their orders from Dirk or Dirk’s friends. Sandro was told to stand up and as he did so the escorts produced a neosteel chastity belt. Realising that resistance was futile, Sandro stood there while his now soft manhood was secured in its steel prison. The assistants then strapped him into a leather straitjacket, pulled all the straps home and secured each buckle with a padlock. As they did this, Sandro’s manhood began to wake up again and as it swelled and tried to erect, he could feel the cold steel of the penis tube built into the neosteel belt surround his engorged cock.

A steel collar was then locked around his neck. Shackles were locked around each of his ankles which were linked by a short chain and this chain, in turn, was linked to his collar. The chain was rather short forcing him to bow his head and slightly bend his upper body downwards in the direction of his ankles. He was then forced to shuffle along as best he could past the cages towards the end of the room. As the escorts pushed him along, Dirk’s assistants who were in front of him stopped and bent down and opened a steel grill which was in the floor. Sandro looked down and saw a space about the size of the cages lining the walls but underground of course. He tried to hesitate, but soon found himself forced to step down into this cell. Although the floor had a rubber surface, the cell was not deep enough to stand up in. Indeed, the only way to fit in was to lie down. He was helped onto his back and while lying there looking up, the grill was closed on top of him and secured with a padlock.

Sandro tested his bonds, he tried to struggle a little, hoping to loosen the straitjacket, he tried pushing at the gag invading his mouth in the hope of expelling it. Nothing worked. While he was doing this, he was aware of some movement above him. It sounded as if somebody was wheeling something along the floor of the room. Lying on his back all he could see was the ceiling way above him, the bright lights hanging from it and the top of the walls where they met the ceiling.

The noise grew closer, a shadow fell across his cell. The lights seemed to flicker but this was only because the light was being deflected by the moving of a cage on top of the grill! This was the cage containing the two victims he had seen earlier. There was no floor in it, only bars through which he could clearly see the naked, chained, silent, and chastised victims. As he stared up at them, his eyes  met theirs as their muzzled heads looked down at him in his equally helpless, bound and chastised state. He grunted into his gag as his cock hardened even more in reaction to the sight above him. As they also grunted reacting in frustration to their imprisoned manhood, his frustration rose. He tried again and again to achieve some friction for his desperate cock in its steel prison but he failed and fell back exhausted. As the night wore on, he slipped in and out of a restless sleep; his cock never seemed to sleep and just when it seemed to calm down a little, he opened his eyes and the sight above him rekindled its fire.

Sandro awoke with a start. For a moment he didn’t know where he was but everything soon come flooding back to him. But the cage had gone. Had he dreamt it? Then he heard voices approaching, the same assistants as the night before unlocked the grill and Sandro was pulled out. He could hardly stand and they helped him to the chair. He was released from all his restraints and was taken to a bathroom where he was allowed to take a shower.

As he refreshed his tired and aching body, he looked forward to having some breakfast, relaxing a little and then heading home on his motorcycle. But any idea of relaxation disappeared as he stepped out of the shower and was faced by the two hooded and gagged “escorts” waiting for him. One was holding a leather hood complete with large gag in his hand, the other a full set of steel manacles, collar, wrists, ankles. He hesitated for a moment as if looking for somewhere to run to to escape from them, but there was nowhere he could go.

Minutes later, he was shuffling along guided by the two escorts as he was, once more, unable to see, never mind speak. The walk seem to take ages as he could only manage very short steps, so short was the chain linking his manacled ankles. Every step he took pulled on the chain linking his ankles to his wrists and in turn to his collar. He also had to deal with the weight of these restraints which added to his ordeal. They reached some stairs and Sandro was guided by the “escorts” down the stone steps, each step down pulling tightly on the chains binding his body. He began to sweat as the weight combined with the limitations on his movement began to feel like a tough workout in a gym.

Downstairs, Dirk and his two friends were chatting while they waited for Sandro to arrive. They could hear the unmistakeable sound of chains rattling as their victim slowly and, with difficulty, descended the stairs. Sandro and his “escorts” were now at the end of the stairs and as they came through the open door, Dirk noticed  that Sandro’s manhood was perpendicular and oozing quantities of pre-cum in what looked like slow motion, so long and sticky were the drops.

Dirk approached Sandro saying “you look like you need to cum. You are making such a mess on my floor”. Sandro’s hooded head nodded while silently he begged Dirk for release both sexually and from his shackles. “Is that what you want?” Sandro again nodded his head vigorously. “I can’t hear you”, said Dirk, clearly enjoying himself. Sandro tried to form the words to reply but felt humiliated as a variety of grunts came out of his mouth causing much amusement to Dirk and his friends. Nor could Sandro see the very prominent bulges that Dirk and the others were now sporting  in their groin area. “Well let’s grant our guest his wish,” said Dirk with a broad grin on his face, “but in our own good time”. Sandro’s heart sank on hearing this. He was struggling to endure the weight of the shackles, his jaw was aching from having to accommodate a large gag in his mouth, and he was sweating profusely. To add to all of this, he was more horny than he could ever remember. He felt that he would do anything to be allowed to empty his overflowing balls and shoot his load.

As if reading his mind, the escorts started to unlock him form his shackles but, to his disappointment, they left his hood in place. He felt himself being lifted off his feet and placed on a hard surface, a table perhaps? He didn’t know of course as he couldn’t see. His arms were grabbed and pulled up above his shoulders and then stretched apart. His wrists were then secured to the table and his legs were fastened down in a similar manner. He raised his head as if to try and see what was happening but, of course, all was black. His chest, stomach and then his thighs were also secured to the table and finally his hooded head was strapped down tightly. He groaned into his gag as his erect cock twitched and waved around uselessly in the air. Some pre-cum dripped slowly onto his stomach.

His heart jumped as he felt a gloved hand grab his erect cock. Slowly at first and then with ever increasing speed somebody began to stroke his manhood. He tried to struggle but his bonds held fast and he couldn’t move. Up down, up down, the pumping continued and he felt a rush as his feelings of pleasure increased. “At last”, he thought, “at last, some reward for all I have suffered these last hours.” He could feel the cum rising, his balls tingled as if in anticipation of finally being emptied, he was nearly there and then……. nothing. The hand released his throbbing cock. It twitched uselessly from side to side as Sandro shouted, or tried to shout, begging to cum. Twice more this was repeated; Sandro was in hell. This was torture…….he cursed Dirk, his friends, the bike shop, the whole lot of them! He cursed the bonds that prevented him from satisfying his lust. He cursed the hood, the gag, and most of all, he cursed himself for getting into this position in the first place.

After some time, his cock began to soften. He tried again to break his bonds but, of course, it was useless. All he succeeded in doing was creating more sweat as his muscles flexed in their doomed attempt to help him break free. His cock now flaccid, all he wished to do was go home.

Suddenly, once more, a gloved hand grabbed his cock and within seconds it was swelling again as if it had a mind of its own. Again the stroking started, faster and faster, harder and harder. Sandro could feel the blood pumping through his erect cock and knew the blood vessels would be visible to all as they throbbed in excitement. Again the cum rose, this time it was unstoppable. He shouted in ecstasy but close to the “tipping point”, so close, the hand dropped away. The cum subsided. He almost wept. He never knew such torture existed.

Minutes passed, his cock began to droop and Sandro began to think how he could convince Dirk to let him go because that is what he now wanted. Best to go home and empty his balls there. At least he would be in control. And that is what it was about…….control…..and he was not in control. He was controlled…..his most intimate function was not his to enjoy…….his bondage ensured that.

All this time, he could hear the others talking, at least Dirk and his friends…….the “escorts” presumably still endured their enforced silence. But this regular hum of conversation ceased and Sandro heard some other movement and noises. A motor briefly switched on and then off…..the rattle of equipment…….nothing he could identify.

A gloved hand once more grabbed his flaccid cock. It reacted as before and grew hard in seconds. But this time the hand did not move up and down. It held his swollen cock tightly and then Sandro felt some lube being applied. As the hand continued to hold his manhood, his manhood…..controlled by another….he felt something being forced onto his rigid cock. It seemed to hug it tightly, fitting comfortably around it. A motor kicked into life and at the same time he felt his cock being pumped, very gently, but being pumped. Up down, up down, very slowly……..and this continued for some time. Bit by bit, he noticed it was increasing in tempo, just bit by bit. It dawned on him… was not a human. He was being milked by machine. The tempo was turned up and up and up. Sandro writhed in his bonds, his body pulling every muscle trying to break free. His powerful thighs flexing hopelessly against their restraints, but it was useless. The tempo increased, his cum rose and rose. The noise from the motor grew louder, Sandro’s moans became shouts but the gag did its work and suppressed them. The tempo was now reaching a level that Sandro could hardly bear. His cum continued to rise and rise and then his bound body shuddered as he shot his load, the cum being sucked out of him and into the receptacle attached to the end of the milking machine tubes.

Sandro was spent; his balls were empty but the machine carried on. He wanted it to stop but this was impossible. On and on it went….. up down, up down, and Sandro could do nothing to stop it. He was now groaning and moaning into his gag, his body writhing hopelessly in an attempt to break free. And then the incredible, he shot once more, a second orgasm. The motor cut out. All was silent. Sandro lay exhausted unable to move. He felt his wrists being untied… was over.

A while later , having recovered, his bike leathers were returned to him, (and a new pair of Calvin Kleins!) and soon he was dressed and ready to leave. Dirk told him that his bike was ready and that he would take him to the workshop to pick it up. “Same time next year, perhaps?”, said Dirk with a smile. “Probably”, said Sandro, although as the fabric in his briefs began to stretch, he knew it would be definitely.



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