By Unknown

Note from Metal: This story by “Anonymous” is from the Houdini Connections website that was run by the great Jim Stewart, who passed away but whose home page remains online. I do not claim ownership of this story, nor do I know who originally wrote it.

 

Surprise Surprise!

“Happy Birthday boss!” said the rapidly receding voice of Colour Sergeant Norris, followed by a round of badly suppressed laughter from the rest of the team. And then I was alone. I lay still and tried to assess my position. Staked out, gagged, and blindfolded, in the middle of a wood in the training area I began to wonder how I was going to escape and then I laughed at the irony of my predicament. Being the boss of a unit dedicated to training soldiers in resistance to interrogation and torture here I was totally out of control, tied up, and vulnerable.

We had just finished an exercise to train marines from 42 Commando RM in basic practical resistance to interrogation. I had been at my most inventive this weekend and even though this was only my third exercise in control we had successfully broken a few wills and a few more egos. My assistant was CSgt Dave “Cuff” Norris and he and I established a good rapport. He knew what made marines tick and his own training as a marine ensured we made the exercise realistic and punishing for the trainees – themselves hardened experienced marines. Anyway the exercise drew to a close; everyone was debriefed and packed off home. I was in a bit of a hurry because as soon as we got back to camp my two weeks summer leave began and I didn’t want to waste a second.

We had almost packed up everything prior to the return to our own unit when I heard Dave call for me from the rear of the derelict farm buildings we had been using as the makeshift interrogation centre. I put my bergen in the landrover and went to check all was OK. I rounded an outhouse and as I passed the open doorway I was jumped by four of my own men. My arms were quickly pulled behind me and I heard and felt the familiar click as the 1950’s police cuffs snapped onto my wrists. We had many pairs for use on trainees and I knew all too well that they weren’t coming off unless someone used the key to unlock them. I was hauled to my feet and spun round to face a smiling “Cuff” Norris who grinning from ear to ear just had time to say Happy Birthday before he slipped the green cotton hood over my head and tightened the neck cord.

I struggled some but it was all too late. 36 hours without sleep running the exercise had left me tired and weak. I tried laughing and asking the guys to let me go as we had to get back but the firm pressure of hands on my arms told me I wasn’t going anywhere till they had had their fun at my expense. Oh well better to give in and get it over with and then we could all go home. I half expected a quick ducking in the nearby stream and then a friendly barracking on my 40^th birthday status before being released but it was not to be like that.

We walked for some time and then I was expertly dumped on the ground and four pairs of hands went to work. My black polished combat boots, socks and my favourite tight fitting tropical DPM trousers were removed. I felt rope tightens round my ankles and my legs kicked apart. Simultaneously one wrist was freed and my lightweight DPM shirt was stripped off me leaving me in only my shorts A second pair of cuffs snapped on. I was then none too gently spread-eagled on the ground and I heard the free end of the cuffs close. I tried tentatively pulling my arms in but soon found them stopped short. Meanwhile my legs had each been tied to something and I knew I was going nowhere for a while.

The hood came off and I looked up to see myself in a wood. Driven into the ground were four very strong steel pegs and from the top of each extended a short metal loop. The free end of each of my cuffs went through the loop on two of the pegs. And the rope from each ankle was similarly threaded through the loops of the other two pegs before being tied off to the peg. Dave laughingly began to explain this was an initiation tradition in the unit and that finding out that it was my birthday, it had seemed like the ideal opportunity to see if I could take what I dished out. I started to argue but was quickly cut short by a short length of rope which was expertly flipped over my head and into my mouth. A couple of times round my head and I could do nothing but grunt.

A green cotton sweat scarf was tied over my eyes and I was very effectively blindfolded. CSgt Norris explained I had 12 hours to get myself back to base before they came looking for me for part two of my initiation, the resistance to interrogation phase which he assured me I would not enjoy. Giving me some hope Dave said no-one had failed to get free in the 12 hours but that not all managed to make it back to camp some 10 miles away. If I got back I would escape phase two, if not…he just laughed. However, he added as I was an officer, in true Royal Marines tradition, all tests were harder than for the other ranks, so there was to be one further difficulty. At this I felt a hand enter the leg of the loose fitting tough green cotton shorts I always wear on exercise.

Despite my pathetic struggles and grunts a piece of paracord was wrapped round my ball sac and stretched to a fifth steel peg hammered into the ground between my legs. “Don’t want to make this too easy do we sir?” and then “Happy Birthday boss!” as he left. A short while later I heard the vehicles distantly start up and drive away leaving me alone and almost naked staked out on the muddy ground for the insect bites of early autumn.

And so it was that I came to be spending my birthday in bondage. The odd thing was I didn’t feel any anger at my situation and if I was totally honest I was quite enjoying it. I tried wriggling around and initially only succeeded in tightening the cord on my balls. This had a dramatic impact on my cock which immediately began to stiffen and push up the coarse cotton of my shorts. Trying to ignore it, I reasoned that if it was possible to escape as Dave had said then there must be a key nearby.

So after some struggling I managed to rub my blindfold off to see the key hanging on the end of a string from a branch above me. If I could just work the knots free on my feet or dislodge the steel pegs I might be able to reach the key string and trap it between my feet. If I then wriggled down tightening my arms I might get enough slack on my balls to raise my feet and drop the key near one of my hands. I started work on the pegs holding my feet and after what must have been about an hour I was just beginning to feel some slack when I heard a branch snap behind me.

Over at last then; the guys had returned to free me. I swivelled my head round and back to see a figure clad from head to foot in black shining motorcycle leathers and black helmet, visor down, watching me. My heart raced. He looked fantastic. His crotch was nicely rounded and the sun beams finding their way through the leaves shone on his sexy black clad body. He slowly moved round until he was at my feet and taking a step forward lifted the cord to my balls with one of his booted feet.

I drew in breath as my balls were stretched and held taught. I moaned into the rope gag but the moan sounded more like pleasure than pain and I realised uncomfortably that my dick had begun to get even harder inside my shorts. The noise did not go unnoticed and trapping the cord on the ground with his other boot the biker knelt between my legs, black leather creaking as he did so, and slid a soft leather gloved hand into my loose shorts through the fly and gave my rapidly stiffening erection a good hard exploratory squeeze.

Saying nothing, he stood up and placed a polished black boot on my crotch and began pressing my cock into my thigh. The wet sole of the boot transferred mud onto my shorts but more revealingly a tiny drop of precum stained my shorts. Despite the pain and the fear I moaned again as I struggled to cope with the humiliation of being discovered in this way and yet obviously enjoying my own discomfort. The man in black raised his visor to reveal a black balaclava over his face allowing only his smiling blue eyes to fix me with their stare.

“You and I need to have a little talk” he said. And so saying he stood up grabbed the key and released my hands only to quickly recuff my wrists behind my back. Next he freed my feet but tied a short hobble of rope between my ankles. Freeing the end of the paracord he pulled me to my feet and then threading the paracord through the fly of my shorts led me by the balls out of the wood. The rain began very suddenly and soon I was soaked. At least the mud was washed off my body and the precum disguised though I didn’t think it has escaped the notice of the man in black.

With my short steps, I struggled to keep up but was sufficiently motivated by the pull on my sac to make sure I didn’t trip over. We eventually stopped and I was backed up against a tree. The biker took a long look at me before replacing the blindfold I had struggled so hard to remove. Leather hands moved down my wet and vulnerable body, gently rubbing my hardening nipples. Fingers moved through my chest hair and a voice said simply “That will have to go.”

My cock almost jumped out of my shorts and I could not believe the fantastic sensations coming from my groin. Suddenly I felt a mouth sucking through my wet cotton shorts and enveloping my cock but just as I moaned in pleasure, the sensation ceased and a pull on my balls told me to move again. It was very unnerving and intimidating to move in this way but after a very short while we stopped again and I heard a vehicle door being opened. I was led to the back of what seemed like a van and his voice told me to get in. Eventually I managed it and found myself lying face down on what felt like coils of rope. Leather gloved hands shortened the rope between my ankles and I felt my arms pulled back as a rope was placed between my ankles and the wrist chain of the cuffs.

Fortunately nothing was too tight and I didn’t loose any sensation in my wrists. Lastly the ball cord was pulled back between the legs, up my crack, trapping the wet shorts against the cheeks of my arse and then it was secured to my ankles. There was no way I was going to struggle now without pulling my balls off. Anyway the stiff cock on which I was lying was all the proof I needed that I didn’t want to struggle all that much.

And so hogtied, wet, almost naked, gagged and blindfolded in the back of a van of a black leather stranger I heard the door click closed and the engine start. Suddenly a blast of white noise filled the air and a jolt told me the van had begun to move. There was obviously no way I was going to be back at camp in time to pass my initiation test. But I had other more pressing matters to think about and was just beginning to realise that being held by a leather biker and tormented and teased was what I had been waiting to happen for years but never dared hope for.

A Journey

Strangely I wasn’t scared, even though I was inescapably tied up in the van of a black leather devotee who clearly was no stranger to men in bondage. I could hardly prevent him doing whatever he wanted to me and anyway I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I started to rub my prick against the ropes beneath me but almost at once the van stopped. The noise went off and the door was opened. Without saying anything I was turned onto my side so my cock was not touching the rope and was swiftly tied down further to prevent any further attempts at bringing myself off.

The voice from the dark then said the words I had only ever dreamed of hearing. “That cock and balls are now mine. You will only cum when I allow. Do you understand?” And for the first but I hoped not for the last time I submitted and nodded my head. The door closed, the engine started and the white noise started again. I was bound and helpless and dying to cum but couldn’t.

My throbbing prick occupied my thoughts for the rest of the journey and I don’t know how long it was before the van stopped. When the door was opened I was untied from the van but still had on the cuffs, ankle hobble and ball cord and shorts. I was led a short way into what was presumably a garage before being stopped by a leather gloved hand on my chest. After the sound of the garage door closing, I felt straps placed around my wrists and ankles. The cuffs were undone and my wrists then pulled up by rope.

My shorts were removed along with the ball cord. It was not long before I was standing spread-eagled naked and vulnerable and horny as hell with the biggest erection I had ever experienced. My dick ached for something to touch it but nothing did. The rope gag was removed but before I could speak a leather gag took its place and was buckled in place. The thin cotton sweat scarf was removed and a black leather padded blindfold enclosed my eyes.

“Now for that pelt,” said the voice. A buzzing noise began nearby and very quickly I felt the vibration of barbers clippers begin their work on my body. My cock was jumping but nothing was said and it certainly wasn’t touched. The black leather-clad biker then began to systematically shave my body. As he did so I could feel his leather covered body touching my naked one. It seemed as if he was going out of his way to make sure I felt his leathers. The taste and smell of leather of the gag filled my mouth and nose and when a gloved hand covered my nose to keep my head still while my neck was shaved I almost came. My legs and feet were shaved, my arms were shaved, my back and chest were shaved. Eventually only my arse and groin remained. My wrists were adjusted so that they were joined behind my back and then pulled up so that I had to bend forward at the waist to relieve the pain. My arse was now exposed and carefully shaved with the clippers. And then agonisingly slowly my crotch hair was removed.

Every time I thought I would cum the clippers left my balls and when I had calmed down a little they would start again. I seemed to be on the edge of orgasm for an eternity but eventually I was shorn. Fortunately, I keep my hair pretty short anyway in the military and so my head escaped further clipping. Next my arse and groin were shaved again this time with a dry razor. I lost count of how many times I thought I would come but didn’t. This magical black leather biker was an expert and I hovered on the edge the whole time. I had never felt so naked in my life before nor so full of energy which considering I had not slept for about forty hours by now was quite something.

My wrists were lowered and I stood awaiting whatever torture was next. Suddenly the biker hugged me and I was enveloped in leather arms. Leather pressed against my chest and for a moment I lived and breathed leather. Then his voice whispered in my ear. “I am going to have to hurt you. If you cooperate you will not suffer but if you resist you will be tortured and punished in ways beyond your imagining.” Now I was trained to resist interrogation. Before I became boss of the unit I had attended a number of exercises as a trainee and I had completed the gruelling Combat Survival Course at Hereford run by the SAS and I had passed all of them. But something in the way he spoke made me hesitate. I began to go soft as I thought of the situation I was now in. The biker released me from his arms but said nothing.

I stood and waited but nothing happened. After a long time my wrists were fastened in front and hoisted up. My feet were released and I stood upright. My arms were hoisted still further and then what was obviously a pair of leather shorts were pulled onto my legs and up my body. My cock and balls were forced through a small opening and then my balls encircled by a thin leather strap keeping them down. Eventually the shorts were fully on and I could not move or feel my prick. The shorts seemed to be tightened round my legs and just before they were fully on something was pushed into them. It took a moment before I realised it was all the hair which had been clipped from my body which was now trapped inside the shorts and around my cock and balls. It itched like crazy.

My arms were lowered and I was led against a wall where straps began to be placed around my arms legs and body. I was then left standing but immobile with my arse, cock and balls itching like mad from the hair. The blindfold was removed and I drank in the sight of the shiny black leather enclosing my captor’s body. He was now dressed in a tight fitting one piece leather suit and his head was now enclosed in a leather hood with holes for his eyes and mouth. The harsh light in the garage reflected seductively off the leather and my cock tried to move inside its leather prison. He then told me I was going to be left strapped down for a long time until my first interrogation.

Reaching behind him he produced a sort of leather bag which he placed over my head and locked around my neck. I couldn’t see very much again but did see light coming through some holes so at least I could breathe. This didn’t stop the bag bellowing in and out every time I breathed however. With a final stroke to my shorn chest he squeezed my nipples hard making me wince and then left me to wonder when the torture would begin and what it was he wanted to know. I stood itching and struggling and pulling helplessly against my bonds wishing I could remove the shorts and the hair and more than anything regretting I had not been able to cum earlier. My balls were aching from their confinement and wanted to blast their load into the shorts. But it was hopeless, I could barely move and in view of the last speech by the leather biker the prospect of being allowed to cum seemed very remote indeed.

A Wash and Brush Up

I don’t know how long I was held strapped against the wall. I’m sure I didn’t sleep but unusually I lost track of time. My mouth was beginning to tire from being held open by the gag and the air in the bag hood was warm and moist. My sweat seemed to have dampened the hair in the tight leather shorts I had been put in and it was no longer itching.

The tiniest of touches to my left nipple told me I was not alone. My nipples have always been really sensitive and now that I had been shaved the feelings of my whole body seemed somehow more acute. I assumed this was no accident. A finger traced a line round my tit down my chest and back up to the other nipple. I couldn’t stop myself from drawing in breath and the bellowing hood gave away my reaction to my captor who slid a hand down to my tightly enclosed crotch. Once more, just like in the training area wood, a mouth enclosed my trapped cock. I could feel the warmth of his mouth as his tongue lapped my strapped down balls through the leather. This time it didn’t stop and my cock began to stir in its prison. I moaned in pleasure and discomfort as my cock engorged in the rapidly reducing space. The mouth continued to work my balls, which tried to rise up against the tight restraining strap. Then it stopped and I moaned in frustration once more. Not a word was spoken.

Hands began to undo the straps around my body and soon I was left with only my wrists bound to the wall. A short, heavy chain now joined my ankles and just before my wrists were released a warning voice told me not to attempt to escape – as if that were possible hooded and hobbled.

My wrists came free and I quickly tried to ease my cramped arms. Strong hands took my wrists and I shuffled forward. The straps around my wrists were replaced by much thicker stronger leather cuffs, which also buckled over my hands. My hands were lifted slightly and attached to what felt like the ends of a metal bar. There was a short pause and then my arms began to be pulled up and up. I tensed my legs and stood on tiptoe but still my arms went up until I was hanging at full stretch just off the ground.

The hobble chain was removed and leather gloved hands stroked up the smooth inside of my legs to the shorts which were gradually removed freeing my swinging cock and sweating balls. Judging by the weight, another metal bar was fixed between my ankles. And then I writhed as a brush went to work around my groin, presumably brushing away the damp hair clippings. I had never felt anything so ticklish in my life and swinging in the air I was powerless to stop the torment. I twisted and groaned and tried to jerk away from the brush but I could never tell where it was going to come from next. The bag over my head bellowed in and out quickly, making it more difficult to breathe and still the brush attacked my cock, balls and arse.

I was in difficulty and finding it hard to think. All I wanted was for the tickling bristles to stop touching my sensitised cock. When I was screaming through the gag and thought I could stand it no longer the brush stopped and hands began a slow examination of my body. A dry razor was occasionally used to remove stray hairs missed previously but when he got to my arse and groin a warm wet lather was applied over the whole area with yet another brush but soft and smooth this time.

The feeling was wonderful and didn’t stop even when a wet razor meticulously scraped away the foam and stubble remaining from my previous two shaves. I wondered why he was paying so much attention to this part of my body. Warm water rinsed away the last of the foam. My foreskin was pulled back and the washing continued. A wet mouth briefly enclosed the tip of my cock and then the foreskin was pulled back over the thin layer of lubricating saliva. My cock responded to all the attention and gentle toweling which followed and hardened under the ministering hands.

The hum accompanying the warm air blowing over my arse told me that my leather captor was using a hair dryer on me. The warm air rippled over my stretched torso but concentrated mainly on the groin area. The feeling was wonderful and my cock dried, rose and stiffened still further at the brush of the warm air even though my arms were now causing me some discomfort. A leather hand cupped my balls and the blast of air was concentrated on my smooth shaven dick which throbbed with frustration at not being touched.

The hand gently dropped away and my balls bathed in the airflow. First the pain of bondage and a stiff brush, then the pleasure of slippery foam and warm air. I knew from my interrogating experiences the tricks that could play on the mind; not knowing when the pain was going to stop and the pleasure start. A sort of torture equivalent of nasty cop nice cop in the police cells. I knew how dependant and grateful one could become to the giver of pleasure and how keen to please the torturer to stop the pain. A man will say anything to stop the torture but not necessarily the truth. It takes far more persuasive methods to extract the truth from a captive – just how much did my captor know about such things? He certainly seemed to know what he was doing so far. I had had no chance to escape and just enough pain and pleasure to remind me of my status as a prisoner.

Slowly I was lowered to the ground and I struggled to get my balance with the spreader bar between my ankles. The lock at my neck was undone and the hood and gag removed. I sucked in air but closed my eyes against the dazzlingly bright light in my eyes. Turning to the side as far as my spread-eagled body would allow I saw a black figure enter the light. By squinting and not looking directly at the light I could just make out the leather biker. He had changed again and now wore skintight shiny black leather jeans which hugged his legs and crotch which shone in the light. Below were multi-strapped motorcycle boots, lovingly polished. A shiny buckled belt merged into the leather Levi shirt which was just visible beneath the black motorcycle jacket, undone to the waist. Thin supple leather gloves covered the hands that had just been feeling my balls and a full leather hood still covered his head with holes just visible for the mouth and eyes.

To be continued …