By bondagegimp

Prologue

I recently graduated from university, then worked for a year and saved a bit of money to be able to travel for several months. But only very simply. Hostels, hitchhiking – that’s all I can manage. But that’s enough for me. I want to see the world.

I’ve known for a long time that I like men and I’ve had sex with different guys, but it’s never been enough for a relationship. Something was always missing. And maybe that’s because of my hidden side. I’ve discovered that I’m turned on by scenes in films where men are tied up, when I see men tied up, etc. I have found more pictures on the internet that turn me on, men in rubber or leather suits, tied up, with masks, gags in different positions, etc.

But: In my home country, everyone is a bit conservative, or at least that’s what I think. I don’t dare to pursue these tendencies any further, let alone live them out. That’s not least the reason why I want to travel, why I want to see the world.

In one of the first weeks, I arrive in a town where there is apparently a small fetish meeting at the weekend. There are always guys in leather clothes walking around in the city. Sometimes even in a rubber shirt or something. It’s easy to find out where the parties take place and after some hesitation I go to one of the bars.

What I see there is another world for me! Guys in leather, guys in rubber. Some tied up, led on a leash by other blokes. Some are completely helpless, wearing a completely closed leather or rubber mask, with just enough holes to breathe.

I’m very shy, get myself a beer and hide away in a far dark corner from where I can watch everything without being seen, I think…

I’m particularly fascinated by one guy, very tall, very muscular, full black beard, short black hair, leather trousers, tight black T-shirt. He has two leashes in his hand, on each leash is someone or something that can only be described as a ‘slave’: Rubber suit, from head to toe, his head in a mask with a blindfold, so both are blind. The hands are in leather mitts so that the hands are unusable. The hands are attached to collars with short chains, the feet are connected with a short chain. One of the slaves kneels next to the master, nestling against his thighs. The other stands next to him. I can’t take my eyes off them, I’m too fascinated. To be honest – I stare at them…

But the master doesn’t seem half as fascinated by his slaves, he virtually ignores them. His gaze wanders around the room. Suddenly he stares in my direction. His gaze seems to pierce me, even though I’m sure he can’t see me in the dark corner. Nevertheless, I quickly look away, hardly daring to look. Shortly afterwards, he leaves the bar, dragging the two slaves on the chain behind him. Shortly afterwards I go back to my hostel.

Hitchhiking

The next day the fetish meeting is obviously over, at least you don’t see anyone else in the city. I’ve seen everything else in the city and decide to set off for the next city the next morning.

I don’t have a fixed plan, just a rough direction, and I stand in a suitable place to hitchhike. After a while, a big black SUV pulls up. I walk over and the master from the bar is sitting in it. I recognise him immediately, even though he’s wearing casual clothes, but his muscles are clearly visible under his loose-fitting shirt. And of course, I recognise his striking face.

He doesn’t seem to recognise me. Or doesn’t seem to notice. He just asks where I’m going. I say south, I name a town I want to go to, it’s several hours’ drive away. – ‘Right, get in.’ I get in. We introduce ourselves; his name is Bob. Apart from that, we remain silent at first, except for a little small talk.

A while later, we’re out of the city and on a country road. From then on, we are travelling in lonely areas: few cars, lots of forest and countryside, hardly any houses. We haven’t talked much up to this point. He asks me where I’m from, what I do etc… the usual. I reply that I’m travelling around and want to see a lot, but rather aimlessly. I chat a bit… trying not to stare at him too obviously – his pecs, his biceps, his thick thighs… I really have to pull myself together.

“You were in the bar the day before yesterday. How did you like it?”

The question hits me like a shock. I was sure he hadn’t seen or recognised me.

Bob seems to enjoy my embarrassment. I ramble on a bit, about how it’s all new to me and stuff. He doesn’t say anything, just lets me talk, but I didn’t dare express my real feelings about it… I try to get the upper hand by asking questions. ‘Who were the two boys on the lead?’

Then he starts to tell me. He’s been looking for a permanent slave for a long time. 24/7. Never had any luck finding the right one. He had met the two boys online and wanted to try them out that weekend.

I’m quite curious and try to find out as much as possible about what that actually means. But he’s evasive, he doesn’t give out much information.

Just this: both of them disappointed him somehow. He sounded pretty depressed. And also said that this was his last attempt for the time being. He’s giving up. He no longer believes he can find a suitable candidate. It went so far that he even wanted to sell all his equipment.

Fist Mitts

“You were staring at us the whole time. What was your favourite part?” I’m a bit perplexed and don’t quite know how to answer. I found the masks very exciting, but they also scared me. But what was really new to me were the mitts, the little fist mitts. On the one hand, they looked so cute, but on the other, they actually make the wearer quite helpless.

‘I’ve never seen mittens like that before’ I try to answer as noncommittally as possible.

‘Do you want to buy them?’

My desire is great, but I hardly have any money. “I don’t know if I can afford it. Things like that are expensive.”

“I’ll make you a suggestion: we still have a bit of a journey ahead of us. You can try them out on the journey. If you end up liking them, we’ll come to an agreement on the price.”

Without waiting for an answer, he pulls into the side of a country lane, gets out and takes a few things out of the boot. He holds the leather bags out to me. After a moment’s hesitation, I take them in my hand. They are made of strong, sturdy leather, but are a little padded. I put one hand in. It only fits when I make a fist. A thick leather strap can then be used to fasten the mitt around the wrist… the feeling is strange, a bit claustrophobic. My hand is locked up, I can’t open it anymore. It’s just a useless lump.

I can no longer put on the second fist mitt because my first hand has become useless. He sees it, grins and takes the second fist mitt. He holds it out to me, I push my fist into it and he fastens it. Now both my hands are just balls, the fingers are useless. I can no longer free the other hand from the mitt with one hand. But I could still open the strap with my teeth, I think… but Bob suddenly grabs my hands and closes the buckles with two small locks.

“If you must, then you should try them out properly so that you experience the right feeling! And that means you can’t just free yourself! And just for the sake of completeness, I’ve also brought this.”

And with that, he reaches for another item, a wide leather strap, and reaches towards my neck. Surprised, I try to fend him off, but there’s not much I can do against his powerful body and strong arms. He practically lies on top of me and grabs around my neck. The situation overwhelms me. Such a muscular guy lying on top of me, I can feel his body, his muscles, smell his odour. It turns me on, but at the same time I feel attacked. I resist, but it’s in vain, he puts a tight, wide collar around my neck. It’s a bit restrictive. I immediately grab it with my hands, but I can’t do anything with the mitts locked on anyway. I try anyway, but of course to no avail.

Then he lets go of me, sits upright in the driver’s seat again and drives back to the road. I am speechless. A little scared. He laughs out loud. “Don’t worry, boy. I won’t hurt you. I’m not looking for a slave anymore. I just want you to really feel the power of the fist mitts – and buy them from me at the end of the ride!”

I relax a little. Play with the mitts on me. I try to take the collar off without success. After a while, I find the situation stimulating again and try to come back to the subject of how he imagines life with a slave. He remains rather monosyllabic, and I only get a little information out of him. Only that the slave can move around the house to a certain extent from time to time, but is never really free. He never has so much freedom that he can run away. Always chained somehow. Always restricted in his movements. Always locked up in slightly uncomfortable clothes. Often in a mask, often locked in a cage or a box. Almost always gagged. Almost always with a plug in the hole.

These stories make me dizzy. I don’t know whether I should take them seriously or whether they are fantasies. I don’t think it’s possible to live like this. During the journey, Bob gives me a bottle of water and kindly opens it for me because I can’t do that with the fist mitts. Drinking is fine if I hold the bottle between my leather-covered hands. But the fist mitts are starting to get on my nerves. And even more so the wide collar, which really restricts the movement of my head.

After a while, however, the urge to urinate comes. I tell Bob that I need to pee slowly and hope that he will finally take my fist mitts off. He drives into one of the next side streets, but instead of taking my fist mitts off, he gets out and opens my door. He reaches for my neck, attaches a leash to the collar and pulls me out to the side of the road. He grabs me from behind, I feel his muscular body against me again, this time much closer, much tighter around me. He grabs my waistband from behind and undoes my belt. His touch near my crotch almost takes my breath away. He opens my trousers, they slide down to my feet, I’m paralysed. He reaches into my underwear, takes out my cock, which is already hard from the foreplay. He reaches under my balls, pulls them out of my underwear to free my cock completely. I’m taken by surprise and try to resist on the one hand, asking him to take these fist mitts off instead. At the same time, I’m ashamed that his touch excites me so much. And on the other hand, I’m in seventh heaven, feeling him against my back, his strong, fleshy chest muscles, his firm, thick arms around me, his powerful hands on my cock.

But the whole situation made my cock so hard that I couldn’t pee for the life of me. The situation was bizarre and incredibly hot at the same time. He stood behind me, with one arm he pressed me against his body, with the other hand he gripped my cock with a firm grip. The leash on my collar dangled in front of me. My hands in the mitts tried helplessly to free myself from his grip. As we stood like that for a while, his free hand slipped under my shirt and started to play with my nipples. This only made me hornier and peeing even more difficult.

I just couldn’t pee! After a short time, Bob lost his patience. I still tried to negotiate. ‘Just leave me alone for a minute, then I’ll be fine.’ But Bob had other plans. He pulled me by the lead towards the boot. Following him wasn’t easy, my trousers had slipped down to my feet and only allowed me to take short steps. That didn’t bother him, he opened the boot – like a station wagon, it was a flat surface.

He sat me down on the surface, climbed into the boot behind me, grabbed me by the collar and pulled me down. With a quick click, my collar was attached to a hook, so that I was now lying with my upper body on the boot while my legs dangled down on the outside.

I was surprised by the whole action and tried to free myself, but with my hands in the mitts I couldn’t grab anything. By now Bob was outside again and took off my shoes, stripped off my trousers and pants.

I was now naked from the waist down and helplessly pinned to the boot floor with my collar. Bob, meanwhile, was gathering a few things together. ‘I’ve got an idea how we can solve your peeing problem.’ He grabbed my balls and pulled them upwards, pushed something under me and let go again. Then he pushed my still slightly stiff cock down and wrapped something around me. After a brief moment of irritation, I realised that he was putting a nappy on me. I was extremely embarrassed and tried to get him to stop. But he refused and just said that he wouldn’t have to take my bitchy bladder into consideration on the rest of the journey.

After the diaper was on, he came with a pair of rubber briefs that he put on me. The shorts had a strong belt around the hips and thighs, which he pulled tight and secured with a small lock. Then he put strange shoes on me, or socks, made of rubber, padded, and also with a strap around the ankle. He connected them with a bar about 50 cm long. Finally, he took my hands and fastened the straps of the fist mitts to the right and left of the trouser straps. Only then did he untie my collar and pull me back up on the lead. As I stood, I realized how helpless I was by now. That scared me, but somehow it also made me horny. He took me in his arms and hugged me tightly. I felt his muscular body all around me, it calmed me down and made me very horny at the same time. I snuggled up to him, rubbed my head against his body, against his chest, in the area between his chest and arm, feeling his muscles, enjoying the situation, simply because my lust overcame my fear. He let me do it for a while until he grabbed me by the leash and pulled me back to my seat, put me in the car and buckled me in.

The bar between my feet made it almost impossible to pull my legs together. So I sat with my legs very wide apart on the passenger seat. Back on the road, I sat next to him, a little confused at first. I was very confused by the whole thing.

He didn’t say anything. He just sat there and stared at the road. Me next to him, in a diaper, rubber pants over it. My hands in the mitts, additionally fixed to the belt of the rubber pants on the left and right. His legs spread apart because of the bar between his feet. It was a very bizarre situation.

Suddenly his hand came to me, grabbed my crotch and stroked me through my diaper. It felt good. Cosy. I let it happen and nestled my head against his arm. He felt my still half-hard cock through the diaper. He played with it, making it harder still.

My bladder was still full, but it was impossible for me to pee. Cock hard. Hand on my crotch. And eh: I wasn’t used to wetting my pants, at least not for 20 years now. He continued to stroke my crotch, I cuddled my head against his strong biceps…

We rode like this for a while without talking much. At some point, we turned off the country road onto a small side road. I was a bit confused and asked where we were going. Bob just said that he could hardly drop me off at the train station in the next town. That’s why we were going to his place first. Besides, he didn’t want to waste the diaper like that, I had to use it first.

I felt a bit queasy, but what choice did I have? We drove further and further into even more remote areas and finally came to a very lonely house. Bob got out and pulled me out of the car by the leash.

Comments, questions? Find me on:

Romeo: bondagegimp

Recon: bondagegimpSTGT

 

Metal would like to thank the author, bondagegimp, and welcome him to the prison library!