Leather Road Trip

By rts

Part 1

I met this biker bud on line, he’s living about 700 miles from me but wanting to get together we agreed to meet halfway and go on a 1 week road trip on our Harleys. The basic rules were simple, in full leathers 24/7 and camping out every night and just get to know each other. We met up at a campground on the Columbia river, I was wearing my leather jeans, motorcycle jacket and 18″ linesmen boots, with just a T shirt and sox under my hides, the only thing I packed on the bike was my tent, bed roll and extra sox. It had been an almost 400 mile ride to the campsite and I had been feeling nice and horny the whole day.

I set up the tent and waited. In a couple of hours I heard a Harley rumble getting closer, finally pulling to a stop at my camp. He looking really hot in his hides, leather jeans tucked into his knee high engineer boot, motorcycle jacket, gauntlets covering his hands, his head shaved like mine. I could see that he was also wearing a leather shirt under his jacket. I walked over to him as he dismounted. We hugged with our leathers creaking together in the tight embrace. I noticed with interest a pair of handcuffs hanging from his belt. He looked me over from head to boots, reached down pulling the leg of my leather jeans up and said “you better take those boots off and put them back on properly with the leathers tucked into them if you are going to be riding with me.” I smiled, sat down on the ground and unlaced each boot, pulled them off, then folded over the leathers so that I could tuck it down inside my boots as I pulled them back on, finally lacing them snugly on my legs again. We talked about our pending road trip and confirmed that neither of us had packed a change of clothes and that we both would be living and sleeping in our leathers the entire time. He then told me my T shirt had to be left behind and reaching in his pack he pulled out and handed me a black rubber shirt. “Put this on and leave it on from now on.” I looked at it and asked if he expected me to be wearing this all the time? He smiled and just nodded. I removed my motorcycle jacket and began to struggle pulling the rubber shirt on over my head, he helped me work the long rubber sleeves over my arms, the shirt was snug but not too tight on the arms and the rubber was thick so it felt like an exo layer of muscle gripping my arms and torso as every time I twisted or bent forward the rubber would be pulling me back upright. I like this new sensation but was apprehensive about being compelled to remain wearing it for the next week. What the hell I thought as I pulled back on my motorcycle jacket.

Well the trip was a blast, some hot sweaty days in our gear, getting grotty wrestling around in the dirt. By the third day I was wishing to get out of the hides and felt miserably uncomfortable, the leathers feeling heavy with my sweat. (The rubber shirt was itching and the restrictive effect it was having on my movements was no longer feeling sexy, but on the plus side it kept my sweat from soaking my jacket, on the minus side instead, channeling it down my arms soaking my gauntlets and running down below my waist soaking my leather jeans making them muddy from the dirt I sat in . )  He was an excellent ridding bud, always leading us up remote dirt roads to camp. The routine he subjected me to at each camp was always the same except after the first night. On that first night after we had parked the bikes, he put the cuffs on my gauntleted hands in front of me, making sure that my jacket was zipped closed and then had me unpack and set up our tent. This job really sucked as I was really hot and it was a bitch trying to put up the tent with my hands cuffed. I spent a long time at it kneeling and sitting in the dirt while he sat back enjoying my efforts, finally uncuffing me when I was finished. In the morning he again cuffed me and I would have to reverse the routine. By the second night he no longer removed the cuffs and I had to sleep in them, only removing them in the morning after the bikes were packed and we were ready to ride. By the 3rd night my leathers were filthy but his remained pretty clean. By the 4th day I was resigned to be constantly sweaty and getting used to the hot heaviness of my hides confining me, and by the end of the 5th day I was feeling really horny in the situation and enjoying my grotty condition.  We spent the nights 69ing, getting each other off and in the day did a bit of handcuff play, he locked my arms around a tree on a few occasions, (the first time I willingly let him but after he left me to sweat in the hot sun for a few hours he had to wrestle me into submission the next time before he could again lock me like that ) .  This pissed him off so he left me overnight cuffed to a tree. After a long night trying to sleep without success, I planned to get even somehow once he released me. He came over to me and kicked at my boots asked if I had learned to behave myself, I mumbled a yes in reply. That day we rode another 300 miles all the time as I watched his leather clad form on his bike in front of me I could just picture him cuffed laying face down at my feet, that fine looking leather clad butt just asking for attention. At the end of the day he turned off the highway and I followed him up a very rough dirt road a mile or so to an old mine site. We parked the bikes and dismounted, I walked over to him as he was kneeling down looking under his bike, “hit a rock back there so I’m just checking, here’s the cuffs, put em on” he said reaching back with the cuffs. (This was the opportunity I needed ) .  As I took the cuffs I dropped full weight on his back grabbing them and snapping one closed on his out stretched wrist as he fell flat, face down his head sliding partway under his bike. I managed to grab his other arm and pull it back while he cursed and kicked, but I sat full down on him and with his head still under his bike I was in control and I quickly snapped the cuff on his other wrist. I would now force him to spend the night with his arms behind his back.  Angry now, he thrashed and kicked his way out from under the bike and as I got off him he struggled to his feet. He lunged at me but I tripped him as I side stepped and he fell to his side. He was shouting, and cursing threats at me. I quickly sat down on him and after a wild struggle, managed to remove his belt. Standing quickly, I took the belt and slapped it down hard on his butt a few good ones, him howling and thrashing around trying to get up. I grabbed his legs while getting hit by a few of his kicks and managed to get his belt around them pulling them tight together. I told him I was leaving him like this all night as payback. He kept shouting his threats. The sight of him laying there struggling was turning me on, I dropped down hard on his back, pushing my leathered groin hard against his great looking leather clad butt, then wrapping my arms around him as I started to dry hump him banging my crotch again and again against him. His shouts and cursing now became a series of groans as he began squirming his crotch against the ground. Our leathers creaked with the action, his sweat smelled good as I kissed the back of his neck. I brought myself to the edge then sat back up, fumbling to unzip my fly with my gloved hands pulling out my cock. He was twisting and franticly grinding his crotch in the dirt groaning for more. Staring down at this helpless sweaty thrashing biker, I jerked off, letting my cum spatter all over his leather butt, leaving my mark all over his great looking ass. Grabbing a handful of dirt, I rubbed it into the cum leaving nice muddy streaks on his hides. A few minutes passed enjoying the moment, listening to him groaning desperate to get himself off. I stood up and rolled him on his back, then straddling his head I sat down on his face, his groans now muffled as he tried to breathe with my butt covering his nose and mouth. Reaching for his crotch I slapped it hard a few times and he jerked with each blow. I pulled open the snaps on his jeans and unzipped them revealing a fully erect cock. I bent forward and took the tip in my mouth while grinding my butt in his face, slowly working it taking him to the edge. I could feel his tongue probing against my leathers. I pulled my head away and began vigorously stroking his cock with my gloved hand. He was thrashing around moaning shooting his load over himself. I wiped my glove on his thighs and as a final touch I again took a handful of dirt and this time dropped it into his unzipped crotch hearing him grunt in the unwelcome surprise at feeling that grittiness around his balls and ass crack. I pulled his zipper closed and refastened the waist snaps. I then got off his face and lay down beside him hugging him. He now asked me to remove the cuffs but I refused telling him now he would know what if felt like sleeping in them just like I had been doing every night. He complained that he had only cuffed me with my hands in front and not behind my back. “Learn to live with it,” I replied, “and that strap around your legs is staying on too, so shut up and sleep.” He spent a miserable night, neither of us got much sleep, but I enjoyed knowing he was uncomfortable and that dirt I dumped into his crotch must be giving him hell as he moved around.


Part 2


The final 2 days went well, we got along with each other. I still submitted to being cuffed all the time we were camped but he didn’t leave me cuffed out in the hot sun for hours anymore. The end of the last day took us to his house. I still had 700 miles more to go before I got home. We had such a good time traveling together and were reluctant to part. He had to get back to work, but since I didn’t have to be anywhere, he invited me to stay at his place for a few days.

Arriving at his house at night we put the Harleys in the dark basement garage. After 7 days in them I was now eager to get out of my leathers and the rubber shirt and into a shower. It was impossible to see anything in the blackness, and as I got off my bike I heard a chain rattle, my bud grabbed me from behind, next I felt cold steel around my neck, the click of a lock, then his laughter as I felt the weight of a heavy metal collar trapping me. As I struggled trying to grab him I felt a jerk on the collar, it was attached to a chain hanging from the ceiling. I could only move a short distance in any direction. I was cursing him and shouting at him. All he did was to continue to laugh and then said “payback is such a bitch, learn to live with it.” The chain was only long enough for me to stand, impossible to sit or even kneel down. He turned the garage lights on. There was a large mirror on one wall reflecting the scene. Two shaved headed men in dirty full leathers, one standing helpless chained by the neck to the ceiling cursing, the other walking around laughing and enjoying the scene. We were both booted, wearing our leather jeans and motorcycle jackets dirty from a week on the road, (mine much filthier than his and I’m still wearing the rubber shirt which is now driving me crazy as it has been itching and chafing me for the last few days ) .  He was now holding some metal leg irons. As he approached holding them up for me to see, I said “no way” and backed away until the chain pulled the collar tight around my neck, I took a swing at him as he ducked down grabbing my legs and quickly fastened the shackles around my boots as I struggled to hit him. Locks clicked, and now my legs were held by the steel cuffs, with only a spreader bar between them. He order me to put my hands behind my back, I failed to obey and told him to fuck off. The next thing I felt was his boot slamming into my butt knocking me off balance, choking as the chain pulled the collar tight. I grabbed for the chain with both hands. He took hold of my left arm snapping the cuffs on my wrist and pulled it down behind my back while forcing me forward onto my tip toes ordering me to put my right arm behind my back, gasping in the grip of the tight collar I quickly complied, and now my wrists were cuffed together. He pulled me back so that the chain became slack and my boots were again flat on the floor. I was getting aroused by this treatment, but was still pissed off at this unexpected situation. I was tired from the long road trip and it sucked to be forced to remain standing like this. I had been looking forward after a full week in my hides to a hot shower and a cleanup and then some leather action. Humiliated, I tried pleading with him for a chance to clean up, but he said he was enjoying seeing me like this, rank and miserable and intended to keep this way for a “while.” I then begged him to at least make more slack in the chain so that I could sit on the floor as my legs were tiring and I was afraid of choking. Again he just laughed and said, “you’re not tired enough just yet, I need to get cleaned up, see you in an hour or so” and walked through a doorway out of the garage. I kept shouting for him as he closed the door. I looked at my sorry reflection in the mirror, leathers covered in dirt and grime, shaved head streaked with sweat, an iron collar locked around my neck with a heavy chain joined to the ceiling, hands cuffed behind my back, legs locked in irons, spreader bar forcing them two feet apart aching muscles trembling, tired, thirsty and hungry.

As the time slowly passed I was beginning to struggle to maintain standing as each time my legs sagged the chain pulled the collar tight and I was afraid I would fall over and choke myself. It was warm in the garage and my leathers felt hot and sweaty. Just about when I felt I would lose it, the door opened and he returned, he was now wearing leather breachers, knee high riding boots and a padded motorcycle jacket, looking refreshed. “It’s time I got you ready for the night. Tomorrow I will be leaving you in something equally as uncomfortable while I go to work. You really pissed me off when you put that dirt down in my crotch, that felt like crap and made for some uncomfortable riding. After tonight I guarantee you will learn what misery is.”  I just groaned and again begged to be released long enough to clean myself up, promising to willingly submit to him. He shook his head, “I intend to maintain full control over you and keep you in restraints and in your sorry condition looking pathetic in your grotty hides, remember we started this trip agreeing on 24/7 in full leathers, well we spent the first week together enjoying ourselves but now I have to go back to work tomorrow, but as you don’t have to get back to a job and still will be on the road another two maybe three days riding 700 miles home I will enjoy playing here with you so that by the time you get home you will have racked up a few extra days in your gear.” He was now moving what looked like a carpenter’s sawhorse toward me. This one was made of steel and the top rail was a six-inch-diameter steel pipe. He fit the horse between my legs so that I was now straddling it, sitting on the steel pipe with my boots flat on the floor. I could only lift myself up if I stood on my toes otherwise all my weight was concentrated on my crotch and butt. I now had a raging hard on. He then added a chain from each of my leg irons to the frame of the horse to prevent me from attempting to get off it. “I don’t want you falling off in the middle of the night and choking yourself, and as a final touch I’m replacing those cuffs with some serious iron.” He was now holding a pair of heavy steel shackles joined by a thick chain. Once he placed each one around my wrists locking them in place, he removed the handcuffs. He then locked the chain to the steel frame behind me. My crotch was already beginning to ache and as I stood on my toes to ease the pressure He started to laugh. “It’s only been a few minutes you wimp, you still have a long night ahead of you.”

I was now begging him to not leave me like this. “The more you complain the longer you displease me and the longer you will be miserable, only your submission and acceptance will earn you relief.” He then gave me water ordering me to drink it all. “By the way, your first piss break is in the morning, if you can’t hold out that long that’s your problem. Feel free to cum as often as you want,” he laughed as he kissed my then left the garage, turning off the lights.

I was now so very horny and aroused. Stinking of sweat, hot, the rubber shirt binding and squeaking as I struggled to find a more comfortable position I began humping the horse, getting more and more excited as the chains rattled and my leathers creaked, knowing it was a mistake to cum, knowing how miserable I would feel right after and how much harder the next hours would become I couldn’t control the urge. I started banging my butt against the pipe, sliding back and forth grinding my crotch into the pipe. I exploded loosing what little control I had and shouted and grunted in my pleasure momentarily enjoying the pain of the steel pipe between my legs that I was banging my butt against, the release, sagging forward the chain to my collar pulling tight, my arms pulled back. And so the long night began.

There was no possibility of sleep, with my weight on the steel pipe my butt painfully hurt and I had to keep standing on my toes to relieve the pressure, but I could only hold this position for very brief periods before my legs would give out, slamming me painfully back down on the pipe. As the night passed, I again got aroused by my helpless situation and grinding my crotch back and forth along the pipe again stupidly allowed myself to cum again. After which I had to piss myself, adding to my total misery.


Part 3


Finally morning. I sat slumped forward on the horse, my crotch and butt aching from the long night straddling it. My leathers now piss soaked and full of my drying cum and wasted from the lack of sleep. I was exhausted and now submissive. He entered the garage in his work clothes, came over to me as I remained silent. He began unlocking my legs from the metal horse, then the wrist restraints freeing me from the horse he slid it out from under me. Then he unshackled my wrists. I stood shakily before him as he unlocked the chain to my collar. He left my legs restrained in their shackles and spreader bar and attaching a lead chain to the collar he led me over to a small washroom with a sink and toilet. Holding the lead, he told me I had 10 minutes to clean myself up without removing my jacket and since there was no way to remove my leg irons, the boots and leather jeans weren’t coming off. I took a needed dump and managed to drop my jeans low enough to wash my balls and crotch, held my head under the tap and felt a little better. My crotch was still hurting from the night and I was moving slowly. He now gave a jerk to the lead chain and led me shuffling to a corner of the garage. “Do you have any complaints?” he asked. I shook my head no. “Good boy.” He picked up the heavy shackles I had worn all night, told me to put my arms behind my back. I quickly obeyed. Once again I was locked into them. Next I was ordered to kneel down. I saw a large steel ring protruding from the cement floor in front of me. I heard the sound of a heavy chain, the click of a lock and felt the weight of the chain pulling on my shackled arms. He then passed this chain under my crotch then through the ring embedded in the floor then up to the steel collar around my neck, locking it together. I was now restrained in a kneeling position so that when I raised my head the chain would tighten thru my crotch pulling my arms down and moving my arms up would force my head down. The spreader bar was holding my shackled boots two feet apart making it difficult to change positions. He left the room then returned carrying two large metal dog bowls, which he placed down on the floor in front of me. One was full with water, the other contained hot oatmeal. He looked me over testing the restraints. “Let me see how well you can manage getting down to your food bowl.” I sat back and carefully lowered my head down, managing to start to eat without falling face first into the bowl, still getting the sticky oatmeal all over myself. “I don’t think that you will be able to remain on your knees very long, hope you can make yourself comfortable,” he was laughing as he slapped me on the back of the head. “See you again in eight or nine hours.

Then he left for work.

He was right. The cement floor was hard on my knees. I still managed to finish eating, as this was the first food I had since early yesterday. I drank some water, sat back on my kneeling legs, then tried to maneuver into a different position. The spreader bar on my legs was giving me some difficulty as I fell onto my side. This didn’t feel a hell of a lot better, but there were so many things I was feeling, none of them pleasant. My butt was aching from that long night on the metal horse, this fucking rubber shirt was now unbearably itchy and chaffing, soaking my grotty leathers in my smelly sweat, and I was stinking of piss and stale cum. I wanted out so bad, I wanted to get my boots off and get out of these damn leathers and take this fucking uncomfortable rubber shirt off, get in a hot shower and scrub myself clean and feel the air on my skin again, I thrashed around in frustration, but here I was trapped for another long day like this, squirming around in chains on a garage floor. All I had to look forward to after I was released from this torture was still a 700-mile ride and two or three more days on the road in my grotty gear before I was home. I kept struggling to find a more bearable position, managing to get on my back without choking myself, the wrist restraints digging into me. Squirming forward so my butt was close to the floor ring leaving the maximum slack in the chain I was able to sit up leaning forward, now only the chain digging into my crotch. It was weird, the more I dwelled on my misery the more aroused I became. I hated the way I was feeling and wanted out yet I still wanted more, digging the smell and sounds of my leather creaking and the wet squishing restrictive feeling of the rubber shirt. I liked the feeling of sweating away in this heavy gear, unable to get out of it. I liked the heavy shackles weighing down my legs and arms, the clinking of the chains as I tried to move, the heavy metal collar locked around my neck and knowing that I could not escape. I liked the fact that for the next eight hours at least all I could do was tough it out. I was getting aroused again, and as long as I remained in this state I could accept my current status. I just let myself relax, lying sometimes on my back. Occasionally struggling around to get to the water bowl for a drink. I fell asleep for a while, waking whenever my movements pulled uncomfortably on my restraints. I would squirm around on the floor varying my position for any slight improvement of my discomfort. I pissed myself a couple of times, at first enjoying the sensation as the warm liquid soaked my crotch and trickled down my butt crack, then feeling disgust as the soaked leathers cooled and stank of stale urine, no longer feeling so great as I moved around and thought of those long miles I would have to be riding home in them. The day just dragged on and on, at least I was getting in a few catnaps and almost getting an out of body sensation.

Then I heard footsteps, at last he was back from work. “How’s my stud doing, any complaints?” he asked laughing. I grunted out a no, wishing to please him. I was aching all over. I asked him how long have I been here like this. “Almost 10 hours and seeing as how you seem to be enjoying yourself, you are probably good for the rest of the night.” No I gasped, please get me out of this. “What you little bastard I see you haven’t learned to accept your condition. I decide when and if you have earned release. I want you back on your knees in the same position I left you in this morning, get moving!” I quickly began my struggles to get my legs back under and behind me, grunting and sweating in the effort. “You are to stay in that position as long as it pleases me. Are you enjoying being in your grotty hides this long?”

“Yes,” I answered, hoping to please him.

“Great I will make sure you remain in them. Of course if you had answered ‘no’ I would have immediately freed you and let yourself get cleaned up. But there is a fat chance of that happening now,” he laughed. “You were having such a good time on our trip when you had me cuffed and you shot your cum on my butt, then had the balls to fill my crotch with dirt and shove your dirty butt in my face, this is all payback with interest you little prick.”  He walked over to me kneeling and trembling there helpless, took out his cock and began to piss on me, directing the stream to my head and back. He finished and walked out of the garage. I remained in the position waiting for his return, his piss dripping off my chin, my body trembling trying to remain on my knees hurting from the cement floor. When he finally returned he was again dressed in his road trip leathers, still grimy from our week on the ride. He had on his knee-high engineer boots and was carrying a couple of beers. He pulled a chair over and sat down in front of me opened a bottle and started to drink. “I am really enjoying seeing you so helpless and pathetic, filthy and smelling pretty rank. I like you and have been having a grand time hanging out with you, but you must understand, I’m the top dog here and your punishment for your attempted moment of power on our trip must be so sufficient that you will willingly and convincingly accept my treatment of you. Out of respect you will call me Boss. Do you understand me?”  I gulped out a yes Boss. “Understand the dilemma you are in. If I ask you if you want out from any situation I have put you in and your answer is ‘no,’ I will sustain the situation. If you answer is ‘yes’ I would not be pleased so I would still sustain the situation, perhaps adding something more to your discomfort. You see it will be myself that decides when you have performed to my satisfaction. I know how miserable you are now feeling, but I will decide when I have been sufficiently amused by your condition to permit release. Now think carefully when you answer this question. Are you comfortable in that kneeling position?”


Part 4


My mind was racing, what the hell can I say? “My comfort or discomfort can only be decided by you Boss I am controlled by you.” He laughed at this, “you may be learning something.” He sat there drinking his beer watching me struggling to shift my weight from knee to knee, sweating in the effort not to lose it. He stands up, unzips his fly pulling out his engorged cock, walks up to my face taking hold of my head he begins thrusting it into my mouth. “Make it good boy.” I am anxious to please him, hoping for some relief from this situation. He is taking his time slowly thrusting deep into my mouth. I am working my tongue, I feel him getting closer as his thrust get more rigorous, just as he is about to shoot he pulls out and directs his cum all over my face and head as he grunts out his pleasure, continuing to hold my head as he pulls it tight against his crotch rubbing it into my face. He backs away and picks up his beer, taking a mouthful he spits it on my head and face, then grabbing the collar of my jacket he pushes my head down onto his muddy boots. “Start licking them clean boy.” This position is awkward as the chain from my shackled wrists is now tightly pressed into my crotch as my arms are pulled tight when I stretch my neck to reach his boots. “I like the way you are smelling boy, old sweaty leathers, cum, piss and beer, a totally rank punk. Do a good job on those boots and you earn a beer.” I was off balance as I tried to stretch my head toward his boots, falling forward on slamming my face hard into them. “Suck on those boots boy, work that tongue.” It was slow work, my restrained position made it very difficult and painful, I could only reach the lower parts of each boot as I strained to lick them clean. He was shouting at me now, pouring beer on my head telling me to hurry up. I was franticly squirming trying to reach more of his boots, breathing heavily and sweating with the effort. He pulled his boots away, my face now lying in the spilled beer. “Lap that up boy.” He now picked up the dog bowls he had left me this morning, left the garage returning in a while with them filled with water and more oatmeal. Shoving the bowl toward me, lifting my head he dropped it face first into the warm oatmeal ordering me to eat it all. I was starved for food. The only thing I had eaten in the past 24 hours was that morning’s bowlful. When I had finished it he pushed the water bowl over, telling me to drink it all. Struggling I moved my head to the water and gratefully drank it. “Its time to get you ready for bed boy, can’t leave you with your naked head on that hard cement all night.” He walked away and when he came back he sat down on my back, his leathers creaking in contact with mine. He started to pull a thick leather hood over my head. The leather was thick and he laced it tight. I felt the pull of several straps buckling closed and the final click of padlocks. There were nose holes for breathing and only pinholes for my eyes. The mouth hole was quickly filled with a rubber ball gag strapped on. I mumbled in distress as I realized he was going leave me in the same bondage I had been in all day, now with the added confinement of this hood and ball gag. He got up off me, “good night boy.” I struggled around on the floor, my shouts & pleading effective muffled by the gag as I heard the sound of his boots walking out of the garage, the lights went out. I was left there face down on the cement floor, my boots held in metal shackles a spreader bar forcing them two feet apart, my wrists shackled behind my back, a heavy chain locked to them then passing between my legs tight against my crotch thru a loop in bedded in the cement then locked to the metal collar around my neck, locked in a thick leather hood, ball gag strapped in my mouth. I’ve been in my full leathers, boots, gloves and rubber shirt for over a week now.

I am soaked in sweat, piss, cum and beer and hurting all over. I am helpless.

After this second long night I am miserable and resigned at my condition and grateful hearing his boot steps approaching me. I slobber a mumbled greeting thru my ball gag. “Hey boy did you get any sleep? You’ll need it for the long day ahead of you.” My heart sank as I’m thinking that I can’t take any more of this but don’t dare try to voice any complaint. He is laughing and now unlocking the chain attached to my wrist restraints, then lifting me up onto my knees he removes the chain and unlocks my collar. I now can see him thru the pinholes in my hood. He is still wearing the same leathers and boots he was in yesterday and on our road trip. Looking very hot as he reaches behind my head to release my ball gag. I thank him for this and he presses his mouth against mine and we kiss while he reaches down to my crotch and starts rubbing it. My legs are still locked with the spreader bar and I am rocking trying to keep my balance as he unzips my fly and pulls out my now erect cock. Holding me with one arm his hand on my butt squeezing it, he begins to stroke my cock as I moan in pleasure enjoying my helplessness, enjoying the feel and smell of my sweaty leathers, my itching rubber shirt, the tightness of my hood, the heavy shackles on my wrists and legs. As he is stroking me he asks, “Do you like my treatment of you? Do you like being in all your grotty gear? Do you enjoy being kept sweaty and miserable at my pleasure?”

“Yes, yes, Boss,” I moan as he brings me closer and closer to the edge and I finally shoot my load on his leathers. He continues to stroke as my knees buckle and he grabs my butt tighter holding me up. Lowering me to my knees, he then pulls out his cock, working it steadily the shooting his cum on my jacket, then kneels down in front of me and we kiss for a while. He stands up, putting his cock back into his leathers, telling me to sit down he walks over to a workbench, returning with something in his hands. Holding up a short length of braided wire, he says, “This is stainless steel wire, very hard to cut.” Kneeling down by my legs, he takes one wire threading it thru the top eyelets of my left boot, he next takes a tool and crimps the ends of the wire into a loop so that the eyelets are now wired together. He repeats this on my left boot. I am aroused by this and apprehensive. “This will keep you from removing your boots. You will need a grinder or heavy bolt cutters to remove this wire, and since you won’t be able to get your boots off anytime soon, you are forced to keep living in those leather jeans until you finally get home. How do you like that boy?”

“If this is pleases you I will have to like it,” I replied.

“I have one more thing for you. To keep that jacket on it needs to be locked.” He is now holding a dog choker chain and small lock, fitting it around  the collar of my motorcycle jacket he locks the ends to the zipper slider. “That will keep the jacket in place, no way to remove the rubber shirt under it. That I know is driving you crazy now. The lock is stainless steel too and will need the bolt cutter to remove it. I will however mail the key to you when you leave here. The rubber shirt is a gift for you.” Now he proceeds to unlock and unstrap my hood, undoing the back lacing and pulling it off, next he frees my hands and finally my legs from the shackles. Looking over at the mirror I again see two leathermen looking hot, I am looking the worse for wear, my leathers are filthy from all that grinding about on the cement floor, damp with sweat and cum-stains. My shaved head is streaked with sweat, dirt, stale beer and cum.

“You are free to leave now, you can use the bathroom but don’t wash your face and head, I want to see you leaving here as grotty as you look now. Looking like that should make your ride home interesting, you are filthy and smell of sweat and piss, the stale beer odor and dried cum stains just adds to your wretchedness.

I just nod my acceptance.

It took me three days to ride those 700 miles home and get my boots and leathers off, at times it was a very miserable trip, but that’s another tale.




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