Nic Slammed on the Brakes

By bdsmsydney

Nic slammed on the brakes. In the dark, nearly midnight, He had nearly missed seeing the biker at the exit to the petrol station. Bikers jacket, but no helmet and no bike.

The biker smiled and thanked Nic for the lift, yes he was going all the way back to Sydney. The biker slumped back and closed his eyes. Nic looked him over, about 30, short but fit, well-fitting quality bikers jacket and black jeans, with a prominent bulge in the crotch and tall Doc Marten boots with red laces. Clean shaven black hair and masculine.

Nic was already getting the stirring of an erection.

The biker had just got himself into a lot of trouble, Nic hoped.

Where was his bike? But the biker was exhausted. Not now, Nic thought.

Nic had varied sexual tastes, one of his rare favourites was abduction, bondage and slave training. He made good money out of it too. He had clients waiting for him to provide quality meat, at almost any cost. Two aussie gay men ran a large cattle station with “tom of finland” stockmen, all built like gym steroid junkies, shaven heads and thick nose rings. The men were sex slaves, once they accepted it. Not a bad life, Nic thought.

The two bosses had taken what Nic delivered to them, the most recent Paying him at $700 per kilo. That beast weighed in at over 185kg including the heavy leather gear and restraints (and a month training!) making Nic about $150k aussie dollars, about $100k US. Good money!

The Client, Nic and the beast all happy! Or at least the beast’s newly PA-ed cock was rock hard as he was delivered. Nic knew the beast was going to get what he needed for at least the next few years. And he had the right to resell him if the aussies got bored of him. He had other clients, mostly in Europe, and a few other good clients in the USA and Canada.

Nic had beers in the van, some already laced with sedative, but this time he chose not to use them.  Always more exciting (and a challenge) to trap a man without resorting to drugs or showing what he was in for. It was his cock and arse, and it was my (profitable) job to get it, without him knowing he was being enslaved. The victims always fought and struggled harder if they did not know what was in store for him, that was the difference between an unsuspecting highway bikie victim and what he would find in city gay bars or beats.

Over time, Nic had proven resistance equals profit. His entrapped men ALWAYS sold for more than the other slave traders got for the stock they had to offer. Nic liked the energy and passion as they resisted the training he put them through.

Nic loved the genuine struggle of an innocent, training him into a sex-obsessed slave, later to be bait who would bring in more young men, that would be used, abused and sold or dumped.

The money was no longer as important, but Nic got off on the adrenaline of the capture of the men and the training and transformation into leather-encased sex machines he turned them into. Nic was also chuffed at the reputation and respect he had developed with the select few who knew what he did.

He appreciated the reputation and status his quality stock had given him with his very powerful clients. He had waiting list of clients and could sell every beast he got, AFTER the beast had been fully trained. Quality was his reputation and everything.

The amateurs were always SO MUCH more fun. That’s why he liked hunting on the highways, not the gay bars in Sydney or Melbourne. Also, so far, when bikers/hitchhikers went missing, nobody cared.

His best aussie clients worked the stock he provided hard. Six hours working hard on the farm or in the gym, then the remaining time was training, that is being bound, tortured and edged every day. All wore locked cock cages, only released when his hands were restrained. The cocks belonged to the bosses. The two bosses would take one or two slaves away, usually for a few days, often returning with a tight-fitted leather hood with gag locked in. The hood was also secured by replacing the nose ring with a padlock.

Was the gag and hood a reward or a punishment?

When released hooded, the slaves often had a cock cage covering a purple and blue cock that was engorged and would have been a huge erection, if not for the restraining cockcage which obviously they were not allowed to touch and separate padlocks, one locked on each blueish testicle. The two bosses had, on occasion, removed a slave for “correction.” Sometimes the man returned, sometimes he did not. NO-ONE ever asked. No slave had escaped so far. One beast returned without teeth and an exceptional capacity to suck cocks for hours

Nic enjoyed his rare visits to the manstud. Sometimes having six hot men chained down, hardcock and sweaty. Gags. Every day. BLISS! Sometime picking one or two to work over the others. Then later swapping roles for them to find revenge on their fellow beasts. This was conditioning and training, the beasts became stronger, physically and mentally, gradually accepting the reality of his enforced slavery.

This is where the Biker would end up, if Nic had his way.

Nic had a boring anonymous white van, the back set up for moving delicate and valuable objects, sometimes paintings or furniture, sometimes motorbikes and bodies. The heavy black padding stopped damage and noise and concealed storage for gear and squirming leather. Nic had set up the van to catch and transport slaves and gimps, a sport he found fulfilling and financially rewarding.  He didn’t need the money, but the work was enjoyable, the risk made it exciting.

The Biker was next.

Nic was now about two hours from Sydney, and he knew the roads well. An unofficial rest area and gay beat was a few kms ahead, popular with truckies, everyone was discrete and minded their own business. Close to midnight and cold, Nic judged it would be quiet and it was. Nic had done this before, but he still found it exhilarating.

Stop the van, handbrake, pop the door open. “Wake up mate. Break time and a piss.”

Often Nic would drug his target, enough to give him a certain edge, make the sub more compliant, but tonight it would be a compression choke hold for about four to six seconds followed by quickly securing the biker’s wrists. Bikers carry knives and know how to use them! As safety backup, Nic had a taser in his jacket but had never needed to use it.

Nic doused the headlights and jumped energetically out of the van, sliding easily into his heavy leather jacket against the cold of the open air. Moving around to the back and opened the double doors, He waits for the sound of the biker. He hears the Biker moving and his boots crunching in the gravel moving to the back of the van. I had gotten up into the van so I was higher than my target, giving me a better position and leverage, The Biker, unknowing, turns and leans, stretching his back onto the van tailgate, his back to me, his neck perfectly available.

His neck slides easily into the crook of my leather clad elbow against my bicep, easy pressure and leverage. Done! Too easy! I pull him up into the van by his neck and drops him onto the padded rubber floor on his chest, my CLEJUSO police cuffs appear and his wrists are cuffed behind him in an instant, the racheting noise always a favourite noise for Nic. As the Biker rapidly comes to, He doesn’t seem aware what is happening as I roll him over onto his back and push the black plug gag into his mouth. I rolled him over because I LOVE to see the look in his eyes as the gag goes in. His eyes widen and stare, NOW he tries to push it out, too late. The gag is already fully in and buckled, but I tighten it up two more holes, just because I can. No such thing as too tight! Now I shove my knee heavily firmly and deliberately into his cock and balls. He bucks! The padded floor absorbs most of his effort. I smile at him and trap his legs with mine. A strap goes around his ankles and my foot pushes them down.

I feel thru his tight jeans , biker has something on his cock and balls!  This is a good sign. Biker is kinky and active! Now I drag his head over to the side of the van, the chain and padlock goes smoothly around his neck and latches loudly, securing his head to the wall. Wait there a sec I say, as I clip his ankles to the other side of the van and then I pull the doors closed.

DARK. Biker grunts. More like shouts into the gag. I love it. I know what he is probably saying: “What the fuck! Let me go! What, not me, wrong guy.” I let him ride his adrenaline, I’m sitting astride his thighs and I handle his cock and balls through his jeans. He can feel me touching his tackle, and he does not like it. I keep going. He has a nice cock, and it’s getting harder.

I grab a plastic bag. It rustles. Biker suddenly stops moving, shakes his head vigourously side to side. Do you know that noise boy? He nods once, slowly, this boy is experienced! OK boy, you’re getting amyl in a plastic bag over your head. Bag stays till I finish talking to you. Be quiet and do not interrupt me. Do you understand? Nod your head! He nods. He is still and quiet, breathing is heavy, he is scared! The amyl will take him away. I feel his cock engorging under my hand as I start to tell him his own story.

“Biker! I collect men. At random. I will keep you bound, hooded, gagged, plugged, pierced, suited, tattooed and tortured and rock hard. You are not advised to ever wank yourself and cum again. That cock and the cum in it, is no longer yours!

Biker, I want to see and hear you resisting me. When I stroke that dick, when I tighten your restraints, your cock will be caged and you will be chained, you are now owned. An object. Property. MINE!

Then maybe in a few weeks or months, Biker, I might let you go, or not. I’m going to keep you hooded and severely restrained for the next 12 hours, then maybe let you talk for a few minutes. Does that sound fair? Then you can beg and tell me I got the wrong guy.

Then we will move to full Gimp training hood with head harness and mouth-filling gag. Leather gimp suit with arse plug, cock hole and locks on everything. Shall we take the plastic bag off now and let you breathe?

The leather gimp suit has no pockets, so I’m going to take your phone, wallet and cards. You won’t need them anymore. You getting angry are you biker ? This is REAL boy. That’s good! I want you fully exhausted. Makes it better to get used to and sleep in the bondage, you’ll see. You will get used to this … eventually.

Wanna be a porn star biker? I had cameras in the front of the van and in the back  and we have security cameras, for security, of course, but well edited. We make expensive exclusive porn. Not quite snuff films, but close! Your drivers license will be filmed as well. Your future masters may want to know who you are, and where you were. If you ever escape (or if I let you escape), think how keen and willing my “associates” will be to be part of a REAL manhunt. Whoever is the lucky guy who recaptures you, HE will be rewarded with a couple of weeks of exclusive use of you and the right to train, brand, tattoo or modify you as he chooses.

Then it will be back into heavy confinement and more training to ready you for sale as a master’s OBJECT. The slaves often end up permanently aroused and desperate to please their masters, you would have seen many of my previous victims at all those kink leather events in the US and Europe.

Brainwashed and conditioned, the Slaves, Gimps and Objects are loyal and obedient to their masters, willing to do anything to remain in the permanent secure headspace full leather, bondage, ownership and control by a master provides. Not so bad to be permanently a sexual beast!

Nic was seriously addicted to his sport. He was already thinking of the next bloke who He would hunt and trap to become part of his tribe.

The station/farm I spoke of is based on a real one. Near Rockhampton in Queensland, 1.4 million acres, 800,000 hectares. The driveway is 38 kms long. runs about 2000 head of cattle (and a large marijuana plantation). The two bosses have six owned men living on the property, one who has surrendered his freedom and has not left the property in six years! The men are all PA-ed and have nose rings, ownership tattooed and muscle bound from real work, not from the gym . Unfortunately, they very rarely take visitors, but the bosses do come to Sydney occasionally bringing some of their leather beasts with them.

Metal would like to thank bdsmsydney for this story!

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3 thoughts on “Nic Slammed on the Brakes”

  1. Woof that’s hot! When the farm slaves return hooded is it a permanent addition to their uniform, or just part of what the bosses were doing to them for the past several days? Would love to hear more of the biker boy’s training and conversion and hopefully sale to the farm bosses

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