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Buddy gets tied up and Tickled Hard

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At Tickled Hard, Buddy is okay with being tickled as an idea, but when he hops up on the tickling table, nerves quickly kick in. Franco cuffs Buddy’s hands behind his back and lays him face down for a test tickle. He’s crazy ticklish! Franco tickles Buddy’s hamstrings before telling him to flip over to tickle his front. Buddy screeches and thrashes violently as Franco tickles him in his armpits. At one point, Buddy breaks one of the ropes, but this bull can’t buck Franco off. After lowering his arms to reduce the pain, Franco tickles Buddy in his bellybutton and on his ribs. This guy may be strong, but no matter what he tries, he can’t stop the tickle torture. Franco tickles Buddy through his athletic socks, then on his cute, size 9 bare feet. Finally, Buddy is able to sneak out of one of the wrist restraints, and in a rare turn of events, he gets in a split-second tickle of Franco. He even breaks the tickling table in half! When everything is put back together, Franco exacts his revenge. He tickles Buddy hard on his ribs, munches his sensitive feet, then sits on his chest and tortures his inner thighs. Franco tickles Buddy’s neck with turkey feathers and his bristly beard, then drives him nuts tickling his ears. To end the marathon tickle, Franco tickles Buddy’s soles and sucks his big toe. Oh, and one brutal final tickle between his thighs.

Franco cuffs Buddy's hands behind his back

See the video at Tickled Hard

Franco tickles him in his armpits

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Black Leather Cops and Revenge – Part 3

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By Alex Ironrod © 2021

PART THREE – PUNISHMENT

I don’t know how long we hung in our tightly yoked bondage, the dim light refracting on our leather breeches and black boots, as we fought to keep our footing with bound ankles and knees, while our arms ached from being anchored to a high pulley. The sweat dried on our thrashed upper bodies, but our pricks, bound together, enjoyed the constant stimulus and remained rock hard.

Colin gasped occasionally as the rope gag sawed at his tongue, but neither he nor I could move our heads more than an inch and his face was darkened by the leather mask blinding his eyes. He could feel my body as our torsos were bound together, but my groans from the stabbing pain from the nipple clamps were effectively silenced by the black leather gag which had been inflated to fill my mouth.

Eventually our “hosts” returned. “Glad you’re still awake, and ready for the next challenge”, remarked Sergeant Tyrell, stretching in his all-leather uniform and taking off his helmet. Officer Witkowski undid the belts, clamps and cords that bound us together, freeing our pricks to explore further and our bodies to sag independently in their chains.

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Black Leather Cops and Revenge – Part 2

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By Alex Ironrod © 2021

PART TWO – INITIATION

With my violated and beaten ass and aching arms, I made it back on my bike to my apartment in town. I pulled off my high black boots, stripped off my once shining leathers and took a long hot shower. It didn’t wash away the memory of my rape and I brooded in silence. What could I do alone to get my revenge? How could I get close to the leather-shirted Sergeant Tyrell and learn his tricks and his weaknesses?

Gradually a plan of action emerged. I would join the Highway Patrol and become a motor cop. With luck and careful planning, I could meet Tyrell again and I would take it from there. After all, I knew all about bikes; I’d been riding them for almost ten years, and my three-year military experience should count for something. I gave up my computer sales job and got ready.

I spit-polished my boots until they gleamed, put on a fresh pressed shirt and pants, slung my leather jacket round my shoulders, walked into the nearest Highway Patrol station – and signed on. It was easier than I dared to hope, with my existing background paving the way. Soon after I was called up to the Academy for training.

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Black Leather Cops and Revenge – Part 1

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By Alex Ironrod © 2021

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form

PART ONE

Hi, my name is Jim, Jim Barnes. I used to be Highway Patrol Motorcycle Officer # 3758, Barnes J, but now I’m on the run. On the run from a blackhearted, black-leathered HP Sergeant, who tricked me and raped me and on whom I had my revenge. In case he catches up with me, I want to tell my side of the story. So here goes.

I heard the siren and saw the flashing lights too late. I’d had a few beers with friends after work, before zipping up my leathers and climbing onto the Harley. It was a cool spring night as I turned onto the freeway. The warmth of the engine warmed my balls and prick, as I clamped my knee-high black boots to the bike. Down came the visor; up went the speed and my body responded to the vibration of the machine. My penis expanded, seeking release from my tight leather pants.

Two Highway Patrol motorcycles were following me, as I slid into the slow lane, looking for a place to stop. One bike and officer overtook me, signaling for me to take the nearby exit; the other followed closely behind. From my military days, I knew there was no point in not obeying.

As I took the exit, I found we were out in the country, further from town than I’d realized. The first bike had stopped at the bottom of the slope and a tall figure in black leathers swung off the saddle. His six-foot frame was impressive as he came towards me, black leather jacket and slightly flared breeches tucked into high black boots. His face was in shadow under the white helmet, with the single street light reflecting on his plain glass shades. “Do you know how fast you were going, sir?”, a gravelly voice asked “I’m sorry, officer. It’s a new bike and I wanted to open her up” I countered. “License and registration please. Turn off the engine and come over to me, sir”.

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The Speed Trap – Part 09

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By Rubrpig

After several weeks we had managed to sort things out and got our new family structure working for us. My Sir decided that his boy and mine would wear leather jocks and Wesco’s when he was around. My part-time boy was a little relieved considering my Sir was his father.

Sir usually spent the weekends with us and on his second weekend we sat down as a family and decided that it was time to sort out the living arrangements as we basically had taken over my part-time boy’s house. So after a lively discussion, we decided as a group to purchase a new house in this city and that my full-time boy and I would sell our current house and relocate. Since we both worked from home it would be no problem for us to coordinate this with our work. My part-time boy would continue to live separate for now until he felt ready to commit to the family full time. We all agreed as we all wanted him to be happy and since it was his father that was my Sir we knew he had the most to adjust too.

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