Mike stood opposite the dingy block of flats, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another. His clothes helped him blend in to the area – a worn hoody with the hood up over a baseball cap, jeans pale at the knees and an old pair of boots. But he had been stood there for 10 minutes now and he had already seen several people stare at him curiously. He turned to go and went ten paces down the road away from the flats before stopping, turning and jogging across the road. Almost running, he headed up the stairs to the front door. Looking at the scratched and faded entry panel, he located 48 and before he could change his mind he punched the button.
It seemed like minutes before a distorted voice spoke.
“It’s…it’s PC..I mean, it’s Mike.” The voice at the other end of the phone chuckled. “Come on in. Second floor.” With a click the door opened and Mike went into the stairwell. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of urine in the stairwell and headed up, taking the steps two at a time. When he reached the second floor he was barely breathing hard and he strode out on to the balcony. He ignored the rubbish piled up and the unidentifiable muck crunching under his boots as he walked along to Flat 48. The door was ajar and he pushed it open before stepping into the gloom and closed the door behind him.
Mike stood in the darkness of the flat entrance hall, breathing deeply now due to nerves rather than exertion and his mind cast back to the events that had found him here. Three weeks beforehand, PC Mike Harris had been working on night time patrols with his partner, Dave. Mike liked these patrols – he and Dave got on well and their no-nonsense approach was effective when dealing with the drunks and violence associated with late night drinking. On this particular night, it had been quiet until they received a call about trouble outside The Eagle. Mike and Dave shared a laugh as they took the call – The Eagle was a well known gay bar and the introduction of two well built, young police officers was always an event there. They generally got propositioned by several people, but the atmosphere was usually friendly and the problems were never big ones. Mike had never had a problem with the clientele there, unlike some of his colleagues that found it “creepy.”
The call the officers answered was for a fight in progress and so Mike hit the blue lights and sirens to get them there as fast as possible. He assumed that when they got there, they would see the usual melee of people and have to split up those taking part before the involved process of trying to work out what had gone on. Instead, when they pulled up they were greeted with an unusual sight. One man was lying on the floor, his hands cuffed behind him. As Mike got out of the car, he could hear him swearing. The usual crowd of onlookers was stood outside the pub, cheerfully laughing at the man but the person stood over him was the one that drew Mike’s attention. The man was over 6ft tall. He was wearing black leather from head to toe – trousers and jacket Mike had seen before, but this man was also wearing a leather shirt, tie and patrol cap. His eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses and he was wearing tall glossed leather boots – one of which was planted between the shoulder blades of the man on the floor.
Mike and Dave got out of the car and walked up to him. As they did, he looked up, grinned and took a step backwards. “Officers, I’ll leave this shithead to you.” As Mike started to ask a question, the man turned away from him. Mike started to object, but one of the bouncers grabbed his attention. He explained that the man on the floor had been making homophobic comments and had assaulted one of the patrons. He said that it would have been much worse if the man in leather hadn’t intervened. Mike and Dave arrested the man on the floor and re-cuffed him with their own cuffs. Mike held up the cuffs – which he realised were very heavy duty and stronger than his own police issue cuffs. “Who do these belong to?”
The doorman pointed inside “They’re Gordon’s.” Mike headed inside to where he could see the man sat at the bar sipping at a beer. He ignored Mike as Mike walked up to him, only turning to speak to him when Mike said “Sir, I think these are yours.”
“Sir? Always good to hear some respect.” He grinned at Mike. Mike could see that Gordon was about 40 years old. He had a neatly trimmed black beard and moustache and with his eyes still hidden behind reflective shades exuded an aura of power. “Well, Sir, we have to treat everyone with courtesy.”
“I’m very glad to hear it.” Gordon used one foot to push a stool out from the bar. “Sit yourself down, son.”
“Well, actually I have to get going.”
“Nonsense. You have to take a statement from me, don’t you?” Mike nodded. “Yes, but that can come later. I need to go with my partner to take the prisoner to Custody.”
“Really? Surely one of the other officers can do that?” Gordon nodded his head to where a second patrol can had pulled up outside. “Ermm, well, yes OK…” as Mike paused, Gordon continued. “I’ve heard it’s better to give a statement to someone you have a rapport with.” He leant forward and tipped his glasses down so that Mike could see the piercing green eyes behind them, “…and we do have a rapport don’t we, officer?”
Mike stammered a reply and before he could make a fool of himself stepped outside to talk to Dave. He explained the situation to him and grabbed his kit bag and paperwork folder from the boot of the car. “I’ll give you a point-to-point when I’m ready for collection.” With that, he called in to Control Room and stepped back inside The Eagle.
When he did, he looked around for Gordon who was no longer sitting at the bar. “Where’s that man gone?” he asked the barman. The smaller man leant forward “He thought you’d probably need somewhere quieter to take the statement so he went upstairs.” Mike nodded and seeing the stairs, headed up. As he stepped into the room upstairs, he stopped with surprise. Rather than being a normal pub room, it was decked out like a bondage dungeon. The walls were black painted brick and scattered around the room were various items of bondage furniture. Mike had tried some bondage with his girlfriend a couple of years before – it had ended up with both of them laughing too much, but for some reason the sight of this room made him uneasy.
“Over here, officer.” Mike turned at the sound of a voice, to see Gordon sat at a table in the corner. As he approached, he could see that the table had cuffs and straps over it and he realised it would be possible to secure a person spread-eagled across it. “I thought you’d need a table to lean on, and this was the best one I could find.” The larger man, sprawled back with his legs stretched out under the table. Every time he moved, Mike could hear his leathers creaking and get a whiff of the hide that the man was wearing. He became aware that he had been stood in front of the table and with a cough, he sat down and got his paperwork out.
Mike had taken hundreds of statements, but this one was somehow the most difficult. Normally he would control the flow of the conversation, but on this occasion Gordon Wright (as he found the man to be called) kept taking it off in a direction of his own choosing. This was often in a discussion of the various bondage items around the room and a lively discussion of how he had used them. He was clearly trying to embarrass Mike, and Mike was flushing crimson on occasion. But he was also having another reaction, and he could feel his cock swelling inside his combats. Nevertheless, he persevered as Gordon gave him his account of what had happened. Halfway through, Gordon lit up a thick, long cigar and Mike was then repeatedly inhaling the mingled smells of smoke and leather.
As time went on, he started to relax and when Gordon started asking him questions, Mike found himself replying. He soon told Gordon about his home life, his ex-girlfriend and his work with the police. Mike found him easy to talk to, so when Gordon asked if he had tried bondage, Mike found himself regaling him with the story of the disaster when he had tried it.
“Well, you know, it could just be that you tried it with the wrong person.” Mike nodded, as he passed the statement across for Gordon’s signature, “Yeah, and I bet you’d be the person to show me, wouldn’t you?” Gordon laughed “Now that you mention it, yes I would.” Mike sat upright, surprised at the directness of the answer. “I’m flattered, Mr Wright, but I’m not gay.” “Who on earth talked about sex, Mike, this is bondage. I’ve got several straight subs. Don’t get me wrong, sex is good but bondage isn’t always about sex.” Gordon passed the statement back and as he did so his gloved hand caught Mike’s pen and sent it rolling off the edge of the table. Mike bent down to get it, couldn’t quite reach it and without thinking got down on all fours to pick it up. Gordon chuckled “Now there’s quite a sight – a policemen on his knees.” Mike blushed and went to stand up. “No – wait. While you’re down there, you might as well give me my cuffs back.” Gordon patted the cuff holster on his right hip. Mike pulled the cuffs out of his pocket and went to hand them back to Gordon. The bigger man shook his head, “Just pop them back in the holder.” Mike reached forwards and slid the heavy cuffs into the holder, and then used the restraining strap to clip them in place. There was something strangely intimate about doing this for someone else and he looked up to see Gordon looking down at him with a grin.
“Thanks, officer. Time for you to go, I think.” Mike stood up and sorted out his documentation. He called in to get Dave to come and pick him up and rebuffed the immediate “Where the fuck have you been? You haven’t been tied up have you?” Gordon escorted him back downstairs to where the pub was now empty. As the barman unlocked the door for them, Gordon slid a jet black business card into Mike’s pocket. “ Just in case you lose my contact details officer,” he said loudly and then leant forward to whisper “and if you wish to take our conversation further.”
That was three weeks ago. Mike had spent the intervening time trying to ignore the encounter, but had found his mind wandering back to it. After two weeks, he had given up and called the number. It went through to voicemail and he terminated the call without leaving a message. The next day he called again, and this time he left a message. “ Hi, this is PC Mike Harris. I er…. I wanted to follow up on some of the things we talked about. So, can you give me a call..” He gave his number and terminated the call. Almost immediately he regretted it and wished he could call and delete the voicemail. He was wondering what to do when his phone rang,
“Ah Mike, glad you called. I wondered if you were going to. So how can I help you.”
“I..I was just checking on you as you are a witness to an offence.” Gordon guffawed with laughter.
“No you aren’t Mike. The rather cute ginger PCSO came around and did that 3 days ago. You should have seen how red his face flushed when he saw my leathers. No, you’ve called for something else entirely, so what is it?” Gordon’s voice carried an edge to it as he asked the question, which reminded Mike of the snap in the voice of his Sergeant.
“I called about what we talked about.” There was silence at the other end of the phone.
“When we were talking about bondage and it not being sex and…stuff. I called about that.” The silence continued until Mike thought the line had dropped.
“Hello? Are you still there, Sir?” The word came out automatically from years of dealing with the public. With a soft chuckle in his voice, Gordon replied “I’m still here, Mike and I’m very glad to hear that. Are you free this weekend?”
“No, I’m working both days. My rest days are Monday through Thursday.”
“Four days? How lucky for you! I am busy on the Monday, but can fit you in on any other day.” Before Mike could choose a day, he continued, “You can come around at 5:30 on Tuesday. 48 Lampeter Flats, Brunswick Road. Don’t be late.” With that, Gordon terminated the call.
And now Mike found himself in a darkened hallway in a flat in the wrong end of town. Mike knew the area – had been to this street, in fact, several times. It was a rough area that he would normally never go to on his own. Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell he was doing here.
“I thought you’d never come in.” Gordon’s voice came from a room to the left and Mike moved to see into it. Instead of the dungeon he expected, was a normal room with a sofa, TV, bookshelves and a computer desk. Gordon was sat at the computer desk and as Mike walked in he could see over his shoulder that Gordon was looking at a video of a man in a hoody stood nervously moving to and fro. As Gordon zoomed in on the face, even though it was partially hidden by the hoody, Mike recognised himself. “You were watching me.” “Of course, you can’t be too careful around here.”
Gordon turned and stood up. Instead of the leather that Mike had expected, Gordon was dressed in a tight white t-shirt that stretched across his barrel chest. It was tucked into bleached jeans, of the type that Mike associated with skinheads. Gordon was wearing highly glossed DMs and as he stepped forward, Mike could see that his head was cropped short. He gulped and wondered what would happen next.
“Take your hoody off.” Mike did so. Underneath he had an old blue t-shirt that had a barely readable logo of a 90’s band on it. “Turn to face the door and put your hands behind your back.”
Gordon took hold of Mike’s wrists and with practised skill wrapped rope around them. He secured them tightly and then leant close in to Mike, as he started to run both ends of the rope across Mike’s chest. He tightened the rope which pulled Mike’s hands upwards and tight against his back and elicited a grunt from the police officer. He then ran the end of the rope over Mike’s shoulder and tied them off in the centre of his chest. He turned Mike around to face him. “How does that feel?” Mike was amazed how fast he had been secured. He tried to move his hands, but could get very little traction against the ropes. He tried to find a knot and realised that Gordon had kept the knots well away from his prying fingers.
Gordon chuckled. “I can see you like that.” He glanced down to where Mike’s cock was forming a bulge in his jeans. “I will give you 10 minutes to get out. If you’re still roped then, we will go further.” Gordon left the room, shutting and locking the door behind him.
Mike struggled with the ropes, initially trying to exert his muscles against the soft rope. He soon found that it was useless, all he did was start sweating in the warm room. He couldn’t find a knot with his hands, and then had the thought of looking in the reflection of the TV. He moved in front of the TV, and could see that there was a knot high up between his shoulder blades that he might be able to reach. He started to try and work his hands up higher, but his own muscles and heavy shoulders worked against him and he could barely get his hands within 6 inches of the knot. As he struggled to reach it, he looked to one side and realised that he was stood in front of a window that looked out over a park. He was completely visible to anyone looking up. With a gasp, he stepped back out of sight.
Mike knew his only chance was to get his fingers up to the knot. He looked around for some way to force his hands up higher. He moved Gordon’s computer chair to face away from the desk and then sat in front of it. He shuffled up to it and raised his body up so that his arms were over the seat of the chair. As he relaxed, his body slumped and his arms were pushed painfully up his back – but his fingers found the knot! Trying to ignore the pain in his arms, he started to undo the knot.
Mike found the position he was in very painful, but was able to use the tips of his fingers to work on the knot. He managed to get it partially undone, when the door opened and Gordon walked back in. “ Very inventive. I liked watching that.” Mike looked confused and then realised that Gordons webcam must have been on.
“However, you haven’t managed to escape, so we will proceed.” Before Mike could say anything, Gordon spun him around to face the door and he felt the rope being re-tightened. Then Gordon took a second length of rope. This one started at Mikes wrists and was fed under his crotch and up to the knot in the centre of his chest. It was then fed around the side of his body and secured as the last one was. Mike was now unable to raise his hands to reach the knot. Gordon turned the policeman around and smiled down at him. “That should prevent you getting out that way. And just to make sure, you need a little something else to make it more difficult.” Gordon slipped a leather blindfold over Mikes head, plunging him into darkness.
Mike stood there uncertain. He could now hardly move his arms up and down and his vision had been taken away. He slowly and carefully walked towards where he thought the desk was and surprised himself as he caught it on the edge of his left hip. Lowering himself to his knees, he tried to use the edge of the desk to scrape off the blindfold. It took several attempts, but eventually he managed to lever one side of it up so he could peer around it. His eye watered as the leather rubbed against his eyeball and he had to try a few more times before he got the blindfold fully off. He gasped with relief as he did so. He was amazed how much effort this was taking, and his t-shirt was drenched in sweat. His jeans were showing patches of sweat as well. Without standing up, he shuffled over to the TV, and moved so he could see the knot. Even with it visible, he could not see a way to undo it and he just could not move his hands any closer. He looked around for anything sharp that he could use to try and cut the rope. He spotted a pair of scissors on the desk and he manoeuvred around to try and get them. They weren’t near the edge, so he found it incredibly hard to get hold of them but eventually managed to slip a finger through the handle and drag the scissors towards him. Using his fingers, he managed to open the scissors and then manoeuvred them upwards to start to saw at the rope. Almost immediately he lost his grip on them and they fell to the floor. Mike looked around for them and saw them in front of the TV. In order to get them, he had to lie on the floor to grab them with his hands, and that is the position he was in when Gordon came back into the room.
“My, aren’t you the inventive one? Well, that deserves some punishment.” Gordon grabbed the rope around Mike’s chest and hauled him to his feet. He roughly turned him around to face the door. Mike went to say something, but before he could something thick was pulled down over his head. He didn’t know what it was, but it was thick, tight and muffled all the sound from the room. Mike turned him to face the TV and he could see in his reflection that he was now wearing a leather hood with zip eyes and mouth. Gordon was working on the back of it and as he did, Mike could feel it tighten like a thick skin around his head. He went to speak but before he could, Gordon slipped a hand over his mouth “If you’re about to complain it’s too much, I’d check on what your cock is saying.” He pushed Mike’s head forward so that Mike could see the bulge in his jeans as well as the wet spot forming on them as his cock leaked with excitement. “Want to carry on?” Mike nodded. “Good.”
Gordon pressed down on Mike’s shoulders until the police officer knelt down. He then used rope to secure Mike’s legs together at ankle and knee and then sharply pushed Mike over onto his side. Mike grunted and as he tried to recover, Gordon rolled him on to his front. He then pulled Mike’s legs up and roped his ankles to his wrists, putting Mike in a hogtie. He then crouched down in front of the helpless officer. “Well, PC Harris, looks like you’re well and truly secured. One last thing.” With that he leant forward and zipped shut the eye holes on Mike’s hood. “Now, half an hour like that should be enough.”
Mike heard Gordon’s boots thud softly on the carpet as he left the room. He struggled against the ropes, but his hands were nowhere near any of the knots and with the hood blocking out his sight, he couldn’t see if there was any way to get to it. He writhed to and fro on the floor, hoping to use his muscles to relax the ropes, but there was no give in them. In the end, he stopped, panting through the hood, sweaty and horny. He could feel his rockhard cock underneath him and he started to push to and fro against the floor. He never thought he would do anything like this, but as he thought about the situation he was in, his cock hardened, leaked and then finally exploded with cum. Mike slumped on the floor and wondered how long he had to go.
It wasn’t long before Mike heard the door open and the sudden burst of laughter from Gordon “You filthy little sod, you HAVE enjoyed yourself haven’t you?” He felt Gordon’s hands on him, and his muscles relaxed as the ropes released him. Gordon removed all of the ropes and he felt the bigger man massaging his muscles as they started to cramp. Finally, Gordon removed the hood and looked down at the sweaty officer.
“I’d say that you enjoyed yourself.” Mike looked down at his sweat-stained t-shirt and jeans and the large cum stain on the front of his jeans. “You’d best go and clean up. I’ll get you some other clothes to wear home.” Gordon gave Mike a glass of water as he showed him the bathroom. Mike was worried that Gordon might stay in the room with him, but he shut the door, leaving Mike on his own. Mike stared at himself in the mirror before peeling his sweaty clothes off and getting into the shower. The hot water was just what his aching muscles needed and he took his time cleaning himself down. When he got out of the shower and picked his clothes up, he realised his problem. His t-shirt and jeans were soaking wet with sweat, even his boots were soaked where he had sweated into them. His underwear was the same and both his jeans and briefs were cum stained as well. He wrapped a towel around himself “Gordon, did you say you had some spare clothing?”
Silence. He listened, wondering if Gordon had left the flat. “Hello? Gordon?”
Silence. Mike sighed and wondered if this was still part of the game. “Sir, did you say you had some spare clothing?” Almost immediately, Gordon stepped out of the living room with a handful of clothing, including a pair of boots. “ There you go, Mike.” He handed the bundle over and went back into the front room. Mike took the clothes and shut the bathroom door. He looked at the clothes and then opened it again. “ Er, Gordon…I mean Sir, I can’t wear these.” Gordon stepped out of the front room holding a cup of coffee. He leaned against the doorjamb and sipped deeply. “Why not?”
“Well, I’m not allowed to….it’s just..my job, you know…Sir.” He ended up almost pleading. Gordon grinned. “That’s exactly why you will wear it home, Mike. It shows your submission to me. Bondage isn’t just about rope you know. You have an alternative – you can always head home in your sweaty, cummy clothes.”
Mike closed the bathroom door and sighed. He had his hoody to put over the top, so it wouldn’t be too bad. With a grimace, he finished towelling himself dry and started to dress. The first item he pulled on was a studded leather jockstrap. The heavy leather bulged as he pushed his cock inside it and he secured the straps around his waist. He looked at himself in the mirror and felt his cock rise at the sight of himself in the fetish gear. Next he grabbed the t-shirt and pulled it down over his torso. It was immediately clear that the shirt was too small and it clung like a second skin to his chest and stomach. One the front was a picture of a British Bulldog plastered across his chest. As he turned he could see that “EES” was written in gothic script across his shoulder blades. Mike shuddered – the EES (or East End Skinheads) were a gang that was active in his area. They were always causing trouble at football matches and were suspected of committing more serious crimes. Being caught wearing their colours would be grounds for dismissal. He would just have to make sure that no-one saw it.
He then started to pull the jeans on. He recognised them as bleacher jeans – normally worn by skinheads and definitely not worn by someone like him. He pulled them up, struggling to get the thin fabric over his solid thighs. As he did, he realised that the bleachers only went down to just under his knees. He secured them in place with the thick leather belt Gordon had provided, the Union Jack belt buckle standing out above his crotch. As he looked down, he could see the studs of the jockstrap through the thin denim of the bleachers. While a casual observer wouldn’t see it, anyone looking carefully could not fail to notice…or the way his excited cock was making it bulge outwards.
Mike then sat on the toilet and unrolled the thick white socks that Gordon had provided. They turned out to be knee high and he unrolled them over each leg. He then picked up the boots – 30 hole cherry red DM boots and swore to himself. He began the laborious process of lacing them in place and then tightly securing the yellow laces at the top of the boot. The boots came to just below his knee, trapping the bottom edge of the denim of the bleachers below them. He rolled the top of the socks down over the top of the boots, covering the knot. Standing up he looked at himself in the mirror. Except for his neatly trimmed haircut, he looked just liked an EES skinhead. Mike groaned and was glad he had his hoody outside.
Mike gritted his teeth and headed outside. Gordon was back sat at his computer. As Mike walked in, he waved at a cup of coffee on the side. “ Coffee there – milk and no sugar. I hope that’s OK.” Mike nodded “Thanks.” Gordon turned and raised an eyebrow. “Thanks..Sir.” Gordon smiled “No problem. Looks good on you.” He grinned evilly.
“Do I really have to wear this?” Mike grumbled. “I mean I could get into all sorts of trouble.”
Gordon stood and walked over to him, then walked around him. “You’ll just have to be careful. I do have other clothing – but I don’t think you’re ready to head home in rubber yet.” He pointed to the sofa. “Sit yourself down.”
Gordon sat on the computer seat. “Mike, bondage is about more than simple restraint. It’s about the loss of control and that’s what I’m showing you here. You were in my control when you were bound, and making you wear that clothing extends my control over you. And if you don’t want to do it anymore, all you have to do is send it back and not come here again.”
“Of course, if you want to continue you need to wear it again when you come back here next week.”
“Yes. I don’t believe in waiting too long when I’m training a sub. What nights are you free?”
Mike thought quickly. “Not until Friday.” “So you’re off all weekend?” Mike nodded. “ Excellent. You can come over on Friday night and stay until Sunday morning. We’ll take in a football match.”
Gordon drained his coffee cup and stood up. “Well, what are you waiting for? I haven’t got all fucking day.” Mike babbled an apology as he gulped down his coffee. He grabbed his hoody and headed out the door, pulling it on as the door was slammed behind him. He pulled the hood up and headed for his car as fast as his booted feet would carry him.
Click for next part
Metal would like to thank the author, lthr_jock, for this story. If you enjoyed it be sure to leave a comment in the comments section!
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