Mike almost ran down the street towards his car. He wished that he had parked closer. Every step he took, he felt the boots clump down on the pavement and the sound seemed to echo around him drawing the attention of passers-by. The bleachers clung to his legs like a second skin and he felt as though he was on display. He could feel himself flushing under the hoody but despite that he could feel his cock swelling in the studded jockstrap.
He turned into the road he had parked in and came to a halt. On the other side of the road from his car, 3 skinheads were stood talking. All of them were wearing MA1 jackets with the EES letters clearly visible across their shoulders. He put his head down and walked towards his car, hoping that they wouldn’t notice him. He kept stealing glances across towards them and he seemed to be getting away with it. As he approached his car, he took out his keys and pressed the unlock button. As the car unlocked the lights flashed and one of the skinheads looked up. Mike looked in his direction and saw the man take in Mike’s bleachers and boots. He pointed at Mike and the other 2 turned around. Mike yanked the drivers door open and drove off, leaving the three men stood in the middle of the street staring after him.
Mike barely remembered the drive home. He parked in his normal spot and then checked that none of his neighbours were in the street before getting out of his car and darting for the front door. He fumbled his key in the lock and it seemed like minutes before he could get the door open and step inside, slamming the door behind him and leaning against the wall with his heart pounding in his chest. He headed up to his bedroom and pulled off the hoody. He looked at himself in the mirror – except for his haircut he looked just like the skinheads he had seen in the street. Disgusted, he pulled the gear off and dressed himself more normally in a t-shirt and shorts. He threw the skinhead gear into a bin, intending to throw it all out.
But two days later, he hadn’t. He had found himself on the edge of it several times. Instead he had recovered it from the bin and put it in the back of his wardrobe. He hadn’t heard from Gordon at all, nor had he contacted him himself. Mike tried to put this encounter out of his mind and threw himself into his work and spent long hours at the gym to exhaust himself. But still his mind kept returning to what had happened. This was embarrassing when it happened at the gym as the resultant erection was hard to hide. The only time he stopped these thoughts was at work and even then he was distracted enough for Dave to ask him if there was a problem.
As the pair drove past The Eagle, Mike saw Gordon stood outside in the smoking area. He was wearing leathers like the ones Mike had first seen him in and puffing on a thick cigar. As Dave drove on, Mike took his phone out and texted Gordon. “Is Friday still Ok, Sir?” In the wing mirror, he could see Gordon reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. The reply came quickly “Change of plan. Be here at 10am Saturday, suited and booted.”
“Girlfriend?” Mike jerked as Dave spoke. “What?” “Is that your new girlfriend you’re texting?”
“Oh, yeah, just sorting some stuff out for the weekend.” Dave nodded and started a story about his fiancé and their plans for the rest days. Mike responded automatically, wondering what Gordon had planned for Saturday.
On Saturday morning, he pulled on the skinhead gear and again put on a hoody over the top. He had deliberately parked his car so that he could nip out his front door and straight into the driving seat. Despite that, he checked the road to ensure none of his neighbours were likely to see him. He had thought about where to park. This time, he parked closer to Gordon’s flat. Again, he walked quickly with his head down. Despite this, he still saw several people staring at his bleachers and boots. He ran up the stairs to the entrance to Gordon’s flat and pressed the button. Mike stood there, nervously moving his wait from foot to foot and hoping that Gordon would hurry up. After what seemed like minutes, he pressed the button again. He could see movement through the smoked glass of the door and it opened. The woman inside smiled nervously, then as her gaze travelled down to his bleachers and boots she quickly stepped past him and down the stairs. Mike caught the door before it closed and then headed up to Gordon’s flat.
The door was open and he stepped inside. “Gordon?” The flat remained silent. Mike cleared his throat. “Sir?” Gordon stepped out of the front room. He was dressed in a similar manner to Mike, except that he wasn’t wearing a hoody. “ About time. You should have rung the bell.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and went back into the front room. Mike followed him “I did – maybe, your bell isn’t working.” Gordon turned and Mike saw that he had picked up a length of white rope. “Take your hoody off.” Mike paused and then pulled the hoody off revealing his torso in the skintight t-shirt.
Gordon stepped forward and started to wrap Mike’s torso in a complicated harness of rope. Ropes went over his shoulder and under his arms and then down his sides. The ropes were tight and his muscles bulged around them – and Mike could feel his cock responding to the restraint. He looked down at his rope-wrapped torso. “ I don’t understand. I thought we were going to the football. Gordon grinned. “We are.” He picked up a white MA1 jacket and threw it to Mike. Put that on and zip it up. As he did, Mike could see the letters EES emblazoned across the shoulders. He zipped it fully up, covering up the rope harness. “As long as you keep it zipped up, there won’t be a problem will there?” Mike nodded, “yes, but I can’t go to a football game dressed like this. We police all the major games.”
“Not this one, you don’t.” Gordon tossed Mike a woollen watch cap. “Put that on.” Mike pulled the cap on. He looked in a mirror and realised that with it on his hair was invisible and he looked exactly like a skinhead. He turned to Gordon “I can’t do this. What if someone from work sees me? What if someone spots the rope?”
Gordon looked at him calmly. “That’s the risk and the excitement, Mike. If you don’t want to do this, you can go home right now. I’m certainly not stopping you.” He stood there, arms folded looking at the younger man until Mike averted his gaze and nodded. “Alright.”
Gordon smiled. “Good. About bloody time. We’re going to be late.” He grabbed a black MA1 jacket and headed for the door. He led Mike outside and down to a battered green Land Rover Defender. Mike shrank down in the seat, hoping to avoid attention but the big vehicle drew stares on the busy Saturday streets. At one point Gordon pulled up at a set of traffic lights beside a police car. Mike stared straight ahead, not daring to look down at the driver and hoping that it was no-one he knew. He hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until the lights turned green and they pulled away.
After a while he started to relax and began to note where they were going. They were heading out of the east end of London and towards the south west. As they sat in a slow queue of traffic on the South Circular, Gordon spoke for the first time. “The jacket marks you as a prospect. So if anyone asks I am your sponsor and you take your cue from me. Got it?”
Mike nodded. “I said got it?” Mike turned at the steel in Gordon’s voice and nodded “Yes, I got it.” Gordon turned from the street ahead to stare at him, a flat emotionless stare that Mike was deeply disturbed by. “Yes, Sir.” Gordon smiled and nodded. “Good. While we’re with the guys you always address me as Sir or Boss. You call them whatever comes to mind. Just don’t embarrass me.”
As Gordon spoke, he turned off the main road and down a narrow lane towards some playing fields. Through the trees surrounding the fields, Mike could see the Thames to the North. Mike ignored the parking signs and drove between two of the marked pitches to a third where a crowd of 50-60 people were gathered. Most were at one end, but Gordon drove up to the other end where a group of 10-15 people were stood. As they got closer, Mike could see that they were all wearing EES jackets. Some were wearing watch caps like himself but most were bare-headed. All were booted in cherry red or black boots. As Gordon drove up, one turned to wave. Mike didn’t recognise any of them, and hoped none of them were the ones who had seen him heading for his car.
Gordon got out of the car and went over to the group, shaking hands and slapping people on the back. Mike got out slower and stood by the land rover unsure what to do. One of the skinheads saw him and walked across. He was a good 3” taller than Mike and his MA1 hung open to reveal a well muscled torso under his EES t-shirt.
“Who the fuck is this then, Gordon?” he said in a thickly accented voice. He leant in, his face close enough that Mike could smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath. “I don’t think I like this one, Gordon. He looks like a pussy to me.”
Mike looked past Gordon for a cue as to how to act. Gordon was stood with the rest of the group with his arms folded, clearly waiting for Mike to do something. Mike thought desperately and then squared up to the man, staring him straight in his eyes. “Who the fuck do you think you are then? I’m with Gordon, so get out of my fucking way.”
The two men stared into each other’s eyes until the skinhead roared with laughter. He turned, put his arm around Mike’s shoulders and led him back to the group. “I like this one, Gordon.” He slapped Mike hard on the back and went to talk to the others. Gordon grinned. “That’s Jan – he likes to try and scare the prospects.” Gordon introduced him to everyone as Mikey and he soon found himself in the centre of the group.
Mike’s concerns about the rope harness being seen were unfounded. The wind over the playing fields was chill and all of them bar Jan kept their jackets tightly zipped up. Jen laughed at them “You have no idea! You want cold, you come to Poland and see how you feel.” The man talked and chatted to each other and a couple asked “Mikey” how he had met Gordon. When he paused in his response they nudged each other and laughed. “Down the Eagle was it?” His blush made them laugh louder.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of whistle and the football match started. The EES soon made it clear which team they were supporting and Mike found himself forgetting his situation as he started shouting and yelling for the team. By the end of the game he was yelling and chanting along with the others. As they walked back towards the land rover, he felt a familiar arm go around his shoulder and looked up to see Jan grinning at him. “Good game, yes?” Mike nodded and Jan gripped him harder. “Good and now we drink!” He raised his arms in the air and turned to face the others “To the Bull!” he yelled, a chant picked up by the other men. Jan then grabbed Mike around the shoulders again and led him past the land rover to the edge of the playing fields. Mike looked over his shoulder to see Gordon stood talking by the car, apparently unaware of what was going on.
“Wait, Jan, I need to stay with Gordon.” Suddenly serious, Jan turned Mike to face him and once again he found himself face to face with the skinhead. “Gordon proposed you but I in charge of prospects. Get it!” Mike nodded. “Good! Now come on Mikey, TO THE BULL!”
Mike thought they would be heading to a nearby pub. Instead Jan led him over to the car park and got into the driving seat of a small Vauxhall. Mike was pushed into the middle of the backseat and found himself packed in between two other bulky guys. A fifth skinhead got into the front passenger seat and they were off. They drove back towards east London. As they drove, Mike could feel the rope harness as it rubbed against his muscles. He could hardly move at all, so couldn’t adjust it to be more comfortable. Worse, Jan had put the heating in the car to full. The other guys soon shucked off their MA1s and hats, leaving Mike as the only one still fully dressed. Despite obviously sweating, he refused offers to take his gear off.
Jan passed a hipflask back which was shared around the car. Mike gulped at it, glad to have some liquid and then realised his mistake as the strong alcohol burned his throat. He coughed and choked much to the hilarity of the others in the car. He recovered, only to have the hip flask offered again. He tried to refuse, but they insisted and he had another sip. This time it burned less – and even less the next time. After it had been around several times, Mike realised the others weren’t really drinking from it – he was the only one. He assumed this was part of being a prospect, so next time the flask he came round he didn’t bother to resist.
As a result, when they arrived at their destination, Mike was already buzzing nicely from the alcohol in his system. He got out to see Jan had parked in the car park of a seedy run-down pub. As they went in, they nodded to the bartender and went upstairs to a room that was clearly some kind of function room. Jan went straight behind the bar and started pouring beers. The others sat Mike down at a table and Jan brought the drinks up. He poured a double vodka into Mikes beer and then raised his glass. “New prospect! Down in one!” The others started to chug their pints and Mike joined in, draining his glass. With a cheer, and lots of backslapping, Jan went back to the bar and poured more beer.
The second beer went down as fast as the first and then the skinheads slowed down. By the time Gordon arrived, Mike was on his fifth pint. That, and the extra shots he was being given, had made his head spin and he could barely speak. Gordon walked up to the table. “Mikey, you doing good.”
“Hey, Sir, yeah I’m..I’m fine.” Mike levered himself to his feet and had to be supported as he nearly fell over. “I juss…juss need to piss.” Gordon laughed and pointed Mike in the direction of the toilet. Mike staggered across the room, lurching into a table and sending chairs flying. The skinheads all burst out laughing and applauded as he bounced off the wall beside the toilet door and then fell through it. There was a crash after Mike disappeared and Gordon stood up “I’d better check he’s OK.”
Mike woke up to a pounding headache and a dry mouth. He looked up at an unfamiliar ceiling and wondered where he was. His mouth ached and as he tried to say something he realised that it was being held open by a large rubber ball. His arms were stretched up past his head and he looked up to see that each hand was covered in a gleaming black rubber ball which was padlocked to the head of the bed. He looked down to see that he was naked – except for the rope harness which had been extended down to wrap around his cock and balls – as a result his cock was stood up semi-erect. His legs were spread open and had a rubber cuff around each ankle that was secured under the bed.
Mike struggled and yelled into the gag. He had no memory after The Bull and no idea where he was or how he had got here. He looked around, but couldn’t see where his clothes were – even though the EES gear was distasteful, he would have been glad for it right now. He grunted into the gag again and Gordon opened the door and walked in. He was wearing his skinhead gear and he ignored Mike’s grunts to take out his phone and snap a few photos of Mike. He then took Mike’s phone out and snapped some pictures as well. He then showed the photos to Mike so that Mike could see that he was also wearing a thick rubber collar that had 4 D rings hanging off of it.
“So, officer, how are you feeling today?”
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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!