It must have been three or four weeks after the episode in Jim’s playroom that I was on my way to do a bit of shopping in the village shop when I heard Pete calling me from behind. There he stood, stripped to the waist, up on a bit of scaffolding doing some sort of building job. He looked down on me smiling broadly, and said “Jim has some new building equipment he wishes to try out and suggests that you could help, if you liked.” I didn’t understand for a moment, then realised that this was a coded message for another session in Jim’s playroom. After the penny had dropped, I said “Oh. Oh good. What time? When?” Pete’s reply was that this evening was as good as any.
So later that day I went round to Jim’s place, where I found Pete in the apple store. This time he was clad in black leather, very tight fitting and it made him look a little menacing. He took me through to the playroom. Jim was not about at all. Pete said that what Jim wanted to try out was an arrangement with the scaffolding cube in the centre of the playroom, and what was needed was a patient ‘victim’ whilst variations on how to secure and restrain were worked out. I was perfectly happy to be that willing victim, but wondered why Pete needed to dress so powerfully. First off he wished me to try on a straitjacket. It was heavy, and very oppressive looking. It seemed to have more buckles and straps and D rings than ever, though altogether it was not so very bulky as the previous one I had tried. I slipped my arms in the sleeves. Pete did up the back straps and the collar. The leather was more supple than that of the first jacket and it clung to my body with a peculiar feel. One important difference was that the back had a lacing arrangement, and Pete started lacing the back together from the top down, pulling the lace tight as he went. This made the jacket even more restrictive. But before he got too far down he put on a very substantial suspension harness, and pulled it very tight. Then we came to the sleeves of the strait jacket. Instead of them being fastened together with a strap and buckle they each had a reinforced eyelet which Pete laced into the general lacing up the back. The length of the sleeves was such that the arms were pulled tight, and being laced into the general pattern of lacing could not be pulled up or down. Pete completed the lacing right down to the crotch. I was very securely fitted into that arrangement.
Then, Pete explained, Jim wanted to see how best to secure a person in such an arrangement to the scaffolding cube. So we went over to the cube, and there were numerous chains attached to it. I stood in the middle and Pete fixed chain after chain to the various D rings which were a feature of this jacket and to the harness. The result was that I could not move an inch. I was standing upright at this time and secured at every conceivable point. Pete then said that the first experiment was complete. He was satisfied that the arrangement worked and was secure, but would it prevent a determined person from moving, yet alone escaping? He stood there in his black leather, just looking at me, running his eyes over the details of the arrangement and virtually disregarding me. I felt more than a little uneasy. “Right” said Pete “that looks OK: it’s just a matter of Jim seeing this.” This prompted me to ask where Jim was. “Don’t know” said Pete. “I think he’s gone out for the night. Should be back sometime.” He sounded quite unconcerned, so I asked about me, was he going to release me. “Oh, no. You can stay there as long as it takes, and if you get really frustrated you can try to get out. If you don’t then that will prove it is effective.” I was really worried by now. How long was this going to go on?
It was then that Pete coming up close to me said that to-night’s little exercise did not involve Jim at all. It was a private venture of Pete’s, he said, as he wanted, just for once, to be the one who was in total control and took the initiative. So he wanted me to be totally dominated by him: he had dressed accordingly, and he was going to have his fun to-night. Pete did look menacing: he was, as I have said, a strong well built guy and I was entirely at his mercy.
Then we commenced a whole series of other ‘experiments.
First I was hooded with a very tight hood, which was locked on. My feet were secured with a strap and they were fixed to a rope or chain and were lifted off the floor. Some of the other chains were loosened and my shoulders lowered. Before long I effectively was upside down, and didn’t like it. I begged to be lowered but Pete wouldn’t. Eventually he adjusted the chains so that I became horizontal, face upwards (I think!). Given that all the chains were attached to the numerous D rings all over the straitjacket, and that the leather was supple, the weight of my body helped to draw the material of the jacket, tighter and tighter about me. Then a long period where nothing happened. I just sort of lay there. I shouted for Pete – no response. It soon became apparent that he wasn’t around any more. I did not like being by myself in that position. Why was Pete being difficult, and why was he dressed so powerfully and menacingly? What would Jim’s reaction be? None of this speculation helped me. I was indeed securely bound, no amount of struggling could free any part of my restraints, and I had to admit that with no one around I was totally and absolutely unable to do anything to help myself. And I was a little frightened and upset.
However, I suppose I eventually calmed down a bit and whilst I hated being so frustratingly restrained I began to realise that firstly, deep down, I did trust Pete, and secondly that whilst I might have been tricked a bit, this was for real -and I was enjoying myself. All that was upsetting me, really, was that I had been misled. Pete was in complete control – I was totally under the control (and care!) of another man. Yes, that was the comforting part. It was thrilling to be under another man’s control, and very stimulating, but there was also that element of care. It seemed a long while before Pete came back. He was not at all communicative or relaxed. In fact he was difficult almost to the point of bullying. He said he was ready for the next experiment. I don’t think I was. I wished Pete would return to his nice comfortable self, and we could ‘play’.
Instead, Pete manipulated the arrangement of the chains so that I was at least upright again and on my feet. My neck had a strong metal collar locked on it, and I was released from the straitjacket. What next, I wondered. Pete came very close again and looked very menacing; I could smell him strongly. Did it indicate that he was all worked up?. “We’ll see how you like it hot” he said. What did that mean? Well I was soon to find out. First Pete produced an all over rubber suit. It was made of very substantial black rubber and my feet went in first – they were completely covered. They went in through a slot in the suit that was on the back and between the elbows approximately; it ran up the back of my right arm across my shoulder blade area and down the back of the left arm. It had a substantial zip to fasten it. Having pulled it up my body a bit, my arms went in. My hands were then in mitts which were part of the sleeves. It was cold and it felt a bit clingy and tight. Then Pete fixed both wrists in metal cuffs, locked them and attached them to a chain which lead to one of the scaffolding bars. This was only so that he could safely and securely take off the metal collar, which he then did. There was nowhere I could go, I was firmly fixed to the scaffolding; then my head was also pushed in to the slot. It emerged into a hood fixed to the suit, and the hood had only two very small pin prick eye holes and a hole for the nose. It was rather tight fitting. Pete then pulled the zip shut. I was totally enclosed in rubber – and it was the first time. It felt cold and restrictive and not altogether comfortable. I wondered if my wrists were free would I be able to reach that heavy zip at the back of arms and undo it. I didn’t ever find the answer to that as Pete quickly took a short piece of chain, whipped it round my upper arm at the end of the zip and padlocked the chain and the zip’s slider together. If I could ever have reached the zip it was locked shut. I was totally enclosed and getting used to the feel of the rubber. It was getting warm and a little damp, and as I moved a little it felt much nicer, all slidy and smooth. It was some recompense for the heat I was beginning to generate. Then the collar went on again – Oh No! Not again! But it did. Then Pete produced another straitjacket: this time of rubber and more menacing than the suit. It was thick and heavy. And it did not look as if it was at all pliant, or had much give. From what I could see I would think it was made of a thickness of rubber about the same as that used for the inner tubes of huge lorry wheels. In other words – very thick. I put my arms in the sleeves – almost freely because I had by then concluded that there was little point in resisting Pete, I would probably only have irritated him and made him a little more strict in what he was about to do. He fitted the jacket very securely and tightly; as I guessed, it was not pliant. And, as he pulled the back securing straps very tight it expelled all the air. The same with the sleeves. They were a little more roomy than the usual straitjacket sleeves, but again the air was expelled completely when the arms were drawn tight. They had almost a suction effect which was restrictive but not unpleasant. I was beginning to enjoy the feeling but getting warmer. After I had been completely trussed, my feet were secured together and several other belts put round my body. Then Pete produced a heavy canvas bag which he put my feet into and pulled up my body. I dared not resist as by this time my arms were secured in the straitjacket and my neck had on the metal collar secured to the scaffolding. The bag was pulled up to my neck and secured by a chain round it. The collar was taken off the scaffolding but remained on my throat, and I was laid on the floor. My feet were chained and that chain was secured to the scaffolding. I could roll side to side but do nothing else. Pete said ‘Now for the heat’ as if I wasn’t hot enough anyway. In the barn there was one of these machines used for drying hay when it has been taken from the fields a little damp. The machine generates hot air and blasts it through the hay. Pete started up the machine and directed its blast straight at me. The heat must have been searing close up to the machine, but it was at some distance so the air did not quite scorch or burn me, but it was very very warm indeed. The heat in my rubber suit began to build up and so did the sweat. It was slippery to the extent that I could move, and very clingy. Pete then slowly massaged me through the rubber. The sensation was electric. It was so very tingly and so very silky that it was hard to imagine that rubber could have that effect. It was very stimulating and yet at the same time relaxing.
Then Pete asked me if I was enjoying it all that evening. I made up my mind to tell him the truth whether he liked it or not. So I said I had been a little frightened at being tricked by him originally and I was upset at him, especially as we had seemed to have been getting on so well after both being in straitjackets together. I said that I had argued myself round to realising that whilst I was indeed under his control he would take care of me. And I told him that my first experience with rubber had worried me at first as I thought that I was in for another piece of trickery or surprise, but that now I was in the gear I rather liked it. ‘Did I realise that I was from start to finish under his, Pete’s, complete control?, he asked. I answered truthfully “Yes”. This seemed to please him very much and he explained that whilst Jim had not been around he had approved of Pete’s activities that evening. It had all been done apparently to make me realise that in bondage scenes the ‘victim’ did not always have the facility to ask to be let out, and that sometimes a little frightener was very stimulating. In fact it could cement the trust that two people had in each other. I began to realise what Pete was getting at. It certainly had been a ‘little frightener’ taken against the experience of being bound together in straitjackets only a week or so previously! As I have said we had always got along reasonably well, and more so in the last few weeks. That evening did bind us together rather more; and whilst Pete came up with surprises in future I had learned not to regard them as tricks.
I was of course eventually released from the rubber straitjacket and suit, wringing wet and pink all over: but I was really pleased to have made the discovery that I had and to have come so much closer to Pete through a process that I would never had thought to have had that effect!
After my experiences with the rubber suit and straitjacket I did wonder what else Jim and Pete might have in store. Until one Autumn evening we were all in the pub and Jim said he was bored and wanted a little fun. He said he thought that I was ‘coming along nicely and learning, but needed to go through the barrier’. What barrier, I thought. The pain barrier perhaps? I admit I was a little concerned, but the thought of trying something new had started to stimulate me in all the right places.
So, off we set for Jim’s barn. Now, I had seen the inside of the padded cell with Pete, but had never been allowed anywhere near the left hand cell made up of bars, and I wondered if this might figure in to-night’s entertainment. Well, as things turned out it did. When we arrived Jim found all sorts of very heavy metals restraints; leg cuffs, a heavy belt, a heavy metal collar and wrist manacles, together with several lengths of formidable looking chain. Naturally, it was me that had to strip naked and had them put on him and I was led to the cage or cell thing. As I had noted earlier there was a great variety of hooks and rings and fixings on the wall – very versatile. Strangely I was not hooded. Why not? I had often been hooded before? As you might well have guessed I was chained to the wall, virtually immovably. I noticed that as the padlocks were fixed to the chains to hold them to the staple things in the wall there was a technique of slipping the chain through the staple and affixing the padlock to the far link of the chain but not to the staple as well. The fact that the padlocks were substantial meant that they would not pass through the staple and the chain was quite securely fixed. Naturally, having an enquiring mind, I had to ask about this and Pete told me that if the chain was fixed to the staple or hasp by the padlock alone it put a strain on the padlock’s mechanism: but if all that happened was that the hasp of the padlock came up tight on the staple on the wall a great deal of the strain was removed. Anyway it meant it was less likely that I could damage the padlock and escape. Much hope of that!. So there I was spreadeagled to the wall with the collar fixed on a short length of chain to the wall and the heavy metal belt by a short piece of chain on either side. I had a limited amount of movement. The cell door was closed, the built in five lever lock was turned and two heavy duty padlocks were fixed to additional staples and hasps on the door. That was secure!
‘What next?’ I thought. How long shall I stand here. I was getting quite a hard on as Pete was again in his menacing black leathers, as was Jim. Neither was being particularly friendly or caring I thought. After they had had a coffee and sat chatting for about half an hour there was the sound of several quite high powered motor cycles outside, and then in came some of the village bikers. I knew most of them, and was rather ashamed for them to see me how I was. Suppose this got all round the village. Jim was being difficult, and what was this barrier thing? Well with me standing there naked and chained to the wall they all started playing cards as if for some prize. Then gradually realisation dawned. The prize was me or something to do with me. What could I do? I liked Jim and Pete and was beginning really to place great trust in them and to feel safe and more secure with those two than anybody else on earth. Were they about to betray that trust? The card game went on for what seemed to me to be hours. Eventually a winner did emerge. I knew him by sight around the village, and he had always seemed a decent sort of person. If I was to be ‘his’ what on earth would he do with me or to me? The whole group came over to me and examined me rather like an animal in the zoo. I was a bit scared, especially when I saw there were one or two whom I knew slightly. The cage was unlocked and the ‘winner’ given the keys to the padlocks, and he came in. The rest of the crew then locked the door – a little to his annoyance at first, though I think he rather liked the idea of being locked in himself with somebody under restraint. The first thing he did was to tighten the chains even further so that I was unable to move an inch.
He was a nice well built lad, with a strong, friendly face and a nice grin. He was of course, being a biker, in leathers. He advanced on me and started slowly and very erotically stroking my naked body all over with his gloved hands. I started to become very hard. Then he grabbed me bodily and pressed the whole of himself up tight on to me. With every pore of my nakedness I could feel the smoothness and the toughness of his leathers. He hugged me so tight I scarcely could breathe, and I found I did not resent it. There was nothing I could have done if I had resented it! But his approach was so soothing, so firm and yet so much in control I just wanted him to carry on almost being part of me. Then he held my head very firmly and kissed me so firmly and yet so caringly. I was almost bursting to cum, and didn’t really want to, I think. Then he started work on my dick, and he was an expert. I was beginning to lose a sense of reality and the fact that the rest were there all encouraging him became very very unimportant. I wanted to please him and be part of him, and he obviously wished to pleasure me. Well he did , and after slowly working up to a wonderful climax I just came in bucket loads.
This was my first experience of anyone doing anything like that to me, firstly against my will, but then willingly under restraint. I suddenly knew what Jim meant about the barrier – I had certainly gone through it.
They left me there for about fifteen minutes whilst they all had coffee in great mugsful. I had none! Looking back I think being kept there in chains and not just at that time joining them was an act of kindness. It gave me time to gather my thoughts and to work out all the competing emotions. Not least how I was to deal with meeting any of the gang on the street in the village! I need not have worried. I was told that they were all like minded guys, all bikers, all friendly, and very supportive of each other. It was the first time, I think, that I realised that was a special kind of friendship and indeed a brotherly love to be found in places where you don’t normally look for it. I have never dared to ask Jim whether I was to be a sort of prize, or whether the card game was a sort of elimination contest to decide who should initiate me into being made to cum whilst under restraint. It would no doubt not have been good for my own self esteem, either, to know!
That evening I went home – on the pillion of one of the bikes – not only on a physical high, but on a mental high too. Trouble was I found it difficult not to ask Jim to put me straight back into the chains. But it gave me a whole range of new friends in the village and opened up things I had never dreamt of!
Having made a number of new friends in the village, I was beginning to enjoy life more than I had before. I was still studying for professional exams and I hadn’t a motor cycle or the wherewithal to buy one. My father might have bought me a car because both he and my mother had a ‘down’ on bikes, but I didn’t want a car. My new friends were very understanding and caring. To many in the village I think they were just a bunch of leather clad yobs. True, some of them were a little bit rough and tumble but they were the very ones who, when they thought I had been working at my studies a little too much and too often, were round to see me. Not to persuade me to give up my studies by any means but to remind me that ‘too much work makes Jack a dull boy’. So I did quite frequently find myself going out on a spontaneous motor cycle outing on a fine day. And I enjoyed that, and I really did enjoy their genuine company. Bikers are the salt of the earth, and I wish the ‘earth’ would wake up to that fact sometimes. Gay bikers are even better fun – as I was about to find out.
I think it must have been a Whitsun Bank holiday (nowadays it doesn’t happen at the moveable feast of Whitsun but is the Late May Bank Holiday). Anyway, it was miserable and cold. There had been persistent showers and it was not conducive to a happy run in the country on the bikes. The ‘gang’ were a bit bored and there was a spare day or two to kill. Jim was around and equally bored (incidentally, he employed more than a few of the gang: he was a good employer and had a good relationship with his workers). He suggested we repaired to the barn – not essentially to play, but because it was warmer, there was tea/coffee making and a place where we could all be together and simply enjoy each other’s company. Well, that is how it started.
Then, mid afternoon, someone said ‘I’m fed up with cards, What I’d like to do is to play an old fashioned game of Snakes and Ladders or Ludo’ Many laughed at him at first, and then one or two said that it might be a bit of daft fun. Then Jim (always in command) said ‘I have something much better. I have a bondage game’. He went to his home next door and came back with the Rules and two dice. I won’t explain the game now but it involves someone being put into bondage, and it being left to chance and the throw of two dice to determine just how long he will stay there, come hell or high water.
We threw dice to see who scored least. Just for once it wasn’t me! We put the guy who had scored least into a strait jacket and hood, and secured him in a prone position to one of the bondage devices. The dice then showed he was to be there for four hours: which he said he had never managed before but would try. ‘Ha Ha: try?’ they all said and that made them get devious. In fact they did keep him there for six hours: he thought it was a little longer than he expected but as he didn’t know the clock time when he went in he had no idea by how much they had all increased it. We all enjoyed it. The next throw made me the one with the lowest score. I wondered what they had in store for me. By now they were getting all enthusiastic for this game, without any of them having looked a bit further than the next guy to score low.! I was stripped naked and placed in to what I now know to be a leather sleep sack. It was wonderful: I slipped my arms into the internal sleeves which kept them very snug and away from anything interesting inside. The sack was fastened up and then strong rope was threaded down the length of the front through eyelets, thus lacing it up tight and very snug. Then horror of horrors six very substantial thick wide leather straps were placed around me and drawn very tight indeed. They went through ‘D’ rings along the sides, designed to ensure that they did not slip down the body. There was a long zip right down the front with three sliders which meant that a gap could be made at the strategic places. It was so snug and comforting. Then I was hooded! And it was locked on, quite unnecessarily. No way could I have got it off. The ‘D’ rings at my shoulders were attached to a suspension bar and I was drawn into the standing position, but the sleepsack had been drawn up sufficiently to make it even tighter whilst not taking my feet off the floor. In fact the sack took a lot of the effort of standing out of the situation. Then they threw the dice. It was announced I was to be there for ten hours. I was daunted. But as time went on, I could hear other people having drawn the lowest score and they were all restrained in one way or another. It dawned on them that eventually there would only be two left. As indeed there was. And, believe it or not, Pete was the sole survivor. By this time he had all of the gang – some eight or nine of them – all in various restraints – throughout the barn. I could not see what happened to the others (I did find out afterwards) but there were deep sighs of contentment to be heard from time to time.
As for myself I went into a reverie. I dozed, I went into that half awake state that you get before you have to get up in the morning. I was ‘away with the fairies’ and I went through a lot of my favourite fantasies. I don’t know how long this went on for but I was truly relaxed and refreshed. (Some of the City’s stressed out financial whizz kids should try a straitjacket or sleepsack as a form of relaxation. It is wonderful and long term would be cheaper than the shrinks they employ!) Then Pete came to me and carefully adjusted the zip sliders so that he could get at the essential me, pulling my dick and balls out of the sack. Then by a long process of lifting and twisting during which I was completely disorientated he hoisted me horizontally so that I was face downwards, and apparently four or five feet off the ground. It was cosy and very isolated. Then he went to work on me. My previous experience of being milked had told me what to expect. Pete was an expert, and his handling of me shattered all my relaxation. He brought me to the point of ejaculation many times, and then tortured me by preventing it somehow. It was a tease. but so stimulating. Eventually I came in great gobs, and fell back tired but elated into the hammock-like sleepsack. And then I went to sleep! It was the most odd feeling on waking. I knew I had had a good rest but it took me for more than a few minutes to recollect where I was. Yes, I was still there, but then I wanted out. I murmured a little and Pete (who really was very sensitive) took great pains to release me slowly and deliberately, giving me a great mug of sweet coffee at the end.
No: I had not been there for ten hours. More like six. Others were out of their restraints; a few had a while to go. We spent most of the next day swapping experiences (and getting hards on at secondhand). It was one of the most enjoyable Bank Holidays the gang spent together.
It was nearing Autumn and it was getting dark just that bit earlier. Jim was busy with harvesting crops and the whole host of farming duties that occur at this time of the year. Most of his employees in the building business were also busy with jobs that customers wanted completing before the winter. Jim was also making alterations to his home and the outbuildings. In fact some of the more ancient ones were being demolished and the yard was nearly knee-deep in rubble that needed clearing.
Pete said to me how much Jim and he regretted not having much time to ‘play’ at this time of the year, but they recognised that ‘as a mate, I needed looking after by them’. I wondered what ‘looking after’ meant. Now by this time Pete and I had become very good close friends and whatever happened I knew I could trust and rely on him. Later in the conversation he told me that Jim had had to hire a great lorry to cart away the rubble and that I might find it interesting, if I asked the guy who drove it. He refused to say anything more. Naturally my curiosity was really aroused.
Come the day when the rubble was to be moved the necessary machinery arrived. A big yellow tractor-like thing with a bucket/shovel thing in front to scoop up the rubble and a huge lorry to take it away. This lorry was about the size of a container lorry. It was the same sort of height and had the same sort of secure doors at the back. Those that kind of fold in four and are then held in place with upright rods and handles which revolve and are secured by padlocks. The only real difference was that it had no top to it. The sides were about 12 feet high. It looked quite new. I made a point of going to look at the lorry, and it seemed to me to be no more than a 40 foot long monster. The driver, who was about thirty, asked if I was interested, and I explained that I had never been in the cab of such a machine, and I asked if it were difficult to drive etc. He laughed a little and said that after one had been driving these things for years they became a bit boring, but they were fine machines. Would I care for a ride in one? I said ‘yes’ (remembering the instruction from Pete that I was to show interest). The driver was a quite handsome guy, well built, friendly smile but very heavily muscled and obviously used to heavy manual work or working out. He could have laid me out with one punch, I reckon. He said that the final run of the day was perhaps the best one to go on. It took the rubble to the dumping place and then he drove the lorry back to the yard and came back to the village on his motor cycle. I could ride pillion.
So later in the day I went back to take the ride. The rubble had been loaded into the back. I climbed up into the cab, which was much more spacious than I had thought. The seats were comfortable, the all round view was good. He showed me the various instruments, and the radio etc. He also referred to the amount of stowage space there was: no small glove box but places for locking away jackets and other personal belongings. Opening one such stowaway, out fell a pair of rigid handcuffs. ‘Oh’, was the remark ‘you shouldn’t have seen those really. I keep them just in case I meet any awkward types who may wish to hi-jack the lorry. It is very expensive, you understand.’ I replied ‘Yes, but have you had any other reason to use them?’ I got an odd look, and he asked if I was a mate of Pete’s. Naturally I said I was, and he said he now understood why I was so curious about the lorry. Odd remark. He put the cuffs down in the space between us. So we dumped the load and went to the yard where the lorry was kept. It was quite remote from the village and well secured behind strong wire fences and gates etc. When we arrived it was well past going home time and the place was deserted. We got out of the cab and the driver secured it, we then went round to the back of the lorry and he said he needed to secure the doors, for which purpose he needed to get one pair open, make sure that there was no rubble etc left behind and then lock them all. We lifted the handles, swung them round and the doors were open. He padlocked the other two doors and suggested that I just stuck my head in at the level of the deck to ensure there was nothing in the lorry. There was not. But in order to do this I had to place my hands on the edge of the deck in order to lift up and lean in. Just then one of the cuffs of the rigid handcuffs was snapped on my left wrist. Those cuffs can be brutal, and when one is on, it is not advisable to resist too much. A slight twist by the guy applying them can readily control the ‘wearer’. Besides he was a much tougher guy than I was, so when he said put the other hand behind my back, bring the left hand there at the same time, I did as I was told. The cuffs were then applied completely. I was told to get up into the lorry – an almost impossible thing to do when cuffed behind your back: but with brute force we managed it.
The sides of the lorry were steel. Every so often there was a small corrugation all around, horizontally, but even with hands free it would not be enough to provide any foothold to climb out. And I was pushed right down to the far end of the lorry, away from the doors. The driver had me tightly grasped round my waist with his right arm and hand, and had his left arm under my crotch and was squeezing my balls with his left hand. I had little chance of doing other than what he wanted me to do. He said ‘You can stay here: get out if you can. Hope it doesn’t rain.’ He lowered me, not roughly, to the floor, beat a hasty retreat to the back end of the lorry closed the doors and padlocked them. I was completely shut in. The sides and doors were not scalable. The top was open so there was air. I could shout, but with no habitation or main road for a long way around who was to hear me? I tried, and felt foolish. I strained against the cuffs – perhaps they would yield – they didn’t, they were well applied and double locked.
It was beginning to get dark. There were a few stars in the heavens but there were a few dark looking clouds as well. If it did rain there was no shelter and I reckoned that the lorry would get a nice little lake in the bottom. Was I to be here all night? I hoped not – the cuffs were not particularly comfortable.
I strained: I yelled: I cursed. Then I began to rather enjoy this. I was really in a fix, I was imprisoned, I was handcuffed and I was beginning to get a really great hard on. Then there was a clap of thunder. Oh no! It was going to rain. And it did. Great sheets of rain, for quite a long time. The floor of the lorry, predictably, was a shallow pool. I was thoroughly drenched through. I was beginning to despair: I knew I was going to be there all night, because otherwise the driver guy would have been back to let me out by now. I sat down, I could stand up no more, anyway I was wet through already.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew was the sound of a car. So I yelled and yelled. Eventually I heard the sound of keys at the door. It opened and there were two security guards peering in. They laughed and said that they had been told to expect something out of the usual, and they reckoned I was it. They helped me down from the lorry and without taking off the cuffs (did they have keys, I wondered) they marched me to the small security building. Apparently they were to be on watch all night. They could not leave the site and I should have to stay with them. Unless of course, I would rather they phoned the police to come and take the cuffs off????? I said I would rather they didn’t. This provoked knowing looks between the two of them. I wondered what sort of night I was to have.
There I was, being marched towards the security building in the yard by two security guards who were smirking somewhat. I was handcuffed and they showed no sign of being able, or willing to release me.
I asked them, instead of phoning the police to get the cuffs off, was there anybody else they knew who might do it? I was fishing to see if they knew Pete or Jim or were working for either of them. No response. Until we got to the hut, when one of them said ‘You’re wringing wet: we must get those damp clothes off you.’ I don’t know how they proposed to do that with me handcuffed. However we went into the back room, which was full of building and demolition type gear – nearly all of it in the ‘regulation’ yellow. One of the guards selected a boiler suit type thing in brilliant yellow plastic. Tough, unbending and thoroughly waterproof. My jeans, socks, shoes, and underwear were all removed, and I was told to step into the boiler suit, which I did. Then one of them did undo one of the cuffs. I was still in no position to flee. My tee shirt was stripped off me and I began to feel better. I completed putting on the boiler suit, but one of them zipped it up fully and quickly put a short chain round my neck and padlocked it together and the pull of the zip with it. I was locked in: and the cuffs were re-applied. I was sat down on a bench and told to wait. I did, and eventually a mug of sweet tea was brought to me and I was helped to drink it. That was good.
Then a harness – one which I think is used for preventing a fall – was produced. It was put on me. They’re none too comfortable: they’re not meant for suspension as in bondage but merely to break a fall and hold you there for a few minutes. I had fears that I was to spend an uncomfortable night suspended in it. However the lanyard thing attached to it was fixed firmly to an overhead beam and I was left standing. I was getting a hard on, again. The suit was smooth inside, it was getting warm and slippery inside, too. I was not able to move very much, I was cuffed and I had two security guards virtually ‘in attendance’ on me. Next I was hooded very securely, and a crash helmet was placed over the hood. I could breathe but I could hardly see or hear.
There I stood, quietly, until one of the guards grasped my hard and very slowly and very deliberately played me. Sensuously slowly, then vigorously briskly, alternating until I was on the point of orgasm. Then stopping, then starting again. Time after time after time. Eventually I was brought to orgasm and allowed to cum. Such sweet relief I could have kissed the guy had I been able. What next, then? Had they done? No! What I imagined was the second guy had to use me. His technique was quite different. It was equally sensuous, but he played up and down the whole length of my hard, and was indescribably delicate with running his finger over the very head of it, through the tough shiny, slippery plastic of the boiler suit. Eventually I came again and was deeply, grateful to have been allowed eventually to have cum. The crash helmet was removed as was the hood. Standing there was the driver of the truck, who merely said ‘I did say you could come home to the village on my motor bike, didn’t I? I’ve come to fetch you.’ He gave me such a stunning smile and a hug that I forgave him there and then his part in that evening’s play.
It turned out that he was an old friend of Pete’s and that they did occasionally play together. Pete and Jim had arranged the evening’s fun for me, because they wanted to extend my bondage education but were too busy at that time of the year to do it themselves. The two security guards were friends of the driver guy – he had met them at the yard and had recognised like-minded guys. Those two were sometimes visitors to Jim’s place.
I expected to be released, but I wasn’t. It was now something like 1 a.m. I was re-hooded and the crash helmet put back on. I was still cuffed and in the yellow unbending and sticky hot overall suit.. Then I was put on the back of Mike’s bike (for such was the name of the lorry driver) and my cuffs were secured to the grab bar and my feet to the pedal supports. I then had one of the most terrifying rides into the village that I have ever encountered. I did not know the way, Mike was driving steadily, but the deprivation of any clue as to where we were going next was awful – but stimulating! We arrived at Jim’s place where I was released and Pete gave me such a great hug that I nearly fainted. I was allowed to dress in my own clothes. Mike then drove me home quietly through the village and we parted as good friends.
In just a few months I had found a range of new friends. They were bikers, generally, but bit by bit I was extending the range of people I knew. From one small remark in Jim’s barn, I was becoming part of the rural ‘mafia’ of guys who liked bondage and who wished to play. There were many more people about who enjoyed such games than ever I imagined, and I was getting to feel secure with them.
Metal would like to thank Kiggle for the story.
Kiggle says that if some kind soul with a perverted mind would care to have a go and take the story a stage further, go for it! Come to think of it, he says, there used to be some radio programme or other where a story was told in sections, each person taking a successive section. The point was that, at the end of their allotted time, they tried to leave the situation as complicated as possible for the next guy to have difficulties in compiling his bit. Bit of mental teasing here, perhaps?