By THHoudini and yohan555
Chapter 1 – Beginnings
The rain pattered softly against the windows of the secluded cottage as Nat stepped inside, his eyes scanning the cluttered yet intriguing space. The home was a curious blend of eccentricity and artistry—shelves crammed with odd trinkets, walls adorned with peculiar paintings, and a faint scent of aged wood and oil paint lingering in the air. But Nat wasn’t here for the decor. He was here for the straitjacket.
Nat was a straitjacket artist, a hobby that had earned him quite a following online. He performed daring escape acts, twisting and contorting his way out of restraints with a grace that bordered on artistry. Nat loved the challenge, the thrill, the control he felt when he escaped a tight set of restraints, but there was more to it than that. The tight feeling of a straitjacket around his body, holding him snugly in place, gave him a sense of security that was almost intoxicating. And now he was about to go even further. He was here to experience the thrill of a truly unique straitjacket session, one that promised to be exciting and exhilarating. When he received the invitation from Yohan, a reclusive collector, who claimed to have a one-of-a-kind straitjacket, Nat couldn’t resist. Yohan described it as “inescapable,” and for Nat, it was the ultimate challenge.
Yohan greeted him in the dimly lit living room, a wiry man in his late fifties with a shock of white hair and sharp, calculating eyes. His voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of intensity. “Ah, Nat. So glad you could make it. I’ve been following your work. Impressive. You have a really admirable determination. And you have been quite successful. I couldn’t believe that you got out of that straitjacket trap with the head submerged at your performance act in the Peccadillo Theatre. I don’t know how you did it. I am eager to see what you can do with my straitjacket. You’re sure you want to go through with this? Are you really sure that you can handle this? I gotta tell you, this one is really a one-of-a-kind garment. It was worn by the late Houdini. Apparently there is a way out of it, but everyone who has tried it on so far, got stuck. Are you ready to try it? If you do get stuck, you might not get out of it in a while. Are you okay with this?”
Nat grinned, a little unnerved by Yohan’s intensity, but confident in his abilities. “I’m up for the challenge. There’s no straitjacket I can’t escape from.
“Well, okay then. So this…. ” he said, gesturing to a weathered wooden mannequin in the corner, “will test even your talents.” Draped over the mannequin was the straitjacket. It was unlike any Nat had seen before. The fabric was a deep, matte black, with intricate silver stitching that seemed to form cryptic symbols. The buckles were tarnished but sturdy, and the straps were thicker, more robust than usual. It was beautiful, in a foreboding sort of way. “May I?” Nat asked, his fingers itching to touch it. Yohan smiled faintly. “Of course. But be warned – once it’s on, there’s no turning back.”
Nat chuckled, dismissing the older man’s ominous tone as theatrics. He’d heard such warnings before, and they always turned out to be exaggerations. He carefully lifted the straitjacket from the mannequin, feeling the weight of it in his hands. The material was surprisingly heavy, almost as if it were lined with something.
“Shall we begin?” Yohan asked, his eyes gleaming.
Nat nodded, and with Yohan’s assistance, he slipped into the straitjacket. The moment the first buckle clicked into place, he felt a strange sensation—a tightening, not just around his body, but in the air itself. The room seemed to grow colder, and the symbols on the jacket seemed to shimmer faintly.
Yohan stepped back, admiring his work. “Perfect. Now, let’s see you escape”
Chapter 2 – The Silver Illusion
Nat took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders against the embrace of the straitjacket. The leather creaked softly, tightening around him like a second skin. He had been in situations like this countless times—bound, restrained, underestimated by those who believed they could keep him captive. And every time, he proved them wrong.
This time would be no different.
His lips curled into a confident smirk as he met Yohan’s gaze. “Hope you’re ready to be disappointed,” he teased, shifting his arms experimentally within the jacket’s grip.
Yohan chuckled, his sharp eyes glinting with something deeper than amusement. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he murmured.
Nat knew how to put on a show. Every movement he made was deliberate, not just for the challenge, but for the spectacle of it. His body was wrapped in his signature silver spandex bodysuit beneath the jacket—a second skin that shimmered under the dim lighting, hugging every contour of his toned form. The fabric was unforgivingly tight, emphasizing the taut lines of his muscles, the sharp definition of his abs, the curve of his thighs. And, most noticeably, the growing bulge between his legs.
He was used to it. The arousal, the slow thrill that coursed through him when he was restrained. It was part of the game. Part of his performance. He never shied away from it—on the contrary, he embraced it, used it. His audience always fell for it, mesmerized by the sight of him struggling, twisting, gasping, the clear outline of his hard cock pressing against the gleaming silver fabric. It was a weapon, a distraction, something that threw off even the most composed of captors.
And tonight, Yohan was his only audience.
Nat tilted his head, flashing a cocky grin. “Confidence comes with experience. I’ve been locked in chains, stuffed into body bags, submerged in water while bound in fifty pounds of steel. This?” He lifted his arms slightly within the jacket, testing the resistance. “This is just another puzzle to solve.”
The words left his lips effortlessly, but something about the way Yohan looked at him made Nat pause. He had met countless challengers—riggers, magicians, engineers—each trying to best him, to keep him locked away. But Yohan was different. The way he studied him wasn’t just about measuring skill or testing technique. It was something else.
Yohan wasn’t just looking at the straitjacket.
He was looking at him.
Nat shifted slightly, the leather straps tugging against his torso, pressing the silver fabric tighter against his skin. He was used to control—of his body, of his image, of the way people reacted to him. But under Yohan’s gaze, he felt something different. Not exposed, not vulnerable—but seen.
“You like what you see?” Nat taunted, voice low, sultry.
Yohan exhaled, a slow, measured breath. “You’re quite the performer,” he admitted, stepping closer. “And quite the tease.”
Nat laughed, tilting his head back slightly as he tested the restraint. The motion pushed his chest forward, emphasizing the helpless beauty of his bound form. He was playing the game, but something about Yohan’s presence, his quiet intensity, made it feel like he was playing along with something far bigger than himself.
There was a sharpness to Yohan—his confidence, his patience, the way he carried himself. Nat had met plenty of captors who relished in restraint, who enjoyed watching him struggle. But Yohan? Yohan didn’t need to gloat. He didn’t need to brag. He simply knew.
That was what impressed Nat the most.
And as he flexed against the jacket once more, feeling its impossible tightness, he had to wonder—was he really the one in control here? Or was he already playing right into Yohan’s hands?
Chapter 3 – Trapped
Nat was getting anxious. He had tried his favorite maneuvers, all his usual tricks, and nothing had worked. He was beginning to feel a little trapped. His breathing was getting more labored, and his cock was growing harder. He could not afford to let Yohan see his discomfort, and yet, his body betrayed him. Something was really off here. He should have been able to dislodge the strap by now, the buckle of the arm strap should have loosened a bit through the pulls he had been exerting. But the straps hadn’t budged. The buckles, which should have been easy to manipulate, seemed locked in place. Panic began to creep in as he realized he couldn’t even feel the usual give in the fabric.
Yohan was circling him, his piercing eyes taking in every inch of him.
Nat’s face was flushed with frustration, his cock twitching and hard, trapped beneath the tight confines of his straitjacket. But despite his arousal, the unease was building. Something was wrong, and he couldn’t figure out what it was. He had tried everything, every trick, every move, and yet the jacket was still firmly in place.
“What… what is this?” Nat asked, his voice trembling.
Yohan chuckled, a low, unsettling sound. “I told you, Nat. This is no ordinary straitjacket. It’s a work of art, a testament to the futility of struggle. And you, my dear boy, are now part of that art. I have been looking at the clock. You only have 15 more minutes, and if you don’t get out of it by then, you will be in it for good. The straitjacket is cursed. It can only be taken off within the first hour of anybody wearing it, but if the wearer does not escape or is being let out by then, he will become permanently trapped in it, and even the strongest scissors, knives or saws won’t be able to get him out of it. You don’t believe me? Well, just wait and see.”
Nat gulped, his heart racing as he processed the implications of Yohan’s words. This was nonsense, this could not be happening, there was no magic in the world, it was all just tricks and deception. But even as the thoughts raced through his mind, he could feel the reality of his situation sinking in. If Yohan was telling the truth, Nat’s days of performing escape acts were over. He would be forever bound in the straitjacket, unable to free himself from its inescapable grasp. It was a fate worse than death, and yet, deep down, Nat felt a strange sense of excitement and even relief.
Yohan turned and walked to the window, gazing out into the darkness. “I have always wanted a living art deco object, something that is alive, that still has the capacity to move -even if only a little – but can never break free. A permanent, moving sculpture, an expression of the human condition, an example of the power of restraint, and the futility of struggle. You can still change your mind, if you don’t want to end up being one of my art objects, forever trapped. Just beg me to let you out, But once the 15 minutes are over, the straitjacket will never come off again.
Nat’s heart was pounding. His mind was racing. He couldn’t be trapped. He couldn’t be. Not here. Not like this. He had to escape.
Nat’s breaths were coming in ragged gasps now, his body slick with sweat as he struggled against the straitjacket’s grip.
Nat struggled harder, but the jacket only seemed to tighten further. The symbols on the fabric had started to glow faintly, and he felt a strange, oppressive force pressing down on him. It was as if the jacket itself was alive, feeding on his fear. But his pride was too strong. He had escaped every straitjacket before and had overcome a lot of challenges. He was one of the best aspiring escape artists to have come along in a long time, so others had told him. He was at the top of his game, and he knew what he was doing. His agility was unmatched. He would not beg to be released, and anyway, this could only be a joke. This could not be real.
But when Yohan turned back to look at him, Nat almost froze. There was a look in the man’s eyes, something extremely predatory and unknowable, a gaze that spoke of infinite possibilities, endless captivity.
“I guess this is the end, then, 8 minutes to go, and you are still trapped. It’s not surprising, considering that nobody ever escaped the jacket before.” “No!” Nat shouted, panic and frustration overwhelming him, but at the same time the helplessness of the situation, being trapped in this strange house, with this mysterious stranger, and that cursed jacket, was starting to get to him. A shiver ran through him as he imagined what it would be like, to be stuck in this straitjacket forever. His dick was reacting to the situation, getting him aroused. Nat felt his cheeks heat up, and he tried to will away his erection, but it was no use. He was starting to get hard, and the straitjacket was making it worse.
“There is nothing to be ashamed of, you know. I understand how you feel. Being trapped, unable to escape, is such an arousing and exciting thing. And there are so many pleasures but also so many torments that one can be subjected to when he is bound. Accept your fate, Nat. You are bound to be mine, now. The straitjacket is indestructible. There is no way you can ever get out of it.
“Let me out”, Nat finally screamed.
“Why should I do that?” Yohan said calmly.
“Because… because… if you let me go, I’ll stay willingly, I won’t tell anybody about what happened here.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’ll… I’ll do anything, I swear, just please let me out.”
Yohan laughed. “Three minutes. I am sorry, but the curse is real, and it’s too late now, I am afraid.”
Nat gritted his teeth and struggled harder. The air was thick with tension, and his lungs were burning. His muscles ached, his heart pounded, and his vision blurred. Suddenly the symbols on the jacket flared up, and he was surrounded by an intense white light. He could feel the jacket change. The buckles on the back seemed to disappear and the sleeve strap merged with the jacket making it look like he was encased in a solid mass of leather. There were no buckles anywhere anymore, and instead, the jacket had become a solid leather shell. Nat cried out in pain and anguish, his body trembling and his cock throbbing. The light grew brighter and brighter, until it consumed him. And then, all of a sudden, there was only darkness.
To be continued …
