By Mister-X / Spartan

“I know what we should do.  I’ll put in my large butt plug.  You put me into my leather straitjacket, put my leather pants on, and strap on my leather hood with nose and mouth holes.  Wrap my arms behind my back, connected at the front, so that my tits will stand out.  Unsnap the coverings over my tits, put on my tit clamps, pulling the connecting chain up to attach to the ring at the front of the straitjacket and snap the straitjacket coverings back over my nips.

Put my leather boots on me and those heavy ankle cuffs over my boots with that heavy connecting chain.  I won’t be able to take big steps, but that shouldn’t be a problem.  Unzip my pants and put that metal cock ring with the internal spikes on the base of my penis, attach a chain to it, and pull me by that.  I’ll let you know if anything needs to be adjusted.  Finally strap my leather wedge gag on tightly.  You dress up however you want to do as the master pulling his slave.  What do you think?”

“If you want to be walked around Dore like that, who am I to say “no”?  You’ll be the one suffering.  It sounds great to me.  But the hood strap at your neck will have to go under the straitjacket strap if you want the tit clamp connecting chain hooked up to the straitjacket ring.  Otherwise, let’s do it.”

“But you know me.  This time, put some effort into pulling all the straps as tight as you can, rechecking them and tightening them all until you can’t tighten any of them any more.  Use some muscle.”

“You are one bondage pig.  Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want.  I want to suffer in bondage in public, as long as no one can see my face.  I can’t risk anyone from work finding out I’m into this.  The owner of the company in particular is very strict, having a conservative dress code where I’m required to wear a 3-piece suit with shirt and tie every day.  That’s why I always have to dress up when I go to work.  And he’s a work-a-holic, seemingly always there.  I think he’s an ex-Marine, or ex-football lineman, or ex-Navy Seal.  He’s a big guy, in great shape, always wears tight suits with shirts having one of those old-fashioned high, stiff collars, and comes across as a hard-ass.  One warm day one of the guys loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar.  When the owner saw that he went berserk.  He’s always on us about our appearance.  I need that job, and I wouldn’t want to do something to cross him.  I’m afraid he might be homophobic.”

“He sound like a difficult boss.  Fortunately mine is easy-going and friendly.  I like where I’m working.”

“Oh, my job itself is okay.  And the money is great.  I get to buy things I really like, like this deluxe leather straitjacket from Mister-S.  I can’t wait to show it off at Dore.  I want to be the most tightly bound guy there.  I want people to take our pictures and post them on the net like I’m always seeing done of others.  If anybody wants to take a picture of us, be sure to accommodate them.”

This conversation took place a few days before Dore.  When the day came for the fair, the two got together at Tim’s apartment and put Tim into the gear as he had specified Greg to do.  Typically for Tim, he bent his head down when the connecting chain for his tits was attached to the ring at the front of his neck, telling Greg to loop the chain a few times through the ring to shorten it, so that when the other end was attached to his other tit and he raised his head back up it painfully pulled his tits.  It took some time to get everything on to Tim’s satisfaction.  He kept telling Greg to make it tighter, to put some muscle into pulling the straps tightly closed.  Finally Tim was satisfied and Greg strapped the wedge gag on.  Tim started mumbling, so Greg removed it.  Tim said it wasn’t tight enough, so Greg sighed, put it back on, and had to pull the strap extra hard to finally put the prong through that next hole to make it tight enough for Tim’s satisfaction.  When Greg asked if everything was on tight enough, Tim nodded his head, wincing as that action pulled his tits.

When Greg unzipped Tim’s pants, his cock literally leapt out.  Greg got the small metal cock ring with the internal spikes and put it around the base of Tim’s hard-on.  It wouldn’t close, and Greg had to push it closed, which dug the spikes in, before he padlocked it and attached the leash chain.  Tim was wincing from the pain, but it was what he had ordered to be done.  After Greg got dressed in his tight motorcycle cop’s uniform which he’d brought with him to Tim’s apartment, complete with knee-high boots, leather jacket, thick leather belt, and cuffs attached to the back belt loop, as well as the mandatory dark glasses, they were ready.  Greg led Tim into the garage, put him into the passenger side of Greg’s car, and drove off.  Greg knew better than to ask Tim how he felt or if he wanted anything loosened.  Tim would have deeply resented any such show of compassion.  Greg had to get his mind set to have that arrogant, condescending look on his face to match his outfit.

They were a little late getting to the fair, and had to park several blocks away.  Immediately as they set out on foot, walking to Folsom Street, they started getting stares and people taking their picture.  But that was what they came for, to show off.  Periodically they would get requests to stop so onlookers could take their picture.  It took some time to get to Folsom Street.

There was already a large crowd of people gathered there, and walking through the fair area was difficult.  Greg would periodically stop to view the various booths to see what was going on.  There were the usual floggings at the Mr. S booth, people handing out literature at booths promoting their wares or promoting safe sex, and the show at the kink.com booth.  And constantly, they were stopped to have their picture taken.  Occasionally a passer-by would pull the chain attached to Tim’s tits, or start stroking Tim’s erect cock.  One even put his fingers over Tim’s nostrils for a few seconds when Greg wasn’t looking.

After about an hour, three passers-by with a camera stopped to chat with Greg.  After taking their picture, one told Greg he wanted a picture taken of him whipped by Greg with the whip he’d brought, that a picture of being whipped by a motorcycle policeman would be great.  He said one of his friends could take the picture while the other held Tim’s leash.  Greg complied and soon was in several poses with the whip and the guy while the friend with the camera set the scenes.  Unbeknown to Greg, the guy with Tim’s leash had immediately taken off with him.  When the pictures were taken, the two guys left quickly.  Once they did, Greg looked around to find Tim, and couldn’t see him in the crowd.  By the time he’d realized this the two guys were also no longer in sight.

The guy who had grabbed Tim was pulling him as quickly as he could, first into a nearby alley (not Dore), and then out onto another street the alley led into.  Another guy was behind Tim helping him move quicker.  Tim couldn’t keep up, what with the heavy chain around his boots, so the two guys started carrying Tim along, one on each side.  Not being able to see, Tim couldn’t figure out what was happening.  Finally they arrived at a van with no back windows.  The two guys unlocked the van, took Tim inside and laid him down, securing his straitjacket neck ring and ankle chain to opposite ends of the van so that Tim was stretched out and couldn’t move.  Tim realized something had gone wrong, but was in no position to object.  The two guys quickly closed the back of the van, got into the front, and waited.  Soon the two with the camera joined them, and they took off.  Tim had no idea who his abductors were or what they planned to do with him.  He had been kidnapped.  He was fearful about how this year’s Dore was going to turn out.

To be continued …