BearCop's Blog: January 2014

Monday, 20 January 2014

Fiction: Workie (Part 3)

Author's note:

I love hearing your horny feedback and who enjoy and have similar interests. Lots of ways to get in touch. Start with http://bear-cop.com for my Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Bdsmlr feeds. You can also text/WhatsApp me at +447942999885 if you want, or skype:uk.cop, or fiction@bear-cop.com

This work of fiction is free to be distributed in the public domain provided the original author and paragraph above is included.

The journey home was especially slow today – or it seemed so due to my excitement of my new property. The new boy was still restrained in the rear trunk of my car, unable to speak, see, feel, play with himself (the sadist in me always thinks a boy unable to play with himself focuses the mind), or do much other than struggle. Finally, I was home; and after stopping the car, I opened the rear, and checked on his welfare.

Groping his crotch with one hand, and twisting his tit with another, he was still rock hard; the ‘kidnap’ thing was obviously working well for him. I teased his now un-chastised cock with my fingers, jerking off its full length. I didn’t want this boy anywhere near shooting his load yet, far from it – he was going to have to work for it – but I did want him to be teased into enough of a horny frustrated frenzy that he would struggle against his restraints for release and focus on serving me.

I pumped his cock for a while, now rock hard and straining against his shiny workwear – tight bubble butt cheeks and bulging crotch. I enjoyed seeing a wet spot of precum which had soaked through. My new bull let out a moan into his tape gag, sounding like he was already desperate for release; which was going to be a long long way off.

I manoeuvred him bodily into a semi-sitting position in the trunk of my car, before pulling his still legcuffed feet forward to the low gate rear and ordered “feet down boy”, Tentatively he stepped down until his chained ankles were on the floor, and stood straight. Hands still cuffed behind his back in the prisoner escort belt and his head still padlocked in the leather bag hood, I closed the trunk, and ordered him to walk forwards. Standing behind him, he tentatively began marching forwards, only to be reminded of his restraint, and how he was ‘hobbled’. The sight of his tight butt cheeks, restrained hands and fist mitts and bag hood was enough to make my suit uncomfortable, straining for some release inside his new boy’s throat or butt.

I guided him towards my main outbuilding - the barn, swung the door open, and pushed him inside. In addition to storing my car and bike inside on the ground level, at one side was a matted and padded area I used as my gym. It also had the advantage of a number of metal rings embedded in the walls, ceiling and floor. I pulled him by the collar to this area, and ordered he kneel, with a corresponding tap to the back of his legs.

Now kneeling on the soft mats, I reached down and unlocked the collar on his hood, loosening the collar and lifting it up over his head. Blinking with the hard strip lighting hitting his eyes, I also took hold of my improvised gag, and peeled it from his face. “Alright boy?”

“Sir! Yes Sir! Thank you sir!”.

From one of the play tool chests, I took a heavy (I mean about 1.5 inch thick) metal collar, attached to a metre of chain, and returned to the mats. Taking a heavy padlock and snapping the chain to it against the wall, I went towards him and closed the collar around his neck. The look in his eyes said he was enjoying himself. I took the biggest padlock I had, put it through the collar, and snapped it shut.

I reached back to the tool chest, and took out a large leather stuffer gag, approached the boy from behind, and quickly pressed the gag against his lips. It must have taken him by surprise, and he clamped his lips shut. With my other hand, I covered his eyes and nose, cutting off his air supply, and soon his mouth opened enough for me to ram the gag home to fill his mouth completely, and buckle it tightly closed. Another padlock in place, and for now, the boy was pacified again.

This boy said he wanted to be owned property, so leaving him to think, I turned, walked out the barn, and snapped the lights off, leaving my new horny boy still unable to play with himself, restrained, lying until I wanted him. This boy said he liked mind fucks, what better than being left in a dark empty room, restrained, horny, not knowing how long he was going to be left there, or what was going to happen to him next.

I returned to my house, finally got out my suit, and took a shower to remove the dirt of the day. I knew this boy was a gearhead, so the next decision was what to wear. It had stopped raining, and the playroom would likely be fairly cool that night. Considering this boy’s past, and what he might be used to, I settled on green military jock, combat trousers, combat jacket, and army boots.

Like the restrained boy in the barn, I was already oozing precum, it might have been all too tempting to take care of that before I put a single item of uniform on, but I wanted my new boy to be sucking every last drop instead.

It had been over an hour since I’d locked the boy in the barn – plenty of time for his own mind to be disorientated, heightened, and hopefully, still horny considering how he was going to be used. When I turned the light on in the barn, he was lying on his side, and before he’d had a chance to turn and see me, I’d pulled a sackcloth hood down over his face. It allows boys to see only small distorted images of their surroundings, great for fucking with a guy’s head. I unlocked the collar from the wall, and helping him to his feet, it was time for his sentence to be served.

I pulled on the heavy chain attached to the collar, and we descended into the cooler underground dungeon.

Positioning him in the middle of the playroom, I removed his hood, and unpadlocked the heavy collar and put it aside. Still in the leather fist mitts and prisoner transport belt, I uncuffed his hands, leaving the fist mitts in place, took hold of his polo shirt and lifted it over his chest, revealing his muscled hairy chest, his tits standing erect ready for punishment. He had a wide back, good size biceps, which tapered down to his waistline. I noticed him scanning my uniform up and down, and my boots.

“Strip boy”.

It was a challenge – removing boots, pants and jock when you’re locked in fist mitts – but that was my plan. He started well, unbuckling his wide leather belt and pulling down his zip. Removing the boots was more difficult (never come across a boy who managed it yet in fist mitts).

“Too slow soldier! You must now suffer your punishment”. I saw the frustration mixed with a tinge of realisation in his face – he was never going to pass this test. I pulled down his trousers letting them fall to his ankles, revealing his tight bubble butt, covered in a light coating of fuzz, and his jock. “Assume punishment position touching your toes”. He leaned forward, his fist mitts on his boots.

I selected one of my favourite leather paddles – wide leather – and took aim on my boy’s cheeks. I swung gently for the first ‘targeting stroke’, and made solid contact with his cheek. “10” Whilst the leather on skin made a satisfying slapping noise, he didn’t make any sound into his gag. I swung again, a little harder this time “9”. When I got down to 5 strokes remaining, he let out a whine into his gag, which got increasingly louder through the remaining strokes. By this point, his cheeks had a fantastic red glow, which I was enjoying; as he appeared to be too, by the head of his cock now sticking out the top of his jock.

I unlocked the padlock on his gag, and popped the gag out his mouth.

“SIR THANK YOU SIR”

Standing in front of him, I pulled his face towards mine using the scruff of his neck, and then planted my lips on his own. I snogged him hard, pulling his face into mine. Invading his mouth with my tongue, I explored, and could still taste the gag he’d been silenced with previously. I was pleased by how he’d taken his strokes, even if I intended more later.

Leaving the fist mitts in place I helped him unlace his boots, took off his workwear and jock, and refastened the boots. Naked, booted and fist mitted, I clipped the D-ring of the fist mitts to overhead chains, and attached his ankles to two rings on the floor using leather restraints. He was now tied in an X shape in the middle of the playroom, and I wanted to explore this meat a little more.

I ran my hands slowly down his chest, enjoying his chest hair, and stopped at his tits. Standing proud, I took one in each hand, and twisted and pinched. This boy already looked like he could take a fair amount of punishment - so I started chewing on one tit, biting down gradually harder and harder. He struggled against the restraints, and moaned. I put a pair of tit clamps on him, and I thought at that he was going to shoot his load then and there.

Moving down to his abs, I gut punched them gently, to which he tensed. This boy was turning out to be a good catch.

I ran my hand through his pubes, and grabbed his cock. He must have been about 7 inches hard, his glans was big, moist and was dripping with precum. I wiped the head with my fingertips, and his sent him crazily struggling against the restraints. My fingers now covered in precum, he greedily licked it like it was finest caviar.

I wanted to bring this boy to such a frenzy to he was frustrated and would do anything his boss ordered. For the next 40 minutes, I repeatedly reached down and played with his balls with one hand, whilst I jerked him off with the other. Just as I could feel him getting to the edge, I’d immediately stop, leave him, and stand behind him, pushing myself against him through my uniform. Sometimes, I’d chew on his naked neck, and other times, I’d talk dirty to him.

After 40 minutes, I’d reduced him to begging to be allowed to cum.

“Please SIR, please let me shoot sir, PLEASE SIR”

Suitably frustrated, it was time to move on with his training. I took the tit clamps attached to his tits with a chain, and pulled. He started whimpering like a baby. I took one of the clamps and quickly unclipped it. He threw his head back and screamed with the suddenness of it all. I few seconds later, I unclipped the other. I wondered if this boy liked the plaster to be removed quick or slow!

Allowing him a few more minutes to calm down, I started exploring his bubble butt. Running my fingers round his butt, and down his crack, His fantastic pair of cheeks were covered in soft fur, just the right amount to ‘frame’ his hole nicely.

I spread his tight cheeks wide and exposed his hole. Running my fingers down his crack and over it, he struggled back and forward against the restraints. I was certainly looking forward to fucking it later. I was straining against my own jock, which would be nice and ripe now for his tongue.

Taking my index finger, I pushed against it. It was nice and tight, but soon my finger was pushing inside. This was obviously one of his ‘buttons’. Through his legs, I could see precum dripping off his cock head.

I knew what was next for this boy. Returning to my toy box, I removed a fetters heavy duty metal catapult cage, and held it up to my slave’s face.

“SIR, please, no, SIR, please SIR”

I fastened the leather strap around his waist, whilst forcing his heavily swollen cock dripping its precum into the metal rings of the cage. I pulled the cage shut, and fastened the hex-nut to completely enclose his cock and balls in a metal prison. Going behind him, as one last touch, I took a dome shaped ridged plug and spread some lube across it. Rubbing it against his hole, I suddenly pushed it past his sphincter, to which he let out the biggest moan of the evening so far. It snapped shut around the invader, and he barked out “SIR THANK YOU SIR “ again. I fastened the last padlock and central strap to the cage, and my work was now complete.

Now with his cock and hole under my lock and key, I unlocked his legs and arms from the spread eagle restraints, and took off the fist mitts only to re-apply heavy neck to wrist to ankle manacles. Whilst also looking great on a boy, they are completely inescapable without the key, and sound fantastic when a boy is moving around in them.

“On your knees boy – get to those boots”.

Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, and starting lapping on my boot. Right one first, he started long, slow strokes from back to front, and then paying particular attention to the toecap with small movements. Ex services always give good boots, they know how to take care of them. I knew he was into boots, I swear I could even feel his tongue through the leather. Even more surprised when he moved to the sole, he did a good job of one before moving on to the other.

With both boots now gleaming, I took hold of his collar and pulled his face into my crotch. Staying on the same theme, his mouth started sucking and licking at the front of my combat trousers. Enjoying the sensation, I didn’t give him any reward until the fabric was wet; and he stopped and looked up at me from his kneeling position. I reached down and unzipped my flies, revealing my precum soaked jock.

His tongue went straight inside my zip, massaging and attempting to suck on my cock through the jock. He licked and sucked the precum out of the jock, until I pulled down the waist band and exposed my full 8 inches. Without hesitation, I took the boy’s collar, and pushed down his throat. Initially coughing and choking, I pulled back a little and became more forceful. This boy was a good cocksucker too – taking the whole length of it down, and also putting his tongue to good use on the tip.

Seeing this stud in heavy chains, chastity and plug taking the length of my meat was hot as hell, and soon enough I could feel myself getting close. With one last pull of his collar and his tongue on my shaft, I felt my load building, and in an explosion, I shot straight into the throat of my boy. He gulped it down, and kept sucking it out, I must have shot what felt like gallons. Not a drop was wasted or spilled; this boy definitely had good training potential. I continued fucking his face for a while until I was completely drained, before straightening my uniform and zipping up.

Slightly exhausted, I needed a little recovery time, and my boy needed feeding. Still on his knees with head bowed, I took a heavy leather hood down from the shelf – fantastically heavy, once a boy is inside it, it deprives him of most of his senses, but made of full leather, gives him an overwhelming smell of leather, and sweat from previous locked down boys.

Unlocking his metal collar and removing it, I pulled it down over the boy’s head, I could hear him hungrily breathing in the smell of the leather. I slowly took each lace in turn and tightened it, drawing the hood across his face tighter and increasing his feeling of enclosure. I pulled the back zip down, covering the laces, and fastened the collar before applying the padlock.

Pulling him by the collar, I led him across to the small cage at the side of the playroom. The cage is big enough for a boy to sit or be hogtied (3 by 2), depending on the scene, and has a neck sized ring to the top and the side (so a boy can be sat with his head in or out of the cage, or knelt and face fucked without resistance. Positioning him sitting, I closed the heavy metal around his neck, turning the hex nuts to lock it in place.

At this stage, he was still in a chastity cage, ass plugged, wrists and ankles in heavy chains and with all his senses focused within a heavy padlocked hood. His hooded head sticking out the top of the cage, this was a good sight to see. I finished the picture by passing a handcuff through each of the wrist chains, and cuffing them to the side of the cage. Leaving him there, it was time to leave the playroom, and find my new buck some better tasting protein.

Monday, 13 January 2014

Fiction: Workie (Part 2)

Author's note:

This work of fiction is free to be distributed in the public domain provided the original author and paragraph above is included.

The rest of that work day passed slowly, and truthfully, I was excited to know if the boy I now had locked in my metal chastity cage and collared was going to turn into anything. It was after seven when I slid back into my leathers and headed home. After a quick bite, I fired up my computer, and logged into Recon to see if the boy had done as ordered. There it was, a message sent 18:02 that night.  Keen.

"Sir, happy to be locked and contacting as ordered Sir".

"Be in Recon chat Masters and Slaves at 21:30". I hit send, another test of obedience for him.

I idly logged into Recon by 21:00, and caught up with a few online friends. It seemed especially busy online that night, with the normal time wasters. At 2130 on the dot, a private message appeared in Masters and Slaves as ordered. "Permission to speak Sir". Nice approach.

Opening a private chat, the boy activated his webcam, shirtless, padlocked in the collar I’d locked earlier, I wanted to check he was still chastised.

"Stand up boy, show me you're locked".

He stood up from his chair, and was in the same NYPD jock he was wearing earlier. He pulled down the front of the jock, showing the glint of my padlocked chastity cage, securely locked in place. He looked partially hard already, his cock pushing against the holes in the cage.

"Very good boy; now tell me about what you're looking for from a boss". I always like to explore fantasies and interests, to ensure any playscene will work.

“Sir, been looking for an owner for a while Sir. Couldn’t keep my eyes off you in your leathers from when you started. Someone to treat me like the boy I am, use me whenever they want for their purposes. Be a good slave to a strong leather master.”

This boy was sounding better all the time; as was my hard on growing inside the nylon running shorts I’d thrown on after changing out of my bike leathers at the thought of using my new property.

“So how much of yourself would you prepared to give boy?” was my response.

“Sir, you’d own my mind and body Sir, so long as it was safe.”

My hard on was leaking precum, and it was seeping through my shorts. I only wished my new boy was handcuffed on the floor between my legs to take care of it was his tongue.... but hopefully soon enough...

We private messaged for a further 45 minutes, discussing his experiences and what we were both looking for in any form of relationship; and everything seemed to match. His likes matched my own, to be kept under permanent control, heavy bondage, his holes fucked; have his life controlled. As I’d wondered, turned out he was an ex-marine; so at least should do discipline and drill well. That would definitely be a uniform he’d wear again soon. He’d had an ex-master who’d moved away, leaving him a yearning to be owned again. He let slip about a number of his fantasies involving kidnap, rape and incarceration. I was more or less positive I could assist him with a number of them. It seemed he was also a gearhead, with a collection of kit of his own. From full leather uniforms to bike leathers, neoprene and rubber, firefighter and also workwear.

The conversation moved to availability for a play session.

“So boy, when would you be available to start your training, and see how we get on?”

“Sir, am off this weekend, including the company holiday on Monday, after 6pm tomorrow night”

“Then 6pm tomorrow boy, you can leave your ride at work and come home with me. Perhaps 24h to commence, depending how we get on”. Whether you’re a master or slave, sometimes you physically and emotionally click with someone, but upon meeting the sex just doesn’t work.

“Sir, very happy Sir. Should I bring anything Sir?”

I considered his and my own fantasies, and started considering plans.... “Full fire kit boy, and your workwear. Will look out for you next to your 4x4” I’d already spotted what he drove.

“My favourite Sir!  Thank you Sir!”. The meeting was set.

The next day was Friday; I left the bike behind, and packed a few items in the car ready for that evening. The day dragged; I was excited – and horny as fuck. I got a glance of my boy twice during the day, once leaving the break room by himself, he bowed his head and said “Sir”. The second time from the rear, his tight ass cheeks walking away; soon to be mine.

Eventually, it was 6pm, and raining outside. Still suited and booted in my dark business suit and tie, I headed out the building only to be stopped by a colleague. After five minutes, I managed to shrug her off and walk out the rear door. He was standing where ordered, in his work boots, tight green workwear, and worn hi-visibility jacket, with a large sports bag.  There was no-one else to be seen.

I nodded and smiled at him, and motioned for him to come with me. He nodded back and followed me to my car. I unlocked the central locking, and ordered him “bag in the back seat boy, you in the front passenger”.

“Sir, yes Sir” he barked back, opened the door, put his kit bag on the back seat, and sat in the front as I got in the driver’s side and closed the door. At least inside it was warm and dry, and he’d passed all the tests to this point.

“So boy, this is your last chance to back out, no questions asked”.

“Sir, no Sir, your property now Sir”.

My cock was straining to be released from the confines of my suit, and I considered forcing my new boy’s face down onto my crotch to take it into his throat; but the office car park was hardly an appropriate place, much as I wanted to. I reached down into my passenger door pocket lifted out a pair of handcuffs, and closed the bar through the ratchet a few times (doesn’t that sound just make you hard?). He lifted both wrists and presented them to me, to which I fastened one cuff around his wrist, and then the other.

I reached over to the passenger side, and slightly unzipped his hi-vis jacket, reaching inside to explore his chest, and taking hold of one of his tits. I squeezed, pinched and played, and told him

“From this point, you are my property to do with what I want, or use in any way I want. There will likely be punishments but no permanent damage, but everything will be safe, and you are under my protection. When given permission to speak, every sentence should begin and end with Sir, and I will respect, but push your limits”.

“SIR YES SIR”

I took him by the back of the neck and forcefully pulled him towards my face, and planted my lips on his. I explored his mouth with my tongue, and he kissed back, passionately. I pulled away whilst mid kiss just when he seemed to be enjoying most – I wanted him kept simmering on the edge.

I turned the key, the engine fired into life, and we made off towards our weekend.

After about fifteen minutes, the journey home opens to fairly quiet country roads, which I know well. I pulled over, walked round to the passenger side, opened the door, and taking hold of the chain still locked around his neck, ordered the boy out. It was time to start working on his fantasies, and make him hornier still. “On your knees behind the car boy, facing the roadway and eyes down”. He looked dazed and confused, but assumed the position behind the car, bowing his head.

Out of his view, I opened the rear of my car, and took the roll of duck tape, and tore off a long strip. I took the tape, and gagged my new boy with it, wrapping it well so there was no escape. He suddenly understood the scenario unfolding, right as I slipped my leather bag hood over his face. It’s a great hood; cuts out every bit of light for a boy, and is heavy enough to give the wearer a full heady smell of leather; but not too restricting. Oh, and did I mention, it has a great wide collar to fasten, and locks? It’s an ideal long wear hood also (or for a 45 min drive home for example).

I pulled the collar tight looped it through the buckle, reached in my pocket, and snapped the padlock shut. The boy was now permanently locked in the hood until I decided otherwise, and unable to do anything other than moan.

I pulled the boy to his feet, and unlocked the handcuffs, freeing his hands. But it wasn’t for long, as next, I took my Fetters heavy leather fist mitts, and pulled one on each of his hands. In case you’re not familiar, these are black leather mittens, which pull over the entire hand, preventing complete use of the fingers. Mine have extra paddling, and straps around the wrists which once again fasten with a padlock.

Fastening the wrist straps, I added a padlock to each. Now the boy could ‘speak no evil’ or ‘feel no evil’... it was certainly going to prevent him from touching himself during the ride home (even in his current padlocked chastity), especially with my next intentions.

I took my prisoner escort belt from the back (it’s a long leather belt, used for prison escorts, which fastens around the waist, and has an attached welded D-ring and cuffs. It limits the movement of any prisoner, and prevents potential strangulation of a corrections officer by the prisoner’s handcuffs; but also a great bondage device), and fastened it around his waist, and snapped the cuffs shut behind his back through the fist mitts.

“Lean further forward boy”. As he leaned forward, I lifted him bodily into the back of my car. This ‘kidnap’ was going to be as authentic as I would make it. As a final step to my kidnap victim, I took my “Master” bike lock cuffs (designed for bikes, but work great around boots and are definitely heavy bondage), and applied them around his boots, clicking the locks shut.

There was definitely no turning back for my new boy now, here he was, gagged, hooded, mitted and restrained, unable to talk, for transport. He was comfortable enough whilst being completely under my control, and I reached down and traced the tight cheeks of his butt with my fingers. I wanted to check I was on the right track, so squeezed and cupped the front of his tight green workwear pants with my hand.

I took his zip, and slowly pulled it down, to reveal his jock. Pulling that down, his cock, encased in its padlocked metal prison was oozing precum. As he was essentially hogtied, and unable to play with himself, I took the key and unlocked his chastity device, releasing him and letting his meat swell to its full length. His foreskin rolled straight back, and I was pleased to see it steadily oozing precum.

Squeezing him back into his jock, I pulled up the zip again and gave his cock a few slaps for good measure. I heard him moan into his gag, and struggle into his restraints. This boy would have to work a whole lot before he’d be cuming again.

Happy he was horny, and as comfortable as expected, I closed the trunk of my car, and returned to the drivers side. Getting in, and with a smile on my face, I turned the ignition, and set off again for the playroom. It was going to be a fun weekend.

Monday, 6 January 2014

Fiction: Workie (Part 1)

Author's note:

This work of fiction is free to be distributed in the public domain provided the original author and paragraph above is included.

Sometimes, the richness and co-incidence of life surprises you.

I’d been hired for three months by a manufacturing company to do some consultancy in their factory – efficiency and cost saving. It suited; was less than an hour travelling time from home, and so far the summer had been good – ideal for taking the bike. It was easy to change out of leathers into suit for the work day, even if I would have preferred to keep them on. The factory had a shared break room, used by both the production and management staff – which is where I first noticed him.

Factory staff wore a workwear uniform of a grey polo shirt, green Dickies Grafter work pants, and black leather ankle high work boots. I knew the pants as Dickies from past playmates into workwear, and the conspicuous red label. Something about the shiny beaver nylon was made to wick away stains and dirt was always horny, as well as the types of men that normally wore them; no bullshit manual labourers, road and factory workers. The cut of these pants also seemed to enhance the look of a man’s ass and they were always tight across the crotch.

The previous evening, I’d been working late preparing a report. The next morning I was tired, and needed plenty of extra caffeine. I was still in the factory by 8am, and changed out of the two piece black leathers I was wearing. I’m not a fan of coloured leathers - for me it has to be black - and I regularly clean and oil my leathers to keep them conditioned, shiny and it also keeps them smelling of leather. I’d got into a habit of always hanging my leathers on a coat hook in the break room.

I worked hard in the gym in my early 30s, and as I hit 40, tried to maintain my power and strength. My hairy chest was still 48 inch, with large biceps, and well toned legs, washboard abs and tatts across my torso. Shaven headed, my square jaw was enhanced by my dark goatee, still causing an imposing presence of masculinity – a natural leader.

After sliding off the two piece, black leather boots and putting the suit on, I hung up my leathers at the side of the break room and headed to get caffeine.

In the kitchen in front of me was a worker from the factory, his back to me, making his own refreshments. Waiting, I scanned him top to bottom free from other prying eyes. Regulation safety footwear, about 6 feet tall, dark hair, shaven short at the rear leading to a neat crop on top. I took the image in further; a broad back, tribal tattoos down the backs of his arms, regulation Dickies and a pair of tight ass cheeks. It was the type of butt I salivated over abusing; he either worked out or had great genes. Nice eye candy for the beginning of the day at least.

“Perfect from behind” I thought to myself; and allowed myself a quick fantasy of those cheeks struggling spread-eagled to my bondage table… but the urge for caffeine was stronger, for now… and we all know that seldom is the view from both sides as good.

I purposely cleared my throat; he noticed me, turning around to reveal handsome features, and the brightest blue eyes I’d seen for a good long while. He flashed me a smile, “I’ll just be a second boss.”. “No problem” I replied; besides, it would give me a few more moments to take in the contours of his ass.

A few seconds later he was done, and turned round to face me; I noticed unlike the other workies I’d seen around, his boots were polished to a shine. He smiled again and dropped his eye line, making him look very submissive – picked up his coffee and left. Well, at least there was some nice eye candy around to look at during the rest of this job, even if it was a case of look don’t touch.

I’d invested in my fetish lifestyle; and my success allowing me the luxury of building my own house on a large plot of land once owned by a farmer. It suited my needs of size, being quiet yet close to everything I needed. In addition to the main house, there were several old farm buildings which I'd kept, to use for my “special purposes”.

The main out building was solid and across two floors; a basement, ground floor and roof space for storage. Once inside the building, a concrete staircase went down into my play space. Being an ex-cop, I knew just where the government surplus auctions were to equip my building.

I’d obtained a cell door and bed which I’d concreted into a lockable cell to hold suitable willing victims. With being underground and having no windows, it was very safe and secure, and no amount of noise would escape. It was perfect for prison and jail scenes (think like a version of the Academy Training Center), which I loved.

Four point humane restraints were strapped to the bed for asylum and medical scenes. I could vary the lighting levels, either harsh overhead strip lighting, or complete darkness. I’d also concreted heavy metal rings into the floor and wall which I could use as attachment points.

In addition to the dark cell, there was another cell containing no bed with a single barred front, more like an Alcatraz prison cell from the 30s and 40s, once again with plenty of metal rings for attachment.

An 18ft corridor led into main playroom; which included bondage board and bed (a particular favourite), small and a large cage, a fucking bench, and two bondage chairs. In addition I’d well equipped the playspace with various leather and rubber sleepsacks, hoods, ass toys, chastity, electro and leather/rubber restraints, and endless amounts of boots and uniforms. Over the years, I'd built up quite a collection.

So where was I.... back at work...

The rest of the morning in the office was mundane and involved far more caffeine, and a visit to the factory floor. Down there, I noticed the workie from earlier on one of the machines. Again, he noticed me, nodded, and flashed me a smile. Two smiles in one day, must be the sort of guy who smiles at everyone.

Before long it was mid afternoon. In the factory kitchen I heated up some food, and noticed the workie meat standing next to my hanging leathers with a protein shaker in his hand, alone. This time, I flashed a smile straight across to him, he noticed, looked almost embarrassed and looked down at the floor.

I finished my food and cleared up, the workie now standing washing his shaker. I struck up a conversation after I noticed the brand name...

“Myprotein does some good supplements”.

“yeah, have been using their stuff for a while now”.

“good results then?”

“yeah, gotta keep training to try and look good”

It just slipped out, perhaps it was wishful thinking; perhaps it was subconscious “You shouldn’t worry boy, you look fine anyway”. I heard myself say it and thought “oh well, that’s another piece of eye candy who won’t chat again”. It wasn’t the looking fine comment I was worried about, but why the hell did I call him boy? There was a brief pause which probably felt longer than it was.

“Sir, that’s appreciated Sir”. His eyes dropped again.

I thought about his submissive reaction; my first thought is that he was ex-military and was falling back to old habits (which also might explain the well polished boots), but a small part of me wondered if it was more.

Break time was over and there was work to be done; and I wanted to leave him guessing, so smiled, and walked out to return to work in a happier mood.

The rest of the day was mundane, and end of the day eventually came.

I took my leathers into the large mens/changing room, took off my suit shirt and pants, and slid my legs into the cool, pungent smelling leather. I let my mind wander; it was a shame to not be sliding them on over a leather jock or nothing; but perhaps not at work. I put my compression top on; it keeps me cool when riding and also I like the way it accentuates my chest.

I sat on a bench and started pulling on my boots when the door opened; workie from earlier walked in. I flashed a smile and he went to the urinal, affording me a view of his sweet butt again out the corner of my eye. I pulled my second boot and started fastening the straps. When done, I stood back up, and checked my appearance in the full length mirror on the wall. The workie walked past me to wash up “Looking good, boss”. This time the comment was too deliberate to resist.

“Thanks boy”

“Sir, you need someone to look after those boots Sir”

“Could be boy”

“Boss, have seen your profile on Recon Sir, and wondered if you might consider training me Sir”

All suddenly became clearer, but I was still in disbelief. This boy had been giving me the eye since I started and was now offering himself. My cock instantly reacted and was swelling to its full size inside my leathers and was straining for some release.

“I’d like that boy. What would you be willing to offer?”

“Sir, my body and mind Sir, for Sir’s use and pleasure, a fuck hole for complete ownership and use”.

At this response, the first thing I wanted to do was bend his stud over the desk now and force deep inside his hole, but a work restroom was hardly an appropriate place.

Instead, I reached forward and cupped my hand round his crotch and squeezed. I could feel he was already hard the tight material of his workwear was straining. I slid my fingers down his shaft, across the shiny material and then flicked his nuts with my fingertips. He let out a grunt, and I stood to his side to inspect him further.

I ran my fingers up his chest, and grabbed at one of his tits, squeezing hard through his shirt to which he closed his eyes, and let out a moan. When I released the pressure, he barked back at me "Sir, thank you Sir".

Then I ran my fingers over his shoulder, down the middle of his back, and round his tight ass cheeks under his uniform tight. I played with them for moment or two before taking my fingers and tracing the crease of his ass, pushing hard on his hole. Again, another moan and he pushed into my fingers.

What started as a bad day had suddenly turned around on its head. Here I was, a boy offering himself completely to all the fantasies I had been considering only a few hours earlier. He was going to be tied spread-eagled before long after all.

I heard the outer door of the washroom open and took my hands off him, and picked up my jacket.

Before the other user of the men’s room walked in, I told this new potential..

“Here, 10am, tomorrow, jock under uniform”. I slid on my jacket, and walked out to head home with a smile on my face. I was excited, but tiredness won, and I hit the sack right after getting home.

The next morning arrived quicker than I’d expected.

The next day was a Thursday, and once again, I headed into work in full leather on the bike. 10am arrived quickly before I knew it. Expecting my new trainee may have had second thoughts, and to raise the anticipation, I went into the changing room purposely late at 10:05.

There he was, sitting on one of the benches in the empty room. Upon noticing me, he stood to attention and barked back "Good morning Sir". A large room, the changing area was perhaps 30 ft, with stalls half way down one wall, ending with a large disabled stall suitable for wheelchair users on one wall. I pointed to the stall "in there, boy", and followed him in. At least it provided a little privacy and room in case someone entered.

"Shirt off boy", and he dutifully lifted his polo shirt above his head, and dropped it on the floor. His torso was fit; muscular shoulders and biceps, defined chest and covered in brown hair, leading down to his belt line. "Show me more boy". He undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and dropped them to his ankles.

As requested, he was wearing a black NYPD logoed jock, his uncut cock already straining inside its confines which showed me he was getting off from the treatment so far. Standing in front of him, I took a tit in each hand and started twisting, pinching and squeezing. He moaned and put both hands instinctively behind his back. After playing a little more, his cock head sprung out the top of the jock.

I reached down to his cock head, and ran my finger across the moist head, which was now oozing precum. I wiped the precum onto my finger, and raised it to his mouth, and he licked dutifully.

"Good boy. Last chance to back out if you want to now boy, and no more will be said".

"Sir, no Sir, complete ownership".

Right answer; and better than I’d ever imagined. “Kneel".

Still with his pants around his ankles, he knelt down, his face level with my crotch. I unzipped my dark coloured business suit and pulled out my cock which was now hard at the thought of abusing this boy. He looked up flashing those bright blue eyes at me, and opened his mouth tongue out, ready for servicing it, but I was going to make him work for it.

"No boy, you haven't earned that yet, but this is now your focus".

"Sir, Yes Sir!". It was a good job the rest room was empty.

I kept my cock head about an inch from his lips, I could see him salivating in anticipation. I put myself away, and zipped back up, and reached in my pocket, and took out a heavy chain and metal padlock (I’d come prepared). I reached down and put the chain around his neck, and clicked the padlock shut. If questioned, he’d just have to tell his colleagues he was owned property.

From my other I took out a metal chastity cage and small brass padlock. At this point, he was far too hard to be locked in, so I ordered him to put his polo back on, and pull up and fasten his pants, and kneel again until he’d gone soft. I always think a boy should be locked away so he can’t play with himself – keeps the mind focused and the sex drive on maximum. Boys serve better that way.

"Tell me when you're ready for it boy". It took about five minutes of him kneeling, but before long I heard "Sir, ready Sir". From what I’d seen, I knew I had to work quickly, so reached down, took a hold of his nuts and cock, and forced his again growing cock into the chastity cage. He looked a good 9 inches hard, so it was going to keep him well under frustrated control. I closed the metal ring, snapped the metal tube through the hole, and clipped the padlock closed before he got any harder.

Securely locked away, I could see his cock filling the cage, and pushing against its metal confines. I grabbed the chastity cage and gave it a twist… “Nicely controlled boy”.

“Sir, Yes Sir, Thank you Sir, feels good Sir”. 4 uses of the word Sir in one sentence – I think this boy was going to be a good playmate.

"From this point on, I own you. Go back to work boy and send me a message on recon to arrange your training". He slid his now locked up cock back inside his jock, and fastened his workwear again, now even tighter across his crotch.

"Thank you Sir, I'll message you tonight". He unlocked the door and adjusted himself before walking out the rest room. The keys were back in the playroom.

Wednesday, 1 January 2014

Fiction: Military Delivery

Author's note:

This work of fiction is free to be distributed in the public domain provided the original author and paragraph above is included.

Being a long distance trucker means long stretches on the road away from home, but I get to see some interesting places. Holding military clearances, I’m often delivering to government and military bases; sometimes food or supplies, sometimes more specialist items.

I’d finished my run, and delivered my cargo at a military base in the middle of nowhere. My driving hours were done for the day, so an overnight in my rig before returning home. It’s a home away from home – the cab having a couch come bed, TV/DVD, and some storage – comfortable enough. Being my cab, and on the road most of the time, I’d made a few ‘modifications’ of my own. D rings in strategic places, and a few other toys.

It was early evening, so I explored the open areas of the base, to find an outside gym. Keeping fit on the road can be tough, so I took the opportunity to do some runs, push ups, pull ups. I’m 6 4, about a 48” chest, 34 waist, and dark hair, often with stubble from a few days away. My biceps, pecs and abs are defined, as I watch what I eat, supplement my diet and work out whenever I can. Even the back of an empty truck can be used to do pull ups, push ups and cardio work when it’s empty; and it also kills time when on the road.

While doing my last set of chin ups, a squad of soldiers passed me, in full combats, boots crunching on the concrete. Perhaps 12 of them – I let myself take a good look – 12 sets of tight uniforms and exhausted bodies – I recognised the emblems as military police. None of them looked like new recruits – I was guessing they were all experienced officers, keeping their fitness up to date. They were being ordered around by another man who was wearing combat pants, boots, and a physical training instructor vest. It looked like this man was commanding respect, his wide back showing off a fantastic torso, defined pecs and enormous arms and shoulders. Shaven headed, but a mass of dark chest hair, I idly let my mind wander as to what I could do with a cargo of 13 military cops, all with their own cuffs...

It’s easy to get horny on a military base – lots of testosterone, lots of men, lots of uniforms, shared facilities. The hard on I’d developed was pushing against my sweat pants; I was horny and looking forward to tossing off to the image of my squad cuffed and stuffed.

The PTI looked as if he was dismissing the men, I caught him bellowing “Monday 8am sharp”, after which they seemed to fall out, presumably to rest and recover. The PTI didn’t seem to be following them, but headed towards the ‘open gym’ area I was using. As he casually passed, we made eye contact, he nodded at me, and went to performing some sprint runs. As I continued my exercises, I had perfect view of his tight combat covered ass sprinting back and forward. I purposely slowed down my reps and increased my rests to take in the view.

He was tall and muscular, perhaps a little shorter than me; but there was something about him I just couldn’t take my eyes off him. Perhaps it was the long legs and tight ass – perhaps a combination of the whole package; uniform, muscle, boots, and status.

Finishing his sprints, he came across to where I was performing my pull ups, nodded again, and started doing push ups. First with narrow hands, and then with wide hands; narrow feet and wide, I was enjoying watching his biceps flexing and extending during each rep. From my position slightly behind him, the wide legs position gave me the opportunity to admire his ass - tight, damn; there was the hard on again. It was a shame everything about him gave the impression of being a top.

After performing my own multiple sets, my chest and arms were pumped up, and I needed to stretch out and cool down. I was also worried the hard on I was now sporting was going to end up getting noticed. Dropping down from the bar, he was just changing position to join me.

“Haven’t seen you before – but you work hard – impressive – you with the SF temporary posting?”

I flashed him a smile, and was mildly amused at what he’d suggested. While I’d go as far as saying that I was a muscle guy, I don’t think I was tough enough for Special Forces. Now a group of those willing (ish) guys in the back of my truck would be a fun night...

“Haha, no. Civilian. I deliver your stuff in my truck. But thanks for the compliment. I’m just here for an overnight stop this time round”.

“You just looked like you belonged in uniform. There are showers for officers in that block, if you need to freshen up after your workout. Or communal showers in living quarters there.”

“Yeah, thanks, used to being on the road, communal is fine with me.” I would have been happy to shower in either place – so long as it was hot and clean. Showering with a group of 12 soldiers didn’t seem like a bad idea either, or even my new uniformed acquaintance.

We chatted more as I finished stretching and he continued working out; conversation moving to what I was doing to kill the rest of my evening. Being that the base was fairly large and fairly isolated, there was an onsite bar, which he told me I was welcome to use, or an officer’s bar if I preferred. I asked him which he preferred – the normal bar “so I can be with my men”. That sounded like it suited me fine. Now stretched out, and not able to stretch our conversation out any longer without reason, I thanked him, and headed back to my rig for my towel and change of clothes. Communal showers it was to be…

The showers were deserted once I got there, and the hot shower felt good, and soon enough I was refreshed, and changed into clean workwear pants, combat boots and old t-shirt.

After a bite to eat, I finished my day’s paperwork, and headed across to the bar he’d been telling me about. Finding it easily from his good directions, the bar was larger than I expected, with plenty of room. Sitting at a bar stool, I got myself a drink – cheap too. The barman was friendly enough, in between an argument with his girlfriend by text message (he told me all about it blow by blow). It was entertainment. There were a few groups of people around, some in uniform, others not.

I noticed my guy from earlier sitting with one of the groups all in uniform – I couldn’t tell if they were the rest of the squad from earlier or another group. Once again, we made eye contact and nodded at each other. He came to the bar and bought the guys he was with a round, and also came over to me, smiled, and handed me another drink before returning to his seat. He was just as handsome as I’d remembered from earlier, this time, in full combats, and highly polished boots; the uniform bulging around his muscular frame.

Browsing the Internet on my iPad and sinking a few beers, I caught up on e-mails and the latest news, and noticed the group around my muscle trainer making a move to leave. Rather than go with them, he came and joined me at the bar.

“They’re going into the city to a club – let them have their fun. No interest to me, nor appropriate. Another?”

“Course not. Yeah, fine; but my round”. This gave me a far better chance to scan him over.

He had the most piercing blue eyes I’d seen for a long time, and his uniform was the tightest over his muscled frame. Parts like his legs and arms made it look like the uniform was painted on. When he leaned, his camouflage BDU strained over his back and arms, showing off his size to full effect. Facially he had a square jaw and strong features; with hair shaved; clean cut but with a rough looking edge. I liked the way his BDUs tapered down his legs and tucked into well polished high black leather boots.

I’d lie if I wasn’t a little disappointed when he started talking about his ex-wife, but still; he was nice eye candy. The friendly conversation went on, and he asked me about my relationship status and if I was married. “Nah, always preferred men to gals”. I expected a reaction and our conversation to end, but it didn’t seem to phase him.

Conversation continued; and I was enjoying his company – not only was he pleasing on the eyes, but he was entertaining, with a few war stories and seemed a nice guy. The road gets boring sometimes.

“So, back to the rig after this for the night?” By this point, I’d stopped drinking liquor while he’d kept on with beer and a few shots. As he spoke, he reached out and tapped me on the top of the thigh, and ran his hand down to my knee. It was just a drunken moment – but his hand lingered there..

“Yeah, probably a piss then a cigar on the way back.” It was a shame this company had to end.

“Can I join you for some smoke boss? And perhaps make use of me?”. There was no question about signals this time, he moved his hand back up my leg, and ran his fingers over my crotch. It was a good the angle wasn’t right for this to be overseen. Instantly hard, it seemed I was destined to see more of his muscles after all.

“Hmmmm... let’s walk and talk... Wait outside, I’ll pay the bar tab...”

“Yes Sir”. He bowed his head as he spoke, giving the impression of submission, which made me even hotter. I was looking forward to taking him outside and seeing what he had in mind.

I watched him hop down from the bar stool, and head outside. Those tight ass cheeks inside BDU and polished heavy boots suddenly looked even better than before, and even the sound his boots were making was turning me on more. Motioning to the friendly bartender from earlier, it took a few minutes to settle my bar tab and follow outside.

There he was, standing smartly behind a wall, looking just as good in the darkness. A thought crossed my mind as to how good it might be to have taken him then and there; but I understood he probably had a need for discretion. I pulled a cigar out my pocket, and he sprang to attention taking a matchbox out of his pocket, striking it, and offering me a light. I puffed on the cigar, and purposely blew smoke back in his face.

“Wanna spend a few hours with me in the rig then?”

“Sir, Yes Sir!”

“You realise it may involve a little discomfort, and ‘arrest’ of your own; depending on your limits. But nothing permanent or unsafe” I blew smoke into his face again.

“Sir can use my body and mind or anything he wants, until he has to leave tomorrow. This military slave especially likes heavy bondage, rough, interrogation, piss and breath control; and doesn’t often have the opportunity to serve”.

I explored his interests a little more, and found we were well matched.

“Then you’re my property until 7am. Open…”. I tapped the cigar, and dropped the now building ash onto his tongue, to which he swallowed, and barked “Thank you, Sir”.

We walked to the area in the base where the rig was standing. Grabbing my keys, I took two large bags of toys from my cab, and motioned him to the back trailer, also giving me the opportunity to enjoy the view, and sound of leather boots creaking. Climbing aboard, I pulled closed the rear shutter door, and padlocked it closed from the inside. The trailer was empty, having been cleared of my earlier cargo.

Pushing him by the back of the head, I bodily pushed him against one side of the truck, nose to the wall. “Hands on back of head, legs wide”. Compliant, he assumed the position, his hands on the back of his head – emphasising his broad back, and tight uniform. With one boot, I kicked his boots wider, and pulled them away from the wall about 18 inches. Now in a stress position, his two tight ass cheeks spread wide, I kept one hand on the back of his head, pushing him against the wall; and moved my other down his back, feeling the muscles under the uniform, exploring every inch.

Reaching round the front of his chest, I slid my hand into his uniform, and explored the chest. I found one of his nipples, ran my fingers through the chest hair and squeezed hard; he didn’t make a noise. Sliding down his chest, I ran my fingers over his abs – they were rock solid - and then down to his crotch. His uniform was tight, but I felt a raging hard on, and what felt like a good pair of low hanging balls. I cupped them, squeezed the length, and gave them a slap. This time I increased the weight until he groaned followed with a “Thank You SIR”.

Changing position, I started from his waist down the outside of his BDU pants and ran my hands over his tight ass cheeks, spreading them wide and rubbing my finger up past his hole. Tight, firm and muscular, I was looking forward to using it that night. Moving towards his shiny black leather boots, then to his inside leg, I reached through and traced a line from his cock under his balls and back up his ass to his waistline.

Very happy with my new toy, I took a nitestick out my toy bag, and ordered “Down on your knees”, and lightly tapped the back of his knees with by nitestick. His legs buckled forwards, and there was just enough room for him to drop to his knees, still with his hands on the back of his head.

Turning him slightly, I planted my boot in the middle of his back, causing him to lose balance, and fall forwards onto his front. From my toy bag came a pair of wrist to ankle hand/leg cuffs, I pulled one of his wrists behind his back, and snapped the ratchet closed around his wrist. Next came the other wrist. Lifting his booted ankles, I snapped a cuff around each, and then connected his wrists to his ankles with a padlock. Hogtied.

Taking a rubber hood from my toy bag with blacked out eyes and an attached breathing tube, I knelt down in front of him, took the cigar from my mouth, lifted his head and again dropped ash in his mouth. Opening the hood, I pulled it firmly down over his face, closed the zip down the back of his head, and buckled the wide collar, finishing it by clicking a padlock through the locking post.

I could already feel precum leaking inside my tight blue workwear pants. Unzipping them, I took the breathing tube and buried it inside my crotch. I felt my military slave taking a breath, and then the rhythm of his breathing changed to longer slower inhalations, taking in my man scent. Pinching the breathing tube, I reduced the air supply slowly and then closed it completely.

“You want my trucker cock to ride your tight military ass boy?”

No answer, but struggling in the cuffs, and as the struggling got more intense, I let the air open again and my scent back into the tube. Again, the breaths became long and relaxed, and I took a long drag on my cigar, and breathed out into the tube, before sealing it closed again.

This time, the surprise of the smoke set my military slave coughing and pulling against his handcuffs, and I stopped his air for longer.

“Ready to beg to be used boy?”

These military cops were tough alright – I kept taunting him over the next few minutes – closing his breath, forcing the smoke, until the cigar burned down.

He said he enjoyed his interrogation scenes – and this one was hot; not every day did I get a muscle stud in my cuffs and under my control. Inside the padlocked rubber hood that had become his prison the scent of rubber, sweat and smoke must have been a pungent mix.

To give his limbs some time to relax, I grabbed him by the boots and one shoulder, and rolled him over onto his side. Once again, tracing my hand down his tight abs, I reached his tight uniform package, and groped his cock and balls through the uniform. A wet patch was starting to form, so I followed the length of his cock and started slowly jerking him to his full length, increasing the speed; I could feel him harden more.

But I had a lot more in store for him before he was allowed to cum tonight.

“Wanna cum boy? Beg for it.”

As I could feel he was getting close, I promptly stopped my stimulation, and let him struggle wildly against the restraints. This time, he moaned inside the hood, and I rubbed my fingers down his ass cheeks and over his hole. After a few minutes of him breathing heavily into the hood, I started the whole procedure again, stimulating him inside his uniform until he was on the edge.

“Shall I plug that pretty round butt of yours?”

The forced smoke and milking were starting to have their effect.

“No… no… no… “

Grabbing his meat once again through his uniform, I rubbed the length of it again, putting pressure on the tip, and pulling back on his balls in the process. Again, as his breathing increased, I took my hands away, and pinched the breathing tube closed.

I continued edging him for what must have been 15 minutes, still not let him shoot his load. By this point, his struggling was getting far more animated, and more vocal. While he was undoubtedly a tough guy, I felt he was close to breaking.

“Wanna cum boy? Ready for your tight ass to get ridden?”

“Sir… Sir… Sir… SIR YES SIR… Fuck me Sir, let me cum”

Success. He’d lasted an impressive amount of time before the arousal and sex hormones running through his body had overtaken him.

Letting his breathing return to normal again, I stoked up and down his ass cheeks, and patted the hood. With my cock now fully released from its confines, I took him by surprise by letting my stream of beer piss flow into the feeding tube. Coughing and spluttering, he quickly realised what was happening.

“Drink it down boy, drink it down like the boy you are”

I kept my stream going, and could see his throat gulping down the hot liquid. If there was any question of ownership before, this was no longer a question. Every drop was taken, to which I was given a satisfying

“Thank you SIR”

After giving him a few moments to recover, I took the keys from my belt, and unlocked the chain releasing the hogtie, uncuffed his hands and recuffed them in front of him. Still hooded, unable to see what was around him, I helped him hobble forward in his legcuffs to the edge of the trailer, where there was a convenient ledge. Leaning him lean onto the ledge, I padlocked the handcuff chain in front of him at waist height, and again kicked his legs as wide as the legcuffs would allow. Again in a prone position, his uniform covered ass exposed and vulnerable.

Taking a leather paddle from one of my toy bags, I swung it back, and swung it to connect with his ass. SWAT! He let out a moan; sounded more out of surprise than anything else. The leg to wrist cuff chain he was wearing making a satisfying metal clinking. Again, I swung back and brought the leather paddle in contact with his ass, increasing the pressure at each stroke. The hard ass didn’t make a sound this time. SWAT! … SWAT!

After what must have been between 15 and 20 strokes, he started to grunt with each stroke.

“Ready to give your ass to your boss, boy?”

Grunt…. SWAT!! … Grunt…. SWAT!!

“Just have to beg for it boy”

Grunt… SWAT!!! I increased the pressure even more… this boy’s butt was going to be sore… SWAT!!!

“Stop.. please SIR….. fuck me SIR…”

True to my word, I put the paddle down, and wrapped my arms around his chest from behind.

“Good boy, you really are a hard ass. “ I could smell the rubber hood, mixed with sweat and piss. I reached down and unlocked the leg cuffs around his shiny leather boots, and then the padlock to his collar. Loosening the hood, and lifting it up off, I was greeted by a smile. I leaned forward, and kissed him – the kind of passionate, intimate kiss which comes from power exchange. Our tongues explored each other’s mouths.

Still handcuffed, I again pushed him forward to lean on the ledge, stood behind him, and rubbed my cock against the back of his BDU pants. Reaching forward, I unclipped his belt, unzipped his fly, and pulled his combats down to his ankles. My military stud was already wearing a green jock, highlighting the curves of his ass, and cradling an enormous cut hardon.

Reaching through his legs, I wrapped my hand round his ballsack, and pulled back between his legs. He let out a low, deep, guttural moan, to which I tugged a little harder. Moving my hand to the top, I ran my fingers across it, before returning to his balls. Precum was now running down his shaft.

Dropping to my knees, I ran my tongue down the center of his ass crack, pulling back harder on his balls as I found his hole with my tongue and started exploring. I could feel the heat coming from his reddened ass cheeks on my face, and smelled musky masculine scent. A tight little hole, I probed it, forcing my tongue deeper each stoke, and tickling his hair. His knees felt like they were buckling a little, and he pulled against the cuffs to try and give his own cock some relief.

I used both hands to pull him further away from the ledge, so there was no hope of playing with himself; and it also served my purpose of my tongue going deeper. At each stoke, there was a half moan, half growl. I took a finger, and pushed against his ring, letting out a louder moan, and my finger disappeared inside.

“Beg boy”

“SIR YES SIR, PLEASE FUCK MY HOLE, PLEASE SIR”

I rubbered up, and added a few drops of lube to my now manhood, and started rubbing it against my slave’s ass, teasing the head against his hole. His now lubed ass crack between two rock hard ass cheeks looked perfect, as I pushed inside him.

Starting slow, I pulled almost fully out, and slammed back in, getting deeper each time, until the full length was disappearing inside. Still handcuffed, with the humiliation of his combats around his ankles, my military slave had no option but to take it for as long as I wanted. I didn’t want to ride his ass too quickly, as I was enjoying each and every stroke and the image, coupled with the clinking of his handcuffs.

Moaning with each stroke, it wasn’t long before I was ready for my load to be spent. Pulling out and removing the rubber, I ordered “On your knees” again. He knew his job – dropping immediately to his knees, he turned and opened his mouth. Taking my length in his mouth and throat, he coughed as I started face fucking him for my last few strokes. The warmth and pressure from my willing slave soon meant I could hold no more, and feeling my balls tighten, felt the hot stream of my cum fire into his throat. Sucking every drop, and licking me clean, he looked up, smiled, and said “Thank you SIR”. I had to smile back.

After a few moments recovery, I unclipped the handcuffs, but keeping them on, and lifted his uniform pants back up. “Dress yourself, we’re going to my cab”. He fastened his pants, belt, and it was good to still see a raging hard on.

My stud still handcuffed, I took a heavy leather hood from one of my toy bags, and headed to the back of the trailer. Unlocking the rear door, I swung it open to the darkness of the night. There wasn’t a soul around, so I guided him down from the trailer, and we walked to my cab.

Once inside, I unlocked the cuffs, and let his hands free.

“Strip, boy”

He started taking off his boots first, I could smell and hear the creaking of the boot leather. I wondered if perhaps I’d put his tongue to work on mine later. Next was his combat jacket, and T-shirt, exposing his fantastic muscular chest and biceps, covered by dark chest hair, leading down his navel to his crotch. Next, he unclipped his belt, and dropped his BDU pants once again, and pulled down the green jock he was wearing and his cock sprang forward. Now completely naked, he was an impressive piece of man from any angle.

Lifting my sleeping bunk, I lifted out what he must have thought was a mass of leather and straps – as he raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry boy, I look after my property. You’re gonna be sacked down for the night”

Unrolling the leather sleepsack onto my bed, I was hoping he was going to fit. Luckily, I ordered it for muscular guys, so I was hopeful.

“Here boy, put your feet here…” I guided him and swung his feet into the bottom of the sack. Next, sliding his massive biceps down inside the internal sleeves was a bit of a challenge. But they fit. I was going to enjoy him sealed up for the night. Taking the zip from the feet, I zipped it up to the crotch, tucking his hard on away inside the polished leather, then fastening the second zip to the collar.

Next, I fastened the straps round the sack to make it even more secure, and made sure he saw me add a small padlock to each one. Sacked meat.

Completely sealed in, I rolled the sack, and again kissed him, exploring his mouth in a passionate embrace.

“So boy, heavy enough or heavier?”

“Sir, heavier, please, SIR”

I picked up the heavy black leather sensory deprivation hood, and a number of brass padlocks.

“Sure boy?”

“SIR YES SIR”

Without further prompting, I pulled the hood over his face, cutting off all light from the outside world, and pulled the laces tight round the back of his head. With only a small breathing hole, this really was a hood that cut you off from everything. Fastening the tightening straps around the hood, I finally fastened the collar, and clicked it shut with a padlock.

“Night boy until 7am tomorrow…” He struggled and flexed his muscular frame inside the sleepsack; the smell of warm leather, and sound of the leather flexing was incredible. I had a hard on again, and wondered if I should open the back zip in the sack now… or start edging him again…

The only question remained… how long would he last….