Word gets around in small towns. The description given matched the cop I’d heard being talked about in a leather bar in the closest city as victimising members of the gay community seemingly without reason or cause. Under such occasions, hate crimes always seemed to receive no follow up or would side with the straight guy. This was unacceptable and a lesson needed to be considered.
The dart quietly left the pipe and connected with the target to deliver its payload. Aim too high, and it might have deflected upon hitting leather. Similarly hitting too low. I was happy this was right on the money.
I’d made my money in the big cities, with my own chain of vet’s practices. At 48, I could have retired, but instead chose to move out of the big city, back to a smaller town with higher values. I spent time between my three practices all less than 45 minutes commute away. A prescribing surgeon dealing with local people was far more rewarding than big city problems.
He dropped a gloved hand to the impact spot, brushing the dart off and under his bike in the same motion. A different type of animal, the drugs were just as effective on him. Bending down in the dark to see what had hit him, the sedative was already coursing through his nervous system. Picking up the red tipped dart, there was a look of confusion on his face, before he dropped to both knees, and fell onto his side in the dirt, forcefully sleeping at my control.
Clicking start on my countdown timer, his build and weight gave me about 45 minutes to an hour before he’d come to.
Occasionally offering consultancy to the police department in animal matters, I’d overhead previous investigations. There were no cameras at this rest stop, no cell phone coverage, and the road at this time of night was only used by the odd trucker and local. My surveillance of him over the last six weeks had given me good intel regarding favourite spots and his personal life.
Exiting my covert spot, I quickly approached his sleeping form and ensured the recording equipment was not running, and returned to the covering to collect my van. Pulling parallel I made sure that even passing vehicles wouldn’t be aware of anything. Keys still in ignition, I started the bike and manoeuvred it in the back of my van. Removing the black leather seat cowl, I unclipped the battery terminals, and then made sure to snip through the bike’s radio supply cable, just to ensure there was no possibility of any GPS tracking. The old pocket radios were too ancient to even have the technology.
I’d consulted on a job where a dealer’s ‘factory’ was raided and his guard dogs had needed humanely taking care of to ensure safety of all present. He’d been there full SWAT gear and arrogance that went with it. I took care of the K9s, and I got the impression from the escort officer who’d been assigned to me he wasn’t well liked due to his attitude. As part of the operation, they’d made me wear body armour and black combats. I was horny all that weekend and took it out on several guys in the city’s leather club after that. That was the first time I worked with ‘the team’ – now I was accepted as ‘Doc’ when they needed me.
The raid was successful in getting drugs off the streets and shutting down a supply chain, but one of the dealers got away due to one of the SWAT team being in the wrong place at the wrong time and an exit not being covered. Guess who.
The day after was the day my friend was the victim of hate crime and I witnessed it all. I doubted the pig even remembered it, and certainly wouldn’t remember me, but I remembered hearing the story of it being recounted to his colleagues “fucking faggots”, despite the failures of the night before.
Lifting the sedated victim under both arms of his leather jacket, I got him into the back of the van with his bike, and closed the doors behind. I was pleased when I had a chance to check him out further during the SWAT operation, and realise he was in fact, in shape, square jawed, and ruggedly handsome.
Unbuckling his still present half helmet and easing it off his head, I revealed the dark hair cut in a high and tight style which looked smart yet aggressive at the same time. It tapered at the back down to his neck, yet I resisted the urge to sink my teeth into his neckline, attractive as it looked. Perhaps I would keep his hair that way, or maybe I’d humiliate him more by shaving it later.
His torso filled the heavy leather jacket well, narrowing down his wide chest to his utility belt and waist. I knew what was roughly underneath, and his muscular frame was going to need plenty of restraint. Partially unzipping his jacket, I checked his pockets and enjoyed running my hands over his chest down to his abs, finding a wallet, a set of keys, some paperwork and a personal cell phone, I made sure it was turned off and the battery removed.
There was body armour under his dark blue uniform shirt. That was good as it would restrict his movement even further. I breathed in the musky warm and leathered scent which came up from his jacket. If I wasn’t concentrating so much it would been an instant turn on.
Running my fingers over the duty belt, I removed his firearm, removed the clip and made sure there was nothing in the chamber, and then engaged the safety and put it back in his holster. Removing the two spare clips from his belt, I also took his Taser and took out the battery and replaced it. Cuffs, pepper, med kit, and baton I all left in place.
Happy with my search, I moved my hand down to his crotch, the tight blue uniform framing a bulging package even in his unconscious state. It wasn’t get the time to be unwrapping that package, but cupping and groping it felt like there was a good package to deal with, even if he wasn’t going to get the opportunity to play with it again for a while.
Running both hands from back of his nuts through his legs, and rolling him slightly, his ass was hard and tight, with two tight ass cheeks filling his uniform. I wondered how much he would moan when I invaded him.
Satisfied of no other concealments, I worked down the long and muscles legs following the yellow stripe down the side of his uniform pants to his boots. Black leather, I could smell the leather and they creaked as I lifted each booted leg and checked them. One boot contained a stun gun, which would be useful later, and I pocked it. The other, a hunting knife in a holster which I removed and stored.
11 minutes had passed. Perfect timing. Now to prepare him for transport.
Tearing off strips of medical tape, I made sure that each of his eyes were sealed shut. Taking one of my old unwashed gym jocks, I opened the sleeping mouth and filled it. Taking duck tape, I sealed it inside by a good wide strip wrapped right round his head three times. Very pretty. Next, I took a heavy leather isolation hood and enclosed his face, pulling it down into position and adjusting the fit. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it had been made for him. I slowly took each lace down the back and pulled it through, tightening as much as possible down the collar, and tied off. Then pulled down the back zipper, and fastened it shut to the collar, and padlock. It struck me how strange it was to add the lock since I knew he wasn’t going to be able to remove it anyway.
Hooded, padlocked, motorcycle cop in full uniform suddenly crossed my mind, and my cock instantly sprung to full attention. Just the image of the beautiful tight butt cheeks was almost enough to make me cream myself right then and there. But there was still work to do to teach this boy a lesson.
Pushing his hands into tube hand restraints designed to stop wandering hands manipulating anything, I tightened the straps and applied a handcuff to his wrist. His broad muscles meant a single set of cuffs was never going to work, but I’d come prepared, and applied another cuff to the other wrist, and snapped the two set of cuffs together.
Bending his limp knees up, I crossed them over, and looped a length of strong rope around each and tightened them. The sound of leather creaking against rope was exquisite. Ensuring the ropes were lashed round his boots a number of times, I tied off the length of rope.
This animal was going to look fucking hot hogtied and struggling. He’d panic when we woke up. That was only to the good to scare the fucker.
I added additional rope around his torso, making sure it wasn’t so tight his chest wasn’t able to expand and contract, and then another around his mid thighs. With everything in place, I connected his ankles via his wrists and then looped it into his collar. This way, he’d quickly realise that the more he struggled, and more tension would be on his neck and the harder to breath.
Rolling him onto his side, I again made one last check of his bonds, and then clipped the D-ring at the side of the hood into an attachment point normally used for attaching animal cages. Even if he managed to get out of some of the ropes, he still couldn’t manipulate anything and wouldn’t make anything more than muffled screams.
Stepping out of the back of the van, I made one last check of the scene, making sure the dart had been removed and there weren’t any vehicle or foot prints left over, and then jumped in to lead my new slave to his lesson. It would take about 45 minutes to get home, and suspicions wouldn’t be raised by one of my vans travelling at this time of night as call outs were regular and the local cops knew it.
My stopwatch said 26 minutes remaining.