Leather Jeans · Part 2 (2/2)
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f a girl has seduced him, stripped him naked and chained him in this strange room. And he had not put up much of a fight. There was no way out, not until she decided to let him go. His mind wandered to what she was planning. Some of those floggers looked painful. And what was that furniture? Old-fashioned stocks. A whipping bench. And steel rings set in the wall as if to secure prisoners in a dungeon. A steel cage.
He then realised that tall wall mirrors were positioned to add to the discomfort of the victim. He could see all round himself, from behind and the sides. He looked (and felt) right daft. He could just see his bum crack opened like he had never seen it before. She could do anything she liked with his most sensitive regions. The sense of powerlessness really was a turn on. He was stripped of everything but his thoughts. He vowed to win his release when she returned. Lady Zoë would hear an impassioned plea for his release. Except he was gagged, unable to make a sound beyond a muffled mmmph. No plea he could make would be remotely intelligent.
Zoë had taken particular care over her outfit for the scene she had worked out in her mind. When Steve saw her, and it about an hour later, his breath was taken away. Zoë was not a leather mistress or one that liked to dress in a gothic style with flowing robes and back eyeliner. She chose to tease her men with a tight fitting outfit in shiny latex, sleeveless and ending just above her knees, emphasising her delicious thighs. Boots and long gloves completed the outfit. In her shapely form, the outfit was understated but stunning, showing off a narrow waist, firm arms and creamy glimpses of perfect skin. She wanted to tease Steve with her sexuality whilst submitting him to various tortures.
To show who held the power over what he would experience. It had the desired effect. He was entranced. She came close. “I bet you would love to get your hand on this,” she flaunted her slim body. “Sorry, luv, but you will not even get the slightest chance. I get to do the handling.” With that she stepped onto the stool and wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck, gently rubbing her latex clad body against his for many minutes, teasing and torturing. He groaned deep in his throat, in frustration, unable to do anything. She paused and ran her hands over his cock and balls, briefly. “Oh, this is fun.” She giggled. “I really have you!
Boy you look really, um, stretched.” She giggled again at his expression. “So what am I going to do with you? Lets see…” she steps back onto the stool and breathes warm breath down Steve’s ear. “A little torture. Revenge for all those women who have suffered your rugby player’s leering and suggestiveness when you are in the bar after a game.” Steve jerks in his bonds at that one – had she really seen him drunk in the club house bar after a good match? No, impossible, she is guessing. “So, I could just tie your lovely balls in some rope, hang a weight or two from them, see how much ‘balls’ you really have.
Or simply tie them to that ring over there and stretch them a bit.” She paused to let that sink in. “Some bottom play perhaps? Ever been plugged, felt the hard feel of a dildo up your tight little ring?” At that she ran her hand down Steve’s spine and between his cheeks, passing over his anus as he jerked and muffled, trying to close his legs. Zoë continues to rub a finger firmly up and down his crack, occasionally teasing his genitals from behind. Steve had never experienced those sensations before – feelings that were heightened by his bonds – God, he wished he could close his legs.
Zoë continued to stroke for many minutes, in silence while the sensations increased through insistent, relentless massage. She did not push her finger in, time for that later. She added a rubber finger toy to tease further, then grabbed a small rod of plastic, scratching up and down. Steve was going wild with frustration, unable to stop this abuse of his ring, the intensity building to unbearable levels, his hands straining in their cuffs, his legs desperate to close, straining against the spreader bar in an attempt to protect his most sensitive parts. Just as the tension was becoming really unbearable, she suddenly stopped.
“Hmm, okay, I think a good beating next if you find that so good.” Stepping down from the stool, she wanders over to the wall rack, selecting a long leather flogger. She had no intentions of using it this first time with Steve, she wanted to tease and torture, not hurt. If he was to return again for more play, she wanted to give him a taste of what could be, not frightened him away forever. The flogger was draped over his shoulders, flicked at his buttocks and wrapped around his head. All the time, she remained silent, just continuing the same routine of relentless sensation, increasing the intensity. Steve was horrified and aroused by the attention. Would it really hurt?
“You really like this, you kinky man,” she teased, “ you are loving every minute of this, you little pervy slut! I should find a butt plug for you.” Steve blushed at this and made to protest. Zoë flicked the flogger at his genitals as Steve tried to squirm away. She lashed at his thighs, buttocks and back, gently at first but each blow harder than the last until gentleness was no longer part of the game. Just as he was starting to make noises around his gag, she stopped. Leaving him for a few seconds, she started again, continuing to massage him with the leather flails, pausing for a few seconds every now and again. Steve was beginning to loose control completely at this intense flogging.
Whilst Zoë was careful not to mark his skin, Steve did not know how far she would go. It was a warm, dull thumping sensation which made his skin tingle, all over. It surprised him how much sensation there was and the eroticism was far from abating. The odd flick of leather at his balls kept him on his toes, in more ways than one. If only he could get free. “Enjoying this, aren’t you? Surprised? Is it not fun, being dominated by a woman?” Steve squirmed at that one. “A big strong man like you.” Pause. Slap, slap. “Now a slut, tied, chained and panting for a flogging or to have his bum tickled!” Slap, slap. Steve was panting around his gag. He moaned to be let free. “I tell you what.
I am in the shop for the afternoon, but I am not letting you go just yet. I have not finished with you. I could tie you to a chair and park you in the shop front, but that would be a little cruel even for me.” Zoë was in fact capable of cruelty beyond that but time enough to push the boundaries. “So you are to be left to consider your position. I could simply leave you hanging here and plug you up with a vibrator. Hmm that would be fun. I have one here with a remote.” Steve’s eyes bulged as Zoë fondled him again, briefly. With those slender hands in soft latex gloves. “No, I think some simple bondage for you. Some rope and chains.
Chains fit for a slave.” Zoë gave him another five minutes of massage before moved away from him to prepare a bondage table. Three silver chains were clipped to hooks in the ceiling beam above the table, which was raised on small pneumatic jacks. All but one chain reached the floor. Steve watched, in fascinated horror. Zoë returned to release his ankles from the spreader bar. “Now, don’t try anything silly,” she giggles. “To ensure your submission, you collar is locked on. Anyway how far would you get outside with just that on?” Steve had no intention of leaving. He was aroused, fascinated by this lovely creature and curious about how it would end.
He had given bondage games a passing thought in the past but knew June would not be up to it. He grinned to himself at the thought. Zoë released the pulley and unclipped Steve’s cuffs from the chain. He stretched and rubbed stiff muscles. Little did he know that what he was to experience would test him to the limit of his endurance and strength. Had he known, his attitude may have been a little different. “Lie down on the bench, on your back.” Steve complied. “Legs up!” Steve raised one leg so he was bending at the waist. Zoë padlocked the ankle cuff onto one chain, as far up as she could and motioned for Steve to raise his other leg.
She secured Steve’s wrists to each side of the bench with a length of rope. Once again, he was completely helpless. A new device was introduced to Steve, a parachute. This was clipped securely around his scrotal sac, beneath his very hard and throbbing penis. The fit was tight, firm but not uncomfortable. With that, she took the third length of chain, a fine silver one and pulling it tight she clipped it to the parachute chains. She untied his wrists next and indicating for him to sit up, she locked the loose ends of the leg chains to his wrist cuffs, as far up as she could. Zoë then pushed him back, which tightened the chains and extended his arms.
Once secured, she lowered the table slightly, the effect was to raise Steve’s rear into the air slightly and suspending him from ankles and with his arms locked into a stretched position with just his shoulders resting lightly on the bench. The pressure on his balls was excruciating, the chain attached to his sac was short. Secure in the ring of leather, his balls were pulled out and up. She slipped a spreader bar onto the long chains, just above his ankles and clipped it in place, ensuring that he could not close his legs. Finally, she slipped a blindfold over his eyes. “How does that feel?” she asked him, as she ran her hand up and down his very stiff penis, teasing him to the edge.
He whimpered around the gag, trying to plead for some relief. “You are here for the afternoon, so don’t struggle. Time for you to confess your kinks and fetishes. I want to know about your fantasies later so here is time to think about them.” She laughed at his obvious discomfort. “See you later duck!” Steve was really stuck for words. He quickly realised that to struggle for release only increased the pressure on his genitals. Any way, he was locked into the cuffs and locked onto chains with no way out without keys. By pulling on the chains with his arms, he could relieve the pressure and that was as far as it went.
The chains were implacable and impersonal, shiny and relentless, a symbol of his new found status: Sex slave. He groaned at that one. What would Lady Zoë want of him next? The afternoon passed very slowly for Steve. He was stuck and alone, in complete silence and blind. Enforced inactivity for a man of action was torture alone without the chains and pain. His mind was concentrated on his situation with no room for stray thoughts. His muscles ached at first with the strain then his arm muscles began to scream with the effort of supporting himself.
Slowly, he gave up the fight; the pressure on his genitals was re-established, as intense as ever, relentless, releasing endorphins that washed through his system in a way that rugby training never managed. He began to drift, helpless, a man of responsibilities, and a decision-maker, in control (normally), powerful and decisive; now reduced to being chained like a slave. He was jerked back by Zoë returning briefly to check on him. She massaged his penis back to a full erection, judging the edge, then wandering back out of the room. He screamed in frustration through the gag, so pumped full of unfamiliar endorphin rushes. He struggled briefly.
Eventually, the end came after several more visits. Steve had drifted away on a wave of erotic pain, bitter-sweet emotions that finally relaxed him so he was no longer fighting his bonds. The pain in his genitals had settled to a dull sensation, dulled by chemical rushes, only intensified by Zöe’s visits when she teased and tugged at him, heightening the tension and frustration. This pain felt oh so good and it was this discovery that shocked Steve the most. Eventually, Steve was released from the parachute falling back with a sigh of relief, his arms pulled taut and straining. She firmly massaged his seemingly bruised and tender genitals.
This time it was different, he felt a smooth silky sensation as she rubbed a lubricant over and around his balls. She increased the sensation on his erect penis, bringing him to the edge and then back, sometimes running a latex-clad finger over his tip, sometimes around and over his anus. He was too tired to struggle. “Lie back and take it, luv.” She whispered in his ear, quite unnecessarily. Five minutes of intense activity was all Steve could take, he came with force, considerably more so than in the past. She continued her ministrations for another minute before stopping. She left him.
The price for his adventure went beyond the cost of his new jeans. The experience left him bruised and physically worn for a few days after, enough for him to put in a very lack-lustre performance on the rugby field and for June to stare at him intently and comment that he was overworking. Overworking! It was not Zoë that finally released him from his bonds. Carol appeared with keys and a designer bag in yellow containing his new jeans. Steve realised that there was something masculine about Carol’s hands as he was released but was too tired to care at that point. It came back to him later that Carol was definitely strange.
In a deeper than normal voice (for a woman) Carol had informed him that Lady Zoë might demand his presence again and he was to be alert for her command which may be by email, telephone or some other method of communication. He was to comply. He decided that he would, as melodramatic as the message had been, respond to her wishes. During his enforced period of thinking time, he realised that the experience was the most intense and erotic he had ever known. He wondered how he was going to deal with the pain. Zoë did command his presence, twice before Christmas and once in the January after. The scenes were as intense as the first but all very different.
One involved the promised vibrating butt plug, inserted as he was chained to the ceiling beam, rising on his toes to try and defeat the relentless silicone invader. Finally his anus opened to admit it, stretching as the wide part was pushed gently but firmly past his sphincter and into the space beyond. It felt huge as his muscles closed around the neck. “Relax!” Zoë had demanded, “It’s only a small one. For training I will use some progressively larger ones later!” He groaned at that and the sensations that were to stimulate him for most of the day. What he did not realise is the more he struggled, the more he resisted Zöe’s attentions, the more she loved it.
Playing right into her hands and pushing her into top space, driving her to consider more and more torture that could elicit similar reactions. After Christmas, she played a torture game with him, strapping him to a chair and fitting the dreaded parachute. He was blindfolded but not gagged. She brushed different materials on his skin and demanded that he identify them. A wrong answer would see weights added to his parachute. Correct answers earned a reward or so he thought because as he identified silk correctly, Zoë applied a clip to his left nipple. He screamed with the sudden pain of it. “That’s your reward,” she explained.
“You ARE a pain slut, that IS what you crave, isn’t it?” His concentration was soon well offline as he rode the endorphin rush of pain from nipples (clamped and weighted), parachute weighted by a kilo of cold metal and the application of clothes pegs to various parts of his erect penis (clipped on around the top of his foreskin). He was left for several hours until released by the ever-present Carol, whose masculine hands brushed over his testicles, nipples and penis as he was relieved of the weights and clamps, one at a time, shooting a fresh stab of pain as circulation was restored. He considered it strange to be released by a TV man, part of the game of humiliating the submissive male.
In real life he would not wish to be touched in such a way by another man, no matter how erotically. But here, in this room, dungeon or whatever it is called, it seemed quite normal, even desirable. Certainly erotic, and he was ashamed of his body’s reactions that left little to the imagination. The corruption of Steve’s strait-laced MCP attitudes was progressing. The premature end to the adventures came one afternoon in February. Well, shortly afterwards to be precise. For Zoë, in a mood because of the bad weather, rain and lack lustre business in the dead time after Christmas was not prepared to let a submissive test her authority.
For Steve, making the mistake of riding a wave of euphoria right into the shop after securing a huge order, paid the price for not being as attentive or obedient as he should. Zoë finally secured him over a bench, gagged him with an inflatable gag that stretched his mouth out of shape. She flogged him with a black rubber flogger that stung and brought red blotches to his back and buttocks. She swapped it for a plastic flogger of thin flails that really made Steve yelp through his gag. She moved onto school cane and lexon cane, finally pushing him over the edge into deep sub space at the cost of red welts over the back of his legs and backside.
Welts that would not disappear in a couple of hours. She threw the cane to one side, grabbed a bright purple dildo shaped plug and pushed it hard into Steve, tying it firmly into place with a thin rope before storming out. Steve remained tied in that position for the remainder of the day, being released by Carol who seemed to take more than would be considered a reasonable time over removing the butt plug. Steve was horrified over the marks on his body. How the hell would he hide these from June? Zoë was nowhere to be found in the shop. So his wife found out about his more unusual sales appointments in Salford.
Barely had he removed his shirt when undressing for bed that night when she spotted the marks. Turning his back to the light she examined them closely. “What on earth?” She exclaimed. Steve tried to squirm out of her grasp but she held his arm firmly. “Steve…” “Um,” was about as far as he got before she slapped him hard on the face, twice. “You stupid bastard!” she yelled at him. “Get out” out, out, OUT!” Steve retreated to the hall before realising that a fuller retreat might be in order. Hell, this was a right pickle he was in. How could he explain all this? He paused that the bedroom door to catch what he thought were the sounds of June weeping. Should he go in?
No, better leave it until the morning. Grabbing a wrinkled shirt out of the laundry basket, he left the house. June paused from her muffled laughter to catch the sound of the back door closing. Oh god but he is priceless. Was he so stupid that he had thought she had not guessed? She had, weeks ago. To begin with, June had taken her best friend and shopping companion, Mary, into her confidence. “An affair?” Mary had exclaimed, getting the wrong end of the stick. “I thought so. He was lacking in energy, pre-occupied and then I found a bag in the boot of the car – from an Italian leather clothing shop in Manchester.” Mary looked interested.
“It was a pair of cut Italian leather trousers, really beautiful. I did not know Steve had it in him. He never buys clothes. But leathers! Then I checked the web site and it was enough to make your eyes water.” Carol had played a trick on Steve by handing him his new jeans in a bag that had the bondage gear site written on it and not the usual shop address. Mary goggled and then laughed. “Your Steve is normally such a wuss! Leather jeans, oh, you don’t think…” “What do you think? A fetish? Looking at that web site, even you would be shocked at the stuff.” “I would love to see him in them,” said Mary, “in chains. Very sexy!” June shot her a look.
“I think someone, somewhere in Manchester HAS seen him in them, and in chains. He has some rub marks on his wrists. Not from training can tell you. Bruises and friction burns, yes, but not like those on his wrists. Mary laughed and then bit it off when she saw the look on June’s face. “This is serious, June,” she gasped in mock horror. “Your Steve’s into the scene? Probably too ashamed of his fantasies to tell you.” The plotting that followed, between two close friends in a discreet corner of a Leeds coffee shop would have put Steve’s hair on end. But June knew she needed proof before putting the plan into place.
Mary had been in the scene for years and had talked at length to June about her interests after June discovered some unusual items during a casual visit to June’s house. Steve was completely unaware that his apparently staid wife was sharing some interesting experiences with her best friend over coffee. June smothered another giggle, worried about disturbing the kids. Now she had proof and ammunition. In a cupboard was a box of things Mary has chosen with her on a shopping trip. A shopping trip with a difference. Mary loaned her a few of the more expensive items. “Better to see how things go before you invest any real money.” she said.
When Steve returned furtively to the house the next morning to shave and shower before driving to work, he found June sitting in the kitchen. Partially out of sight behind the table was a large box with a black cloth over it. It was not that that caught his attention but the clothes she wore – a tight Spandex dress in black with a slight sheen to it. It emphasised her body. Then he noted the expression on her face. Not just of anger but of hunger. He had seen that look before but never in his own kitchen. “Morning,” he bluffed. “Just shut it Steve, and get on your knees.” He looked surprised. “Time for a quick chat, but I am doing the talking. Now then, I know. That’s it.
Why could you not tell me of your desires? Steve goggled. He was not been aware of these ‘desires’ or any other until a few short weeks ago. Even then, he was unsure. She stepped forward and grabbed his hair. “On your knees! Payback time. I think you owe me an apology and a debt. The apology is easy, the debt is not. The debt will take some working off. All these years of crap sex when all the time you have been getting your rocks off on leather, whips and bondage.” She removed the cloth from the box to reveal a steel cage sitting on small casters. Big enough to hold a man. Just big enough. Certainly not a pet cage, Steve realised with growing apprehension. “Get in!” she demanded.
“Oh my god,” he thought. He made to protest. She kicked him, painfully, in the back of the legs. “Darling, are you going to do as you are told or do I have to…” June brandished a thick cane. “No, no,” he gasped, completely taken aback at this transformation. As the door clicked shut behind him, he considered his steel prison. The bars were three inches apart with steel loops. All coated in a black rubbery material he noted. “Now undress and push your clothes through the bars.” “June…” he protested. “If you want out of there at some time this year, you had better do as you are told.” He complied with difficulty in the confined space.
“Now give me your hands.” He pushed them through the rather narrow bars of the cage. June wrapped a length of dull black chain around his wrists and pushed a large padlock through the links. In the confined space, he was uncomfortably kneeling on the hard floor in a crouching position. June passed the cane through the bars behind him and scratched the end between his cheeks, teasing him briefly. “I am having a small gathering of friends for coffee,” she informed him as she pushed the cage on its casters into the living room. “I think my latest piece of furniture will cause a stir. They all might want a piece.
I shall leave some canes nearby should any of them want to prod the tiger in its cage.” Steve flushed at the thought. He found it humiliating to be pushed around his own home in a cage by his wife. To be displayed naked and unshaven, caged and bound, in front of her coffee morning friends was so completely horrifying that he was overwhelmed with remorse for his behaviour and begged for forgiveness. “Oh give over, it’s a blessing in disguise. The perfect excuse I have been wanting all these years to bang you out of your complacency. So get used to it, my love, this is just the start.
Now I have to get ready for my guests.” With that the cloth was thrown over the cage and Steve was left uncomfortably to consider what exotic torture his wife may have in store for him. ————-End.
Leather Jeans · Part 2 (2/2)
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