FLIP!

Thirty minutes ago, to look at him, he had been one of the most powerfulmen in the bar, a leatherman who exuded LEATHERMAN, as if he stepped rightout of a Tom of Finland calender; a man whose brawn was easily gauged bythe muscular arms and hairy, bubbled pecs and ass that his leathers so spectacularlydefined; the custom made chaps had glistened like black water on his sinewylegs, making the hairiness of the naked ass somehow all the more appealing.The tribal tatooes on his arms and chest had lent an air of exoticness, atip of the Muir cap to the "Old Guard".
The eyes had been the killer,though, his beautiful, deepdeep blue eyes. When I had caught and held themwith my own earlier - for in order to capture the man I first had to attracthim, of course - I had thought my knees would buckle.

I had foughtthe urge to grab him right there, hearing SIR's voice in my mind, remindingme of the plan as he showed me the picture:

"He is a German tourist,Boy. Goes by the title WescoSlut on the net. He is coming here. We have madecontact. He thinks we will meet on Saturday night for some fun, but we aregoing to. . . push up the timetable, Boy. He will be at the bar on Fridaynight. He knows my face, but not yours. You will lure him, Boy, to the alley,where I will be waiting with the chloroform-"

I had started to protest,mildly, then; SIR could tell by the look in my eyes how attractive I foundthis man who called himself "WescoSlut". Truthfully, SIR only had to glanceat my cock to see the idea was pleasing to me, how very badly I wanted tocarry the Slut from the truck and lay him on the bondage table SIR had setup in the basement, lift those Wescoes over my shoulders and catch my breathat the sight of those beautiful blue eyes fluttering open from the chloroformto the first stab of his captor, the first drops of my precum forced so violentlyup his ass.

Thirty minutes ago he had run the world, musing whom he would deign to fuck.
NowWescoSlut lay, unconscious, in the alley outside the bar. The slight pressureI had placed to his carotid artery with my gloved thumb after he tried tostruggle had dropped him like a stone.

I felt SIR's presence next to me.

"Well,BOY"- and his voice, like gravel, carried the slightest tone of approval."It looks like I taught you well. GOOD BOY. SIR is PROUD OF YOU. " He tooka long drag on his cigar as he bent and began to press the chloroformed ragover WescoSlut's face, to keep him sedated while we carried him to the waitingtruck and the drugged cop.

The gun was a black stone in my hand. Weighted. Heavy. Real.
I barely remembered pulling it off the DC cop as we chloroformed him.
It felt so weird in my gloved hand. Like. . . POWER.

My SIR froze in his position at the feeling of the point of the gun in his back. He did not turn. He knew.

"Actually, SIR", and my voice was strange. Steady, but hollow. "I was thinking today is the day the BOY becomes the MAN. . . "

FUCK. Yeah, this was the one...

...Boss stood in his garage and eyed the kid with approval as he stepped off his bike and tugged at his helmet, revealing a military cut. That's right, the kid had mentioned he would be coming from Andrews. Boss chuckled, taking a deep drag on his cigar. Another brash punk goes AWOL from the base.
Boss had known this was the one when he talked to him on the phone. He loved that part: giving the Boy directions, listening to him repeat them back, never guessing he was citing a list of steps he would take towards his own kidnapping. The kid had a sexy voice, the barest twang hinting that he was serving at the air force base by way of the Deep South somewhere. Boss had stroked his cock as he listened to the kid's voice. He always taped his calls, so he could play them back, and stroke as he imagined that voice mmmmphing into a gag or begging not to be fucked again.

Boss always gave the last few instructions over the phone wrong. So the Boy would have to call him from the road to get it right.
Kept the risks low; no one knew exactly where the Boy was going to look at the Harley he saw advertised for a great price. The last anyone knew, he had mentioned something about getting off at the third exit, not the fourth, and going east, not west.

Boss waved the kid into the garage quick, as if he had a lot of things to do. That was something he had learned too: act on the phone as if he had a lot of offers, had a lot of shit going down; it got the Boys over to his place quick, and meant that Boys who might normally hesitate to walk into a stranger's home or garage wouldn't think twice in their eagerness to be a lucky buyer.

Boss thought he would shoot his load when the kid unzipped his jacket; he was wearing motorcycle leathers that hugged his muscular frame, and he tapped a Red from the pack he slid from his pocket as he stepped close and shook Boss' hand. Firm grip. Fuck, yeah. Boss nodded to his Harley, propped in the far corner of the garage, as they murmured pleasantries. Boss could see the barest thatch of hair on the kid's well-defined pecs, and the six-pack that came with the Boy's military training. Fuuuckyeah, it would be a pleasure to get this one into the sling.

The kid's attention was on the bike, as planned.

Boss stepped up to a small work bench he had set up in the corner opposite the Harley, his back to the kid, so the kid didn't see him tug on his thick rawhide gloves and slide the small amber bottle from the drawer. He glanced over his shoulder. The kid was kneeling by the bike. Perfect. Boss began to tell the kid details of the bike, the mileage, the warranties, the work he had done on it. He grinned to himself at a whiff of the sweet sleepy fumes as he splashed some of the chloroform on a rag. A brief struggle in Boss' arms and then the military Boy would succumb to the deepest, drugged sleep, to dream of his captivity and the many, many ways Boss would fuck and use him.

HOT CHOCOLATE

MMMppppppph!

The jock he had gagged me with tasted of his cum and piss. I squinted into the light flooding the sleeper compartment of his cab and wondered where the trucker had parked now. It had been four days, I guessed, since he had chloroformed me after picking me up from the road. He kept me bound and gagged in his sleeper when he wasn't fucking me or using me in some other way.



Even now, my body spasmed at the newest torture he had inflicted on me, sliding his cock into me after we had stopped at a rest stop sometime in the middle of the night. He puffed hard on his cigar as he mounted me, and I waited for the pounding he usually gave me. Then I felt his warm piss flooding my insides. I yelped when he slid the buttplug up my ass to keep his piss inside me. I still couldn't fight the fact that every time I saw him, smelled his smoke, heard the creaking of his leathers, felt his gloved hands on me, that this man who had kidnapped and raped me repeatedly was also the hot motherfucker who could still make me leak precum just at the sound of his voice.

It was cold, suddenly, and I smelled the smoke from his cigar at the same time I saw him climb up into the cab. He had showered and changed; the padded leather motorcycle pants he wore clung to his legs and defined every muscle. He wore no shirt; a studded leather armband framed each bicep. I saw he carried a thermos in one of his gloved hands, and he tossed it onto the filthy mattress I was tied on as he crawled in to kneel next to me. He winked at me over his cigar as he unscrewed the cap.

"Brought you something to drink, BOY", he murmured, and I felt my cock go hard at the sound of his gravelly voice and the title he used for me.



"A little something to start your day. " I stared as he poured hot chocolate from the thermos into a cup. He reached and pulled the gag from my mouth, and brought the cup to my lips.

The chocolate was good, the first thing other than his piss or cum I had had in a long time. It was sweet. With a slightly bitter aftertaste. Our eyes locked, and he nodded slowly, grinning over his cigar as he exhaled a cloud of smoke into my face.
"Yes, BOY, it's drugged. A little sedative to help my Boy take a long winter's nap. We're at my house, Boy. Most Boys I capture on the road I set free, naked and bruised, on an exit ramp in the middle of nowhere. But there's something about YOU, BOY. . . I'm keeping you for awhile. You'll be my captive cumslave in my basement. There aren't too many neighbors around, BOY, but I don't want to take any chances of someone spotting you when I carry you into the house. I could chloroform you again, but I thought my BOY would like a little hot chocolate. "

I stared at him, his words falling on me like rain.

And then I took another sip, and then another, and I nestled my head on his leathered groin, feeling his hard cock at my neck as I grew warm and sleepy.
I dreamt of that cock inside of me as he carried me into the house.

BOUND IN THE SLEEPER, THE TRUCKER'S CUMSLAVE...

I moaned as motion lulled me from a deep sleep.

The truck was moving.

How long had it been since he picked me up? How long was I out for?

Sensations came quickly: my moan had been muffled by his thick rawhide glove, ducttaped into my mouth as a gag; my leather pants had been unzipped and pulled down to my knees, so that my naked ass rested on the dirty mattress I had been stretched out on; my wrists had been bound in restraints to the wall above me; my ankles had been restrained in the same way.

AwwFUCK! - the pain as I tried to raise my legs told me that a buttplug had been inserted up my tight ass.



A sliver of light flashed and for a moment I was able to survey my predicament, take in my surroundings, note the dewiness around the thatchet of hair at my groin. He had been busy with his mouth down there; my dick felt half-aroused, as if it too had been fighting to wake up from the chloroform he had used on me once he ordered me at gunpoint to crawl back into his sleeper. I squeezed my tight ass against the plug, feeling the wetness, and guessed he had lubed me with his spit and God knows what else before he slid the plug up in me.

I remembered this now:
I had started to come out of it when he plugged me. I tried to twist my body away, tried to tighten my ass. His knee was in my back, his boot hard on my ass, and the leather lacing he had used to crudely rope my hands while he played with me kept me from pushing him away. I tried to turn, then, to look up and beg him not to. . . I had just wanted a ride, I would do anything he wanted. . . !. . . he had chuckled in reply, and a cloud of cigar smoke was exhaled in my face.

He shoved the plug HARD, then, and before I could bellow out in pain and anger his mouth was on mine, and I tasted him as he dropped to press his full weight over my body. His goateed mouth was hard and rough, and tasted of cigars and Southern Comfort and leather, and I realized then he had been mouthing my dick in my leather pants while I was out.

I moaned again, as much from desire as pain.

He was taking another long drag on his cigar, his face close to mine. I could feel his enormous belt buckle pressing into my ass, and his dick thrusting through his jeans underneath. I wanted so bad to have his dick instead of that plug! I started to tell him this, too, but he brought his rawhide gloved hand up to cover my face as if he sensed what I was going to say. There was a dampness over my nose and mouth. More chloroform! I tried to buck his body off of mine, but he only laughed at my effort, and gave a shove at the plug which made my body spasm in pain. I inhaled sharply. His voice was like gravel as he growled in my ear:

"RELAX, Boy. Just breathe it in and catch some shuteye. . . you're gonna be a good Boy and be Sir's HOLE to be used anyway SIR sees fit. . . you never should have gotten in my truck, BOY, if you didn't think SIR was going to think of every possible way to make you pay for your ride. . . "

KIDNAPPED BY THE TRUCKER

It would be a pleasure to fuck this one.

Boss took a long drag on his Cohiba as he stole another sideways glance at his passenger. The Boy had to be in his early twenties. Blond hair. Swimmer’s build. Boss had noted the six-pack through the Boy’s Tshirt when he climbed up into the cab, and his tanned muscular arms.
He had been on his cell when Boss picked him up, thumbing a ride a few miles east of Hagerstown. Boss had heard him tell his girlfriend he loved her.

Boss felt a spot of precum starting, and took a swipe at his groin with a gloved thumb. Boss liked to wear his hides when he drove. The sound of the leather chaps stretching tight across his leg muscles as he shifted positions in his seat kept him hard as a rock, and he loved the feeling of the gloves on his hands as he switched gears and took long drags on his cigars.
He told the Boy he needed to check something out as he slowed the truck and pulled off to the shoulder, just outside Frederick.

The Boy’s eyes widened when instead of getting down from the cab of the truck, Boss suddenly pulled a gun. Boss thought he might shoot a load right then at the blue of the Boy’s eyes as he stared at the gun and raised his hands. Boss gestured with the gun for the Boy to crawl back into the sleeper. The Boy started to protest, to offer money, to try to talk his way out, and that was when Boss backhanded him, the leather of his thick gloves making a loud SMMMMMMMMMMACK as the back of his hand connected with the Boy’s face.

The Boy did as he was told.

“THAT'S IT, BOY” Boss’ voice was gravelly, pleasant. A Biker grandfather reading a good-night story. “You do as you’re told and we’ll get along fine. ” Boss gestured with the gun for the Boy to lay on his stomach on the mattress that filled the space of the sleeper. The Boy complied, his deep blue eyes following Boss’ every move.

Boss knelt, his leathers creaking, placing his knee square in the Boy’s back to keep him still. He puffed on his gar as he reached into a shaving kit – his rape kit, Boss liked to call it – and pulled out an amber bottle and a jockstrap he had cum in the night before. The jock was stained and thick with Boss’ cum and piss, and the Boy turned his head to watch as Boss unscrewed the cap on the bottle of chloroform and doped it. The Boy started to protest again, to beg, and that was when Boss’ gloved hand shot down and clapped the chloroformed jock over his face. The Boy gave a muffled yelp and tried to push his body up from the mattress to fight, but Boss only chuckled, exhaling a thick plume of smoke, pressed his weight down through his leathered knee, and held tight to the Boy’s neck with one gloved hand while the other kept the doped rag clapped over his face.

“There is a truck stop in Frederick, BOY, that is usually good for a park and fuck…but right now you’re going to take a little rest while ol’ Boss ties you tight and gets the plug in you, ready to take my cock and beg for more…”

KIDNAPPED AND BRANDED BY SIR

I smelled his cigar first, my nostrils flaring at the smoke, far preferableto the sweet odor of the chloroformed rag he had pressed to my face as heshot his load inside of me.

I heard the creaking of his leather,and in spite of what I groggily estimated was going on the fourth day ofmy captivity in this dungeon, the sound of his leathers and the smell ofSIR’s cigar had my cock hard. I began to pull myself to my feet, but theleather cuffs at my wrists offered little slack. I moaned out loud at thesudden pain radiating from my ass.

SIR had increased the size of my buttplug.



Iheard him chuckle in the darkness, a growl, and he stepped from the shadows.He had showered and changed, and as always his appearance, his very presence,had me wet with precum. The leathers he wore were impressive, so tight andsoft they were like black paint on his muscular frame. I flinched as hisgloved hand reached to stroke at my cock, which was sore from the inventiveways he had used and played with it over the past 72 hours. He took a longdrag on his cigar before bending close to me. He slid his tongue into mymouth and shared his smoke. My body shuddered; he was pressed so tight tome I could feel the polished leather of his Dehners pressing up to my nakedlegs. He chuckled, his mouth on mine, and pressed into me even harder, andit was then I felt his cock, thrusting hard under the softest leather ofhis breeches against my nakedness, and I knew I would be fucked again.

Then I realized how wrong I was. How I would beg for a simple fuck.

SIR’sBoy stood in the doorway, grinning. My knees buckled when I saw the bottleof chloroform in his hands. I started to speak again, to try to protest.SIR held me, his voice surprisingly soothing, his gloved fingers gently kneadingmy neck, stroking my lips and cheek. “It’ll be better this way, BOY”. Mybody spasmed at the feeling of his hot goateed mouth at my ear. “You’ll takea little nap…dream of your SIR…you won’t feel a thing…” My eyes widened.Boy was rolling something towards me, a silvery cart that looked like itbelonged in a dentist’s office. SIR held me tight, his enormous leatheredbody enveloping me. I could feel him taking deeper drags on his gar, feltthe tension of his muscles through his leathers, and as Boy drew closer Isaw why. It was a branding table. I thought I would faint as my eyes tookin the tools, the needles and tips and inks SIR would use to tattoo me.

Ilost it then. Started kicking desperately, pulling at the restraints at mywrists, hollering into SIR’s thickly gloved hand gagging me. Boy moved quicklytowards me with the chloroform, and as he readied the pad to sedate me, SIR’smouth was once again at my ear:

“YOU’LL LOVE IT, BOY…COMPLETE, TOTALSERVITUDE TO YOUR SIR, THAT EVERY MAN WILL KNOW AND SEE…SOME INK ABOVE YOURCOCK…SOME INK ABOVE YOUR ASS…A BRAND EVERYONE WILL RECOGNIZE:…’THIS BOY ISPROPERTY OF SIR’…NOW SLEEP, BOY…SLEEP…”

Prince Albert

Consciousness comes slowly to me. I don't know how long I lay there before I am fully aware of the dim light playing through the crack of the drawn curtains. I fight to orient myself with the mundane, the facts as I know them, or knew them last anyway. The curtains are not mine. This is not my bedroom. I am not home. That's right, the Plaza. I had checked into my room at the Plaza. Leathered up. Slid a condom in my pocket as I opened my door to head to the Eagle. . .

My body spasms as I recall the violent way he had grabbed me, the sudden alarm I felt at the thick cloth pressed to my face, the gloved hands yanking me hard into the darkness of the room as the door shut fast behind me. I had sensed rather than seen his size, felt his taut muscles in his leathers, as he shoved me roughly onto the bed. In my fear, I had the vague awareness that the bandanna pressed to my face smelled of cigars, leather and. . . something. . . his cum, I knew. .. and then I inhaled sharply and my eyes had widened at the first whiff of chloroform. I tried to holler out but his knee was heavy on the small ofmy back, his boot pressing in through the leather of my shirt as he put his weight on me to force me to breathe in.
And now...

I smell thes moke of his cigar first, a deeply preferable sensation to the cloyingly sweet odor that clung to my nostrils; I inhale deeply, and I hear a noise. It takes me awhile to process; I am still dopey from the chloroform. He is chuckling.

THAT'S IT, BOY, COME OUT OF IT SLOW, he murmurs, and his voice is gravel, the slightest drawl with a certain quality to it; he is speaking through the cigar clenched in his teeth. I can feel his breath as he exhales over my naked body and it slowly dawns on me that his voice floats above me, is part of a waking reality:

I am stripped and my wrists are tied tight above my head. He has left my boots on but my legs strain against the ropes at my ankles. I am tied, spreadeagled, to my bed.

I start to moan, but it's then that I realize he's gagged me as well; I can feel the knotted cotton of the gag at my tongue, feel the adhesive of the duct tape he used to seal the gag to my stubbled face. I open my eyes, blinking against the opaque light from the lamp; I turn my head and my vision blurs: as it comes into focus again, I can see the toys he's laid out on the bed, black rubber shapes lying next to a bottle of lube and a bottle of chloroform. I shiver, my body spasming as I finally take him in, his enormous size, his rugged, lined face glaring at me over the cigar, the sun faded tattoos on the tanned Biker's body; my eyes trail down and I feel faint at the sight of such large dick. A dick peirced with a Prince Albert.

I have never seen a dick so large before, let alone geting fucked by one. And I've never been fucked by a dick, of any size, with a Prince Albert.



His gloved hands seize me and I feel the chill of the silvery PA against my hole. My ass starts to clench it's then that I realize that he has already lubed me. I holler into my gag. . .