Click for Boot Lust
Click for Boot Lust
My mouth had gone dry and I was scared; up to this point I’d almost enjoyed being in the cuffs but I was now sitting awkwardly on that damned uncomfortable seat and there was so little leg room – in fact I was now shit scared!
I shouted to the cop through the screen “where the hell are you taking me?” He didn’t reply and I repeated the question, which merely brought the response that I’d soon find out.
I had no real idea of the time but reckoned that we must have been travelling for at least half an hour. That in itself was not a problem because I’d travelled in cuffs for far longer periods than that during role-play situations but this was different – it was for real and I was very cramped. My knees were so close up to the seat in front that they were hurting and the seam of my jeans was digging into my crotch – usually I had no such problem when wearing tight jeans but right now I was beginning to feel as though I’d been kicked in the balls. I looked down at my bulging crotch – in spite of my discomfort I still had a raging hard-on!
We’d turned off the main road and were now on a very much quieter one with hardly any other traffic. The driver remained silent, refusing to answer any of my questions. Without any warning we suddenly turned off onto an even narrower road – but as we did so I caught sight of a dusty road sign at the corner ….. “Pine View Road”. My heart seemed to miss a beat and this time it really felt as though I’d received an almighty kick in the balls as I realised where we must be heading!
Sure enough, as we turned onto a dusty track I saw the house number on the mail box – I was being transported to Joe’s house!! The driver continued to ignore my repeated questions.
It was a bumpy ride for the three or four hundred yards or so up to the house – “well away from even that very quiet road we’ve just left” I thought to myself.
And then I saw it – parked up outside the house – a police motorbike! That was it, the cop on the bike must be Joe!!
The cruiser came to a halt; Chris got out and opened the rear door. He unclipped the seatbelt and helped me out of the car. “Face that truck over there and don’t move!” he ordered. He left me and walked over to the house, up the three steps to the porch and disappeared inside.
I considered my position – I was handcuffed behind my back with no key or any other method of getting the cuffs off and I was goodness knows how far from any form of civilisation. My options were limited! I could run off, but cuffed behind my back there was a distinct danger of losing my balance and having a nasty fall; I could step through the cuffs to get them to the front (I’d done that many times during cuffing experiences) and then run – but where the hell would I run to; third option was to stay put to await developments. In the circumstances the latter option seemed the most practical but the decision was made for me when Chris suddenly appeared on the porch, closely followed by his colleague who I now knew must be Joe.
The two men stood on the steps, smiling and looking at me – I was conscious that they were both studying my crotch.
So I returned their stares, fixing my eyes on the bulges displayed by those two lefties as they stood in the bright sunlight. The two of them came down the steps and stood in front of me.
The first one to speak was the motorcycle cop – “Hi Mike, yep I’m Joe and hope you enjoyed that little bit of deception as much as we did. Sorry I can’t shake hands with you in your present predicament, but welcome to my home”. He stretched out one of his enormous hands, stroked my left thigh and with a finger he traced the outline of my dick through the bulging denim. His next move was to walk around behind me – and suddenly everything went black! He’d put some sort of hood over my head and as he pulled the drawstring to fasten it around my neck I guessed it was one of those black canvas capture hoods that are used by some of the special services organisations on prisoners overseas.
I felt another hand stroking my dick and nuts through the denim, it must have been Chris because he said “Gotta get back on duty now Mike so I’ll leave you two guys together – have fun!”. And after a final stroke of my cock I heard him move away. The car door slammed and he drove off.
“OK, now we’re going inside and I’ll take you down to the basement” were the next words that I heard from Joe in a most unfriendly tone of voice. He grabbed my right arm and led me up the steps and through a doorway into the house. I heard him close and lock the door.
My mind was again racing as I considered my position that had now deteriorated considerably – I was still handcuffed behind my back but now had the further impediment of a hood that totally blocked my vision and I would have no means of getting it off by myself. Furthermore, I was now alone with Joe – a guy who was virtually unknown to me. I was helpless – stuffed!
When we got to the top of the basement steps he warned me to be careful and said that he’d help me down, which he did by following behind and holding onto my arm and also the chain of the cuffs. He told me when we’d negotiated the bottom step and I heard the click of a light switch. He led me a few paces into what was presumably the basement area.
Yet again I felt a gentle stroking action around my crotch as he said “Welcome to my playroom!” and he gave my cock an extra squeeze through the denim. I felt him untying the drawstring and he started to remove the hood, slowly so as to let my eyes become accustomed to the bright lights. By the time Joe had completely removed the hood he was standing directly in front of me, bulging to perfection in his skintight cop breeches and he was still wearing his duty belt.
He was an incredibly horny sight!!
I looked around quickly – the walls, floor and ceiling were all painted black and the most noticeable feature was that there were displayed on two of the walls rows and rows of handcuffs, legirons and other restraint gear. In the wall to my left was a cell door with a large prison-style lock, the unpainted steel bars were a stark contrast to the black walls and there was an area in the bars at around waist height that could be used for passing food inside or, more likely, to have a prisoner back up to it to have cuffs applied or removed.
I was brought back to the reality of my situation as I realised that Joe was staring at me and once again his bright blue eyes were fixed on my crotch. He reached forward and yet again massaged my sensitive area.
Joe rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully and muttered “Mmmmmm , I reckon a bit of investigative work’s necessary here!” He pointed to a black metal-framed chair and said “Sit!” His gesture was hardly necessary since, as far as I could see, it was the only chair in the room. Joe led me to the chair and as soon as I’d sat down he started to remove my shoes, and then my socks. “Stand up!” he barked and I did as I was ordered.
Slowly he undid my belt buckle.
After a brief pause he again reached forward and pulled down the short zipper of my low-rise jeans. He carefully opened the front of my jeans, moved round behind me and started to work the jeans down over my hips. He paused and then worked them down to my knees, in the process adjusting my underpants so as to leave them in place around my waist. When he’d got my jeans down over my calves as far as my ankles he instructed me to step out of them and he held my arm to retain my balance as I did it.
After another brief pause (this guy was certainly in no hurry) he suddenly grabbed the waistband of my briefs and with one quick motion yanked them down to my ankles. “Step out of them” he said again and held my arm as I followed his orders.
I was standing with a complete stranger, 4,000 miles from home, wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of handcuffs.
As Joe came round to face me he looked me up and down. He gave a nod of his head that I have to say could only be interpreted as a nod of approval and as he did so he was rubbing his own crotch.
“Let’s get you into the cell” he said as he took my arm and led me over to the steel-barred door, pushed me inside and I heard the key turn in the lock. “I need to take these cuffs off, back up against the door” he said, without any further explanation. I followed instructions and he reached through the trap and removed the cuffs – I’d been wearing them for ….. however long, I’d lost track of time ….. and I looked at the red marks as I rubbed my wrists.
“Get that t-shirt off” he snapped and again I followed his order. I was now completely naked and as he stood watching me he was ratcheting the cuffs repeatedly, presumably impatient to make use of them again.
“Now I’m gonna re-cuff you ….. back up against the bars, you know the procedure!” I backed up to the bars, put my hands behind my back and turned my palms to face out. He expertly slipped the cuffs back on and I felt him double lock them. As I turned to face him he growled “keep still” as he knelt down, reached through the bars and applied a set of legirons. He opened the cell door, led me out and said “I put you in the cell in case you had any fancy ideas about trying to escape when the cuffs had to come off while you removed your shirt”. Well at least that explained why I’d had such a short period of incarceration behind bars.
“Now spread your legs wide apart” he ordered and I did as he said, as far as the chain of the newly-applied legirons would allow.
He walked over to a table and opened a drawer but I couldn’t see what he took out. When he got back to me he grabbed my nose, pulled my head back and pushed a very large rubber pecker gag into my mouth. As he strapped the gag in place he said something rather strange – “Just wanted to make sure you could take something as big as this, buddy!” The gag was unusual because it was larger and thicker than I’d ever seen or experienced previously. I reflected on his words….. “Just wanted to make sure you could take something as big as this, buddy!” But Joe was clearly a guy who had a good reason for everything that he said and did, whatever his reason might have been in this case.
I quickly took stock of my situation again, it was getting worse – I was now standing naked in front of a complete stranger, I had a raging hard-on, was handcuffed, legironed and now I had a fucking great gag in my mouth; the only sane thing about all of this was that up to now everything was within the parameters that we’d discussed before our meeting. Although my “arrest” had not been discussed in advance or even hinted at, the components of the resulting scenario had all been pretty much part of our email discussions ….. even when we’d been fantasising! And all the hardware hanging on the walls proved that the guy was a genuine collector, so perhaps things were OK after all. Also, Joe was obviously a real cop and had most likely used his position to introduce some authenticity into the experience. But I still couldn’t be certain!
Joe stood back and looked at my gagged features as he said “that should be OK, I’ll take the gag out now, don’t want it getting in the way of things, do we?” I made no comment as he removed the gag and wiped my face with a Kleenex. He walked away and went over to a gun-safe that I hadn’t noticed previously. He removed his sidearm from its holster, placed it in the safe which he then closed and locked. Well, a sensible precaution for any gun owner to take and presumably exactly what he did every time he got back home from duty. But I was tempted to ask him why he had locked his gun away and what would be happening next but in my present circumstances he was clearly in charge and I thought it more sensible to let him take the initiative.
He strode purposefully to the steel chair that I had been sitting on just minutes earlier, sat down and started to remove his Dehners. “Nice boots” I said, to which he replied “yeah, and bloody expensive!” He didn’t elaborate so I decided not to continue the conversation (such as it had been!). I watched patiently as he finished removing his boots (I’d always fancied a pair of Dehners myself but never got round to ordering any) and then he removed his socks. He looked rather strange standing there in his motorcycle cop uniform but without boots and socks – his breeches seemed to be bulging more than ever and my eyes scanned him from his thighs down to his knees, calves and ankles and in all places the breeches were fitting absolutely skintight.
The next item to come off was his duty belt – he released the snaps of the four sets of belt keepers around his waist, unfastened the buckle and looked carefully at each item on the belt (he seemed to do this to heighten the excitement) and finally hung the belt over the back of the chair.
He bent down and undid the zippers at the inside of the breeches at each of his ankles, straightened up and undid his fly zipper then opened the front of his breeches so that he could pull his shirt out. He carefully and slowly unfastened his shirt buttons and removed the shirt. Turning away from me, he hung the shirt over the back of the chair.
Still with his back to me, he started to very slowly ease his breeches down over his hips – the action was almost exactly the same as getting out of a pair of really tight jeans, it takes a bit of wriggling and gentle easing. By the time he’d dropped his pants three or four inches I could see his ass-crack which confirmed that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. At that point he stopped his wriggling and snarled “What’re you staring at Mike?”, no doubt assuming (correctly!) that I was watching his every movement. “Nothing” , I said rather sheepishly, and added “but I just happened to notice that you don’t seem to be wearing any underwear.”
“Never do,” he replied,” I’m an exhibitionist just like you and going commando gives a better visual effect” . I had no wish to pursue the question of a lack of underwear and as he’d resumed the task of removing his tight pants I resumed my observations in silence. By the time he’d lowered the breeches down to his ankles I’d visually checked out the profusion of blond hairs in and around his ass-crack, continuing down his muscular legs to his ankles. He stepped out of his breeches, folded them and placed them on the chair, still with his back to me.
What the hell was he up to? He couldn’t possibly be embarrassed and there was no way that he would be the shy type and with his physique I guessed that he would be well-endowed – I would be proved correct.
“Don’t like to rush things Mike, so I make no apologies for keeping you waiting. He spun round to face me in the fastest movement he’d made since we came into the basement – he wanted to make an impact, and he did. Joe’s endowment was something of which he could be justly proud. His pubes were shaved and he was sporting a handsome cock, for those who are interested it was probably around seven and a half inches – and it was thick! He was cut and had a superb pair of balls. He wasn’t wearing a cock-ring and right now he was sporting a massive erection.
“Down on your knees” he said. I immediately assumed that he was going to remove my legirons but as he walked slowly towards me I suddenly broke out into a sweat and was trembling slightly as I recalled his comment after that trial entry of the unusually large pecker gag into my mouth – “Just wanted to make sure you could take something as big as this, buddy!”
It must have been about three hours later. I’d had a quick shower and was now fully dressed, it sounded as though Joe had finished in the shower and he was presumably getting dressed. He’d already told me that he’d give me a lift back to my car, having explained that Chris would have fixed an official “breakdown” notice on the vehicle and it would not be moved during my absence.
I was looking out of the window admiring the view when I sensed a movement behind me. I turned around and Joe was standing in the doorway.
It was the first time I’d seen him in casual clothes – he was wearing a tight white t-shirt that emphasised his athletic torso but it was his blue denim jeans that gripped my attention. Best described as eye-wateringly tight (but I knew there was no way they’d be making his eyes water). They showed his generous endowment to absolute perfection ….. everything was hanging left and his dick was outlined in fine detail, as were his balls that were exhibited with equal clarity. I already knew exactly what was in there, and for anybody else there wasn’t much left to the imagination – he looked stunning!!
“OK Mike we’d better hit the road and get you back to your car” and as he turned in the doorway I saw that he’d slipped a pair of handcuffs through the belt at the back of his jeans. It reminded me of one of the pictures in the banner headline of Metalbond’s site – but Joe’s jeans were tighter!
I followed him onto the porch and he locked the door. As he turned to face me he pulled the cuffs from his belt and held them out towards me in one of his enormous hands and said “Reckon we’d better make use of these things again for the return journey, Mike” and he ratcheted the cuffs a couple of times then gestured for me to turn around with my back to him. I’d been expecting this to happen and obediently turned and put my hands behind my back. This time I consciously turned my palms to face out! Immediately I felt the cuffs go on. He adjusted them and applied the double-locks. The pat-down that followed was pretty cursory but with the usual attention paid to my top-leg area.
He held on to my right arm as we walked down the steps and over to his truck where he helped me to climb up into the passenger seat – not easy when your hands are cuffed behind your back! When he’d installed himself in the driver’s seat he reached across, fastened my seat belt and gave my crotch yet another gentle squeeze before setting off back to the exit road where I’d had to leave my car earlier that day.
During the journey we chatted about our mutual interests and about his work as a cop, until my car came into sight down there on the exit road exactly where I’d left it. Joe stopped his truck and as he couldn’t drive the “wrong way” down the exit ramp he pointed out that I’d need to walk the 20 yards back down from the main road where we were now parked.
He jumped out of the truck and came round to the passenger side to help me out. I was again standing at the roadside cuffed behind my back, very much as I had been all those hours ago at the start of my adventure. But this time it was different as I knew that I was soon to become a free man.
Joe came round behind me and I felt him unlocking the cuffs. I heard the clicks as he ratcheted them shut and slipped them into his back pocket. I rubbed my wrists and thanked Joe for his “hospitality”. He grinned and handed me my car key.
I promised to make contact again on my next visit to Georgia and he replied “don’t go without this – everything’s on there!” as he handed me my camera. Finally, he pressed my “confiscated” handcuff key into the palm of my hand and added, with a big grin, “and you’d better have this, you might need it for next time Mike!”
It was time to say goodbye!
We shook hands and gave one another a final admiring glance. Without looking back I walked the few yards down to my car and as I did so I reflected on the excitement of the last few hours.
I heard the door of his truck slam and the sound of Joe driving off at speed …..!
Metal would like to thank Mikeintightpants for this story!
To see more, go to Serious Male Bondage
My mind was reeling. I was trapped inside Dr. Erickson’s private asylum that operated as if it were for the criminally insane. The “treatment” consisted of the use of physical restraint and drugs to modify behavior. I persisted in maintaining my will against the attempts so far to change my belief system, even if I did question aspects of my being. It is true, I had repressed any sexual feelings while I was in school and in my first months as a cop. And now this: being forced to bring back those questions I had asked myself and then so easily dismissed.
What happed to me next is, even now still painful to recall. As I lay on the jail cell green and shiny vinyl mattress in a canvas straitjacket, I later learned was a Posey friction buckle jacket, in a diaper and leg cuffs I realized how vulnerable I was. I heard someone’s heavy footsteps making there way walking down the corridor to our cell; it was Nelson with a meal.
During the entire stay in the asylum the meals were never breakfast, lunch or dinner, just meals. I was never really sure if it were day or night. This was deliberate on the part of the asylum; neither Dave nor I knew how long we had been in this hellhole of a place.
As Nelson approached, Dave turned and faced the back wall of our cell and the meal trays were placed on the floor and slid under the cell door. After Nelson left, Dave turned back towards me and removed the leg cuffs and helped me to a seated position. He placed the trays on my mattress and proceeded to feed me. He acted as if on automatic, giving me a bite of food and as I was chewing he fed himself. This meal consisted of breakfast foods; grapefruit sections, cereal with skim milk, scrambled eggs, toast with grape jelly and water. It actually tasted good. It was the first meal since Dave and I had been transferred from the clinic. After we had finished, Dave pushed the trays back outside the cell and pulled me to a standing position, undid the crotch strap of the straitjacket, removed the diaper and then forcefully moved me back onto the mattress, then placed me in a reclining position. He replaced my ankles back in the cuffs once again locking me to the bunk. Much to my horror, he then produced and placed a rubber muzzle over my mouth. Gagged once again.
What happed next is difficult for me to tell. Dave reached under the bunk and brought out a strange looking device that I later learned is actually sold via the internet. It appeared as a plastic tube with a membrane of rubber on the inside. At one end was a rubber seal and at the other end a tube that lead under the bunk. Much to my horror, Dave took my penis and coated it with a jell lubricant. He then placed it at the opening of this tube. A motor clicked on with a low hum and the device slowly started pulling my penis into the tube. The rubber membrane started moving slowly up and down my shaft and within moments I had an erection.
Dave jumped back onto his bunk out of my site so I do now know what he did. But I started to feel pleasure as the membrane worked up and down my penis with a steady rhythm I could feel the excitement increasing, slowly at first but growing stronger with each stroke of the machine. I started to relax and wondered why they were doing this, but did not dwell on those thoughts long. I closed my eyes and my brain started it’s own slide show: mental images of Dave, seeing him walking in the day room back at the clinic, with the straitjacket crotch strap between his butt cheeks, outlining them and showing his perfect bubble butt. I opened my eyes trying to shake off these images then closed them and the same pictures came back in my mind’s eye.
My body was now alive with feeling I had not felt like this in a long time. The ends of my nerves started sending out signals to my brain and my muscles started to contract and relax, my hips started to move up and down, my arms pulled at the canvas sleeves that held them against my body. My erection was growing stronger and stronger with each slow pulsating rhythm of the membrane. I had never felt anything like this before. I did not want it to end but to just keep me in this constant state of arousal.
Then it started. I could feel the pressure build as my penis was continually massaged. I tried to hold off the coming event as long as I could. And then it happened.
I arched my back, lifted my hips off the mattress, held my breath … and exploded as never before. It seemed as if each contraction of my penis was timed with the up and down motion of the membrane. I soared as each pulse sent wave after wave of pleasure through my entire body. My heart beat rapidly and my lungs, hampered by the fact that I could only breath through my nose, struggled to keep up.
The machine slowed, then stopped stroking my penis as the orgasm subsided. My erection slowly faded and I felt a warm and tingling sensation around my hips and legs that reinforced the feeling of relaxation and satisfaction. All tensions had left my body and I lay there feeling that wonderful after glow. My breathing returned to normal but I continually felt satisfied with each intake of fresh air I could get. And I drifted to sleep.
I do not know how long I slept. It was long enough to have a dream staring Dave. I saw him walking down a long white corridor with nothing on but a jockstrap. I watched his butt cheeks tense and relax as he walked, framed by the white leg straps of the jock. I was enjoying this sight even though a part of me told me it was wrong. But I could not stop watching his rear. He turned a corner and was disappointed that I had lost sight of him. As I turned the corner he was standing there with that plastic tube in his hand that had given me such pleasure. There was a Cheshire cat smile on his face as he shoved it against my groin and … Suddenly I woke up.
Back in reality the machine had started up again and my erection was returning. I could not believe that it was going to happen again. The pace of the membrane was the same, slow and even as it moved up and down my shaft. It took longer this time before the fireworks started. And it was almost as intense as the first time. After all, it had been a considerable period of time since I had last jerked off.
Once more the shooting stars faded to be replaced with that soothing warmth of the large muscles of the upper arms and legs. My mind reveled in the pleasure it was receiving and I drifted somewhere between awareness and slumber.
I did not fall asleep this time. I was feeling warm inside the straitjacket. The canvas was trapping my sweat from the physical exertion of orgasm and it caused the material to feel slightly wet and sticky in its unrelenting hug on my arms and torso.
There was a period of time before it started again. Once more my penis saluted to the vibrations of the rubber membrane. I did not want it again so soon; I had not recovered from the previous two sessions. I felt soreness in my muscles and my penis, while hard, did not rise as strongly as before. But the beat did not stop. And I was reacting mechanically this time. It took a long time before once again I ejaculated.
I was uncomfortable inside the straitjacket as the heat and sweat built up. My body was soaked with sweat that ran down my face and dripped off my legs onto the vinyl mattress. My skin started to stick to the material. The rubber mask over my mouth and face was almost hot with moist heat. My breathing now was becoming more and more difficult.
I looked forward to the machine stopping as I came, but it didn’t stop. My penis hurt now and the erection was quite weak but after a long time it once again succumbed. And still the machine kept going. I was in agony, unable to stop the inevitable natural reaction.
The torture lasted for three more cycles before the voice of Dr. Erickson came over the loudspeaker, “Dave, follow command three.”
Dave hopped down from his bunk, his face with the same blank stare. He removed the tube from my groin, placed it under the bunk, and put another diaper on me.
Once again he disappeared from my view on his bunk above me. Every muscle in my body hurt and my penis ached under the diaper. My sweat was cooling on the mattress around my body and I felt clammy and cold. The canvas of the straitjacket adhered to my skin and felt cool and damp as it pressed against my upper body.
What had started out as pleasure had become a fiendish torture. I fell into an uncomfortable drifting state of sleep without dreams.
I woke up as I heard the cell door open. Dave, his hands cuffed behind his back, was being lead away by Johnson. Nurse Reynolds came into the cell, looked at me, then looked at Nelson.
“Get the medication tray from my office and bring it to me now,” he ordered.
As soon as Nelson was gone Reynolds whispered to me, “I don’t know why you are being mistreated, Mr. Swift. I would not have assisted Dr. Erickson if I knew your treatment was going to go this far. I may be able to get you out of here. But I need some time to plan your escape.”
Nelson reappeared with a tray and Nurse Reynolds unfastened the diaper and, using cotton tips, placed a suave cream over my hurting penis. He proceeded to give me an injection in the buttocks and refastened the diaper.
“That should help you relax,” Reynolds said as he gave the tray back to Nelson. “I will be back to check on you shortly, Mr. Swift.” He left and Nelson locked the cell door.
Had I heard Nurse Reynolds correctly? He would help me escape? I drifted off …
“Jim, wake up,” I head David’s voice in the distance. Louder, “Come on it’s time to get up.” I opened my eyes to a bright sunny morning with the light streaming through the basement window.
I was back in my house. I started to sit up but couldn’t, the straps across my body held me down on the vinyl mattress. I was in my Posey straitjacket and Dave, my partner for six months now, was unlocking the cell door. He brought a water bottle with straw to my lips and I drank the refreshing cold water.
Dave, my partner for six months now, was standing above me dressed in tight 501s and a tee shirt with a water bottle. He moved the straw to my lips, “Don’t drink too fast now,” he cautioned as I started to take in the cold, refreshing water.
He looked at me and I looked at him. With a knowing expression he said, “You had the dream again.”
“Yes,” I said between sips of water. ” And you had a staring role.”
“I’ll bet,” he said sarcastically as he started to unstrap the canvas belts that went across my chest and legs. He unlocked the ankle cuffs attached to a belt that went under the cot and helped me stand.
“You were with me this time,” I stated quietly. “And you looked good in a straitjacket.”
“Let’s not go there,” Dave sternly warned me. “I do the strapping, you do the wearing.”
“OK, OK!” I exclaimed, then lowering voice, “I need to piss.”
“Thought you might, ” he said as he guided me to the steel toilet in the cell we had constructed not two months ago. “But you’re not getting out of that jacket just yet,” as he released the crotch strap and pulled down my white hospital pants. After putting on latex gloves he held my dick as I released a strong stream. Just as he had done many
times before, Dave cleaned me, pulled up my pants and secured the strap between my legs again.
He guided me back to the bunk and had me sit down at one end and he at the other. “You have been here two days now and I heard you talking in your sleep during the night. Tell me about the dream,” he demanded, “and I’ll make notes.”
I told him about being taken to jail, taken before a judge, about Dr. Clarke’s involvement in having me committed (our physician), the jail deputy (Davis was a fellow officer who completed his police training while working at the ADC), Nurse Reynolds (a real nurse who just moved into the house across the street), Dr. Erickson (Dave and I had to laugh at that one, I had just purchased a Sony-Eriksson cell phone), George the orderly (our personal trainer at the gym), Ms. Smathers (my cousin who is a psychologist), Mitch and Boris (poker buddies) and
Nelson and Johnson (friends from Dave’s college classes who I met when they came to the house to study for a final exam).
“Well,” Dave said as he stood up, “you certainly have a vivid imagination. I have a treasure trove of new things to try on you.”
“Don’t forget, you were in there with me,” I said with a smirk on my face.”
“Not likely,” he said as he unlocked the cell door, stepped out and quickly closed it. “You have a few hours left before your time is up. I get you something to eat and be back down.”
With that Dave went up the stairs to the kitchen and left me alone in the jail cell. I met Dave at the police academy where I was an instructor and Dave, a college student studying criminology who had been accepted as a new police officer before graduation, based on the recommendation of his professors. Dave proved to be an aggressive student who learned quickly and became expert in handcuffing. He surprised me in class the first day by having me on the mats and cuffed before I knew what happened. He pulled me off the mat, my hands still cuffed behind my back, pushed me against the wall and started to frisk me. He found the “gun” in my pocket and smiled at me. Then he uncuffed me and I had him on the ground just as quickly. He stayed cuffed for the rest of the class. After the others were dismissed I had him come to my office.
I praised him on his technique and asked if he would like to assist me with the next group of cadets. He smiled broadly, “I would enjoy working with you, sir,” I removed the cuffs and we talked for the rest of the afternoon, slowly getting to the fact that we both enjoyed getting tied up and restraining others. I invited Dave to my home that evening and we clicked.
After he graduated I had Dave assigned as my partner, part-time teaching in the academy and part-time on the streets. Within a month he moved into my house.
It was Dave who had the idea of converting part of the basement into a serious play area. We put in a jail cell and a padded cell, well a closet lined with green vinyl prison mattresses. Using mail order mostly, we started to accumulate various restraints. Over a short period of time Dave discovered that he preferred to be the top, but on rare occasions he will let me get the better of him.
Dave also learned investigative hypnosis in school (he plans on being a detective in the future) and practiced on his friends… and on me. From what he says I am an excellent subject and I do not recall what happens while under unless I am instructed to remember certain events. This weekend he dressed me as a mental hospital patient in the disturbed ward, strapped me in the straitjacket and put me in a trance. Through suggestion had me create the story I have told you. Over the past days let me experience a number of the treatments so that they could become part of the story.
This is only the second time that we have experimented like this. But it has given us several scenes to enact.
After Dave fed me dinner in the cell he left me confined while he cleaned up. He finally released me and we went directly to the bedroom. I leave to your imagination the evening and night we had.
Metal would like to thank straitjacketkwf2 for this story!