By Mikeintightpants

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!”

EPILOGUE

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 …..!

THE END

Metal would like to thank Mikeintightpants for this story!