John saw the boots at the end of the corridor, over 50 metres away. He could always identify a guy wearing boots. He was not sure why. As long as he could remember, even as a small child, his eyes were somehow drawn to booted feet. It had been the greatest pleasure and the greatest misery in his life. But then sex was like that. And John had realised long ago that boots, and the men who wore them, were the primary object of his sexual cravings.
Even at such a distance he recognised them as engineer boots. But they were somehow rather different. As every step brought them nearer he saw that it was the soles that made them special. They had thicker soles than any others he had seen. His attention turned for a moment to the guy wearing the boots. He was also unusual. In his boots he was taller than John who was himself quite tall. Perhaps gaining a little extra height was why he chose such thick-soled boots. While the fashion was for longer hair with gels and lotions to keep it just so, his hair was so short that he almost seemed to have a shaved head. And he was wearing a black suit with the boots, in a company where even a tie was considered `dressing up'. He was a rebel from the top of his head to the soles of his booted feet. The whole attitude of his body, typified by the way he walked, displayed the arrogance needed to wear black engineer boots with a suit, and to not care what anyone thought. John, who owned many pairs of engineer boots, would never dare to wear them to work. The cowboy boots he usually wore, such as the black harness boots he had pulled on that morning caused him to blush if anyone commented on them. John lacked the confidence to be a rebel in public, although dressed in leather and boots in front of his bedroom mirror he could sometimes see the arrogant look that this guy wore quite naturally, every day.
The booted guy's dark eyes were hard and aggressive. Perhaps it was that that forced John to look down to the floor. More likely was the need to see those delicious boots as they came ever closer. In the moments it took them to pass he saw the shiny round toes standing a little higher than the rest of the foot. He knew that they must have steel toecaps under the rich black leather. He saw that the heels were thicker and a little taller than most engineer boots. But as a connoisseur of such things he knew that bigger heels were needed to keep the boot in proportion to the thick soles. He saw the telltale buckle and strap across the instep that confirmed that they were indeed engineer boots. The strap turned upwards where it left the buckle. Even the boots had an arrogance of their own. All this he saw and remembered in the moments that it took them to pass in the corridor.
John did not look back once the boots had passed. That might be noticed, and John did not want anyone to guess what was going on in his head. He was sure he would see the boots again. As he took his coffee back to his office he went through the catalogue of boots in his mind making doubly sure that he had never seen such boots before. John visited all the shoe shops regularly to enjoy examining and touching all the boots. He got a thrill from them all. Engineers, cowboy boots, army boots. They all gave him a tingle that started in his stomach and worked up over his whole body. He was sure he had never seen boots like those before. They were either a new line, in which case he must seek them out, or they had been bought in another town, perhaps even another country.
John could not be certain what the rest of the boots that disappeared into the black suit trousers would look like. In his mind he pictured the boots with various heights of shaft. He was sure that they would be high boots. Short engineer boots with those thick soles would not look right. Whoever had designed such a perfect pair of boots would not have made a mistake like that. But how high would they be? Calf high? Knee high? He would need to find out. He had seen the strap over the instep. Would they have a strap at the top? Most did. If they did would there be one or two straps? He decided on two as it seemed right and because it made his stomach tingle some more.
Later that morning he was walking back to his office with his second cup of coffee and he knew the boots were behind him. He was not sure how he knew, but he was certain. It might have been the sound. All boots, he had learnt, made their own distinctive sound as they hit the ground. It might have been the rhythm of the strides. He had heard the boots once before. That was probably enough for someone like him to instantly recognise the rhythm and sound and to get an instant picture in his mind of the boots and of the guy in them. He had five senses and liked to enjoy boots with as many of those senses as he could.
He stopped at the printer and picked out the sheet that was coming out of the slot. It was not his, but the owner could always print it again. But stopping at the printer gave enough time for the boots to pass him so that he could follow them down the corridor. He looked carefully at the guy's legs and just below the knee he could see the tops of the boots showing themselves through the trousers as they moved the material with each stride. He smiled to himself in satisfaction as his stomach made its usual summersault. He looked at the deep tread on the thick soles. They were hardly worn so they must be fairly new boots. The picture was nearly complete. As he went into his office the guy turned round and grinned at him. But the smile was on the face. The eyes remained hard and cold and a little frightening.
Over the next few weeks, John saw the boots over and over again. He made sure that he did. He got to know the guy's habits so that he could be in the right place or going in the right direction to see them. The guy never spoke and John was far too shy to start a conversation himself. But the cold hard eyes looked right into him as their eyes met.
John expected this infatuation to pass. He was too honest not to recognise his desire for what it was. It was infatuation over a pair of boots, and over a guy in a pair of boots, neither of which he could ever have. It had happened many times before and usually followed a pattern of slowly waning desire. John was comfortable that it should be so. Sometimes his attention would pass to another pair of boots. Perhaps a guy in cowboy boots or perhaps a glimpse of a dispatch rider in black leather with buckled biker boots up to his knees. Then the old infatuation would be largely forgotten, and replaced by a new one. If the infatuation lasted, John might seek out a pair of the boots for himself. He would buy them and wear them and use them, and somehow that always dimmed the desire. But not in this case. He tried all the shops he knew, but never saw a pair of engineer boots that exactly matched the ones he longed for. And though he saw other boots walking around, the thick-soled shiny engineers still held his attention. So the weeks went by. John was not unhappy. He was surprised that he was still fascinated by these boots. But they gave him pleasure. So he was not unhappy.
One day John went to collect a document from the printer. The booted guy was there opening a new box of paper. He was crouched down and the bend of his knees had made his trousers ride up and meant that John could see more of the boots than he ever had before. He could see all of the strap over the instep and all of the ankle. He could see all of the heel. He could make out the metal reinforcements around the ankle and the imprint of the makers' name. The tingle spread quickly over his body. The guy looked up and smiled. It was a kindly smile. John recognised it as the sort of smile that someone gives a dog or a child. It was a smile that you give to something or someone that is precious to you, but to something or someone that you know you are superior to. It was the right sort of smile for him to give John. The guy spoke. Just 10 words, and then he got up and walked away down the corridor with John following every footstep until he turned the corner and was out of sight. He said "I am going for a drink after work. Be there."
John knew that he should not go. If he were ever challenged as to why he did not go he could say he did not know which bar had been meant. But he did know. It would be the bar in the shops below the office. John knew that if he went it could well cause problems and terrible embarrassment at work. When you have a secret like John, it is always foolish to let anyone at work get close to the real you. John knew that he should not go. But he also knew that he would go. He knew that he had to go.
At a little after five John walked into the bar. The guy was sitting, with his back to the door, at a table against the far wall. There was a beer in front of him and another in front of the seat opposite. He had also known that John would go. John sat down. As he sat down the guy said "Don't say anything. I will talk. I collect people and I have decided to collect you. You are my property and the fact you are here means that you know it." The guy looked deep into his eyes and John realised that he spoke the truth. He did know it. "I enjoy collecting people, and then I enjoy making them do things and doing things to them they would not choose to do or have done to them. And then I make them enjoy what I make them do and what I do to them. Since I first saw you I have been observing you and deciding whether I really wanted to collect you. When I had decided that I did, I had to make my plans for you. I have great plans for you and when I have finished you will not recognise yourself. But you will eventually come to like it. I am very good at what I do. I am the best."
He stopped talking and John wondered whether he was expected to say something. He took a breath to speak but the guy held up a hand to stop him. Still keeping John's eyes locked in his, he said "I will answer the two questions that are in your mind. Firstly, no I will not tell you what my plans are. You will find out when I am ready. Secondly you want to know whether it will involve sex. My answer is the same as to the first question. It is a matter for me." John began to speak. He only got out one word -- but'. The guy stopped him. "Do not begin sentences with the word but'. It implies that you are going to argue with my decisions. You are my property now. You must understand that. You must also understand that this is not some scene when you call me `master' and I beat you when you pretend to misbehave. This is real. I may hurt you, but I will hurt you because I want to, not as part of an act. You will accept what I say and do as I tell you because you have no choice. Now first thing this morning I put a card on the notice board advertising a room for rent in my house. You will move in on Saturday."
Almost because he had been told not to, John wanted to start the next sentence with but'. He resisted. Instead he said "You did that this morning? We had never spoken until this afternoon." The only reply the guy gave was "I told you I am very good." John felt confused. He said "What rent do I pay?" As the words came out he realised that it was a stupid question. The guy smiled again. "Money is no longer important to you. You will give me all your salary. I will save part of it and the rest I will keep. I will give you what little money you may need. But as I will choose everything and pay for everything, you need not worry about money." He then laughed out loud. "You probably don't even know what my name is. My name is Brian, which is a name I detest. My close friends call me Skin' for reasons that really do not matter. You will call me Skin. I know your name is John. I will call you Jo. You will not let anyone else address you as `Jo'." Little more was said between them as they drank their beers.
By Saturday Jo had packed all his belongings into cases and boxes and bags and was waiting for Skin to arrive. He came in a small van and helped Jo transport his things to his new home. They arrived at what was a large old house in a street of similar buildings. Skin helped carry the cases and boxes and bags upstairs and took them and Jo into a large bedroom that was brightly decorated with a good selection of modern furniture. The bed was a double bed, but Skin told him that his own room was opposite. When all the bags were upstairs, Skin asked Jo which bags his clothes were in. Jo pointed to two suitcases. Skin opened the first and began taking items out which he put in a black dustbin liner. He did the same with the second case but removed rather more. Jo said "but you have taken all my underwear." Skin said quietly as if explaining to a child "Firstly, I have told you about using but'. Secondly, it is not my underwear'. You do not own anything anymore. In future you will wear my pants and socks. I will wear them one day and you will wear them the next. My sweat and my smells will become part of you." He looked at Jo for a few moments to make sure he had been understood. Then he continued "Jo, are these all your clothes? There are no shoes." Jo had thinned out his vast collection of boots. It was a process he found very painful as he hated parting with boots which all had memories and associations. But he had still brought 20 of his favourite pairs. He had hoped Skin would not notice them. He now realised that this was rather foolish. He would not be allowed to own secrets anymore. He owned nothing.
Jo pointed to the 3 sacks that he had placed behind him against the wall. He flushed as Skin got out pair of boots after pair of boots. There were his very high heeled and pointed cowboy boots with the fancy stitching. There was a similar pair in black with chains around the ankles. There were his Alpenstar motorbike boots with the buckles up the leg. There were his black 20-hole rangers with the steel toe-caps and a matching pair in brown. As Skin slowly removed each pair, he looked at the boots and then at Jo. Then he got out the next pair and the next. From the final bag he got out the three pairs of leather trousers, one with thong ties down the sides, the black leather chaps, the black leather T-shirt and the two black leather biker jackets. When he had finished examining them, Skin put them all back in the bags and put the bags by the door with the other things he obviously intended to take away. Jo knew that it would not be his decision, but he knew he needed boots. He did not want that taken away from him. He said "Am I not going to be allowed to wear the boots again?" He carefully avoided saying `my boots'. Skin looked at the floor as if searching for an answer. "I did not expect this" he said. "But it gives me some more ideas. Part of my ownership of you means that in future I will decide exactly what you wear. I think you already know that. But I do not think even I could break your obvious passion for boots. Whatever I tell you to wear will therefore always include boots. You will never wear anything else. Never. No shoes. No trainers. Always Boots." He closed the door and left Jo alone.
Over the rest of that first day the two got to know each other. Jo found that Skin knew a lot about a lot of subjects and their conversations ranged widely. Jo quickly became very easy in Skin's company. Skin did not mind if Jo argued and disagreed with him as they discussed music or politics or whatever. Skin seemed to enjoy the jousting, particularly as his arguments, always forcibly put, usually won. But Jo knew that there were areas where Skin's decision was final and on those he was careful not to question or to comment unless specifically instructed to do so. He just accepted.
Jo had wondered whether Skin would treat him as some sort of menial labour. But Skin had said that this was not a scene and they did all the chores together. After a surprisingly good meal -- Skin was obviously a good cook -- and a few beers they went to bed at around midnight. Skin wished Jo a good night and they went to their separate rooms. Jo slept soundly.
He was woken around 8 o'clock by Skin, who was fully dressed in jeans and T-shirt. He had never seen his bare arms before and was somehow surprised and then not surprised to see that he had two large tattoos on his forearms. One was a brightly coloured eagle with its claws holding a large snake that curled around his arm. The other was a traditional design of roses and other flowers, with a scroll in the centre with the word Skin' in fancy writing. Both covered his entire forearm. Skin saw that Jo was looking at the tattoos. He said "I had these done when I was 16, and yes having my skin inked was one of the reasons I was nicknamed Skin'. Skin was carrying some clothes, which he put on the bed. He left telling Jo that breakfast would be in half an hour. Jo took a shower, cleaned his teeth and shaved and then went back to his room. He picked up the underpants and looked inside. He could see they had been worn by some tell tale yellow stains around the crotch, but they were not badly soiled. He put them on, followed by the socks and the jeans which, he noticed, were not a pair that he had brought with him. He picked up the white T- shirt and smelled it under the armpits. It had clearly been worn before, but it smelt of Skin's odour and he felt good as he put it on.
The rest of the morning and part of the afternoon was spent doing everyday things. They went shopping to the supermarket. Skin had given Jo a pair of brown square toe harness boots to wear, and had put on a similar pair in black himself. Jo had only bought them a few weeks before when he had got two pairs for the price of one in a sale. So he had chosen one in each colour. He particularly liked the very square toes and the good shaped heels and the thick straps joining at the metal rings at the ankles. He felt very pleased that they were wearing nearly identical boots. To anyone who might look it said that they were together. Jo realised that in Skin's company he worried rather less about what other people might think of him. While they were out he did not try to hide his looks at the boots Skin was wearing. Skin did not say anything but Jo knew that he did not mind. He would have told him not to look if he wanted Jo to act differently. When they stopped at a pub for a drink on the way home from the supermarket, Skin sat with his legs crossed so that Jo got a good view as they chatted. He played with the rings at the ankles and with the heels and caused the tingle to spread from Jo's stomach.
Once they had got home and put the shopping away Skin said "I have something else for you to wear." He went to a drawer and got out a length of metal chain with thick links and a dull shine. He handed it to Jo who found that it was much heavier than he expected. Skin explained that it was special steel that was very strong and difficult to cut with anything but a laser. Jo knew what it was for and was about to put it about his neck when he realised that it had no catch on it. He looked at Skin a little puzzled. Skin told him that it had to be welded together. He left it unsaid that once it was on it was not easily going to come off. It was clearly too short to take off over his head. He followed Skin to the shed in the garden where the chain was fastened around his neck. Skin worked at the back of his head so he was not sure how he fastened it. He could not hear a blowtorch. Maybe he used a laser. But in this, as in so much else, Skin proved to be an expert and the chain never felt more than warm. When it was finished Skin gave him a mirror. He could not see any join. It seemed to be a single piece of chain. Skin said " I like it. It looks good." Jo realised that this was a time when his opinion was not needed, although if he had been asked he would have had to have said that he liked it too. Skin pointed out that each link had a small inscription -- `Property of Skin'.
The next day was Monday and the first work day of the new week. Skin again brought Jo his clothes. The pants and socks were the ones Skin had worn the previous day. They felt good as Jo put them on. The dark blue shirt was clean although the white T-shirt he was to wear underneath was the one Skin had worn the day before. He had chosen a pair of black jeans for Jo to wear. Last week Jo, when he was only John, had always worn formal trousers with a shirt. Skin seemed to have decided that he was to be more casual. Skin himself wore his usual black suit. Jo noticed that he was wearing the (not his') black pointed cowboy boots with the high underslung heels. He had removed the chains around the ankles, which somehow seemed to make them even showier. Perhaps that was just because it was Skin that was wearing them. Jo knew he would never have the courage to wear boots like those to work, even though he had longed to do so. As he had that thought he realised that the correct expression was would never have worn'. Perhaps tomorrow Skin would decide that he would wear them to work. And then he would wear them, as he would have no choice.
Skin went back to his own room and returned holding the black engineer boots that had been the object of his passion. He handed them to Jo saying "I think you had better wear these." Jo looked at them carefully and felt their weight. They were heavy. He saw at once that they had the two straps as the top fastening as he so much liked and had expected. The smile he gave Skin filled his whole face and Skin gave him a small grin in response. He pulled each boot on carefully enjoying the sensation of his foot going down the long shaft and then pulling hard to get his heel and foot over the ankle and to the bottom. He mentally felt his legs. He felt the tops of the boots near his knees and the thick leather all the way up his legs. He flexed his toes and could feel the unyielding steel toe-caps. The boots were a little small for him. His feet felt like prisoners of Skin's boots, as he was a prisoner of Skin. He carefully arranged the legs of his jeans over the boots and stood up and took a few steps. He liked the feeling of weight on his feet. As always happened when he tried on new boots, he got a massive erection. More than once this had caused him embarrassment in shops, although it had never stopped him going back. Skin saw the outline of his solid cock through the jeans. He came over and felt the swelling through the material. It was the first sexual contact of any kind that they had had. He said "You will have to wait until tonight to relieve that. You are not to touch it today. In future you may only touch your cock for pissing and when I tell you."
They left for work. Jo was quite certain that everyone would notice the boots he was wearing. Some people commented favourably on his more casual clothes. Some people always have to give you their opinion even though you might not want it. When everyone from his group was gathered at the coffee point to get another cup, someone pointed to Jo's feet and said loudly that he was wearing Brain's boots. The confusion in the name perhaps saved him from blushing too deeply. A woman said, as if in explanation, that all men were untidy so it was not surprising that Jo could not find his own things. People seemed to accept that meaningless comment as great wisdom and nothing more was said then or in the future about him wearing clothes that Skin had been seen wearing.
Jo did not get much work done that day as he spent so much time concentrating on the boots he was wearing. He could not take his mind off his desire to jack off. But he had been told he could not. A couple of times that day he saw Skin in the corridor wearing the black pointed cowboy boots. The high heels caused him no problem and the way in which he walked in those boots was quite awesome. Like everything else Skin wore, the boots became a natural part of him. It was just another facet of the arrogance that Skin always displayed and that had rather frightened Jo when he first saw him. Now he felt pleased that such a man had decided to own him.
When they got home Skin told Jo to go upstairs and take off all his clothes except his boots and to wait for him. When he arrived about 5 minutes later Jo was standing booted in front of the mirror with a half erect penis. The thought of being watched doing something so intimate made him nervous. Skin closed the door and leant against it. Jo noticed that Skin had removed his boots. There was only one pair to which he was to give his attention. Skin simply said "Go on." Jo took some long slow strokes of his cock. The reflected beauty of the boots in the full-length mirror and the feel of them from the inside soon bought his cock to full attention. Skin interrupted his thoughts and told him to take his time. He realised that he had started to rush the process to try to get it over with as quickly as possible. Even in his excitement he still felt rather embarrassed. No one had ever seen this very private act before. With other men he had had sex with, even boot sex, it had been a mutual thing, not a spectator sport. He slowed down and massaged the full length of his cock slowly. He started pulling at his balls and felt the seed rising in him. His body went rigid with his toes pushed up hard against the steel toe-caps. In 5 long thrusts he shot spunk over the mirror which started to run down to the floor. He let some spunk drip from his cock onto each boot. They had been christened.
Before his breathing had come back to normal Skin had told him to clean up and had left to go down stairs to prepare their meal. Jo did not know what Skin had thought about what he had watched. He could see no obvious sign in his trousers of excitement. For a moment he even wondered if he had been disgusted at watching a man getting such intense pleasure from a pair of boots. In any event Jo had been told that he could only jack off when Skin let him, and he felt sure that he would never again be allowed to do it alone.
The next day and the one following Skin gave Jo the engineer boots to wear to work and each night he was told to relieve himself while Skin watched. Jo had always liked to feel the boots over his body and around his genitals as well as on his feet. So on the third day when Skin came into the room to watch Jo jack off, he found him with one boot gripped tightly between his thighs with the heel pointing forwards and his balls resting on the sole just in front of the heel. Jo liked to have a boot in that position. He liked the feel as his balls hit against the heel as he stroked his cock. The other boot he held in his left hand. As he slowly jacked off he alternately looked at the boot, tasted its leather and its soles and rubbed it over his chest and face. When he felt himself going rigid, he held the boot in front of him so that the spunk fell on the deeply patterned thick soles. He no longer felt any shame about Skin seeing his enjoyment of the boots. Skin had a right to know everything, and anything he did not like he would change. He left the spunk on the sole of the boot to dry.
Later that evening while they were watching television, Jo got up. Skin asked him where he was going. "I need a piss. I won't be long" he replied. Skin got up and followed him upstairs and into the large bathroom and stood behind him. He caught hold of Jo's right arm as he went to undo his jeans and snapped a handcuff around the wrist. He pulled the other arm to join it so that Jo's hands were locked behind his back. Skin then undid Jo's jeans and pulled them and his underpants to his knees. He took hold of Jo's cock and pointing it at the bowl said "Go on then piss." Skin did not seem surprised that Jo could not get started, or that the cock was stiffening between his fingers. "Come on I thought you wanted to piss" he said mockingly. Eventually Jo began to piss although he had to strain and he found it painful. When he finished, Skin carefully shock any excess off his cock, pulled up his pants and trousers and did them up. It came as no surprise to Jo when Skin said "That is how it will be from now on. When we are here alone you may only go to the toilet when I let you. When we come in here you will stand before the bowl with your hands behind your back and I will handcuff them. If you need to go in the night you will knock on my door and wait for me in the bathroom." Over the next couple of days Jo got used to the ritual and even looked forward to having his most private part held by Skin. It was a little harder for him to bend over while Skin wiped his bottom and then washed it clean in the bidet. But he even accepted that and grew to like it too.
He realised now that Skin truly did have a plan and that little by little he would make the changes that Jo would never have made himself. As he settled to sleep that night he felt sure that he would like the result of Skin's plans.
The next change came the following Saturday and took Jo completely by surprise. While Skin kept his dark hair very very short, Jo wore his dark blond hair fairly long. It made him look unthreatening and the sort of guy any mother would be happy to see their daughter with. In short it made him unnoticeable among so many similar guys. That day Skin took Jo to the hairdressers and sat in the chair to have the long half-inch strands cut back to a quarter of an inch. Jo was not surprised that Skin had said nothing about going to the hairdressers before they left home. He rarely told him where they were going. Such decisions were his. Skin obviously knew the barber well as they chatted about old times. Jo gathered they had been to school together and the barber was the first person he had heard call him `Skin'. As the protective cape was removed from around his shoulders, Skin got up, and indicated that it was Jo's turn. As he sat down he felt a dread about what was about to happen. Yet inside he knew such choices were no longer his to make. The hairdresser continued talking to Skin as the electric clippers cut away all the dark blond hair. Jo shut his eyes not wanting to watch what was happening. When he opened them another face looked back at him. His hair was now as short as Skins and he did not like what he saw. He said nothing as they left. As they walked back to the house Skin, who could not have failed to notice that Jo was not happy said "The fact you don't like it does not matter. It is what I want. Get used to it."
They walked home in silence, although slowly Jo realised that there was nothing to be gained by being upset. Before he moved in with Skin he had convinced himself that he could always leave if things worked out badly. But in reality it had become too late to draw back as soon as he decided to go for that first drink. He lived in Skin's home. He worked in the same firm as Skin. Skin controlled his money. But even without all those trivial things, Skin had controlled him from the very first day he had seen him. The haircut was just another strand that bound them closer.
Jo went up to his room to brush away the few long hairs that had escaped onto his clothes. As he looked at himself in the mirror, still not liking what he saw, Skin walked in carrying a brown paper carrier bag. He said brightly "I have a present for you that may cheer you up. Or it may not. But that really doesn't matter, it will make me happy." With that he laughed loudly although his eyes remained cold. Jo opened the bag and took out a pair of white jeans. It was obvious that he was expected to put them on and so he took off his blue jeans and started to pull them on. Jo wondered whether he would be able to get them on, as they were so tight. When he pulled them up he realised they were cut very short. He looked at Skin and when he saw that Skin was now holding the black 20-hole rangers that he had brought to the house with him, but now threaded with white laces, his mouth dropped. He now realised the full extent of the next part of Skins plan. He was going to be a skinhead. Jo did up the jeans and took the boots. The boots certainly cheered him up. The tingle in his stomach told him that. He had not seen them since Skin had taken them away. They had always been a favourite pair, which is why he chose to bring them with him. When he lived alone, he loved to lace them up tightly and wearing nothing else, he would slowly enjoy the look and feel of the boots on his feet. He again enjoyed the sensation of pulling them on and then carefully lacing them up making a perfect ladder of the white laces and making sure that the two sides of the boot met evenly. He carefully rolled up the legs of the new jeans so that they covered the boots only down to the second pair of holes. He put on the red Fred Perry polo shirt that Skin held out. Then he stood up and looked at the image in the mirror. What he saw was an image he had often dreamt about. A big booted skinhead that he found so attractive. But this was not a dream, the person was him, and yet it looked like someone else. Not for the first or last time, he was not sure what to think.
He hoped that they would stay at home. Jo could not go out looking like this. People would laugh at him. But Skin made it clear that they were going out, and so they did. Jo felt so self-conscious that it crossed his mind that perhaps Skin wanted to humiliate him. Perhaps that was what he had meant when he said he might hurt him. Surely he could not want to show him off.
The haircut, the skin-tight trousers and most of all the boots made Jo feel very strange as he walked at Skins side down the street. The reactions he got from people in the street, from neighbours and people who knew him, was very different from any he had got before. Some people, mainly women, seemed to shy away from him. He understood why. He had always found the big boots fully visible beneath the turned up skin- tight trousers very threatening when worn by others. Now he was the one who was seen as the threat. Other people looked at him with some curiosity and some even with admiration. Three skinheads on the other side of the road greeted him with an 'Oi Mate'. He had their approval. He must look the part. By the time they got to the pub Jo felt really good about the transformation in the way he looked. He had even tried to copy the swagger that he had seen that skinheads adopt when wearing thick-soled ranger boots, which they always managed to wear as if they were part of their body. As they sat down, Skin said "You look a bit happier. You should do, you look great."
The next day, Sunday, Skin told Jo to wear the full skinhead gear again. When he was dressed Jo was surprised to find that Skin was also dressed in a similar fashion. With his tattoos he looked absolutely perfect. But then Skin always did. The sight of Skin in brown 20-hole rangers made his breathing and his heart race and his whole body tingle. Once again Skin made it easy for Jo to admire his boots. At one point, as they sat enjoying a beer, Skin placed his boot on Jo's chair between his legs. As they walked home Jo glanced often at the booted feet which only helped to make the tightness of his trousers more obvious. He now thought he understood another reason for the nickname `Brian' had chosen.
Normally Jo slept soundly through the night, waking up at most once to answer the call of nature. Even though he then had to wait for Skin to handcuff him and hold his penis while he pissed, he was always able to go straight back to sleep. This night was different. He woke up at about 5 o'clock with the picture of Skin in full skinhead gear clearly in his mind. He explored the image in his mind. His cock was throbbing it was so hard. Even though he knew he must not, he started to play with it very gently. And he found he could not stop, it was so pleasant. Even so he had no intention of going to climax. But after more than an hour of slow and delicate touches of his cock with his fingers and exploring those booted feet with his mind, he knew he had gone too far. It only took the slightest of touches on his now ultra sensitive cock for his body to arch. He managed to catch the spunk in a handkerchief, so that there was no trace on the bedclothes.
But if the bed would not give away his secret, his face clearly did. Skin looked with those hard eyes at him over the breakfast table. He simply said "Tell me." Jo told him what had happened. He tried to explain why, but Skin cut him short. "You did it, even though you knew you must not." Jo could only nod. He said "Perhaps you could handcuff me at night..." The look from Skin made him trail off. Skin sighed as if at a loss of how to explain something so very simple to one who was so very stupid. Eventually he said very sharply "In the first place it would hardly stop you rubbing yourself against the bed. But more importantly I make such decisions. You don't." He then sighed again and said more gently "I know you know that you must only do as I say. But that is not enough. Pleasing me has to be the very essence of your being." Skin said nothing more on the subject. That made it so much harder. Jo thought it would have been easier if this were just some scene where he would simply have been whipped for disobeying. The pleasure he had had while lying in bed was not worth the terrible pain he now felt. It was worse than any whipping could ever have been.
At work everyone commented on Jo's hair. He had thought hard how to explain it. He had decided to say that he had lost a bet with a friend about a football match and the loser had to have his head shaved. Everyone seemed to accept this, although no one seemed quite convinced when he said that he actually rather liked it. They assumed he was trying to make the best of being a loser. By lunchtime the question had been asked and the answer given over and over again and the question of his hair ceased to be a topic worthy of discussion. Jo was surprised at how easy it had been. He had never found any courage within himself. He still did not have any. But Skin made the decisions and that was all the courage that was needed.
At home that evening Skin said nothing more about their breakfast discussion. That seemed to be another dead topic. Jo tried especially hard to show that he really was trying not to make any mistakes. Occasionally in the last weeks he would still begin a sentence with but' or talk about my', and Skin always noticed, although by now a look was enough for Jo to know his mistake. He felt better in himself that he got through the evening without once being pulled up by Skin.
As he was about to get into bed, Skin came in. He was still fully dressed. Jo noticed the smell at the same time as he caught site of the thing Skin was carrying. In his hands he was carrying a pair of trousers in thick matt rubber. Unlike normal trousers, they had `feet' so that when he wore them (and he knew that he was to wear them) they would cover the lower half of his body. He noticed that at the front there was a thick rubber tube where clearly his cock was meant to go. He rightly guessed that it contained a metal tube that would prevent his hand from getting any contact with his cock. He took the garment, which Skin had already dusted with powder. At first, it was difficult to get on, as the rubber was particularly thick and proved to be very tight. But once he had got his feet and legs in, and arranged his cock so that it lay on the base of the initially cold metal tube, the rest slipped on easily.
Skin stood there looking at him. As Jo wondered why he was looking, he realised that he was getting an erection. While his cock had been soft, the contact with the metal tube had only been where it rested. As his erection grew he felt it crawling down the length of the tube. And then the pain hit him. On any other part of his body, pain would probably have been the wrong word. Irritation would have been more appropriate. But on his delicate cock head he could feel what seemed like thousands of needles sticking in him. The sheer look of surprise on Jo's face told Skin what only Jo could actually feel. "Inside the end of the tube is stuck a strip of the rough side of Velcro's fastening. It will not damage you, but you will find it extremely uncomfortable. You will find it better not to have an erection. Unless of course I tell you to. Sleep well." As he left Jo said "What happens if I want to go to the toilet?" Skin looked back into the room with a broad grin. "That is the double beauty of these pants. You will not need to disturb me again. If you want to piss just piss." As Skin closed the door Jo realised what that meant. If he pissed it would just stay inside the pants and soak him. In the three weeks that he was made to wear the pants, he only pissed himself once. That was quite enough to realise that an aching bladder was less uncomfortable. But in those three weeks he could never train himself not to wake up with a massive erection. The only cure for that was to put up with the pain until it subsided.
The next day when he looked at himself in the mirror, he recognised something in the face that looked back at him. While it was not John - he would never look back at him again -- the person was vaguely familiar. He wondered what the next part of Skin's plan would be. He did not have to wait long.
The following Saturday, both dressed as skinheads, they walked for about a mile to a rather run down looking house. Skin knocked on the door, which was answered by a man probably in his 50's with long greasy hair in a ponytail and a mass of tattoos. He welcomed Skin as an old friend and they went in. After Skin and the man, whom he introduced as Dave, finished chatting Skin turned to Jo and said "Over the next few weeks you will be coming here a lot. Dave is an expert piercer and I have decided I want you pierced. Dave knows what he has to do, but do not ask him about his instructions. He will not tell you. When you come here you will take all your clothes off and lie on the couch. You will not resist anything Dave does." With that Skin said goodbye to Dave and left. Jo just stood there, unsure what to do. Eventually Dave, who outwardly looked rather ferocious but was obviously a gentle man, told him to take his clothes off and lie down. He chatted to him trying to reassure him, as Jo was clearly frightened. Piercing was not something he had ever thought of having done. The thought of having needles pushed through him and wearing metal rings made him shiver. Dave said that the actual piercings would not hurt much although they would be very sore afterwards. He said that if ever the rings were removed from the holes would all heal completely so there really was no need to worry. But then he added that Skin had told him to stick the balls to the rings that they closed so that they could not be easily removed. He told Jo that today he would only be doing both nipples. Jo was not sure whether Dave was breaking his instructions not to tell Jo what was to happen. But then he realised that only he belonged to Skin. Dave did not. Within half an hour Jo had a fairly fat ring through each nipple. Jo was relieved that there had been very little pain.
When he got home, Skin examined the new piercings and looked pleased. Strangely that made Jo feel very happy. That evening Skin instructed Jo to come and sit at his feet while they watched television. Jo was eager to oblige as Skin, certainly deliberately, had not removed the 20-hole ranger boots he had worn that day. He snaked one boot around Jo and pressed it into his crotch. It felt good. At the same time he put his hand down the front of Jo's shirt and started pulling and twisting the new ring that had been put through his right nipple. Automatically Jo brought up his hand to stop him. The pain was so great. Jo was surprised that Skin let go of the ring and removed his hand and, unfortunately, also his boot. But Jo quickly found out why. Skin had unclipped the handcuffs that he sometimes now kept on his belt. Jo did not resist as his hands were fastened behind his back. As Skin replaced his boot and his hand went back down the front of Jo's shirt Skin said in a very quiet voice "Do not resist and do not cry out." Jo did not cry out, although he found it impossible to keep completely still. But Skins grip never relented as he pulled and twisted the rings. First the right nipple and then the left. Very soon Jo could see spots of blood on his shirt. Looking back Jo could not be sure when instead of each pull and twist being anticipated with dread at the pain, he began to wait for it in anticipation of the pleasurable feeling that went in waves through his body. He gripped the boot between his legs hard so that he could push and rub his rock hard penis against it. The first minutes of agony were followed by several minutes of sheer pleasure of an intensity he had not known before. Eventually he came in his pants. He looked up at Skin who had removed his hand. Neither said anything, as there was really nothing to say.
After a few minutes Jo felt that he had recovered enough and ought to clean up. He asked Skin if he would undo the handcuffs. Skin said "No, not yet." Skin got up and told Jo to kneel in front of him. As he watched, Skin undid his trousers and took down his jeans and underpants. Although they had now lived together for several weeks, Jo had only seen Skin dressed. Jo was mesmerised by the sight that greeted him. It was not simply the size of Skin's cock, although it was longer and fatter than most he had seen before. It was the tattoo of a long snake that came up from his left leg and curled around his crotch until it went down the entire shaft of his cock ending at the head. And through the end of his cock, as if through the snake's mouth, was a large fat ring. Skin let Jo admire the view for a few more seconds before instructing him to open his mouth. He need not have said that, as Jo's mouth was wide open in admiration of the sight before him. As Skin pushed his cock into Jo's mouth he began pissing. He told Jo to swallow it. If he had had time to think, Jo might have gagged at the thought. But he did not really have time to think, so he just drank all the warm liquid that went into his mouth. When the flow stopped, Jo carefully licked the end, enjoying the feel of the ring with his tongue. Skin then removed the snake from his mouth.
Skin took Jo up to the bathroom where he removed the handcuffs long enough for Jo to strip naked. He then replaced them and stripped himself. They got into the shower together. It was the first time they had ever been naked together. Skin carefully washed Jo in the stream of hot water before washing himself. It was strange but after the previous changes Skin had made to Jo's life or to their relationship he had always told him that that was how it would be in future. This time he said nothing, although Jo knew with absolute certainty that from now on he would have to drink Skin's piss and that from now on they would shower together. But while Jo could not avoid getting an erection, Skin did not get one. And they continued to sleep in separate rooms.
Over the next weeks Dave continued his piercings. In what seemed rapid succession he gained a ladder of eight rings across the centre of his ball sac -- four one week and four the next. The line was continued with eight more rings piercing the length of his cock. It was after these were inserted that Jo stopped having to wear the rubber trousers at night. Much as he had hated the smell and feel of the rubber at first, he had begun to enjoy wearing them and he was disappointed when Skin did not bring them to him. His genitals took time to recover from the piercings, and with rings all the way down his cock, he had to learn different sensations when Skin instructed him to jack off.
As each ring went in he anticipated the pain and then the pleasure that Skin would generate with the new wounds. The next week he was given a large Prince Albert ring like the one in the snake's mouth. He liked that one best of all as it was exactly the same as the one Skin had. He began to long for Saturday to come.
When he arrived on his next visit, Dave told him not to bother to strip and to sit in the chair. Jo refused. He had been given his orders and he stripped. But he agreed to sit in the chair when Dave told him that the next ring was to be through his nose. That proved to be the most painful piercing so far, and he was glad when it was done. But Dave had not quite finished. He told him to stick his tongue out which he grabbed with a pair of forceps. He did not let go until a stud was inserted through his tongue. His tongue quickly swelled up and it was difficult to talk. He left Dave only aware of the pain and the seemingly huge piece of metal in his mouth. Dave's final comment was "Same time next week." Jo wondered what was left to pierce. Although he was in great pain, part of him hoped there was more to come.
When he got home, Skin was not there. He returned an hour or so later. He immediately came over to Jo and gave him a hard kiss forcing his tongue into Jo's mouth. It was their first kiss, and even though it was painful Jo was in no hurry for it to end. Skin examined the two new piercings and looked well satisfied.
Jo had never before questioned Skin about his plans but for some reason he decided to now, even though he doubted that Skin would answer. "I am to be tattooed next aren't I?" Skin looked at him for a moment before quietly saying "Yes. Would you like to see what I have planned?" Skin did not wait for an answer but went and started up the computer in the corner. It soon displayed the image of a naked body that rotated slowly. Although the body had a picture of Jo's head attached to it, it clearly was not his body. At the touch of a button the first image of a tattoo appeared on the model. It was around the crotch area. It was a snake like Skins, but there was no tail starting on his leg. Instead the snake came out of his backside snaking around his left side and belly until just the tongue was on his dick.
Skin pressed the button again, and the figure seemed to wearing boots half way up the calves, but they were not really boots. They were there to indicate that above the bootline Jo was to have a lion's head on his left leg, and a leaping panther on his right. At the third push of the button Jo saw no change as the model was sideways on and he was looking at the left side. As the figure rotated he saw that the right arm was completely covered in coloured images. The design went from the hand completely covering the arm and right shoulder and ended well up the neck. "That is all I have planned for now, but I may want more later." As if he knew exactly what was in Jo's mind, Skin said "I know having a tattoo on your hand and on your neck will make life difficult at work, but it is what I want." Jo could only think to say that it was what he wanted too. But he said nothing. The decision was not his and his opinion did not matter.
Dave tattooed Jo's legs, and created the snake over the next three weeks of what were often long sessions. Jo found the process more painful than being pierced, but as with all the pain Skin had inflicted on him, he began to like it and then to look forward to it. Dave started on Jo's arm at the elbow. As it was a complex design it was going to be slow work. Skin came to all the tattooing sessions, and watched the designs steadily grow.
All the time the question of work worried Jo. He did not say anything to Skin as he knew that the decision had been made. But he did not know how he would cope. Perhaps he should just quit before the tattoo was obvious to all.
One day at work everyone in the firm got together to celebrate the owners birthday. Skin started talking about tattoos and how everyone was having them done and how good they looked. He said that he was trying to persuade Jo to have one but that he was far too much of a coward. Jo could not be sure whether Skin had somehow set them up, but some of the younger guys started making fun of him and telling him not to be a chicken. "It does not hurt" they kept repeating. If only Jo could tell them what the pain really felt like to him. Three guys rolled up their sleeves to reveal tattoos, much to many people's surprise. Jo knew that Skin was trying to find a way out of the problem, which he knew loomed large in Jo's mind. Jo therefore took his cue and said that if ever he had one, he would want it to be a real statement -- something big and impressive.
From then on it became quite easy. Over the next few days he told people that he had decided that he would have a tattoo done. Then he told them that he had found a tattooist who was designing something really special. As the work progressed he began to show his colleagues the gradual inking of his arm starting from the elbow. Everyone seemed interested, although some people he was sure took an interest only so that they could be shocked or disgusted. When the tattoo eventually moved onto his hand and above his collar there were loud arguments about whether it looked good or bad, or whether it should be bigger or smaller or whether he needed the other hand and the other side of his neck tattooed to keep it in balance. But nobody complained and he was not sacked. Skin had worked his magic once again.
It was now six months since he had first seen the boots and first seen Skin and 4 months since they had lived together. Yet in that time, although they showered together, although Skin handled his cock when he needed to piss, and although Jo had Skin's cock in his mouth every day to drink his piss, they had never had sex. Indeed thinking back, Jo had never seen Skin's cock hard. He began to wonder whether there was something wrong with Skin. Or whether he himself was just the disappointment he had always felt he was.
The tattoos had now healed and as he looked at himself in the mirror he was pleased with the person who looked back. He liked him. He looked at the steel collar around his neck. He looked and fingered each of the rings that pierced his body. He looked at the tattoos that covered such a large part of his body with such beautiful designs. They were all as close to perfection as he could imagine. Big and bold but not too much. As he got dressed in the black jeans and yellow shirt together with Skins used underpants, socks and T-shirt he realised that it was his birthday. He was not sure whether he had ever told Skin. When he got into the kitchen Skin was holding a brightly coloured package. He said "You can only have this if you can guess what it contains." Jo took the box, which was about 18 inches square and 8 inches deep. He felt the weight and shook it. The feel and the weight and the sound told him that it was a shoebox. He said out loud "This has got to be a shoebox, and as I am only allowed to wear boots, it must contain boots." Skin nodded. Jo wondered what boots could be in such a small box, but took Skin's nod as permission to open the present. In the past months Jo and Skin had talked extensively about boots. After all it was Jo's favourite subject. Although he did not remember saying it, he must have told Skin of his childhood passion for cuban-heeled elastic sided boots. He had not seen a pair of them for years. He doubted that they were still made. But there in front of him was a pair with massive cuban heels and needle pointed toes. He got one out lovingly and looked at the black shiny leather and the gusseted elastic sides. He looked at the leather loop at the back that you could use to pull them on. Or on which you could hitch your trousers so that everyone could enjoy the gorgeous sight. He pulled them on without using the loop and stood high on the heels looking down at the sharp pointed toes. He told Skin that it was the best present he had ever had. And he truly meant it. For the first time, Skin seemed embarrassed and told him to hurry up or they would be late for work.
Jo saw the boots at the end of the long corridor 50 metres away. In the last 6 months he had lost none of his skill in identifying boots at almost any distance. Even if he had not known it was Skin he would have recognised the boots as engineer boots, although slightly different, with thicker soles and higher heels than most he had ever seen. As the boots came towards him, he looked into the hard dark eyes, but did not look away. Perhaps he should have as the eyes had an aggression he had not seen since the first day. Skin stopped him and said "I am going for a drink after work. Be there", before he walked off again. Jo knew what this meant. Skin had collected him. As he had promised he had changed him, and also as he had promised he had made him love the changes. But now it was over and Skin would find another person to collect. Jo felt empty.
The rest of the day went miserably. Even the joy he had felt for the new boots disappeared. At a little after five Jo walked into the bar. Skin was sitting at the same table against the far wall. There was a beer in front of him and another in front of the seat opposite. They had both known that Jo would obey his instruction to go. Jo sat down. Unusually Jo spoke first. "It's over isn't it?" He did not wait for an answer but continued "I knew it would have to end and I knew you would only give me what you wanted to give me but I had hoped for more, you know, for sex." Skin looked deep into his eyes. "Yes, I have completed what I promised you when we first talked here. I have turned you into the person I wanted. But you seem to have forgotten the inscription on every link of the chain around your neck. It says `Property of Skin'. Both it and you belong to me, and I am not parting with either. I thought we would meet here so that I could tell you that the first part is over. But I still have plans, and no I will not tell you what those plans are. You know the rules." He stopped and looked at Jo. "Have you ever fucked anyone or been fucked?" The question took Jo by surprise but with Skin, he could only answer truthfully. "No, neither. There were some guys I would have liked to fuck but it never happened. And no one ever asked to fuck me." Skin smiled "As far as you fucking someone else is concerned, you can't. The rings along your shaft are there to make that impossible. And I am not going to ask to fuck you either." The disappointment showed immediately on Jo's face. Skin continued "I don't have to ask. Your arse and every other bit of you belongs to me. I intend to fuck you tonight. You know I have big cock and you have a tight arse, so it will be very painful. I am glad that I will be the first and the only one to fuck you and I am glad that it will cause you great pain. I like hurting you. I intend to fuck you very often, but the first one will be the most painful and you will always remember it."
They finished their beers and went home in silence. Rather than going upstairs, Skin made Jo strip naked in the entrance hall. He then put a leather hood over his head that left him blind. He led him down some stairs. Jo did not hesitate or stumble even though he had never been into the cellar. Indeed he had not really known that it was there. He trusted Skin to look after him. He knew he was going through a doorway. And there Skin left him. Although his hands were free he knew that he could not remove the hood. Skin returned a few minutes later. He stood behind him and removed the hood. They were in a room with black walls. In front there was a leather covered bench with leather covered leg stirrups similar to the ones used to examine women. Skin pushed him forward and Jo realised that he should get on the bench. He turned round. Skin was naked as well except that he was wearing a pair of engineer boots. They had thick soles and big heels. He could see the straps and buckles over the instep and he imagined he could see the metal toe-caps. They were just like the boots he had seen in the corridor so long ago. But they were somehow different. These did not stop at the calf or at the knee. Rather they encased his legs completely up to the crotch. He could see the two straps and buckles at the top of each boot. And it was from a boot that a snake climbed across his belly and along his dick.
Skin strapped Jo down by his arms and legs, although both knew that Jo would not resist. Skin's cock was truly solid and the snake seemed to be throbbing. He applied some greasy lubricant to it. Jo could see a drip of it on the ring. He put some lubricant on Jo's arse but did not push his fingers up inside. The snake moved towards him and then he felt it at the opening. Skin said quietly "Do not resist and do not cry out." Jo had no intention of resisting -- he had waited too long for this. Though his body told him that the pain was great as Skin entered him, his mind told him that it was ecstasy. Skin applied a relentless pressure until he was fully inside him. Jo could now feel the leather boots against his arse. Slowly at first and then with more power and speed Skin fucked Jo. With each thrust the boots slapped against his cheeks. Several times Jo thought that Skin was about to come. But each time Skin stopped and held back. Jo felt a surge rising in him as once again Skin moved in and out and as the boots beat against him. He went faster and faster and at the same point as Skin came within Jo, Jo released his load on to the snake on his belly. They looked into each other's eyes. Skin left his cock in Jo. Jo realised how much he truly loved Skin. Giving Skin pleasure was the ultimate joy in his life, which was why the pain of that first fuck was ecstasy. It was what Skin wanted. He would remember it forever.
When Skin's erection had subsided, he withdrew his cock, but he did not untie Jo. Skin went to the corner and came back with an iron rod that had an electric flex attached to it. Jo could not make out what it was. Skin said for the second time that evening "Do not resist and do not cry out." The iron rod then moved out of his vision. He felt it on his right buttock. It must have been white hot. There was some sizzling and an awful stench of burning flesh and then it was gone. Jo did not resist or call out. Skin put down the rod and poured cold water onto the burnt area. Jo watched every step of the boots as Skin walked across the room. He came back with a mirror. On his right buttock Jo could see etched deeply into his flesh the backward letters that said `Property of Skin'. " Just so you don't forget" Skin said. "I won't" Jo replied. That night, after Skin had carefully washed the handcuffed Jo, they got into the same bed together.
Although Jo was very sore, Skin fucked him every night and sometimes again in the morning. Skin obviously took pleasure in having Jo immobile, so he was always carefully strapped down on the bench or handcuffed to the bed before Skin forced an entry into him. Skin knew what level of pain he wanted to inflict and as the soreness lessened he became rougher and used less and less lubricant. Jo relished every moment.
A week or so later Skin brought a large rubber butt plug into the shower with him. Jo was handcuffed, as Skin washed him. Skin did not ask Jo to bend over, as Jo had expected. He stood in front of him, holding him completely still with his eyes, put his arms around Jo's body and slowly forced the large piece of rubber up his crack. It felt good as his hole was stretched as the plug got progressively thicker until his hole closed around the thin neck. Jo gripped it with his cheeks and liked the sensation. Jo knew that it would stay there until Skin chose to remove it. Jo wondered what it would feel like to sit on. When he tried to sit down to breakfast, Skin would not let him. He was told to stand to eat and to put his boots on. He would only find out what it was like when he sat down at his desk with all his colleagues around him. Jo had learnt that Skin considered every little detail so as to get the maximum out of every situation. Skin had chosen the high heeled and very pointed black cowboy boots for Jo. It was the first time he had been given them to wear to work. As he walked he realised that the height of the heels naturally made him clench his buttocks more and so grip the plug even harder.
When they got to work Skin went with Jo to his office. He announced "Look at the boots I have got him in today." Everyone looked at Jo's feet, and Skin told Jo to sit down and put his feet on the desk so that everyone could see. Skin pushed him toward the seat and Jo sat down rather heavily. Their eyes met as Jo found out what it was like to sit on the plug. More beautiful excruciating pleasure. Jo could see in Skin's eyes that he was pleased. Jo rolled around in the seat to maximise the sensations. He put his booted feet on the desk and people admired what they saw. One questioned, as someone always does when they see cowboy boots "where are your spurs?" Skin said "I will get him some" and Jo knew that he meant it and that before long he would have to wear the boots with spurs to the office. Skin was helping Jo fulfil another booted ambition. He savoured the thought, and his stomach tingled.
Jo did not wear a plug every day. Skin seemed to know when the memory of the plug had faded enough so that having one again became a new sensation. The plugs got bigger and sometimes changed shape as Jo's hole became more elastic.
The true nature of their relationship became public knowledge a few days later. A new guy had joined the firm who it quickly became obvious knew Skin. Just before lunch Jo heard Skin arguing with the guy in the corridor. He heard the guy shout "You never made me have tattoos and you made me remove all those piercing rings you made me have before you dumped me. I want you to own me again." Skin answered at an equal volume "I am fucking Jo now. Leave us both alone." Everyone must have heard. Jo flushed as the rest of the office looked at him, while pretending they weren't. For a moment he felt like John again.
As often happens in such situations people around Jo tried to pretend that they had heard nothing and volubly asked each other questions about work or about anything else to cover their embarrassment. But things moved in a surprising direction. It became clear to Jo that people were taking sides against the intruder. He was trying to break up two people that were their friends and they did not like it. After all it might happen to them. Someone might try to steal their partner. The new guy only lasted another couple of days before the obvious hostility drove him out. Jo knew everything would be all right when one of the girls said "Did he really make you have piercings?" Jo replied that he been made to have many of them and highlighted the one in his right nipple through the material of his shirt. She gave a shudder as she lightly touched it. Then they both laughed and the office joined in. Skin and Jo were officially a couple. And from then on everyone treated them as such. His public transformation was complete.
But in private Skin still had surprises. One day a number of large cardboard boxes were delivered. Skin let Jo open them. They contained a large variety of rubber wear. Whole body suits and jeans and shirts and shorts. In the very last he found two pairs of crotch high rubber waders with thick rubber soles. The familiar tingle spread out through his body. This was to be a new adventure. Skin picked up one of the whole body suits. He helped Jo get into it. The rubber was thick and tight. Gloves and feet were attached to the suit, so that when, eventually he was in it, he was completely covered in thick rubber up to his neck. The suit was moulded so that his penis was encased in a rubber tube. The erection Jo got made the tube fit very tightly. There was a similar tube at the back and Skin forced the rubber up Jo's hole with the help of a dildo, although Jo could feel very little when the dildo was removed. Skin helped Jo pull on a pair of rubber waders. Skin got out a rubber mask. It had small holes for his eyes, nose and mouth, but little of Jo could be seen behind the mask. Jo looked at the rubber-encased man in the mirror and liked what he saw. Skin got dressed in a similar costume although his suit had no tube at the back. Skins hole was only for shitting. But his dick was for fucking. He lubricated his rubber-covered cock and forced his way up Jo's rubber filled channel. They fucked long and hard and the sensations were completely different from any other fuck they had ever had.
When they were both exhausted and their erections had diminished, Jo realised that he wanted badly to piss. As often happened between the two of them, Skin read his mind. "Lets both just piss." They held each other's cocks so they could feel the fluid leaving the other's body and settling in the suit. Jo asked "what am I supposed to drink now?" Skin told him he could have a drink in the morning. Skin was telling him that they were to sleep as they were. From then on rubber became another part of Jo's life. But as with everything else, only when Skin wanted it.
In the shower the next morning as Skin washed Jo, who naturally had his hands secured behind his back, said "I suppose you wish the suits had been leather." For a moment he wondered whether Skin was testing him. Jo replied quite honestly "You chose rubber. I enjoyed it." Skin smiled. "Yes I did choose rubber," he said.
The following weekend they went out. Jo did not know where they were going even though frequently over the last month or so Skin had told him their destination. Told him. He never consulted him and Jo would not have wanted him to. Skin frequently took Jo to shops to look at boots and leather. Even though he liked to hurt him, Skin also liked to give Jo pleasure. After all it was only his to give. They arrived at a bike dealership and it took some while before Jo realised that Skin really did mean to buy a motorbike. Skin liked a 1000cc Honda. But from the way he spoke to the salesman it was clear he did not like the price. He wanted something cheaper. But his eyes always went back to the same bike as he looked at others. Jo knew it was not his business but at the risk of getting one of the looks from Skin that hurt like a whiplash he said "When I moved in you said you were saving some of the money." He had nearly said `my money', but avoided that mistake. "Why not use that?" Skin said "I am saving that for you." Jo looked puzzled and said "I don't have anything." Jo was wearing a white T-shirt and Skin grabbed his left nipple ring and twisted it hard. Skin's looks could feel like a whiplash, but his actions could be pure bliss.
They found the salesman and Skin told him of his choice. He tried to get the price down but the salesman did not want to budge far. Eventually Skin said "Ok I will pay the full price on the label if you will include all the gear to go with it for us both." The deal was agreed and Skin and Jo went upstairs to the clothing area. Jo held back. Skin would not need his opinion. Skin quickly spotted a white leather suit with red and black decorations. He handed one to Jo and took an identical one for himself. They went into a single cubicle to try them on. Once dressed in leather, Skin pulled back the curtain straight away even though Jo's excitement was very evident in the snug-fitting suit. When the suits were picked from the rack they looked like single garments. But the trousers and jacket actually came apart. They headed off to the boots. Skin chose white boots with `Aplenstars' in red leather letters. They had buckles from the instep to the knee. Once booted they put on white full-face crash helmets with black tinted visors and finished with some thick white gloves.
They took the gear home in bags. The bike would be delivered that afternoon after a final cleaning and inspection. They stripped and put on the leather suit, boots and gloves over their naked bodies and Skin led Jo into the cellar. Skin secured Jo to the wall with arm and leg manacles. He could move a little, but not much. Skin kissed Jo. Even when kissing Skin was very much in control. His tongue explored Jo's mouth roaming freely around his teeth and as far to the back of his throat as his tongue would go. Skin loved teasing the stud in Jo's tongue and would draw Jo's tongue into his own mouth when he wanted to chew it with his teeth. Skin pulled down the zip on Jo's jacket and with his gloved fingers attacked Jo's nipples. All the time they kissed. Skin unzipped Jo's trousers and freed his cock and balls. One gloved hand took hold of Jo's cock as the other held and squeezed his balls. The rings along the shaft of Jo's cock came alive as they only did when in Skin's charge. The feel of Skin's hand and the motions he made on his cock were now more familiar to Jo than his own. Only rarely these days did Skin instruct Jo to relieve himself. The last time had been over two weeks before when Skin dressed only in a new pair of 30-hole black rangers had instructed Jo to lie on the floor and jack off while he explored his body with the new boots. After Jo had ejaculated, Skin relieved himself by fucking Jo.
Jo had never seen Skin jack off himself. Like his piss, Skin's spunk always went inside Jo. Up his arse or down his throat. This time, once Jo had come over Skin's new white suit and boots, Skin started to slowly massage his cock. Jo watched the snake writhe, and he watched it shoot its venom over the jacket and trousers Jo was wearing, and finally deposit small droplets on the boots. They had both been christened. From then on, all their important purchases were christened by them both.
On the Monday, it was raining heavily and they went to work as usual by train. This gave Jo the chance to tell his colleagues that they had bought a bike. Jo doubted that Skin ever felt the need to explain or prepare the people he worked with about anything. But he seemed to understand that Jo was not yet that free and he helped make his public face as easy as he could. The next day they arrived by bike in their white leather suits. The journey had felt wonderful as Jo pressed himself against Skin, massaging his cock against his back. Skin, of course, had driven the bike. Skin walked with Jo to his office. In a loud voice his parting words were "And tomorrow don't forget to put the change of clothes in the pannier." In truth Skin had decided not to take a change and both walked around that day in matching leather trousers and boots. They both only had on T-shirts. It was the first time that Jo's tattooed arm had been quite so visible, even though he had shown his colleagues the work as it progressed. At one point Jo caught sight of himself in a long mirror. He was quite taken aback with the beauty of the reflection until he realised it was him. As he stood at the coffee point that morning, one of his colleagues said to him "God I wish I was gay. Life would then be so easy." Jo did not tell him that people like Skin found life easy. For everyone else it was tough.
As well as the white suits, they also wore black leather to work on the bike. At first Jo had changed on arrival out of the black leather and into jeans. They could not forget a change of clothes every day. But comments from the manager made it clear that that was not necessary. Black leather jeans were quite acceptable -- for people like Skin and Jo at least. So they just kept a pair of boots at the office for the black leather days. Skin selected the high heeled cowboy boots and the sharp pointed elastic sided boots he had bought to celebrate Jo's birthday. Jo had never thought of them as `his'. They swapped boots regularly. Skin would walk into his office in his socks carrying the pair of boots he had last worn. He would give them to Jo. As Jo never knew when this would happen, he would often already have changed out of the bike boots. Skin would then take the boot in his crotch as he pulled off Jo's foot and then put it on his own. Jo enjoyed the public demonstration of their relationship and of Skin's power over him.
Some weeks later Skin showed Jo a piercing ring. It was very thick and much thicker than the ones Jo had all over his body. Skin said "this is the thickness I want you to have. But I want to do it in several steps. Jo was stripped and taken down to the cellar and tied to a bench. It was his favourite position. Immobile. A piece of property. With a pair of pliers Skin managed to remove the ring from Jo's right nipple. It was difficult to do as the ball had been stuck in, and he made Jo bleed. Skin got a new thicker and slightly bigger ring, which he forced through the bleeding wound. Jo knew that a professional piercer would have used a rod or something to slowly expand the hole. But that would not have caused so much pain or made the wound so sore. Jo was glad that Skin was not a professional piercer. When the ring was inserted and its retaining ball stuck in, Jo expected Skin to do the other nipple. Skin said "Oh no, only one at a time. This will be a long slow process moving you up one ring and one gauge at a time. And when that is done we will start again with a bigger gauge. It could take years." Skin undid Jo's legs and placed them over his shoulders. He was going to fuck him. When he had pushed home his cock, which Jo regretted was now all too easy, he started playing roughly with the new ring. Jo had forgotten how good the torture of a new wound felt. He climaxed long before Skin, who seemed to be holding back. But until he did shoot it was clear that Skin was going to continue to pull and twist the nipple. As Skin had often said, he liked hurting Jo. And Jo wanted, with every fibre of his being, to make Skin happy. Nothing else mattered to him.