2
It's always the way. I'd planned to go to Soho at the weekend, but had a work callout from the police station in the early hours of Saturday. It took me a good couple of hours to take photographs at the site of an industrial arson, and then another couple of hours shut up in my dark room processing the film with an arsehole of a uniformed inspector knocking at the door trying to hurry me along. As a result, I couldn't be arsed to travel up to London, and decided to leave it over till the next weekend, or even till the day off I take midweek in lieu of my Saturday.
So there I was, sitting in the courtyard, soaking up the afternoon rays. I'd got a sandwich and a coffee with me. It was good to relax. I wasn't sure, but I seemed to be attracting some attention from both my neighbours, judging by the occasional glimpses of movement at the windows. Stuff them, I thought. Haven't they ever seen a guy with his shirt off before.
One of the windows of the tattoo parlour was thrown open, and a white guy with huge dreadlocks stuck his head out. After a few minutes of general introductory chat, he asked me if I'd like to go round to see his premises. On the ground floor of his shop, he was selling `life-style goods', all sorts of jokey crap that no one needs, but buys to wind people up: T shirts printed with rude slogans and hemp leaves, willy warmers, and weird posters. Oh yeah, and just about the whole rage of Doc Martens, from baby-sized pink to knee-high size 14s in best bovvaboy black.
The middle floor, from which Duncan had attracted my attention, was both office and stock room, and I wasn't shown in there. He took me on, up the stairs to the attic level, which had obscured glass in the windows. There were three rooms. In the first, there was a long shelf with large ledgers containing tattoo designs for punters to choose from. And then a locked cabinet that had a lot of fixtures and fittings in various sizes. Evidently, Duncan catered for piercings as well. No surprise there. He had two ball closure rings set in the partition of his nose, and a variety of scaffold poles in his ears. I even caught a glimpse of a stud in his tongue as he talked. The selection for sale included all the pastel shaded rings suitable for female belly buttons, through to heavy gauge rings and bars for male nipples and Prince Alberts. And a whole array of cock rings in metal and in leather. Interesting. There were playing cards displaying big dicks and big tits, and a few bottles of poppers. On the top shelf of the cabinet, there was a modest collection of `toys'. They varied from standard flesh coloured vibrators through black dildos with so-called realistic veins and bulges to a sleek metal instrument labelled as a urethral vibrator, and some mock-leopard-skin fur-edged handcuffs.
Duncan saw me raise an eyebrow and smiled. "Different strokes for different folks," he said and shrugged. In charge of this area was a goth lass with a purple mohican; she was called Caz. Very quiet and non-aggressive, she was probably great at soothing those who weren't sure that they should be there at all. But I did wonder how she would cope if I asked to handle that 12" dildo with balls and suction pad.
The door to one of the other two small rooms opened, and a young lad came out pushing his arms back into his shirt. He'd just had a heart tattoo done on the upper side of his left pec with a banner proclaiming the name Lizzie underneath it. I wondered whether he would come to regret that when Lizzie traded him in and his interest turned to a new girlfriend or to a lorry driver called Kev. Behind him was Kyle, who works with Duncan. I've never seen so much multicoloured skin before. He was wearing shorts, and his legs were tattooed all over, right down to 2 inches above the ankle. His string singlet showed that his torso and arms were covered as far as just above the wrist. I could only imagine what was concealed by his shorts. He laughed and said, "What are you looking at? In shirt and jeans, you'd never know that I had any skin art at all." Duncan told me that Kyle taught art at the college in the town during the week and needed to look square for that, but at weekends he supplemented his income by helping out in the parlour and could look how he pleased.
"You in the market for anything?" asked Kyle. I've only got one tatt: a dove appearing through the clouds on one shoulder, and I do have a hankering for something more adventurous, but I don't know what. As you know, I've got a P.A., but don't really want anything more in the piercing line. I explained some of that, and Kyle suggested that I have a look through some of the Skin Art mags lying on the side. I enjoyed looking at the flesh displayed in the illustrations, and eventually shared my interest in one particular piece: a python wrapped around a guy's leg, tail just above the ankle and it's head just at the edge of his pubes. But it would be a big investment and take quite a time to do, so I wanted to think about it.
Caz went off on her tea break, and Duncan told me that he'd noticed my eyes returning to the show case of kit in the corner. I didn't want to let on what it was in the cabinet that I was interested in, but asked to see one of the leather cock rings, with a leather band to separate the balls. He got it out for me to see, and admitted that he liked wearing that model. I paid for the cock ring, and as he was making change, Duncan asked Kyle if he wanted to do a shift on Wednesday afternoon. Duncan wanted to visit his supplier to top up the stock. "You might want to come along, if you're free," he said in an aside to me. Well, yes, I thought, if I can get my lieu day on Wednesday, I would. I said that I'd let him know.
"You never know," Dunc said. "If there's something special you fancy, I might be able to let you have a discount, or get it at wholesale price for you." Well, that was quite an incentive, and I promised to do my best to get the day free, so that we could set off about half past eight and miss the rush hour traffic.
I went home and tried on the cock ring. It fitted snugly round the base of my prick, pressing gently as it separated the balls in my scrotum. As I looked at myself in one of the mirrors in the playroom, my mind turned to thoughts of Duncan modelling the same bit of kit. He is taller and thinner than me, and his dreadlocks looked to be fairly blond. I bet it looks really good on him, I thought. The pressure round my gonads, combined with the mental image of Dunc, soon had my trouser snake rearing its head. Shit, there was only one thing to do about that, so I did it. I let my fingers do the walking, slowly jerking myself off, stroking the swollen purple plum of my helmet as the lube dripped and smoothed it, until I splashed out against the mirror. I definitely wanted to visit Dunc's supplier.
There was no problem getting time off, and I was waiting on the pavement outside Duncan's place, when he rolled up in a white van. "Shit, there's enough room in the back of this for a lot of kit," I said. He shrugged, and said it was the smallest available from the van hire. As we drove towards London, I glanced across at him from time to time. I liked the look of him. The dreadlocks were a bit extravagant, but that was his business. His head in profile seemed longer than the full-face view. He was wearing camouflage trousers tucked into Doc Martens boots and a khaki shirt and long baggy jumper. We chatted about life and the world, and I told him a bit about my work. He offered me some freelance work taking pix of completed tattoos for his portfolio. "Kyle's been doing it with his digital camera, but I'd like some done in a more artistic style." Reading between the lines, I think that meant that Dunc was up for some near-porn shots of some of the better examples of his work. We talked about our home life. I was cagey about my status, merely saying there was no one special in my life. And him? Dunc shared a house with Caz and Kyle. "I guess Caz is just about my most regular squeeze," he said. OK, that warned me off. He wasn't as gay as I'd hoped.
Duncan's supplier had a warehouse in south London. From the outside, it looked totally anonymous. Inside, it was a real treasure house. Most of the space was shelved with displays of porn mags and DVDs, racks of dildos and vibrators. Hanging space had all sorts of fetish clothing in rubber and leather. There were body harnesses and slings among them, which is what I was interested in, but I still felt shy about looking too closely and declaring my interests in front of Duncan.
He introduced me to the manager, a Pole called Pavel. I was really attracted to him. I'm a sucker for broad cheekbones and aquiline noses. Dunc explained that I was a special customer, and that I was to pile up anything I wanted and it would be put on his account. I would settle with him direct at home. As we walked down the first aisle of shelving, he tried to put me at my ease. "I don't care what you put in your barrow," he said. "I think that you are probably gay, but that is no one's business except yours, and anyone you want to get off with. And I won't judge you by any kinky shit you want to buy." Together, we recited the mantra he had come out with the previous Saturday: "Different strokes for different folks." We laughed, and he put his arm round my shoulder, "Go on. Spoil yourself. Get whatever you really want."
We separated for a while so that we could attend to our separate needs. I chose a handful of DVDs which I hoped I'd be able to share with Alan and Tim, and then headed over to the leather goods. Pavel came over and persuaded me against one sling. "Don't get that one," he said. "I wouldn't tell everyone, but there are problems with it. It comes apart if you're too strenuous." Eventually, I settled on a sling that he was prepared to recommend. I also bought a couple of body harnesses, and some dildos in different sizes and a double-ended jelly dildo, all for the toy cupboard. I also bought a variety of other bits and pieces, and a couple of bottles of flavoured lube, and a variety of condoms. Be prepared. Just like the boy scouts!
I was looking at the selection of butt plugs when Duncan joined me. His trolley had a lot of individually wrapped metal fixings for his piercing work, and some containers of inks for the tattooing. "Having fun?" he asked. "I bet you wouldn't be able to keep that one up your arse for long." And he pointed at a large black plug about six inches long, with a diameter of three inches at the widest point.
"And I bet you couldn't either!" I responded.
"How much?" he asked with a glint in his eye.
"I bet you £20 that you couldn't keep something that size up you from here until we get home," I said.
Pavel laughed as he heard us talking and offered the use of his office if we wanted to take up the bet. There was no one in the office, and so it was all right to drop our trousers, grease up our holes and insert the huge plugs.
I turned away from the others as I dropped my pants, to reach for the tube of lube Pavel had chucked across at me. As I anointed the tip of the butt plug, Pavel laughed and grunted, "Are you two twins or what?" I turned to look and there was Dunc, sporting the same cockring and P.A. as I had. It was a real turn-on to see his cock swell as he fingered the lube up his crack and then strained to insert the plug. Down the flank of his left leg he had a spectacular tattoo of cogs and pistons, from his hip to just above his knee. "My own design," he said, "and it's special. I've only used it on one other person: the best lay I ever had."
It took some time, but we both got the butt-plugs into place and covered ourselves up again. "At the moment, this is really uncomfortable," Duncan said, but Pavel assured us that we would soon get used to it. I didn't want to admit it, but I was liking it a lot. I was rock hard and dripping already.
We loaded the contents of our trolleys into the van and set off for home, with Duncan sitting very carefully. We decided to stop off for a cuppa and a roll in the motorway services. As we got out of the van, Dunc pulled at his groin to rearrange his cock and balls. "This plug's got me harder than I've been for ages," he said. "I didn't think it would have that good an effect." I just shrugged. I was also aroused, so much so that I was in danger of shooting into my pants.
After we had eaten our snack, we sat on a bench outside the complex to have a fag. Duncan's face was flushed, and he was fidgeting about. When I looked towards him, I realized that he was rocking in place, grinding the butt-plug into himself. As I stared at him, he exhaled deeply, and I realized that he had just cum, from the pressure of the plug against his rim and prostate. He chuckled and raised the edge of his sweater, so that I could see a large stain of cum spreading across his thigh. That was enough to finish me off, and I had to lean forward and support myself on my thighs as I juddered into orgasm. "That was great," said Dunc, "But you needn't think that means you can take the plug out, unless you want to lose the bet."
So we set off for the last twenty miles of the journey. By the time we reached the outskirts of the town, I was erect again. Duncan must have been as well, since his hand kept dropping into his crutch to fondle his basket. "This is just between you and me," he admonished. "It's certainly none of Caz's business, and don't tell Kyle." That was no hassle, since I didn't particularly want the whole town to know what I had bought or done either.
We unloaded the cardboard boxes containing my purchases and stacked them just inside the locked garden gate, where no one could interfere with them. Then I gave Dunc a hand to unload all the stuff he had got for the shop. Kyle was just shooing out the last pair of teenage girls who had come in to titillate themselves by looking at the tattoo catalogue. Duncan decided that unpacking and stocking shelves could wait until the next morning. I assumed that was because he wanted to go and root the plug out of his hole, which must have been as sore as my own. And if I was still as stiff as a poker, he probably was too.
But I was wrong. He offered to help me install some of the kit I had bought from Pavel. Kyle's ears perked up at that, and he asked if he could come too. Although I thought there would be less chance of getting my hands on Dunc if his colleague were there, I agreed. We let ourselves through into the courtyard and moved the boxes of stuff down to the foot of the playroom stairs. Both the guys were intrigued by the idea of my cellar and wanted a look round. Once they'd had a quick gawp at the facilities, and helped themselves to a beer from the fridge, we started unpacking.
Once a boss, always a boss, I suppose. Dunc took over and directed that he would help me hang the sling from the rings suspended from the beams, while Kyle was relegated to unpacking all the toys and arranging them in the cupboard. For a few minutes, we worked in silence. Well, it was quiet except for an occasional hum of interest from Kyle as he saw the variety of shit that I had chosen. Duncan and I got the sling in place and adjusted it to the right height for my groin. Then we put up two lengths of chain with handcuff restraints, towards the end of the room.
I stepped back to admire the look of the room now that it was becoming furnished. Kyle turned from the cupboard with something hidden down beside him. "What have you got there?" I asked. "This," he said, and gave my thigh a thwack with a leather paddle. Before I could react, he had stepped towards Dunc, shoved him across the end of the sling and brought the paddle down on his boss's arse. Ordinarily, it wouldn't have mattered, but Duncan still had the butt-plug in place, and the sound of the paddle striking against his arse contrasted with Dunc's cry of pain as it shifted the plug within him.
And the sound of the paddle was not the same as it had sounded against my leg: Kyle had struck the base of the butt-plug. "Shit! What's going on?" Kyle asked and groped across his boss's arse and felt the outline of the base of the buttplug.
"You kinky git," he said with a shit-eating grin on his face. "You have been a bad boy, and you really will have to take a smacking if you don't want me to tell Caz what you have been up to. You'd better drop those camouflage pants for six of the best."
"This is what I didn't want," said Dunc mournfully, as he undid the belt holding up his trousers.
Sure enough, his cock was as hard as mine, and Kyle's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the magnificent weapon that his boss had been hiding from him.
"Right," he said, "get over that sling now. Tony, pass me that ball gag, we don't want him screaming out during his punishment."
I did as I was told, and continued to watch Dunc's beautiful hairy butt as he made himself comfortable across the sling.
Kyle licked his lips. He liked the sight as well, either that, or the situation was really bringing out the master in him. As he moved round to one side to fit Duncan with the gag, I saw him shove down at his groin, and I knew that Kyle was aroused as well.
Having silenced his prisoner, Kyle picked up the paddle and smacked it against his other hand. The sound made Duncan flinch. By this time, I didn't care what Kyle thought, and I was rubbing at my hard-on through the fabric of my trousers. Kyle just smiled and brought down the paddle onto Dunc's bare flesh.
As the leather met skin, Duncan pushed forward and the sling began to sway. Kyle waited until it was motionless again before administering a whack to the other cheek. Again the sling swayed and Kyle waited. As Duncan tried to steady himself, he spread his legs. His crack was like a forest, and deep in that jungle of hair, I could see a perineum piercing that I wanted to get my lips on. I was desperate to unzip and pull out my cock, which was dripping dick-snot into the jammy mess that I had made earlier in my underpants. This was one hell of a scene.
As Kyle drew back his arm to strike Dunc again, I saw that his white shirt had come untucked and was flashing a few inches of his tattooed body. At some point, I really wanted to get to grips with that skin art. After the next blow, Duncan's butt cheeks were showing red stripes. If this activity was going to be a secret from Caz, I hoped Dunc wasn't going to bruise.
I felt that Duncan had taken enough brutality, and said so. Kyle just sneered and asked why the dirty bastard's hard-on was twitching so happily. "If it really hurt, or he didn't want it, his willy would have shrunk up like a little boy's," he said.
I thought he had a point, and stepped back to let Kyle administer the next three strokes of the paddle. Again, he waited until the sling stopped swinging before drawing back his arm. Now I lost it. I could see Dunc's balls rise up in their sac, and his prick jerk. I fell to my knees and crawled under the sling and slurped the massive, dripping horn into my lips, his dick-ring clanking against my teeth.
From above me, I had heard Dunc's muffled moan of appreciation, and continued to suck at the cheesy dick, licking out the remnants of his earlier cum from within the folds of his foreskin. The next stroke of the paddle pushed the pierced helmet deep into my throat, and the backswing of the sling tore it away from me again, until Duncan swung back towards me. Before Dunc had steadied himself on the floor after the sixth blow, and just as I fed the wet cock back between my lips, I saw Kyle's hands.
One of them reached down and grabbed hold of Dunc's ball bag and held it tight. The other hand then moved out of my sight. He pulled the butt plug out of Dunc's distended hole with a wet farting noise. The friction of the plug's rim against his tortured anus pushed the big man over the edge. I got my reward: a copious release of cum, that fountained out in an almost constant jet for at least twenty seconds. There was no way I could contain it all in my mouth, and it fell in drools down my shirtfront and onto the front of my jeans. I still hadn't got my own beast out of my trousers.
As I crawled out from under the sling, I was aware that Dunc was pulling the thongs of the ball-gag over his head, dragging forward his dreadlocks. His face was a mess. Tears and snot had left trails, and he looked absolutely mad with anger. He dragged his trousers up from round his ankles and partially zipped them, but didn't bother to fasten the belt. Kyle had his back to us, wiping clean the paddle, and returning it to the shelf alongside the rest of the day's purchases.
I grabbed Duncan's friend around the waist and swung his body violently around, until we stood between the two chains hanging from the beams at the end of the room. Kyle struggled against me, but I am nearly eight inches taller than him and I've got a lot more muscle. I raised myself up to my full height, which left Kyle's feet kicking just above the ground. "Gimme a hand, if you want revenge" I shouted.
At once, Duncan grabbed the hem of Kyle's T shirt and dragged it off over the head and waving arms of our captive. Avoiding the kicking feet, Dunc then grabbed hold of Kyle's arms in turn and raised his wrists to the handcuff restraints, which he clicked shut. Then I let go. Kyle just hung there, the tips of his toes just touching the floor, but not enough to give him purchase for a good kick at either of us.
"Didn't I see you get one of those submissive's masks?" panted Duncan as he looked toward me.
I just pointed to the top shelf of the toy cupboard.
Out it came. A complete covering for the head in black leather, with a zip from the back of the neck to the crown of the head. A shorter zip over the mouth, and two holes to permit breathing.
Despite Kyle's struggle against us, Duncan pulled the zips closed, and that limited the amount of noise that Kyle could make. "Now we've just got to decide what to do with him," menaced Duncan, "But first you and I deserve the rest of that beer."
We stepped out into the lobby, and Dunc asked me if I was really up for it. In answer, I just outlined with my hand the strength of my continuing erection. Duncan raised his arm, and I thought he was going to give me a back-handed swipe across the face, but all he did was run his palm over my scalp and pull me towards him, till our lips and tongues met and duelled. Now I knew where we stood, and I was thrilled. Our fingers fumbled at the buttons on each other's clothing, and at last we collided, as nature intended, with nothing between us as we ground our hard and dripping dicks against the matted hair on our bellies.
In the playroom, Kyle hung immobile from his chains, all sign of arousal had disappeared from the front of his jeans. Together, Duncan and I stripped the young man, revealing the full extent of his skin art. I had wondered before about the tattoos were covered by his shorts. Across his abdomen were the outspread green wings of a dragon. Its belly was formed of his scrotum, and his prick formed the neck and head. And very sorry it looked at the moment. His scrotum had pulled up tight and wrinkled so the scaling effect of the tattoo could not be clearly seen. His cock had withered to the extent that the foreskin overhung the tip by a good inch, hiding the glans. I was determined to get him rampant to see the dragon in all its glory, but suspected that Dunc and I would have to work at it, since Kyle was utterly demoralised by his restraints.
Duncan took up the paddle and began to stroke it over Kyle's flesh. No reaction. I bent forward and took the limp prick into my mouth and eased back the foreskin using my tongue. Still no reaction. I drew back to examine his dickhead. Like the shaft, it was tattooed all over, completing the image of the dragon's head, with the two studs of a piercing to form the metallic eyes. I teased round them, licking at the slight sheen of precum that lingered. Still no reaction.
Dunc turned back from the toy cupboard with a pair of tit-clamps in his hands. They were connected with a light chain, so that weights could be suspended to stretch out the nipples and increase the sensation in them. He snapped one of them, the jaws opening and closing like the mouth of a rodent. As he applied them to Kyle's nipples, the young man just grunted, and then his dick began to swell a little. I took the chain between my fingers and tugged gently. The folds slowly eased out of Kyle's shaft as he began to progress towards erection. His balls began to shuffle in his scrotum, as if the dragon had got indigestion.
"And he called you a kinky git," I said to Dunc, who was watching as I stroked Kyle's now throbbing cock.
"Well, I am," replied Dunc, running his palm over his own re-aroused prick. "Let's see how he likes the buttplug".
He stroked the large black protruberance down Kyle's crack, which caused our prisoner to squirm against his bonds. Duncan dribbled some lube onto the plug and pressed it firmly against Kyle's pucker. Kyle didn't like that and clamped his muscular buttocks together to try to prevent access to his sensitive hole. I tugged firmly at the chain connecting his nipples. That did the job, distracting Kyle's attention, so that Duncan was able to pop the broad rimmed plug up the tattooed arse.
He may not have liked the idea, but Kyle's cock liked the reality of the pressure it caused against his prostate. His cock jerked up and down for a moment, and a swift runnel of dick-snot ran down from the dragon's snout and along its neck. Duncan liked that, so he pulled out the butt-plug and did it again, with the same result.
In silence, I returned to the toy cupboard and fetched out the most adventurous of the dildos. It was a hideous lime green. It was fourteen inches long and wide in proportion. "See if he likes this," I muttered as I licked its tip and took the first few inches into my mouth.
Duncan grinned and reached for the bottle of lube: "He's gonna need some help with that, or else we'll rip him to shreds".
I had no intention of causing Kyle any lasting damage, but since he too seemed to enjoy a modest bit of pain, I was willing to give it to him. Dunc popped out the butt-plug and grabbed the dildo from me. As he pushed it against Kyle's ring, the young man's body arched. Again and again he reacted, but none of the starch went out of his erection. Duncan was using both hands to ease the monstrous green cock into Kyle, so I took over the job of masturbating his pierced dick. With the other hand, I continued to pull at Kyle's hard-on, with its dual-studded helmet. That left my own prick unattended. Which was all right, since I was close to cumming. From time to time I just rubbed the sticky head against Kyle's side.
Within minutes, Duncan had worked the dildo deep into Kyle, stretching his arsehole to its limits. He twisted it by the luminous green balls at its base and then let go. Slowly, Kyle shit it out, but before it could fall right out, I pushed it back in. Seeing that I enjoyed doing that, Duncan left me to it and came round to the front of our suspended prisoner. He pushed my hand away from Kyle's dick. He wrapped his hand round Kyle's balls, and pulled, stretching out his scrotum as far as he could. His pierced tongue flicked out and licked at the helmet, the stud clicking against Kyle's own piercing. I continued to press the dildo between the tattooed buttocks, until my own balls pulled up tight at the base of my cock.
Abandoning Kyle for a moment, I grabbed a red condom from the shelf and slid it down over my cock. I didn't reckon Kyle would need any further lubrication. As the dildo plopped to the floor, I rammed my hard-on into his arse. The warmth engulfed me. The muscles of Kyle's arse clenched and relaxed. All I needed to do was stand there, and his inner movements would finish me off. I went crazy, shagging into him at full length and with all my strength. I pulled the tit clamps from his nipples and pinched at the swollen nubs with thumb and forefinger. Standing right on the tips of his toes, Kyle writhed and spasmed. A long drawn out moan came from under the leather helmet, and I knew that he was in the throes of orgasm. As I felt Duncan's load splashing against my legs, I reached the moment of no return, with one last thrust, I emptied myself into Kyle's arse. Duncan stood and embraced the two of us, and we rested for a minute, getting back our breath.
Tenderly, Duncan took the helmet off Kyle's head. I reached up to release the handcuff restraints. Kyle fell forward into Duncan's arms and put up his face to be kissed. Our sweat-slicked bodies pressed together as we moved gently against one another. I pressed forward to join in the kiss of gratitude, as Kyle writhed his tongue against Duncan's. Knackered out, we showered. The touch of soapy hands on red raw arseholes and savaged dicks aroused no more than a half-hearted semi hard-on.