The Telemachus Story Archive

The Session
By Hooder
Email: hooder@ntlworld.com



The Session

Jon was looking forward to this a lot. He pulled on the handbrake, switched the ignition off and double-checked the number on the house door. Yep, right place. Picking up the sheet of paper from the passenger seat, he re-read the instructions. In the front door, up one flight of stairs, get changed in the bathroom, then up the second flight of stairs to the playroom where the guy would be waiting for him. He folded the paper, put it in his pocket, and got out of the car. Locking it, he walked up the path to the front door.

As instructed, he slipped the catch on the Yale behind him, and climbed the stairs to the bathroom where he undressed, folded his clothes, and took a quick shower.

Jon had been surfing gay sites on the net when he'd come across Hooder. It was the main photo on his profile that had grabbed his attention first: a biker in a studded black leather jacket, skintight leather jeans, boots, gloves, and a leather mask. There were lots of pictures of him, but not one showed his face. Normally Jon wouldn't have been interested in someone without a face pic, but this guy looked so sexy that he read the text under the photos.

The first thing he read disappointed him: Hooder liked to tickle-torture his victims. Jon was extremely ticklish, but it wasn't something that turned him on sexually at all. He couldn't stand being tickled at the best of times, and the thought of being systematically tortured like that horrified him. But there was a lot of text, and he continued reading. It seemed that to sensitise his victims to the torture - to make them as ticklish as possible - the guy would first make them cum, very slowly and intensely. There was something about that idea - the almost clinical procedure of making a victim cum in order to increase his susceptibilty to a torture, that fascinated Jon. It seemed such a fiendishly unfair thing to do - and it had been at that point that he'd started to get a hard-on.

Reading further, Jon realised that he could have a horny session of being tied up and played with by this masked leather biker, and escape the tickling altogether - as long as he didn't let himself cum.

"Guys sometimes visit me for a session of bondage, and to have a horny masked biker in full sexy black leathers work on their cocks, in the belief that as long as they don't cum, I won't get around to the tickling. And that's quite true, if they don't cum, they won't get tickle-tortured. But I'm extremely good at making victims lose that self-control. For example I know that it's a lot easier to resist if you can see what's happening - and so you'll be hooded so that you can't see anything, don't know what's going to happen, can't stop yourself getting hornier and hornier as I tease your hard cock with feathers, vibrators, oil, lube-slippery rubber-gloved fingers. . . I'll control your breathing, force-feed you poppers (if you like them). You'll feel my skintight leather jeans against your bare skin, and more than anything else you'll feel helpless and controlled - by an anonymous masked leather pervert who is working on you with the single intention of making you cum so that he can torture you. You'll love every second of this - and you'll get very horny. And the hornier you get, the more you'll find you have to fight against cumming - and I know many unfair ways to make you lose control and cum helplessly. . . "

The more Jon read of this profile, the more it turned him on. He was intensely into black leather, bondage, and hoods; he found the idea of breath-control fascinating, although he'd never tried it; and poppers made him horny. It all sounded wonderful. And then the guy had written about fetishes - that he especially loved working on guys who had strong fetishes like leather or rubber, or shorts, as they would get the victim more horny and make it even harder for him to stop himself from cumming.

By this time Jon's cock had been as hard as a rock. Leather was his biggest weakness: the look of it, the smell, even the sound of it turned him on - and the feel of leather against his bare skin drove him wild. And of all leather, leather jeans were the ultimate in that fetish, for him. Jon wasn't very experienced, and he'd told the guy as much while they'd been emailing, hoping that wouldn't disqualify him from having a session. It hadn't. A session with this guy sounded exactly what Jon wanted. He had no worries about stopping himself from cumming, and so avoiding the tickle-torture which he most certainly didn't want, and the prospect of a few hours of helpless restraint, hoods, leather, and having his cock teased by this sexy-looking biker made the decision for him. And now here he was in Hooder's bathroom. Jon's job didn't pay well enough to allow him to afford leather jeans, although he'd found a cheap jacket on the market the other week, and so he pulled on his tightest denim jeans and hoped they'd be sexy enough. He didn't have any boots either, and so it had to be his trainers. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, straightened his hair and pulled up the collar of his jacket. Then he took a deep breath, and headed up the second flight of stairs to the playroom. As he walked slowly up the stairs, his cock got harder with each step.

He knocked on the door.

"Come in," shouted a friendly voice.

Jon pushed the door open and went in. His mouth opened in amazement as he took in the room. It was black: the floor was covered with black rubber, and the walls and the ceiling were black. Various pieces of equipment stood around but he didn't have time to take in what they all were as a figure moved in front of him. It was Hooder, and he looked exactly like on the profile picture: leather jacket, tight leather jeans, bike boots, bullet belt, leather gloves, and that black leather mask with the blond mohican on it.

"Hello. Welcome to the blackroom."

Jon smiled. "I can see why you call it that."

"Let's have a look at you." The biker's eyes travelled down and then back up Jon's body. "Nice body, Jon, and nice jacket. But those jeans will have to go. Take them off."

Jon walked over to the chair and unfastened his jeans. He took them off and folded them neatly on the chair. He felt strangely more-than-naked with just the leather jacket on.

"That's better. Ok, stand between those posts over there." Jon noticed two floor-to-ceiling wooden posts and stood between them. The biker got some leather cuffs from a hook on the wall and strapped them tightly onto Jon's wrists and ankles, then clipped them to rings in the posts. Jon was spreadeagled.

Satisfied that the boy wasn't going anywhere, Hooder stood back and looked at him, gently squeezing the bulge in his leather jeans as he did so. "So, you know why you're here, yes?"

Jon nodded. He knew exactly why he was here: to have a fun evening of being played with by this sexy leatherguy. But he knew that was not the end that Hooder had in mind...

"Are you feeling ticklish?" The biker asked, smiling under the leather mask.

Jon gave a nervous laugh. "Very!"

"Good. Well, you'll be a lot more ticklish after you've cum. And believe me, Jon, you will cum."

Not if I have anything to do with it, Jon thought to himself.

Hooder stood closer, and Jon could smell the sexy aroma of the leather. The biker raised his gloved hands and stroked them lightly once down from the boys armpits to his hips. In spite of himself Jon lumped at the touch. "Leather turns you on, doesn't it..." Not a question, but a statement. They both knew that the feel of leather was Jon's biggest weakness. The biker moved to stand behind the spreadeagled boy, and clamped a leather-gloved hand over his mouth, pulling his head back so that it was resting on his leather-jacketed shoulder. He put his mouth close to Jon's ear and whispered quietly, "I know that you hate being tickled, and I know that you fully intend to avoid it by not cumming." His other hand snaked round the side of Jon's thigh and he stroked a single finger gently along the length of the boy's cock. At the same time he pressed his leatherclad body against his victim. "But I'm used to boys trying that. You said in your emails that you're extremely ticklish - that's a good start, but it's not good enough. I want you much more ticklish. I want you unbearably ticklish. I want you so ticklish that a single feather anywhere on your body will drive you insane. So that when I torture you, you will struggle and writhe and scream. Because torturing ticklish boys turns me on like fuck. And to get you to that point I am going to make you cum. You'll enjoy that bit a lot." He removed his hand from Jon's mouth.

Jon was breathing fast. The touch of the biker's leather jeans against the backs of his bare legs, the feel of his hard bulge pressing against him, the words whispered into his ear, and the gloved hand over his mouth had already got him dangerously horny. He must be careful.

Hooder released him from the posts and told him to get comfortable on the dentist chair. Jon looked around and saw the black chair with the leather straps on it. It looked sinister and threatening. The PVC was cold as he sat down and lifted his legs onto the bottom half.

Before he fastened the straps, the biker put fingerless stiff leather mitts over Jon's hands. Seeing the boy's questioning look, he smiled, "these are to make it impossible for you to undo the buckles. The shiny leather on the inside feels good too..." Then he buckled the straps tight - two over each arm, one around the boy's chest, one over his waist, another over his hips, and two on each leg: at the thigh and at the ankle. When he'd finished, Jon couldn't move at all. His legs were held slightly apart and he couldn't close his knees.

There was a mechanical whirring, and the chair rose a little, then tilted back, and flatted out slightly. The biker knelt on the chair, then lowered himself gently on top of the helpless boy. "Does that leather feel good?"

Jon's mouth was open, his eyes staring as Hooder's black leather jeans and jacket made contact with his skin. He could feel the bullets on his belt pressing into his skin. Jon was in heaven.

After a few moments Hooder got off, and sat down on a stool by the side of the chair. He pulled a small table towards him. Jon saw that there was an assortment of objects on it - no doubt for use on his already horny cock. The biker picked up a feather. "Oh don't worry, I'm not going to tickle you with it. Not yet..." He lowered it and stroked the edge along the shaft of the boy's cock from the base to the tip. Jon's eyes half-closed in pleasure as the soft feather teased his cock. Although they were half-closed, his eyes were fixed on the biker's bulging crotch at the side of him. The shiny black leather reflected the blackroom lights from its hard, curved surface and he could see the bulge jerk occasionally as the cock underneath stiffened with lust. Oh shit, leather jeans were so fucking hot, he thought.

Hooder knew that Jon was already so horny that could probably make him cum in ten seconds flat if he wanted to, but he also knew that the longer he delayed the boy's orgasm, the more unbearably ticklish he would be after he came. He also loved to watch victims trying to fight against cumming - a fight they invariably lost.

The biker teased the boy's hard cock with feathers for a while, then started to work on his balls at the same time. Jon was still staring at the leatherboy by his side, drinking in the sight of the studded jacket, the tight leather jeans, and the mask. He had no idea what this guy looked like under the mask, and he knew he never would. That somehow made it even more horny. He was so fixated with looking at the biker's leathers that he didn't notice the guy put the feathers down and take a bottle of lube. His attention flicked to his own cock as he felt the cool liquid drop onto it and run down the shaft.

Hooder put more of the lube onto one of his thin leather gloves and then, holding the base of Jon's cock with one hand, he began to palm the head gently. Jon groaned - that felt amazing. He could feel the slippery leather sliding over the head of his cock, and the other gloved hand holding the base was touching his balls and the insides of his thighs. Reflexively he tried to close his knees together so he could feel that hand more, but the restraints made that impossible, and reminded him how helpless he was. And he was getting very, very horny.

"Ok, I think you've seen enough. Time to make you feel a bit more vulnerable, and horny..." The biker stood up, took a leather hood, and dropped it over Jon's head. The hood was quite loose and he could breathe perfectly easily but it was long, and cut out every bit of light, plunging him into a world of leather blackness. It felt unbelievably horny over his face, and he breathed in the sexy smell of the leather. Then he realised just how helpless not being able to see made him feel. What was the guy doing? Where was he? Where would he touch him next - and with what?

He waitied, holding his breath, but nothing happened. Instead of relaxing him, this made him even more nervous. Then he heard a sound - the unmistakable creak of leather. "I'm standing next to you, running my hands slowly over my bulging leather jeans. Wouldn't you love to see that? The shiny black leather, my fingers stroking my bulging cock, running up the insides of my thighs slowly, across my leather jacket...?

"Oh fuck yes...."

Hooder chuckled. "Well you can't, can you. There's black leather over your eyes, blindfolding you. You have no idea what's going to happen, or when..."

Jon yelled as something touched his cock. He didn't know what it was, but it felt insanely horny. In fact the biker had taken a leather thong, soaked in lube, and was see-sawing it gently around the base of the boy's cock head just under the ridge. He knew that made most boys need to cum very badly indeed. And it appeared that Jon was no exception. He groaned loudly under the hood, and thrust his hips forwards and back in response to the stimulus, unthinkingly trying to bring himself off. Very quickly, however, he realised what he was doing and stopped.

Hooder chuckled again. "I think you'll soon be fighting against cumming."

Jon said nothing. He had no intention of cumming.

His cock seemed to have other ideas, though, because when he felt the bikers' lube-slippery gloved hands enclose his cock and balls and begin to wank him very slowly, his resolve disappeared again. Thankfully Hooder only kept that up for a short time - much longer and he knew those gloved hands would have been covered with his spunk.

The hands were back, but this time they were on Jon's legs. Stroking and caressing, the leather fingers worked their way slowly upwards. They teased in places which would normally have had Jon screaming in ticklish laughter, but the biker wasn't trying to tickle him at the moment and the touch was just heavy enough to be erotic rather than tickling. Inside the hood Jon's eyes were closed, and he was visualising the masked biker in those sexy leathers standing over him, his shiny black hands stroking the bare skin of his legs. He wished he could actually see him.

For a long time the hands worked on his legs and thighs. They worked their way right up to his balls and cock, but never touched them. Then, along with the leather-gloved hands, Jon felt the arms of the biker's jacket as well, moving against his legs. The bastard hadn't forgotten Jon's fetish for leather. Jon was getting more horny by the second.

Jon lost track of time completely. It seemed like an eternity as the biker found more and more infuriatingly frustrating ways of teasing his cock. He used many different implements but always returned to using his fingers - fingers that made Jon need to cum more than he'd thought was possible.

Suddenly a hand clamped over his mouth, pressing the leather hood tight against his face. He couldn't breathe! He shook his head from side to side trying to dislodge the hand, but it stayed there. Just when he thought he was about to panic, it was removed, and the hood pulled away from his face. He gulped in lungfuls of air. That was scary - but interesting. Jon wondered if the guy would do it again. Just as he thought that, the hand was back, gagging him and suffocating him. He held his breath for as long as he could, then tried to breathe, but the hand was still there. Again, as he started to struggle and was about to panic the hand was removed - but immediately he felt the biker's other hand inside the hood. It held a pad of poppers over his face and, desperate for air after the soffocating, Jon breathed it in deeply. Not until he felt his head start to spin did he remember the effect poppers had on him.

Inside the leather hood Jon was in a black, popper-fuelled world inhabited only by thoughts of sex and of the need to cum. He was deeply conscious of his helplessness, of his dangerously high level of horniness, and of the leather biker beside him, controlling him so easily.

"I'm getting impatient to torture you, boy. So I'm gonna make you cum. "Do you know what these are?"

Jon heard the creak of more leather. He shook his head groggily.

"Leather jeans. Shiny, black leather jeans." The biker held them over the helpless victim, then lowered them onto him - the boy's precum-dripping cock going between the very tops of the legs. He curled the legs of the leather jeans around so that they made contact with Jon's inner thighs and the bare skin all the way down to his ankles. At the touch of the cool, smooth leather Jon's cock jerked and stiffened even more. Then the biker took a second pair, opened the boy's jacket and lay the jeans on his bare chest, pushing the ends of the legs up into his armpits. A third pair went around his feet, enclosing them, and then the biker's hand was back on the boy's cock. Gently, the fingers began to stroke up and down the shaft.

Jon felt the hood move again, and he was given more poppers. He tried to dodge the hand holding the pad, but it was impossible. The fingers on his cock moved to the tip, and began to slide the foreskin up and down very very slowly, just on the head. Then, with his free hand, the biker gathered the loose leather of the hood together and pulled it tight around Jon's neck. The hood ballooned in and out as Jon breathed, clinging to his face each time he inhaled.

The wanking of his cock head on its own would have been enough to make him cum, but along with the the feel of the leather jeans covering his body as well, and the hood suffocating him with leather too, the boy stood no chance at all. He was helpless, hooded, covered with leather jeans - his biggest fetish object - and being milked by a leather pervert who knew exactly how to make a boy like him cum. The fingers mover over his cock head slowly but irresistably. His last thought before he shot his load was that he must not cum. To do so was to be tortured...

Jon roared into the hood. His spunk shot out into the air and splatted on the leather jeans covering his legs. His body vibrated in the restraining straps as he came and came and came.

The biker continued to milk him, every bit as slowly, until his cock was still and there was no more spunk left in him. Jon collapsed back onto the padded dentist chair and breathed in fresh air as the hood was loosened and then removed.

He looked up at the masked face of the biker standing over him.

"Enjoy that?"

Jon sighed in pleasure and nodded. "Oh fuck yes...." It was the best orgasm he'd ever had.

"Good." The biker pulled the leather jeans off the boy's body, pushed a button which flattened the dentist chair, and picked up a thicker, tighter leather hood. Before Jon knew what was happening the hood was over his head and the straps tightened. Hooder's voice was muffled now, but there was no mistaking what he said.

"Now, it's time for me to enjoy myself. It's torture time..."