Brian took his crash helmet off, pushed his spiky black hair into place, and rang the doorbell.
The smiling face of his mate Colin greeted him. “Hi Brian! Come in.” He led Brian into the living room. The boy was pulling a bottle of wine out of his backpack.
“There was no need to bring anything,” said Colin, “but thanks. Sit down. I’ll go check on dinner, back in a tick.” He put the wine on the table and disappeared into the kitchen.
Brian sat down and looked around, pulling the zip of his bike jacket down. “Nice place,” he called.
“Thanks,” came the reply. There was the clang of a saucepan lid, and then Colin returned. He poured the wine, handed one to Brian and sat down opposite the boy. “Cheers.” They clinked glasses. “I’ve got a couple of mates coming round to collect something in a bit. Hope you don’t mind – they won’t stay long.”
“No problem.”
The doorbell rang. “Ah. Speak of the devil, that’s probably them. Don’t go away.” Colin got up. When he came back there were two more bikers with him. They both still had their crash helmets on. “Dave, Mike, this is Brian.” He pointed to each in turn.
They nodded. Brian smiled at them. He couldn’t see their faces because of the dark visors, but their leathers were very black, and very tight.
Colin turned to the first one. “It’s in the bedroom. You’d better come and check it’s right. If not I can send it back.” They walked off.
Brian looked the remaining biker up and down. “What bike have you got?” He asked him.
“Kawasaki. Ninja,” replied Mike.
“Ah, very nice. Mine’s a Honda CBR600.”
Mike nodded. He didn’t seem disposed to talk any more so they sat, or stood, in silence for a while.
Then Brian heard the front door open again – and two more bikers came in on their own. The door clicked shut behind them. They too were in full bike leathers and crash helmets with black visors.
At that moment Dave and Colin came back out of the bedroom. Now Colin, as well as Dave, was in full bike kit.
Then, as if it had been rehearsed, all five guys closed in on Brian. Dave pulled him to his feet, then there were arms all around him.
“Getoff! What’re you doing?” Brian was half-laughing, half-uncertain.
All he could see was leather bodies and crash helmets as he was lifted up bodily and carried into the bedroom.
“Hey! What you fucking doing?” He struggled but there were too many arms holding him.
They put him down on the bed and began to strip him, holding him down when necessary. At first he resisted – as far as he knew these were all guys - and he was straight. He had no idea what the hell was going on, but he knew that Colin wouldn’t allow him to be hurt. Anyway, there were five of them and one of him, so he didn’t have a lot of choice. But he still laughed in acute embarrassment as his underpants came off and he lay there naked, his limp cock flopping between his thighs. They lifted him off the bed.
Brian hadn’t been in Colin’s bedroom very often, but he was sure that the steel cross standing in the centre of the room hadn’t been there last time. The metal felt cold as they cuffed his ankles to the bottom and his wrists to the horizontal bar.
The five bikers stood back and looked at him. So far no words had been spoken by any of them. One of them (Brian had no idea which - they all looked very similar in their bike gear and he’d lost track of who was who) produced a large bottle of lube. He held the open top against Brian’s bare chest and let it pour down over his skin.
“Aaargh!” It was cold.
Before it had time to drip off onto the steel base of the cross the biker began to coat the boy’s naked body with it, spreading it with his leather bike gloves. He covered every square inch of skin that was accessible, which was most of it as the bars of the metal cross were only an inch or so wide. When they’d finished, all of Brian’s body from the neck down, except the soles of his feet, was glistening with lube.
Then they closed in on him again. There were leather-gloved hands on him everywhere, stroking over his skin. The steel frame and the lube – both of which had been cold at first – had warmed up now and Brian closed his eyes at the unexpectedly erotic feel of the leather hands running slowly over him.
He kept asking them what they were doing. Why?
There was no reply from any of them.
Nobody touched his cock or his balls, although hands went quite close sometimes as they stroked up the insides of his thighs. Brian had never had lube all over his body before, or been stroked sensuously through it, and the feel of the slippery leather gliding smoothly over his skin was surprisingly erotic. There were hands working on his back, on his arms, his chest, sides, stomach, thighs, the cheeks of his arse and on his legs. He couldn’t do anything about it, so he just closed his eyes and enjoyed it.
Although nothing had touched it at all, his cock - which had so far been limp - slowly began to stiffen. Under other circumstances being naked in the presence of fully-clothed guys and getting an erection would have mortified him, but right now Brian was getting so horny that he was ceasing to care – and he didn’t know why. He watched one boy in particular as he stroked Brian’s stomach: he was wearing a thin, black racing suit with ‘Dainese’ on it in white letters. The suit fit him like a glove – it was skin tight and Brian couldn’t help noticing that he had a hard-on inside it.
Brian gasped; leather fingers were touching his balls. They stroked lightly over and around them. “Come on guys,” he laughed in embarrassment, “pack it in. Not there. I’m straight.”
The biker in question did not remove his hand. His fingers continued to stroke and tease over Brian’s naked balls.
Brian began to squirm. “No. Come on. Not there!”
It made not the slightest difference; the fingers carried on working on his balls. And then the guy in the tight Dainese suit moved his hand down and enclosed Brian’s half-erect cock in his gloved hand. He didn’t move it, just held it.
“No! Get off my cock. For fuck’s sake. Stop.” He had never been touched erotically by guys before in his life – and certainly not by guys in leather whose faces he couldn’t see - and he didn’t know what to make of it. However, it was a measure of how horny he was at the moment that the thought actually occurred to him that he wished he could touch that Dainese biker’s crotch, just to see what it felt like.
Hands went around his head from behind him, and then a leather gag was forced between his teeth and strapped in place. A moment later a blindfold came down over his eyes.
Brian began to struggle. It did no good, but it was an instinctive thing to do. He yelled into the gag, but he soon realised it was a waste of energy as the thing muffled his words into unintelligible ‘mmpphh ’s. He still couldn’t stop himself, though.
After a minute he realised something strange: being blindfolded was having several unexpected effects. The one he was aware of first was that it separated him from the bikers; his consciousness had closed in so that he was in his own private world in which only blackness, sound, and touch existed, and to his surprise that somehow seemed to be giving him permission to go with what he was experiencing. Also, although he was still well aware that they were guys, not being able to see them made that less important somehow; the sensation of their hands on him was, in the absence of sight, now the most immediate – and just about the only - thing his concentration had, to latch onto. Then he realised that because now he couldn’t see them looking at him (even though their dark visors had hidden their eyes anyway) he felt, for some reason, more comfortable about being horny and having an erection. It was almost as if they couldn’t see him either – and that seemed to make it somehow all right.
Those were the things he became aware of first, but then he realised something else: that being restrained in this situation was in fact very sexy – he’d never been helpless before, and the feeling was unexpectedly erotic. If it had been girls who had tied him up it would have felt completely different, he thought; but the fact that it was other boys doing it made it about real power and control, not femdom fantasies. For some reason he was finding the fact that he had no choice but to take whatever they wanted to do to him, a horny thought. An even more horny thought still, was that they had restrained him so that he would have no choice.
It was also humiliating; and the fact that they’d blindfolded him made it much more so. By rights he should have felt himself blushing with shame and embarrassment, but he wasn’t doing. Brian loved analysing things and he asked himself why they had blindfolded him at all. It was, he told himself: (a) because he couldn’t stop them, (b) so that he couldn’t see where their hands were going, and so wouldn’t be able to defend himself or anticipate what it would feel like; (c) to humiliate him, and (d) to make him feel vulnerable and helpless. In his present condition he found the thought of all of those things extremely horny, with (d) being the most horny of all. And the possibility that they’d blindfolded him because it turned them on to do it was horny too. In fact, all analysis aside, everything about this was turning him on like crazy.
And it shouldn’t be. They were guys, he didn’t have a fetish for leather as far as he knew, and he was straight.
But it was doing. When they’d put the blindfold over his eyes his cock had quickly risen to full erection - and now he could feel it leaking precum.
The biker’s hand holding his cock had been stationary, but now it began to move. Very slowly it slid along the shaft on the film of lube, teased over the head, and then reversed direction.
Oh fuck that felt good. Brian realised that it was making him want to cum. The hand continued to move up and down his cock very slowly – far too slowly to make him shoot – while the other hands stroked the rest of his body. He was loving it.
The blindfold was removed. For a moment Brian felt a wave of disappointment – he’d got used to it and he wanted it back on. But then he saw one of the bikers standing in front of him holding something in his hands. It was a black leather hood, and to him it looked like something out of a medieval dungeon. It was quite thin leather, and long – and he saw that the inside was shiny as well. He felt hands unfastening the gag and it was removed from his mouth.
It was clear to Brian that the reason they’d taken the blindfold and the gag off was because they were going to hood him. Obviously the blindfold would no longer be necessary as there were no eye holes in the hood, but why remove the gag? So that he’d be able to breathe? The hood didn’t look particularly tight – it was just a long, shaped leather bag really – but he supposed that it might be when it was on a head. He’d never been hooded before so he didn’t know. And he could breathe through his nose anyway. Whatever the reason, he told himself, these guys seemed to know exactly what they were doing – it was clearly not the first time they’d done this sort of thing. Fuck, even that thought was turning him on.
The biker approached him slowly, very deliberately lifting the hood. Brian felt it at the top of his head, then heard the loud creaking of the leather as it was pulled slowly but firmly down. The last thing he saw was the bikers in their shiny black gear stood watching him as the leather went over his eyes, then his nose and mouth, and was pulled down as far as it would go. He felt the end of it settle around his shoulders. Hands tucked it around his neck. He discovered that there were air holes in it just under the nose – he could feel coolness when he inhaled, though because of their position he couldn’t see a single ray of light through them - so he found he could breathe with no problem. He was acutely conscious of the smell and the feel of the cool shiny leather over his face. It felt strange, and very controlling. He realised that if he had still had the gag in, he wouldn’t have been able to feel it anything like as much. That was probably why they’d taken it off. Experimentally he moved his head, and he could feel the leather going with him – though not perfectly: it slid over his face a little with each movement.
The hood was even better at dissociating him from his surroundings than the blindfold had been: it cut off much of what he could hear too, which increased his feeling of isolation from the outside world a great deal, and he felt as if he was in his own, personal, completely separate world. He felt much more – even slightly scarily – helpless. And the feeling was, he realised, unbelievably horny. All the points he’d analysed to himself earlier about being blindfolded by these bikers were there, but much more forcefully. And he thought he knew now why they’d removed the gag: he could feel the leather over his nose, his lips, the sides of his face; he could lick it, or suck it into his mouth. The feeling of having his whole face – his whole head – covered by black leather would, if he’d had a fetish for it, be intoxicating. Brian didn’t have a fetish for leather – or at least he hadn’t thought he had – but it was still intoxicating nevertheless. His cock was harder than he could remember its being for ages.
He felt someone behind him, and then two hands pulled his head back against a shoulder to the side of the steel bar, pressing the hood tightly over his face – one over his eyes and the other over his mouth. And he instantly knew that that was why they’d removed the gag and the blindfold: it was forcing him to be more conscious of the hood now than ever before. Brian gasped at the intensity of the feeling, or tried to: he couldn’t breathe in at all – the hand over his mouth was carefully sealing the air holes. The leather was pressed tightly all over him; it felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before. After a few moments of panic, he managed to relax and let himself revel in it. The leather felt incredibly sexy, and the gloved hands he could feel through it, gagging him and pressing it tight over his eyes, made him feel dominated, controlled, outgunned. Those hands would have felt amazing over his face on their own, but the fact that they were doing it to him even though he was already hooded, was unbelievably horny.
The hands were removed so that he could breathe. He took deep breaths, the air whistling through the holes, and then wished that they would do it again.
They did – and this time, knowing now that he was in no danger of suffocating, his mind seemed to allow him to get into it even more deeply. Very shortly after the hands had released him again he was longing for them to come back.
The third time they did, he almost came. The moment he felt the leather close over his face again he started to struggle – not to escape, but to feel the hands following him, continuing to gag him and blindfold him through the leather hood as he struggled to get away from them - for the simple reason that it felt so good that he couldn’t get away from them. He was longing for the hand on his cock to speed up so that he could cum. This time it was much longer before he was released, and when he was, he was gasping for air.
Brian felt all the hands, including the one holding his cock, being removed. Something went around the hood, pulling the leather tight against his neck. There was a click, and then his wrists and ankles were released from the cross. He stood there for a moment, brought his arms up, and felt around. A chain through loops in the hood - and the chain was closed with a padlock. His fingers explored the hood for a while; there was no way he was going to get it off with that chain around it. His hands came back down to the front of his neck. It was a small combination lock; he recognised the type by the feel of it. From somewhere at his side a voice said, “six-two-three.”
Brian thought for a moment. The bastards. He knew the combination but he couldn’t see to set it because he was blindfolded by the hood, and he couldn’t get the hood off so that he could see, because of the fucking lock. The pure deviousness of that appealed to him greatly. And it was so fucking frustrating. He knew that there were five guys looking at him, every one of whom could see the lock and any one of whom could have opened it in seconds – and yet not only were they not helping him, they were probably getting off on the fact that he couldn’t do anything to help himself.
He revolved the numbers, trying the lock each time, but it wouldn’t open. Three numbers, presumably 1 to 9 on each, so that was 9x9x9, which was 729 possible combinations. It would take him fucking ages. He knew it, and he knew that they knew it. Bastards. Horny bastards.
Hands on his shoulders. They moved him away from the cross, he heard the device being dragged to one side, and then suddenly he was turned around three times, the biker holding him turning with him. When he let go Brian had no idea in which direction he was facing, where the bed was, where the door was, where the bikers were, where any other obstacles were. Why was this making him so fucking horny? He had never been more horny in his life. Why? He didn’t understand it. But he had to cum. With not the slightest feeling of shame his hand moved towards his cock; he really needing to wank himself off.
A hand came out of nowhere, grabbed his wrist, jerked it away and held it behind his back for a few seconds before letting it go. Then he was on his own again. Ok, he thought, so they had no intention of letting him make himself cum. He somehow hadn’t thought they would. He moved forward slowly, his hands stretched out in front of him. They met nothing at first, and then he came to a wall. He felt along it, looking for a doorway.
Suddenly, as they had done when he’d been on the cross, the hands clamped over his face again. They pulled his head back until it was hard against a leather-jacketed shoulder. His arms came up, but they were grabbed and forced behind his back by a biker whose leathers he could feel pressing against his front. His cock rubbed against leather jeans for a moment until the biker realised this could let him cum, and so moved to the side.
Brian struggled in their grip but he could do nothing. His ankles were being held too.
They let him go. He fought the compulsion to reach for his cock again, and instead he resumed his slow, careful progress to where he thought the wall had been. But in his struggling he’d got turned around again so he didn’t come to the wall at all. He felt the edge of the bed.
As soon as he realised what it was he was grabbed again and forced onto it. They lay him face up, and cuffed his wrists to the top corners of the bed. Now he couldn’t wank however hard he tried.
They let him lie there for a while, and then bikers piled on top of him. He had no idea how many, but all he could feel was leather and weight all over him. There were booted feet against his, leather jeans on his legs, zips and leather jackets higher up. Gloved hands stroked him again, and occasionally pressed tightly over his hooded face, pushing his head down into the bed and cutting off his air. They were also very careful not to let anything rub against his cock for long enough to make him cum.
After a while Brian felt the mattress moving as the bikers got off. One stayed, lying on top of him, his leather-clad body moving slowly and sensuously against the boy’s skin. Brian felt pressure against his mouth. The biker was kissing him through the hood.
Brian was not homophobic in the slightest, but he was straight. The thought of kissing another boy was not disgusting to him, just of no interest whatever. But he felt himself responding to the kiss. It was as if the hood was allowing him to do it without any of associations that always came with something as intimate as that. He knew it was a guy. He knew that if he really wanted to he could jerk his head away - they might pull it back into position and hold it there or they might not. But, while he was being controlled by these bikers, and while he was hooded, he wanted that kiss. He felt the guy’s tongue pushing the leather into his mouth and he welcomed it. He pushed his head forward, pressing his lips hard against those of the biker through the hood, and kissed him back.
A leather-gloved hand touched his cock. It moved up the shaft and came to rest on the head, then the fingers began to tease slowly over it. At the same time the mattress moved again as more of the bikers got back on. They released his cuffed wrists, and held him down with as much of their leather making contact with his skin as possible. The fingers on his cock head began to move faster. The biker stopped kissing him and replaced his hands hard over Brian’s eyes and mouth, sealing the air holes.
Brian began to struggle – again because it felt so good to do that. He could feel a hard, leather cock bulge holding one of his hands down, and for a moment he wondered if it was the Dainese boy – but he didn’t care. He stroked and squeezed it as he struggled.
The struggling became more and more violent – he was running out of air – and then the fingers on his cock milked him. The hands pressed even harder over his face as he came, bucking under the biker’s weight and held down helpless by the others, gasping and fighting for breath under the suffocating black leather of the hood. His orgasm was one of the very best he’d ever had; on his private scale of 1-10, it was a definite 10.
When it was over the hands released him, unlocked the hood, and pulled the leather away from his face so that he could breathe easily, but they didn’t take it off him. Brian panted for some time, but gradually calmed down. He relaxed back onto the bed. None of the bikers had moved – they were still holding him down.
The one on top of him spoke. It was the first time any of them had said anything. “You Ok?”
Brian didn’t recognise the voice. He nodded. “Yeah. I think so.” He chuckled.
“Happy birthday, Brian.” That was Colin – Brian knew his voice.
“What? My birthday’s not until next week.”
“I know. But if we’d done it then you’d have guessed.”
“Sneaky. Bastards.” He shook his hooded head. “Fuck, that was – that was something else.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
Brian chuckled. “I think so. I think I enjoyed it a lot. It’s gonna take some time for me to process it, though.”
“Hehe. Ever the analyst. Now, either I can send these boys away before I take your hood off, so that you’ll never know who they were or who did what to you, or I can take the hood off now and you can see who everyone is. Up to you.”
Brian thought about this. On the one hand it would be fitting somehow – and actually fucking horny – not to be allowed to know who they were; but on the other hand he was dying to see them. “Take it off now, please.”
“You sure?”
“Not really.” He chuckled. “But yes.”
Colin laughed. “Ok. Lift your head up a bit.” He pulled the hood off.
All the bikers had taken their crash helmets off. Brian looked up at the guy who had kissed him first. He was a nice-looking guy with black hair and dark eyes. He was smiling. The one who had made him cum – his hand was still on Brian’s cock – was the boy in the Dainese suit. He was a cute kid of about 19 or 20, with dark blond hair. The other two were bigger guys in leather jeans and jackets, one of which was heavily studded. He remembered now: he’d felt studs on arms that had been holding him down earlier. Colin himself stood on Brian’s left. He knew what Col looked like in leather as they occasionally went for rides together on their bikes.
Brian didn’t fancy any of them – they were guys, after all – but the thought that these boys had got him helpless and had controlled him so easily was something he was still finding disturbingly horny. He looked at the kid in the Dainese racing suit: yep, he would still like to find out what that one’s leather crotch felt like with a hard-on.
They let him sit up.
“I have a confession to make, “ smiled Colin. “Mike here,” he pointed to the Dainese kid, “suggested the idea. He’ll hate me for telling you this but he’s fancied you like fuck for ages.”
Brian looked at the boy again. “Really?” He found that difficult to understand, but he was secretly delighted – everyone likes to be fancied. “Good grief.”
Mike was looking a bit embarrassed, but he was grinning.
“So,” Colin continued, “if you ever feel like… experimenting with a boy, Mike’s your guy.”
Brian was already beginning to feel horny again. He nodded to the hood lying on the bed. “If he gets me hooded again with that thing, he can do anything he likes to me. In fact any of you can.”
There were whoops.
“Is that a fact?” Colin was grinning wickedly. He picked up the hood. Then he handed it to Mike.
“Get him, boys!”