“Ah, another biker!”
Colin looked round, slightly startled. The guy who’d just arrived at the bar was in his forties, with short brown hair and a friendly smile. He was wearing a tight black Dainese one-piece and leather bike boots with white socks rolled over the tops. There was a black crash helmet on the stool by his side.
Colin smiled and nodded. “Hi.”
“Here, let me get you a beer. I’m Ashley, by the way.”
Colin had never been picked up in a pub before. First time for everything, he thought. They found an empty table at the back of the room and sat down.
Ashley had a quiet, gentle voice and turned out to be unusually easy to talk to. Their conversation quickly settled on bikes.
“So how long have you been a biker?”
“Oh, since I was a wee lad.” Colin hadn’t really been in the mood for conversation, but this guy was hot hot hot - he wore leather like he’d been born in it. This wasn’t Colin’s local pub, and he was feeling horny, so he thought what the hell, be a tart. “The real reason I got my first bike was as an excuse to wear leather.”
Ashley frowned. “Really? Leather?” He leaned forward, fascinated. Tell me about that.”
He was interested! Colin was on a roll. This guy was hot and looked like sex on legs in that Dainese gear. The boy’s eyes devoured his firm body under the bike suit as he described to the man in shameless detail his lifelong fetish for black leather. How seeing another guy in leather had always stopped him in his tracks; how he’d got into bondage – but always with leather; he even told the guy how his wanks always involved lots of it. The blacker and shiner the better.
The man had been listening quietly, nodding now and then.
“And you look fucking amazing in that gear,” Colin added.
Ashley smiled at that. He didn’t say anything for a while, but then he leaned forward again, his eyes slightly narrowed. “A fetish for leather. Now that is intriguing.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “You know, I think that I and my friends could be of use to you. We have the experience, and we have a… facility.” He smiled. “And we have a lot of black leather.”
Colin felt his heart rate increase slightly. A ‘facility’. Now that sounded fascinating. That sounded very fascinating indeed. It had been a long time since he’d been in a proper dungeon.
“Do you have a week’s holiday sometime? A week you could move in and take advantage of our... expertise?”
Oh yes. That, Colin could arrange.
* * *
The place looked perfect. Colin had actually passed the entrance hundreds of times on the bike but he’d never been beyond the gates. Years ago it had been an asylum for the criminally insane, and then had lain unused for ages. He’d heard that it had eventually been bought, but he didn’t know by whom.
Ashley had been waiting when he’d arrived. He waved Colin into a garage and stood while the boy put the machine on the centre stand and unfastened his tank bag. After locking the door he led the way into the main building.
“We don’t use the whole place – it’s far too big – though we are expanding slowly. Our facility is in the cellar. Just down these stairs.”
The place still had an abandoned feel to it. This part had obviously been cleaned in the not-too-distant past, but the sound of their booted feet on the bare boards of the staircase echoed down the deserted corridors. When they came to the bottom of the stairs the floor was concrete.
“Reception is down here.” Ashley led the way along a short corridor with grey tiles halfway up the walls, and into an office. At least it had carpet. “Have a seat.” He closed the door behind them, then went to a small kitchen unit in the corner. “Tea?”
Colin nodded. “Please. White, no sugar.”
Ashley put the tea on the desk and sat down. “Ok. Now, We like to do things properly at this institution, so there are a couple of forms to fill out.” He opened a drawer.
Colin loved the idea of an ‘institution’ – and filling forms in made it even more realistic.
He took Colin’s details, and then asked a long series of questions about the boy’s leather fetish. As these gradually became much more detailed, more intimate and more specific, Colin found himself getting very turned on as he answered them fully, and with a great deal of enthusiasm. He was in an asylum, for fuck’s sake! Some of the questions had been about his willingness both to have restraints used on him, and also to undergo non-painful ‘treatments’ for his fetish. The thought of a scenario where he was to be ‘treated’ for his leather fetish was something that had never occurred to him – and it was intoxicatingly exciting.
Ashley watched while Colin signed at the bottom of the last form – the boy hadn’t even read them. He stapled the sheets of paper together, put them in a drawer, and then pressed a button on the desk and sat back. “Ok. That’s all done.”
He unzipped the collar of his Dainese suit. There was a shiny white clerical collar underneath. He smiled. “My name is the Reverend Ashley Williams, and the Church of Righteousness welcomes you to our therapy facility.”
The door behind Colin opened.
There was a sweet smell, and then a cloth was clamped tightly over Colin’s mouth and nose. His arms began to rise, but they were grabbed and held down as the drug began to do its work.
The Reverend Ashley Williams’ smiling, gentle voice – at first clear – gradually began to fade with the boy’s receding consciousness. “You can’t fight it, Colin, it’s chloroform. You’re in our hands now. Be of good faith, my son, because you will soon be free of your wicked, evil, unnatural fetish. You will come to the light. You will be born again in the loving arms of our saviou…” The voice faded out completely.
Colin was terrified. When he’d come to, he’d found himself naked, locked in a padded cell. The grey walls were ripped in places and he didn’t even want to think about what the stains were or how they’d got there. After half an hour the door opened and two guys in orderlies’ whites - but with black balaclavas concealing their faces – came in. In silence they took him out of the cell, down an echoing bare corridor and into another room.
Colin swallowed. The room was white, and brightly lit. He was transfixed by the two rusty iron rings with leather ankle restraints attached to them, that were fixed into the middle of the concrete floor. High above them a steel bar with more rings hung from a hoist. Padded black leather cuffs hung from these too.
The orderlies positioned the boy and buckled the cuffs tightly around his wrists and ankles, raised the hoist a little, then left.
Colin was shivering, not because he was cold - the room was in fact pleasantly warm – but because he was very scared. How had he got into the hands of religious nutters? And what the fuck were they planning to do to him? That man Ashley had assured him that there would be no pain involved in the ‘treatments’ - but could he be believed? What the fuck had he let himself in for?
The door opened and three figures came in. Colin didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but whatever it had been, this wasn’t it. All three were dressed identically in black leather bike boots; tight black leather breeches; leather jackets with the collars turned up; long, studded leather gauntlets; and full-face black leather masks through which only their eyes were visible. The one on the left was very muscular, the middle one’s leathers were the shiniest he’d ever seen, and the third one’s leather breeches were so tight that his bulge was much more obvious than the other two. Colin immediately named them ‘Gym’, ‘Shiny’, and ‘Bulge’.
After a few moments the door opened again and the Reverend Ashley walked over to stand in front of him. He’d changed out of his bike leathers and was wearing a dark suit. “We here at the Church of Righteousness are always on the lookout for the many and varied vices and addictions that tempt man. The Devil works in insidious ways - butthe Lord has provided us with the means of dealing with them. We have a large staff we can call upon, with expertise in many different areas of wickedness.” With a small wave of his hand he indicated the trio of masked, leather-clad guys. “These three servants of our church are, I think you’ll find, particularly suited to your individual needs – and, as you will shortly see, they are also extraordinarily expert in them.”
He tilted his head. “Do you know what ‘aversion therapy’ is?”
Colin nodded. He’d read of people being given electric shocks while being forced to look at pictures of things they were to be dissuaded from liking – violence, children, even gay sex had been subjects of aversion therapy in the past. It didn’t work, and it fucked people up.
“Of course in the old days pain was used in the treatments, and it wasn’t very successful. But nowadays we’re much more civilised – and more scientific. We are not going to cause you any pain at all.” He smiled slowly, “but you will still scream.” The Reverend Ashley turned to go. “Gentlemen, do the Lord’s work.” He crossed himself and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Shiny stepped forward, looking the naked boy up and down slowly. “So, you have a leather fetish...” He laughed quietly, and in a way that worried Colin a lot. “Tight, black leather. We’ve read all about you, my boy, and we know exactly what your… weaknesses are. We turn you on. You want to touch our leathers.” He began to run his gauntleted hands slowly over his jacket and breeches. The sight was mesmerising and the creaking it made was delicious, Colin thought. “You want to feel these tight black leather breeches on your skin. Sliding against your horny, hard cock.” He chuckled. “A fetish for leather. Hmm. Let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?”
The three figures moved closer until they were touching his body, Shiny was in front of him. Colin groaned quietly as their cool black leathers made contact with his naked skin. His cock, which so far had lain shrivelled with fear between his legs, began to show signs of interest. For a while they did nothing more, just rubbing their leather-clad bodies against him, and then Shiny took the boy’s growing erection in his leather-gauntleted hand and began to stroke it very lightly. Occasionally the cold steel studs brushed against the front of his thigh. Colin’s head rolled back slowly and he closed his eyes for a moment in pleasure – the leather on his naked cock felt wonderful. It responded quickly and was fully hard in seconds. While the other two stroked his body all over, Shiny kept eye contact with the boy as his fingers worked on the increasingly horny cock. Gym, standing behind him, brought his hand up between Colin’s legs and began to ticklethe boy’s balls at the same time. The feel of the leather gauntlet tight up against his perineum and the insides of his naked thighs, together with the leather fingers teasing his balls, the guy’s leather jacket against his back, and his hot breath on his neck was unbelievably horny. Bulge was standing at his side, and he could feel his leather crotch pressing against him, the guy’s hands stroking his sides and chest. He desperately wanted to kiss Bulge through that leather mask.
Colin was quickly becoming very horny. He didn’t understand what was going on. If this was supposed to be getting rid of his fetish for leather, it was not working. Being stroked and teased by three drop-dead sexy masked guys in full leathers was heaven – but where was the aversion?
Realisation began to dawn an hour later. The three guys had changed positions several times, and were using their leather gear to turn him on – but at every moment someone had always been working on his cock, gently and slowly, hardly touching. The first time he’d got really close andhad known he was going to cum, his muscles had tensed, he’d closed his eyes and held his breath – but the stroking had stopped, instantly. He’d groaned and strained for orgasm, but he couldn’t reach it. Since then, the three guys had got him to the edge fifteen or twenty times, but with immaculate timing they’d always stopped just too soon, making very sure he couldn’t cum, leaving him teetering on the brink of orgasm.
“Let me explain what’s happening,” said Shiny at one point, when Colin was recovering from the acute frustration of yet another un-achieved orgasm. “Your mind will slowly come to associate tight black leather with the frustration of not being able to cum. And believe me, we are going to make you want to cum very much indeed. We’re good at that.” His gaze swept around the rest of the room - Colin hadn’t noticed what was in it before - now he saw that there were shelves with bottles of lube; shiny black dildos and butt-plugs; complicated-looking restraints, gags, blindfolds and leather hoods; what looked like wickedly-pointed black leather feathers; and more things the boy couldn’t identify. Standing by the wall was a sturdy restraint table on wheels, a little further on was some kind of frame, and along one complete wall ran a rack of leather jackets, long leather coats, leather aprons, and black leather jeans of various kinds – dozens of them. “And we have lots of gear to use on you that will make your need to cum worse, and worse, and worse…”
On the other side of the door was a floor pad with a leather sleep sack on it. It was lying open invitingly, one of its internal arm sleeves visible. He knew that in that, his hands would be held uselessly against his sides, well away from his cock, which would be sticking through the hole at the crotch. Shiny nodded to it. “That’s where we’ll put you to bed at night. It’s comfortable and you’ll have a good night’s sleep – hooded, and tightly encased in leather. And you won’t be able to get to your cock, so there’ll be no question of nocturnal emissions when we’re not here.”
Colin heard the guy’s words, but in his present state all he could really think about was his desperate need for orgasm.
“It will take time, but by the end of seven long days, whenever you see black leather, or feel it, or smell it, or even hear it creaking, you will very much want to avoid it. Oh, it will still make you need to cum – in fact it will make you need to cum a lot more than it does now by the time we’ve finished with you - but you will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you won’t be able to. However much you want to.”
Of all this, the thing that got through to his muddled brain was: seven days.
Leather bulges pressed into his arse and his thigh, more shiny, tight black leather stroked and slid all over his horny, desperate body, leather gauntleted fingers teased just the head of his cock lightly, slipping on the precum. He stared into the eyes beneath the black leather masks. Within three seconds he was back on the edge.
Seven days of this?
Without cumming?
Not once?
A sense of rising panic began to overwhelm him. He was restrained in an asylum; nobody knew where he was; he wasn’t due back at work for a week; nobody was going to look for him.
He would be insane in less than an hour.
A week?
They couldn’t do that.
They wouldn’t.
Would they?
They did.