The Telemachus Story Archive

The Tear
By Hooder

The Tear

Chris despaired of the amount of paperwork involved in running a shop like this. He particularly hated filling in the tax returns, which he was working on now. He put down his pen and looked around the shop. Well, this was the last time he'd have to do them. He'd started with a tiny shop in Soho, built the business up through hard work to what it was now - and last month he'd sold it for a very tidy sum. On Monday it wouldn't be his responsibility any more. He was looking forward to his holiday in Barbados in a couple of weeks' time - it would be the first proper holiday he'd had for years, and he thought he deserved it. What he'd do after that, he didn't know.

He glanced at the clock - half an hour to closing. There probably wouldn't be any more customers today - Friday afternoon was a slack time. Picking up the pen again, he sighed and returned to the tax forms in front of him.

David took a deep breath and pushed the door open. He'd never been in a shop like this before, and the first thing that struck him was the overwhelming smell of leather. The door closed with a pneumatic 'fwit...' behind him, and he found himself looking over aisle after aisle of shiny black leather gear. There were jackets, jeans, boots, belts, waistcoats, shorts - and things he had never seen in his life before and couldn't even put a name to. It was all too much for him to take in.

Chris looked up from his paperwork at the sound of the door - and stared. The boy standing there, looking around dazedly, was fucking drop-dead gorgeous: blue-eyed, slim, and beautiful, with spiky blond hair. He also had an erection that was threatening to burst his PVC jeans. Those jeans were exactly like the ones he himself used to have years ago, before he'd been able to afford leather. Chris watched as the boy walked down the stairs slowly, and went into the first aisle, passing between rows of leather jackets.

There were casual jackets, biker jackets, straitjackets... David, his mouth hanging open in awe, ran his fingers over the smooth black surfaces reverently as he walked trance-like past them. The price tags on them were telephone numbers to him - how could anyone afford things like this? There was a beautiful biker jacket of shiny leather with big chrome studs on the shoulders and back. Fuck, that was sexy. He felt it lovingly for a long time, but he daren't even look at the price.

At the bottom of the aisle he turned right, then right again into the next one. Jeans. His cock hardened even more in his PVC jeans (at 19, and with a job that paid minimum wage, he'd never had enough money to buy real leather ones - these were the closest he could get) and he examined every pair one by one. Some were thick, padded biker jeans; others were thin and unlined (oh fuck, what would it feel like to have your cock played with through those?) and here were a pair with a strange extra bit that seemed to snap into place over your cock and balls. He'd never seen anything like this before, and he looked at them closely, trying to understand how they worked and what they were for. There was a hole underneath.. Ah - you put everything through there and then snapped the leather cover over it... Oh fuck! His cock was as hard as steel in his jeans just thinking about that, and the amazing bulge it would make. He ran the fingertips of one hand lightly over the thin leather codpiece while his other hand played slowly with his cock.

The next aisle was full of hoods. The number of different kinds staggered him. Some had eyeholes, some removable blindfolds or gags, and others - the ones that fascinated him most of all - had no holes at all. Oh, to be enclosed in one of those, unable to see, black leather pressing against your face...

He picked one of the hoods off the shelf and held it in front of him. It was much longer than the others - it looked like it would come down over the tops of his shoulders - and there was an attached collar to fasten it tightly around the victim's neck. It was shaped vaguely like a head and shoulders, and the leather was totally featurless: no eye holes, no mouth hole, and as far as David could see, no air holes either. He looked inside - the entire inner surface was lined with the thinnest, shiniest black leather he'd ever seen. He wanted it so badly it hurt.

Reluctantly, he replaced it on the shelf and passed on to the boots. He instantly saw the ones he would have - high black leather biker boots with eight buckles down the side and fuck-off steel plates over the shins. Oh yeeaaahhh....! He lifted one of the boots to his face and smelled the leather, closing his eyes. He wanted to lick the boot, but daren't.

Chris had been watching the boy with a sad smile on his lips. He saw customers come and go every day and - apart from the regulars - had no idea who they most of them were. But he knew exactly who this boy was. The look on the kid's face, and the way he was touching the leather, told him everything: this boy was himself, twenty years ago. When Chris had been twenty years old, he'd done exactly the same thing: gone into a leather shop for the very first time (they'd been much smaller then) and been stunned at the sight, feel and smell of a room full of his greatest fetish - black leather. He'd spent one of the happiest hours of his life compiling a mental list of everything he would buy from that shop if he'd had the money. But he'd been broke at the time, and couldn't even afford the tube fare home. He remembered as if it was yesterday leaving that shop, closing the door behind him. He had cried.

He gazed at the boy for a while, then came to a decision. He pressed the switch that changed the 'open' sign on the door to 'closed', and locked the door. Then he came from behind the counter and walked towards the boy.

"Nine hundred and sixteen pounds."

David jumped, and opened his eyes, He almost dropped the boot he was holding. There was a man standing there straight out of his wettest dreams. About 40, short dark hair, extremely good looking, and wearing a white muscle teeshirt, bike boots like the one David was holding, a studded belt, and the tightest pair of leather jeans David had ever seen. "I - I'm sorry?"

"The studded jacket, the codpiece jeans, the breath control leather hood, and the boots. Nine hundred and sixteen pounds."

David stared, wide-eyed, uncomprehending.

Chris laughed then - and his smile melted David completely. "Hi, I'm Chris. I own the shop. I've been watching you choosing things that you really like."

"I - I'm sorry, I'm only... only looking, at the moment." David wondered if the man knew he had no money.

Chris tilted his head to one side and leaned against the shelf, his thumb hooked in a belt loop of his jeans. Whether the action was intentional or not David didn't know - but it made the kid's mouth dry with lust.

"Tell me. Have you ever been into a shop like this before?"

"Yeah, loads of times."

Chris just looked at him in silence, smiling gently.

David's bravado wilted as the silence stretched. Finally, after a good half minute, he said, quietly: "No, sir. This is my first time."

"Have you ever worn leather before?"

David hung his head and stared at the floor. "No," he whispered, "I've never been able to afford it."

"But leather turns you on, yes?"

The boy felt as if he were back at school, in front of the headmaster, accused of having fetishes. He nodded his head, "oh fuck yeah..." His words were almost inaudible.

"Would you like to?"

David looked up, and frowned. "I'm sorry?"

Chris looked the boy up and down. "30 waist? Size 11 boots? 38 chest?"

David nodded, not understanding.

"OK - let's go get all those things you liked - jacket, jeans, hood, boots - and bring them to the fitting room."

"But I can't affor-"

"I know. Just do it. I'd like to see what you look like in them."

The boy paused for perhaps half a second and then he beamed. His face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Really?"

"Really. Come on." Chris was grinning as he led the kid round the shop, collecting the studded jacket, the codpiece jeans, the leather hood and the boots - all in the right sizes. "Follow me. The fitting room's in the back."

Three of the walls - and the ceiling - of the 'fitting room' were mirrored. Shelves full of assorted items lined the fourth wall, and there was a large black operating table in the centre of the room. But this one had leather restraints fixed all over it. David's eyes opened wide at the sight. "WOW!"

"I assume you've never been restrained before either..." said Chris, laughing at the expression on the kid's face.

At Chris's insistence, David allowed the man to blindfold him until he'd finished putting everything on, so that he would see it all at once. He stripped, and - with Chris's help - put on all his chosen gear. It was difficult to get his balls and cock through the hole in the jeans as it was rock-hard, but with the help of a little cold water brought by Chris, he finally managed it. The thin, soft codpiece snapped into place and the shiny, supple black leather molded itself around the shape of the boy's cock to perfection. The final thing was the jacket. Chris helped the boy into it, zipped it up halfway, and turned the collar up.

Chris looked at David. "A belt. Don't move a muscle." He popped back into the shop and returned with a heavily studded black leather belt. When this was fitted, he stood back and gazed at the beautiful boy in front of him. Shit, in all his time working here, he'd never seen such a sexy leatherboy in his life.

"Ok. Look straight ahead." Chris pulled David's blindfold off.

The boy gasped. Looking back at him from the mirrored wall was a vision of pure sex. "Is that me?"

"Oh yes. What do you think? Like it?"

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuuuuuuuuuck......." He was incapable of saying anything else. He ran his hands slowly over his leather-clad body, watching in the mirror the way the leather clung to his body and reflected the lights. While he was doing this Chris took a digital camera off the shelf and took pictures of him. Finally, David's fingers touched his cock through the soft leather codpiece. He closed his eyes and groaned in ecstasy at the feeling. He had never felt anything like that before - his fingers slid over the soft, shiny surface and his cock responded as if it had been designed to be enveloped in thin, sensitive black leather. "Oh shit, I think I'm gonna cum..."

"Oh no you're not!" Chuckled Chris. He put the camera down and grabbed the boy, pushing him onto the operating table. Before the kid knew what was happening the man had strapped his wrists to the side of the table. He then set about fastening all the other straps over David's booted feet, his thighs, his arms, chest and stomach. In less than thirty seconds, the boy was completely strapped down and immobilized.

Again, the camera flash fired repeatedly as the man took pictures of the sexy, helpless blond boy from all angles.

"Now, I think there was one other item..." He reached down and picked up the long leather hood. He held it open, and approached the boy with it. A look comprising both fear and longing was on David's face as Chris pulled the leather over the boy's head, and buckled the neck strap loosely enough to allow him to breathe fairly easily. He pulled the bottom of the hood down to David's shoulders, then stepped back and let the lad enjoy the feeling of being helpless, and totally enclosed in his biggest fetish - black leather.

Inside the hood, David breathed in deeply the heady smell of leather - and the hood ballooned inwards slightly, touching his face. "Oh fuuck..." he began to panic.

"It's ok," said Chris soothingly, "if you just breathe slowly."

David forced himself to obey, and found that indeed he could get enough air. Oh god, this felt good. He'd been strapped down to an operating table by a sexy, good-looking hunk of a leather man, and he was wearing gear which until now he'd only been able to dream about. His balls were thrust forward by the hole in the jeans and his cock was straining the soft leather codpiece, harder than it had ever been before. He pulled against the restraints feeling his helplessness, feeling the leather. He was in heaven. Oh fuck, he needed to cum so badly - one touch on his cock and he was sure he would shoot his load.

Chris traced a finger lightly up the inside of David's left leg. "Ok, boy," said Chris slowly, "I'll make a deal with you. How would you like to keep all the gear you're wearing now?"

David stopped moving against the restraints - he froze. "What?"

"How would you like it if I gave you that gear? As a present?"

David could not believe his ears. "But..."

"Tell you what - if you can stop yourself from cumming for five minutes, you can have it all."

David was silent, trying to understand. "Wh- why would you do that?"

"Because one thing that turns me on a lot is making a sexy boy fight the urge to cum."


"Oh yeah. So - if you do NOT let yourself cum, for just five minutes, it's yours. Deal?"

"Oh FUCK! Deal! DEAL!!!!"

Chris smiled to himself, and reached out to the shelf. He took a small, cylindrical device down from it, and turned the base. It began to hum, quietly. "Ok. The time starts - now." He pulled the collar of the leather hood, buckling it another two notches tighter. David could still breathe - just - but it was much more difficult. Now, with each struggling intake of breath, the inside of the hood went to work on the boy, clamping over his face, clinging and suffocating him in his greatest fetish: shiny black leather. At the same time, Chris gently lowered the end of the vibrator onto the precise tip of David's steel-hard cock outlined under the thin, sensitive leather codpiece.

"NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" David wailed in a fury of frustration inside the leather hood. He felt orgasm approaching, and realized that he was powerless to do anything about it. If he could stop himself cumming, he could have all this gear! But he was helpless, strapped down to an operating table; hooded, his head enclosed tightly in clinging, shiny leather; tight leather jeans hugging his legs, and his cock was in a thin leather codpiece that had seemingly been designed to make him cum. And he was being efficiently milked by some devilish device that was fiendishly irresistible.

"Don't cum, boy - don't let yourself cum. Fight it. Fight it..." Chris's voice was quiet, and dripped evil; he knew the horny boy stood no chance. To make absolutely certain the kid couldn't resist, he began to tickle the helpless boy's balls lightly through the thin leather at the same time.

David screamed. He felt himself losing it - and he began to cum. His cock bucked under the vibrator, pumping his boy-spunk in urgent, uncontrollable, hot, sticky gobs into the black leather enclosing it. "FUUUCK!!! SHIT!!! UUUNNNGHHHH!!!! NOOOOO!!!! YOU BASTARD!!!!!!" He pulled and fought against the restraints, but they held him down, and his struggling only served to make him feel more defenceless. He was in the throes of a mind-shattering orgasm which he'd been totally helpless to prevent. He felt his cock wildly spurting spunk into the black leather jeans.

Ignoring the desperate yells coming from under the hood, Chris continued to keep the tip of the vibrator pressed lightly against the boy's cock-head, following it as it danced around under the leather codpiece, and milking every last drop out of the teenager's balls. It was so easy. The boy was struggling, fighting and yelling fit to bust, and Chris just stood there, gently holding the vibrator to the kid's raging cock and tickling his leather-covered balls.

As soon as it was over, Chris loosened the hood, but left it on while he got his own cock out and quickly wanked himself off looking at the boy. Then, after cleaning himself and zipping his cock back inside his jeans, he pulled the hood off. David heaved in lungfuls of air. "Oh shit..." he gasped between breaths, "oh fuck - that was fucking unbelievable."

Chris smiled at him.

"You knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself cumming, didn't you." it was a statement, not a question.

"Oh yeah."

"So why did you make me try?"

"Because I love to see helpless boys fighting against it. Turns me on." He began unfastening the straps holding David to the table. "Shame you didn't manage it. All this could have been yours."

David was silent. He got off the table and looked at himself again in the mirrored wall. Oh shit, he looked like he'd always dreamed of looking. A sexy, cute leatherboy. But it was not to be.

Chris stepped back and allowed the boy to gaze at himself for a while. Then David did something that surprised him. He turned and stood in front of the man.

"Thank you for doing that for me," he whispered. Then he put his arm around Chris and kissed him deeply.

Chris melted into the beautiful boy's kiss. He hugged him tightly. When they parted, the man looked into the kid's blue eyes. "You're very welcome, boy," he smiled gently. "But now you'd better get out of that gear. I have to close up."

David sighed, looked at his reflection one last time, and took the jacket off. He held it to his face, his eyes closed, stroking the studded leather against his skin lovingly. A tear formed, ran down his cheek and onto the shiny black leather, where it gleamed in the overhead lights.

As Chris watched the kid, he saw himself again, twenty years ago, leaving that other leather shop. Suddenly, and with crystal clarity, he remembered how he'd felt as he'd left the shop, closing the door behind him. He'd left a part of his soul inside.

Oh what the hell. Do it. "What's your name, kid?"


"Well David, pass me your clothes."

David frowned, then handed his PVC jeans, trainers and denim jacket to the man.

"Come with me..." He led the way back into the shop, to the counter, where he took a large plastic carrier bag and, folding the boy's clothes neatly, put them inside. He gathered the two handles together, and handed the bag to the uncomprehending boy. "Put the leather jacket back on, David. It's yours - and so is the rest of the gear. A present."

David stared, wide-eyed, not understanding. "But I lost... Why...?"
I know. Let's just say it's a gift from another boy your age. One who wasn't quite so fortunate.

"Another boy?"

"Never mind," he smiled. "Just take them."

David took the bag, an expression of pure joy on his face. "Oh fuck. You serious? How can I ever thank you?"

Chris led him up the stairs to the door, and unlocked it. He began to open it, then stopped. "Just do one thing for me..."

David waited, his eyes fixed on the man's face.

Chris smiled and ran his fingers through the boy's spiky blond hair. "Just have fun."

The man watched the gorgeous leatherboy as he walked away, then he closed and locked the door, and went back to his tax returns.

Somehow, the paperwork didn't seem quite so bad now.