Monday, 16 July 2012

The Great American Road Trip – Part 26 Hangin’ around Tombstone Arizona

I continued to head west from Austin finding myself in Tombstone, Arizona. There was a cowboy gunfight show, which I decided to attend. The actors were drop dead gorgeous and were dressed in tight blue Wranglers, leather chaps, western shirts, leather vests and cowboy boots. I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. One of the features to one side of the stage was a gallows complete with a noose. I wondered what it would be like to be standing on the gallows with my hands tied behind my back waiting for the trapdoor to open.

Part way through the show one of them said they needed a volunteer from the audience. He was carrying a coil of rope, the end of which was tied as a lasso. He ran up into the seating areas and before I know what was going on, the lasso had tightened around chest and I felt myself being pulled down to the stage.

It started off in the usual audience volunteer way. “What’s your name and where are you from?”

“James and I’m from Sydney Australia.”

There was a bit of banter about how far I had travelled and how I was dressed (full black motorcycle leathers.)

“We’ll get James ready for his part.”

Just as suddenly as I had arrived on stage, I was whisked off to a shed behind the stage by two of the cowboys. I was pushed to the floor and hogtied with my wrists and ankles crossed. I was gagged with a knotted bandanna and blindfolded with another bandanna.

“We’ll back for you for a later show.”

I struggled against my ropes and mmmppphhhed into my gag. These boys knew how to tie ropes and no matter how much I struggled, there was no way I was getting free. Being hogtied with your wrists and ankles crossed made it almost impossible to move. I was left struggling for what felt like a couple of hours.

I heard the shed door open and the sound of booted feet on the floor.

“Biker boy, it’s time to get you ready for the next show.”

I felt my leather jacket being unzipped and what felt like a harness was fastened around my chest and buckled up tightly. My jacket was then zipped up. My feet were untied but my hands were left tied behind my back. My blindfold was removed but I was still gagged. A loose noose was tied around my neck and I was led outside.

“OK biker boy, show time!”

I was led onto the stage.

“We caught this varmint red handed with all the stolen cattle.”

“By the look of how he’s dressed, I can see what’s happened to some of the cattle!”

There were some laughs from the audience.

“We’ll show this varmint what we do to rustlers, we hang em and we hang em high.”

I was led over to the gallows and up the steps. There was a growing bulge in my leather jeans at the thought of standing on the gallows with the noose around my neck. I was positioned over the trap door. The noose that had been used to lead me to the gallows was removed and the thick noose from the gallows was placed around my neck and cinched up. I also felt something clip onto the harness that was under my leather jacket. While I realised that the harness would stop the noose from strangling me I still imagined what it would be like to be standing on the gallows for real, waiting for the trap door to open.

“So varmint, any last words before you meet your maker.”

I mmmppphhed into my gag.

A black cloth hood was placed over my head plunging me into darkness, I also started to feel a bit dizzy. All of a sudden the trap door opened and I felt myself drop. I felt the harness stop my fall but at the same time I could feel the rough rope of the noose tighten around my neck. I tried to find the ground with my feet but there was nothing there. I felt the world go black.

I woke up; I was lying on a floor. I tried to move my hands but they were cuffed behind my back around a pole with what felt like Darby style handcuffs. Chains were locked around my ankles and thighs. I managed to get myself into a sitting position. I tried to call out but I was gagged with a knotted bandana. It looked like I was in the same shed I’d been taken to when I had been taken out of the audience. I struggled against the handcuffs and chains but I wasn’t going anywhere.

After some time the cowboys from the show came in.

“Well done biker boy, the audience loved you. I think we’ll keep you for our future shows.”

I mmmppphhhed into my gag and struggled against my handcuffs.

“There’s no point struggling, those cuffs have held stronger men than you.”

They turned to walk out and I continued to mmmppphhh into my gag, although being chained up and cuffed like this was making me as horny as hell.

“OK, just kidding.”

My captors returned to the room and removed my cuffs and chains followed by my gag. Each cowboy in turn gave me a huge kiss and hug.

Thursday, 12 July 2012

The Great American Road Trip – Part 25 – Austin – The New Year’s Eve Party

I headed to Austin to spend Christmas and New Year with my cousin Luke. I’d previously visited Austin with Luke’s brother, David for Thanksgiving having a bondage adventure along the way. I wondered if anything else awaited in Austin.

I had a great Christmas with Luke and paid a visit to Dallas after Christmas returning to Austin for New Year. Luke and I had been invited to a New Year’s Eve party; the dress code was leather. Like his brother David, Luke had a good collection of leather clothing and loaned me some of his Langlitz leathers to save me wearing my bike leathers.

The leathered eye candy at the party was fantastic. Being the only Australia at the party I was a bit of a celebrity and I had a good opportunity to talk about the bondage adventures I’d had along the way. While the eye candy was impressive, the man who stopped me in my tracks was Aaron, who arrived shortly before midnight. He was 6 foot, athletic build, blonde haired and blue eyed. He was dressed in a leather NYPD uniform with Dehner patrol boots.

Midnight came and we toasted the New Year. Immediately after Aaron walked over to me and my first words were, “You can arrest me any time.”

Aaron lost no time removing his handcuffs from his belt and cuffing my hands behind my back, palms out. My cock grew hard as I felt the metal cuffs tighten on my wrists.

“You need to be taken into custody.” With that, Aaron took me by the arm and started to lead me out of the room. As I walked past Luke I just managed to get out, “Uh, I’ll see you later.” To which Luke replied “Go for it cous.”

Aaron led me to his car, opened the back door and half helped and half pushed me into the back seat, fastening my seatbelt. He picked up a black cloth hood which happened to be on the seat next to me and pulled it over my head. I then heard him get in the drivers seat and we headed off. I was exciting having been “arrested” by a leather cop and now being taken away by him.

We drove for what felt like about half an hour and I felt the car slow and turn into a garage. Aaron turned the engine off and I heard an electric garage door close. I hear the car door open. My seat belt was removed and Aaron helped me out of the car, although he didn’t remove my hood. He led into another room where he removed my hood. It was obviously his dungeon as there were all sorts of restraints around the place. He hugged me and we kissed – man he was a good kisser.

“Time to get you restrained for the night.” He pointed to a leather covered bed in one corner of the room which had a leather bag on it. “There’s your sleepsack for the night.”

I looked at the sleepsack, “I’ve always wanted to see what one of these was like.”

Aaron unlocked my handcuffs and told me to strip, pointing out that I’d be quite warm enough just in the leather sleepsack. I eased myself into the sleepsack finding the sleeves down the side for my arms. It was definitely going to be a tight fit! Once I was in, he zipped the sack up and I felt the leather tighten around my body. I note the zip was in a couple of part as Aaron was able to adjust the zip so he could gain access to my cock.

Next pulled a tight leather hood onto my head and laced it up tightly. The only holes were for my nose; the hood blocked out all light, muffled sound and effectively gagged me. After the hood, he laced the sack up so it was even tighter, finally he buckled up a number of straps around my body. The final touch was to tie the sack the bed frame. I had noticed a row of D rings along the sack and ropes had been tied between each of the D rings to the bed frame. The net result of all of this was that I was strapped tightly into a leather sleepsack which was tied to a bed frame which meant I was completely unable to move. This was probably the most thorough bondage I had ever been in and I was totally hard. I struggled against the sack but new I was helplessly trapped.

I felt Aaron put a pillow under my head and say “Sweet dreams.”

The feeling of helplessness in a sleepsack is truly incredible. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t see and I couldn’t hear anything apart from the creak of leather. It was totally relaxing and I felt detached from the world. I eventually drifted off to sleep.

I was woken up by the feel of my cock being stroked. Restrained as I was, I was as horny as hell and aching to cum. I felt lube being applied to my cock and Aaron started to jerk me off, slowly at first working me up to orgasm and I shot a huge load. I struggled against the sleepsack but it and the ropes held me fast. I was a wonderful feeling and I longed to be released from the sleepsack, however, nothing happened. I started to struggle and mmmppphhhed into my hood but nothing happened.

I realised that Aaron wasn’t going to release me and I eventually relaxed and driftd in and out of sleep. Some time later Aaron again started to jerk me off and again he worked me up to orgasm. Again he left me.

He jerked me off for a third time – I was amazed I still had that much cum left in me. This time he removed my hood and lay on the bed next to me, kissing me.

He eventually released me from the sleepsack and I dressed back in my leathers. It was now after midday. We headed out for lunch where Luke joined us, noting my new year glow.

Sunday, 8 July 2012

The Great American Road Trip – Part 24 Galveston - Careful what you photograph

Galveston Texas has a wonderful collection of Spanish Mission style buildings, one of which was the Post Office. 

When I walked in, I was stopped by two Federal Marshalls.

Marshall: “Did you just take a photograph of this building?”
Me: “Yes, I did.”
Marshall: “Why did you take a photograph?”
Me: “Because Galveston is full of wonderful Spanish Mission architecture and this building is one of those.”
Marshall: “It’s unlawful to photograph a federal building without permission.”

My next comments were probably the ones that got me into trouble. I’m an Australian and we often forget that US officials are carefully selected for their lack of a sense of humour.

Me: “So what do you do outside the Whitehouse?”
Marshall: “Show me your ID.”
I pulled out my passport, which the Marshalls studied carefully.
Marshall: “So you’re from Australia.”
Me: “We are on your side you know.”

As the exchange was taking place, I noticed the other Marshall take out his handcuffs. He then entered the conversation. “Put your hands behind your back.”
Me: “What’s going on?”
Marshal 2: “Put your hands behind your back, we are taking you into custody so we can check your camera.”
Me: “For heaven’s sake, lets not get excited about this; I’m just taking photographs of buildings. I’ll show you.”
I reached for my camera. As I was doing this, Marshall 1 started to reach for his gun. “Just put the camera down and put your hands behind your back”

I realised these guys weren’t kidding; I gently put my camera on the ground and put my hands behind my back. Marshall 2 step behind me and applied his handcuffs – they were chain style – so my hands were cuffed palms out. I started to get a hard on as I felt the metal on my wrists and hear the ratchet of the cuffs locking. They were applied firmly but not painfully. With my palms out I realised I was pretty effectively restrained. I’ll add at this point that both of the Marshalls were stunning lookers, Marshall was blonde with brown eyes and Marshall two blonde with blue eyes. Both looked like they had recently stepped out of the surf and had donned their uniforms.

Marshall 1 had picked up my camera and they look an arm each and led me down a corridor to a room. In the middle of the room was a chair with a number of leather straps hanging off it. They walked me over to the chair and sat me down. They started to do up the various straps on the chair anchoring me to the chair – actually I could barely move once they had finished. There was a definite bulge in the crotch of my motorcycle leathers. There were straps which crossed over my chest going from my shoulders to my hips. Straps held my waist and thighs firm with more straps just above my knees and my ankles.

Me: “Come on guys, what’s going on?”
Marshall 1: “I’d stay quiet if I was you.”

Marshall 2 had picked up a large roll of tape. He had pealed of a length which he cut off and then applied over my mouth very effectively gagging me. He added more tape for good measure. I tried struggling against the straps holding me to the chair but they held me firm. I mmmppphhed into my gag.

The Marshalls left the room with Marshall 2 commenting “We’ll be back when we’ve checked your camera. I struggled in the chair wondering what on earth was going on. I was in the United States, supposedly home of the free, not communist East Germany. At the same time, my predicament, being restrained by two drop dead gorgeous Federal Marshalls was making me as horny as hell.

I was left in the room secured to the chair and gagged for what felt like a couple of hours. The Marshalls returned; Marshall 1 was carrying a black jumpsuit and a pair of black boots. Marshall 2 was carrying a pile of chains. Both Marshalls put their items on the floor. Marshall 2 got his gun out.

Marshall 1: “I’m now going to release you from the chair. When I remove your handcuffs, you will strip then you put the jump suit and boots on. When you are finished you will stand to attention. Do you understand?”

I nodded. Guns make me very nervous. I had read too many stories about trigger happy cops shooting people and imagined a headline. “Australian Motorcycle Disappears in Texas.”

Marshall 1 undid the straps holding me to the chair and helped me stand up. He removed my handcuffs but didn’t remove my gag. As instructed I stripped out my leathers and put the jumpsuit and boots on. I then stood still noting that Marshall 2 still had his gun trained on me. Marshall 1 then started with the chains. He put leg cuffs around my ankles. There was a chain from the middle of the leg cuffs which my waist. He fastened a leather belt around my waist. The belt fastened over a hasp in the belt. He passed a chain from the belt through the hasp and he fed this chain through the chain from my leg cuffs. He then handcuffed me in front. He passed the handcuffs through the chain from the belt, which effectively locked the belt and the chain form the leg irons. Ah I recall these, a set of prisoner transport irons like I’d seen on Youtube.

Marshall 2 put his gun back in its holster and picked up a black cloth hood which he placed over my head, plunging me into darkness. Marshalls 1 and 2 took and arm each and led me away. I was led down a corridor then into a lift, which I assume went down. I was led away from the left and helped into a vehicle. I was strapped into a seat with some sort of harness seat belt. I heard the vehicle start and I was driven some distance. There were starts, stops and corners. Eventually the vehicle stopped and I was helped form the vehicle. I was led some distance before we stopped and I was helped to the floor on my stomach. An additional set of leg irons was put on my ankles and the originals removed. My handcuffs were removed but my hands were pulled behind my back and I was cuffed through the leg irons hog chaining me. The other parts of transport chains were removed. My hood was removed and I could see I was in some sort of cell. I was still gagged. My captors left me locking the cell door.

I struggled against the chains but I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

After another lengthy period I heard the cell door open and my captors returned. They rolled me onto my side and opened the fly of my jumpsuit pulling my still rigid cock of. I heard Marshall 1 say “I think our prisoner is turned on by this.” He started to stroke my cock. He and Marshall 2 took it in turns to stroke my cock steadily working me to the brink of orgasm. Eventually I shot an enormous load after which Marshall 2 removed my gag and have me a huge kiss.

My captors then released me and introduced themselves as Dylan and Zack. They were out surfing the previous evening where they’d seen me taking photographs. They saw me again at the post office when they’d hurriedly come up with their plan. We spent a wonderful evening together before I headed back on the road.

Postscript. While this, like all my other stories is a work of fiction, I did have run in with two Federal Marshalls at the Galveston Post Office after having photographed the building. It took place before 9/11 however, it all ended once the Marshalls had seen my passport. There actually was law passed after the Oklahoma City bombings that made it illegal to photograph a federal building without permission. Still it made good basis for a story.