2009-12-25 - lthr_jock - A Close Shave Part 1

Author: lthr_jock
Title: Close Shave
Date: 25 December 2009

Jack sat in his car, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music from his in-car stereo. He looked up at the queue of traffic ahead of him - the usual traffic jam that accompanied his journey home. But Jack didn't mind, he was sat in comfort in his air-conditioned car, classical music cocooning him from the outside world. Jack took a brief look in the rear-view mirror and saw that his hair was slightly mussed. His jet black mane of hair was his pride and joy and he looked forward to his fortnightly styling sessions at Chez Marie. He pushed the errant strand back into place and spent a few moments studying his reflection. Although he was 40 years old he still looked good, no double chins thanks to a regimen of exercise. His tailored suit clung to his torso without embarrassing love handles and his blue eyes still attracted comments from the fair sex. All in all, Jack was happy with his life - successful businessman, married to a beautiful wife but still able to play the field when he wanted to.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of movement and looked across to see three skinheads laughing at him. They were sat in a beat up Ford Transit van and had obviously seen him studying himself in the mirror. He blushed and looked away, turning up his music so he wouldn't hear their jibes. Luckily, the jam started to break up and he was soon moving away from them. While he wasn't worried, every time he saw a white Ford Transit on his journey home, he checked to make sure it wasn't the same one. As a result, when he got home, he wasn't in his usual affable mood. He quarreled with his wife and went to bed earlier than normal.

In the early hours of the morning, something woke him. He thought it might have been his wife, but she was sleeping peacefully beside him, snuggled up against him. He lay there, thinking he might have been dreaming, then heard a soft noise from downstairs. Thinking it might still be his imagination, he slipped out of bed and softly walked to the top of the stairs. He waited for five minutes but could hear nothing but decided to check downstairs for his own peace of mind. Padding softly downstairs wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, he walked around the ground floor in the dark, checking the doors and windows and confirming there was no-one in the house. As he checked the front door, he looked through the glass pane in it and saw a white Ford Transit parked outside. Jack instantly started sweating as he was sure that it was the same van as earlier. He stepped back from the door, but before he could turn around, he was grabbed from behind by multiple hands. A rabbit punch to his left kidney made him crumple and as he went to cry out, something was shoved into his mouth. It was ball-shaped and tasted of rubber and it was pushed in past his teeth stopping him from speaking and forcing his mouth painfully open. His arms were pulled behind his back and he heard clicks as cuffs were locked around his wrists. He looked up at the mirror in the hallway and could see himself kneeling and gagged with a red rubber ball-gag. Behind him were stood the three skinheads from earlier. Each was dressed identically in a tight white polo shirt, skintight bleached jeans and black glossed boots with white laces that seemed to reach up to their knees. He looked at their faces, trying to memorize them and realised that each one was wearing flesh coloured latex face masks that concealed their identities. He tried to speak but could only grunt. One of the men leant down and whispered in his ear 'Struggle and we'll go upstairs to your wife - understand?' Jack nodded. 'Good. Now stand up and do exactly as we say.'

Jack struggled to his feet - not easy with his hands cuffed behind his back and realised that he was at least 2 inches shorter than each of these guys. He expected them to start asking where he kept his valuables, but to his surprise, the three men led him into his living room where he could see a length of rubber sheeting laid out on the floor. 'Lie down on the sheet'. Jack baulked and two of the men each grabbed an arm and pushed him onto the sheeting. Kicking his legs out from under him, they lowered him to the ground. Jack started to struggle and kick out and for his pains received two sharp punches to the stomach. As he lay there gasping, the three men wrapped the rubber sheet around him. He then felt several straps secured around the sheet as it cocooned him. He was then lifted into the air and carried outside. He heard a van door and then he was placed on a metallic floor. The engine started soon after and Jack realised he was in the back of the van, being driven to an unknown location.

Jack tried to keep track of time but couldn't as he rolled around in the back of the van. The sheeting unrolled slightly and he could see dimly but couldn't make anything out except the shapes of the three men in the front of the van and the shadows cast by streetlights. The van was reversed into a dark area, and the men got out. The skinheads opened the back door of the van but didn't seem surprised when they saw that Jack had partially unwrapped the sheeting. They roughly hauled him out of the van and he could see that they were parked inside a warehouse, the full size of which was hidden by numerous boxes and packing crates. Jack shivered in the cold, now drooling freely and still terrified. The three men led Jack around to a small suite of offices and pushed him inside. The air was warmer inside and Jack was relieved until he looked around. The walls were painted black and covered with fetish and bondage gear. Several pictures on the walls showed men tied up and being abused by other men. As he looked closer, he realised that many of the pictures had been taken in this very room. In the centre of the room was what looked like an old-fashioned barber's chair and Jack was led towards it.

As he got closer, he could see that the chair was made of black leather and steel and had restraints hanging from it. Jack started to struggle but was no match for the three men as they pushed him into the chair. Quickly, they strapped the restraints around his neck and ankles, his cuffed hands trapped painfully behind him. Two of the men reached behind him and grabbed his arms, while the other reached down to unlock the cuffs. The two men then pulled his arms out and aligned them with the arms of the chair, strapping his wrists in place. They then added restraints over his chest and thighs, making sure that Jack could not escape. To his surprise, Jack found his situation arousing and starting to feel his cock hardening. He hoped that the three men would not notice, but they soon did and one of them reached inside his shorts and started to rub Jacks cock. He begged for mercy but all he could do was grunt and drool as the three men laughed at him. They did this for a few minutes until his cock was rock hard.

'Right, mate, time for some fun.' Jack recognised the voice as the same one who had spoken earlier. The man ran his hands through Jacks hair. 'Lovely hair mate - saw you admiring yourself earlier and that's why we picked you. Time for a haircut.' Jack heard a buzzing sound and the skinhead pulled a pair of hair clippers into view. Jack started struggling and swearing incoherently into the gag as the man started to run the clippers over Jacks head and Jack could see and feel his precious hair falling to the floor. As the man did this, the other two guys stood in front of Jack, rubbing their cocks through their bleachers. Judging by the size of the bulges, both men were enjoying this. After a few minutes, the skinhead barber stopped. Then after a pause, Jack felt something hot and wet on the sides of his head. Whatever it was, it was rubbed in and the skinhead then got out a razor - Jack realised that the stuff on his head was shaving foam and they were going to shave all his hair off. Sobbing, he kept his head still as he didn't want to get cut and stared straight ahead as his head was stripped. The two guys watching were getting highly aroused now and one had taken his cock out and was jacking it. 'Oi - stop that. Go and get the other stuff.' The guy laughed, pushed his cock back in his bleachers and went outside, coming back later with a bowl of bright red paste and a jar of something waxy. Both were handed to the guy behind Jack and he then felt him doing something to Jacks head. He couldn't work out what was going on - but something about his head felt weird.

After several minutes the skinhead pronounced himself done . 'Go get the mirror. ' The two watchers did so, coming back with a full-length mirror which they propped in front of Jack. He could now see what they had done to him. The side of his head had been shaved completely bald. In the centre of his head, his hair had been died bright red and then waxed into a 1' wide, 2' tall mohawk. He stared in disbelief as he looked at the freak they had made him into. The three men laughed as he yelled abuse into the gag. The skinhead who seemed to be in charge moved in front and slapped Jacks face hard. Jack stopped yelling in shock. 'Right - got your attention. Now, you gotta be thirsty. You agree not to yell and I'll give you something to drink - OK?' Jack nodded.

The skinhead undid the gag and pulled it out of Jacks mouth. Jack gingerly worked his aching jaw 'Thanks - why… why are you doing this?' The skinhead chuckled as he picked up an open can of Coke, put a straw in it and put the straw in Jacks mouth. 'Fun, innit. Turning some square poser like you into a punk. And we ain't done yet.' Jack tried to ask what he meant, but the skinhead stopped him 'Just drink, you'll find out.' Jack finished the coke, but instead of replacing the gag, the skinhead took out a gag shaped like an open metal O on a rubber strap. Jack thought of trying to resist, but realised the hopelessness of it and opened his mouth. As wide as he opened it, it wasn't wide enough and the O ring was painfully strapped into place. He started drooling again almost immediately.

He tried to speak, but this was worse than the ball gag. To his surprise, the three men started to unstrap him. He thought this was his chance to escape but as he tried to move, he found he couldn't. The skinheads chuckled 'oh yeah, there was a drug in that Coke - you ain't going nowhere.' The three men manhandled him out of the chair and stripped his shorts off. Slapping his cock until it was limp, they slipped it into a metal tube, which was locked shut. 'That'll stop you getting hard.' They then worked him into a black rubber polo shirt and a pair of bleachers similar to their own. They then laced black highly glossed boots into his feet, the white laces standing out starkly against the leather. Finally, a thick black rubber collar was locked around Jacks neck and secured with a collar. Jack was then dragged across the room onto a fucking bench. As he was strapped in place, one of the skinheads started filming him, another positioned himself in front of Jacks head, while the other stood behind him. In the mirror, he saw the man behind him undo an arse zip on Jacks bleachers. As Jack watched, both men took their cocks out and began sliding them inside him - one up his arse, the other into his mouth through the O ring of the gag. He was helpless to resist, his muscles still not responding, only his mind active.

Jack woke up, panting desperately and covered with his own cum. He looked across to where his wife was still sleeping peacefully. What the hell was that all about he wondered?