Be Careful What Fantasies You Tell Episode 2

Author: rubbery
Title: Be Careful What Fantasies You Tell [Episode 2]
Date: 27 July 2014

You start taking deep breaths as your deepest fantasies are realised but never thought they would happen. Suddenly your dick starts to pulse and before you have a choice a spume of cum shoots out splashing on your face and dousing the walls. You start to feel warm and ecstatic, as though you’re floating on air. You’re light-headed but so happy. A smile starts across your face. This is good because it enables the piercer to grab your lip. You are puzzled for a moment then begin to feel a clamp over your lower lip, and then a sharp pain. Your eyes focus as you see your reflection in the mirror, now with a labret.

You can’t believe what’s happening. It’s what you have always wanted, but didn’t wanted. Yes, it’s what you want, but you know you can’t have it. Your life isn’t like this. Your workmates at the bank, even your gay friends – they can’t see you like this. It was just a fantasy.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You look at the piercer and for the first see that he is white hot. Cheek bones, six-pack, the lot. You can’t move as the ropes are nice and tight, but hardly struggle in the comfortable bondage to a muscled angel curling his lips and smiling at you in such satisfaction. You’re past cumming now and have entered a state of heightened bliss.

“That’s enough for now, you sexy boi”, says the piercer. “I’m Pearce.”

(“Oh, for fuck’s sake, that’s so corny,” you think.)

“No, really, that’s my real name”, he follows, as though you had spoken aloud.

“I saw you looking through those tattoo photos earlier at the hairdressers.”

Hairdressers? How does he know? He was there? What’s going on? Shit, this is deeper than I thought. Fuck.

“I saw you pausing much longer on those tribal head tattoos.” But with that sharp, hot haircut, you’ve still got hair over your head. Can’t do a head tattoo with hair on!”

You realise that you can actually speak. The gag’s been out for several minutes but you have been speechless.

“Huh? I’m not sure I – you mean you’re – oh shit no – please no – it was just a fantasy.”

“That turns you on big time.”

“Yeah, but.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to do it now.”

“We’ve got to get you into some bleachers and a tight Fred Perry, some boots and a nice pair of braces.”

“But, but, my work? I can’t go to work like that?”

“Wanna bet?”

“No – please, …”

You start to get a massive purple hard on. You so want it but so don’t want it. You are getting more and more light-headed. You start to yield and relax as your real world thoughts start to vanish and your deepest desires come to the fore.

“It really turns me on, but I cou-“

A gag goes on. Four hunks head to toe in black rubber come in to the room and each grabs a wrist or ankle. Your ties are taken off. But you are still held.

“Stand up, boi.”

He comes towards you with a pair of bleached 501s. With red braces already attached.

“OK. Left leg in. That’s it. Now right leg.”

You feel the tight denim cling to your legs. He pulls the jeans up which fit like a glove. A tight rubber glove. He presses your pulsating dick into the left side of the fly and buttons you up. Tightly. You cannot believe the feeling. You cannot understand how this happened. You love it. You’re frightened.

“OK. Boots.”

“Just 20-hole cherry reds. We don’t want to be conspicuous, do we? He-he!”

The two fit guys holding your ankles start to put on and lace up the boots so quickly they’re done up and fastened tight around your calves. The feeling of the bleachers against your legs and now the boots which are so unbelievably comfortable but which you can feel as though they’re welded on…

“OK. A nice XS dark blue Fred Perry will do nicely. Put him in it, lads.”

The two wrist attendants lift your arms up and before you know it you are sealed into a fresh new Fred Perry, tucked into the jeans, and the braces put over your shoulders. Your jeans are leaking with so much precum it looks like you’ve pissed yourself.

“OK lads. Put him back in position.”

You’re put back lying down but with your head in some type of brace. You can’t move. You can’t look from side to side.

Everyone else leaves the room. The lights go out. You are in total darkness.

“What the fuck?” You are now becoming really scared, but still with an almighty hard on.

You suddenly think through your haze, “this beats Alton Towers any day.” You smile and laugh at the trite thought, then your heart starts to race again as you realise something real is happening. What you’ve always dreamt about. But which you though you could never do. The thoughts about your real world start to fade as you fully start to accept your situation, and sweat and horniness take over.

You don’t know how long it’s been when the lights go on again.

A well-built, muscled man approaches – he’s quite young but unusually fit and masterful in his bearing. You stare at his face. A clean cut beautiful left side of his face, which you immediately reel at, but then he turns his head to show his full black tribal tattoo covering all the right side of his face. He’s is beautiful. Why has he done this to himself? You hesitate with thoughts racing through your mind and then decide that the permanent facial marking just makes him more beautiful and even hotter.

You come. Your bleachers get wetter and wetter.

One of the guys that held your wrists earlier comes in. He’s got clippers and a razor.

“OK. Hold tight boi, this is going to be a trip and a half! Ha!”

You can’t move in your head brace. But none of it touches anywhere where your hair is. The pillow is removed from under your head and the head rest is put down. Your head is now suspended in mid-air.

Trip-and-a-half man turns on the clippers and there’s that busy hum. Before you can say ‘shit’ the clippers graze your scalp and you can fell the hair coming off. Within less than a minute the clippers are turned off.

“Just need the left side shaved, boi”.

He flannels hot water onto your shaved side of the head, then sprays shaving gel and massages it in.

“This need to be nice and close, eh, boi?”

“EH, BOI?”

“YES, SIR!” you shout. You’ve never called anyone Sir before. It just came out. You feel home at last. You are wallowing in contentment. But still on edge and still hard – so hard you think your dick is going to tear your bleachers open any minute.

He glides the razor over your head. You’ve never felt this before. You can’t believe how sensuous it feels. You dribble unconsciously and start to feel it down your chin, which turns you on even more.

As you catch your breath, you see him bring forward a tray with tattooing equipment on.

You pass out.