Dan - Chapter 1

Author: lithium500mg
Title: Dan - Chapter One
Date: 14 February 2016

Dan

Chapter 1

I met Dan at the top of a hiking trail about 20 miles from Hollywood. He’s a tall guy with a buzz cut, very fit, bigger than me. I noticed the Scots emblem on his backpack, and asked him if his ancestry was similar to mine. I’ve got some Spanish mix while Dan claimed some Czech and Hungarian mixed with his mostly Scot background. He maintained his dense blond hair from his Scottish genes. The buzz just hid his scalp.

After a short break for an energy bar we descended the ten mile slope together. Our downslope conversation centered on hiking trails, hiking experience, swimming holes and even our hiking outfits. I hike wearing just compression shorts with a jock strap underneath while Dan was more conventional in loose shorts with lots of pockets. Our shirts, shed early on the way up, lived in our back packs.

At the parking area of the trailhead we were sweating heavily and Dan invited me to his place to recover. I accepted, having nothing on my schedule. His place was only a block and a half away. I dumped my pack into the car, grabbed my shirt, and followed him, limping a little due to pre-blisters and sore knees. I was still sweating big time without the shade of the trail, soaking my spandex shorts with sweat dripping down my legs.

When we arrived at his small 1960’s house, I sat down on the porch steps and removed my dusty shoes and socks. Dan didn’t bother. It was still hot enough so that my butt left a wet impression on the concrete. We entered the front door and proceeded through the living area to the kitchen. I noticed that the living room was decorated in Gothic furnishings including heavy chain lamps and iron chairs. There was a 16th century Ottoman slave collar on the wall. I paused to take a look at the stocks, mimicking placing my arms and neck into the openings. “These look like fun.”

“I collect this stuff. I’ve got more in the back.” He pointed out a St Andrews cross from the 1925 Ben Hur movie with the original shackles. The rack, which was set up as a sofa, had the original shackles and the big wheel that controlled the “stretch.” It, along with an iron maiden, was from an early 1930’s Three Musketeers film.

As we sat in the kitchen downing some bottled water and subsequently a light beer, I became more aware of Dan’s physique. He had big muscular thighs that had been hidden by his shorts. As he relaxed on the kitchen stool, I could see that the stomach on his large frame was like mine, flat and tight. Very attractive, I thought. His workouts were no doubt intense. I sneaked a long look at his sun-bleached chest hair.

Being cooled down, I began to put on my shirt, but Dan stopped me, inviting me to shower and to share his leftover chili for a light dinner. His invitation was surprisingly authoritative, and I accepted. “The shower’s in there. Use the white towel, it’s clean.” I stripped, and stepped into a much needed shower. Afterwards and with my waist wrapped in the towel, I looked for my dirty togs, which were not to be seen.

When Dan appeared, he indicated that he rinsed out my hiking gear and that he also needed a shower. He did not, however, want to leave me, a stranger, unattended in his house. He suggested that I might want to try out one of his restraint chairs gathered from Hollywood studios where Doctor Fu Manchu and Ming the Merciless had been filmed. I would be fastened to one of these relics while he got cleaned up. This proposal seemed a little strange to me, but, as I said, his manner was authoritative, and he might have seen my eyes light up a little at the prospect.

He led me not into the living room but into a dark back room where I could barely make out the contents. He sat me down in a big squarish iron armchair and then rolled the chair’s wrist restraints into position. These steel devices were part of the arms of the chair itself, like in the old movies. There was a tightening mechanism that gently removed any looseness from the wrists. When the steel clapped onto my wrists, I got a little frightened but at the same time I felt a thrill in my junk, still out of sight under the towel. I tried to pull out of the restraints, gently at first, then much harder. Once latched and locked they were inescapable.

Dan was talking all the time. This chair had been used in the 1930’s Flash Gordon serials, confining a bare-chested blond hero for interrogation and punishment. I stuck out my chest and played hero as he fastened the steel ankle devices. Actually, this chair seemed like a lot of fun, transporting me into classic black-and-white Hollywood. I felt the same gentle tightening on my ankles. I could envision Tesla coils and Jacob’s Ladders crackling in the room, and Ming the Merciless focusing his attention on my helpless half-naked body. Flash always escaped. Dr. Zarkov always came to the rescue.

Dan was still talking as he fastened wide leather straps around my waist and chest. The upper band, about the same two-inches wide as the waist strap, was wrapped just below the pecs. I confess that I stuck out my chest like any proud brave movie hero would. I expected Dan to stop here and attend to his shower, but he wasn’t finished. The chair had fittings for a heavy steel neck restraint that he used to fasten my neck to the back of the chair. The “C”shaped clamp was about two inches wide and more than an eighth inch thick, very massive. This forced my head up. When Dan leaned over me to bolt the clamp to the chair I had a good whiff of his athletic body that had not yet been cleaned up. At the time I thought, “This restrained hero is looking better and better.”

Dan continued with leather straps around my forearms, thighs and even my biceps, talking all the time. “A cute jockstrap. Where’d you get it? Fag city?” I jumped. It occurred to me when I stepped out of the shower that my “sexy underwear” was found out. The jock was colorful to say the least, bright yellow with red piping and red straps. It pushed my package forward under the compression shorts more than a regular supporter, still leaving the ass bare. I was flustered and couldn’t think of an evasive answer so I kept quiet.

I was getting more and more immobilized as my legs were pulled apart and my movements were becoming limited to moving my fingers and feet. About the only device he didn’t use was the metal beanie the movie villains use to drain the brains of their captured and restrained victims. When my legs were pulled wide, the towel became less protective. While I couldn’t see it, the movement of the towel made us both aware that I had a boner.

Dan was doing all the talking. While the whole experience seemed strange, I was enjoying the unique situation as my dick illustrated. Perhaps I should have been protesting but, if anything, I just commented on the equipment like the thickness of the collar or the robustness of the wrist and ankle restraints. Underlying the enjoyment, however, I was getting increasingly anxious. Dan was taking a lot of time and trouble to keep me from ransacking his place while he was showering. What he was doing was over the top. When I started to express my growing concern my balls got tapped and my mouth got stuffed with leather and a strap that he fastened at the back of my head. Another wide leather band covered the gag and was fastened rigidly to the back of the chair.

“Flash,” he said, “I’ll see you after my shower.” “Mmmmmmm” was about all I could get out, the noise coming mostly out of my nose. “Then I have to go to work.” He began removing the towel that still partially protected me. He grabbed my genitals and lifted and pushed me up and back while slowly working the towel from under my butt. With the big hand cupping my junk my erection was pushed against my body and I nearly shot, only stopped by heavy pressure on my balls. By the time the towel was extracted, I was still hard but no longer on edge. I was, however, embarrassed – there is no other word for it.

Men don’t get a boner from another man’s contact. Monsignor O’Malley told me as much in Confession. The Monsignor had also said that any “spilling of seed” was a sin. I had long since become a sinner. Sometimes I wondered about Monsignor O’Malley, especially when he invited me to view the catacombs in the new cathedral in Los Angeles. I couldn’t see my dick so until Dan crumpled my groin when he removed the towel, I couldn’t be absolutely sure that I ready to sin. By the way, I have yet to view the catacombs. How can you have catacombs in a church built in 2002?

“Flash, good boy, I thought you’d enjoy this. You seemed unusually interested in the iron furniture. And you seemed confident and proud showing the bulge on the trail, nice package for a slim guy like you. Still, it’s very gay. That’s bad grammar. I should have said ‘Still, it’s gay. One is not supposed to modify absolutes.” Dan was full of banter.

“I don’t think guys should be ashamed of their manhood. Do you?” He paused. “Comfortable?” In fact, I hadn’t cum for ten days, my balls ached, and any attention to my cock was going to make me stiff. Mentally I was hoping he would help me get off. I tried to communicate a conditional “yes.”

“Flash, I want you to welcome me back after my shower, so I’ve got some nipple clamps that will help you focus on my return.” I jumped at the words but could barely move a muscle. I flexed my fingers and hands in an attempt to say “no.” Dan moved around the dark room to which my eyes were now partially adjusted. I could see him select the small devices among several options. He wasn’t in any hurry. The units he selected looked like small retractable claws. He exercised the extension-retraction mechanism, picked up a little spray bottle, and approached me.

Dan sprayed something in my face that horribly stung my eyes. When this pain moderated I felt the full bite of the clamps. Three wire claws dug into each nip. Dan continued, “Your nips stick out nicely for being so small. The little decorations on your chest are unusually tiny. These little devils will help you appreciate this part of your body.” I wasn’t listening, so I am just trying to put together what he said. My whole being suddenly was focused on getting these clamps off. Except for a few locker room twists and fraternity hazing, my chest had not been subjected to such nip-focused pain.

There was something liberating about being immobilized and in intense and focused nipple pain. My world collapsed into a singular focus of getting the clamps off. At the same time, life’s troubles were nowhere to be found. It was as though my brain was being cleansed.

It was only about ten minutes before he came back. The newly cleaned up Dan was in a policeman’s uniform, LAPD, gun, cuffs, cap, the whole deal. I didn’t notice the uniform at first since my focus was on the nipple pain, and the room was pretty dark. “Flash, do you want me to take the clamps off?” I made a noise, and he immediately de-clamped my chest. I almost passed out from the pain of the removal, but felt OK shortly afterwards. I actually wanted to thank him for the removal. He looked sharp in his uniform.

I was Flaccid Flash now, the strain having drained me. “You wiry guys look good all trussed up. You’ve got a nice set of balls, big for a kid your size. Shaved? They’ll look good on video.”

He was right. I shave my testicles, and keep a clean dick as well. I like the look and feel. That whole area stays cleaner, and the jock strap stays cleaner. But what was that deal about the video?

My balls were resting on the seat, my open legs tightly pulled to the sides of the chair. He cleaned me up from the discharges from my nose during his absence while I was huffing and puffing and snorting in pain. His hands went to my balls. “We’ll keep it warm in here so the electrodes will maintain good contact.” I jumped again. Had I not been so tightly bound to the chair I might have soiled myself, but the best I could do was to start sweating from fear. I hoped my scrotum would withdraw its contents into my body, but the whole package seemed resigned to resting on the seat of the chair. He gave me some water through my gag and some of that nutritional liquid they give to old people. It tasted awful.

Dan wiped my balls dry, re-wiped with alcohol, then superglued electrodes to the scrotum. “No worries, Flash. These are just to keep you interested.”

Dan turned on some lamps that lit me up, then turned on a little TV. I was on it! “Flash, I like calling you Flash, you are on video, and all heroes should be on video! Don’t embarrass yourself. Be a champion. And here on my phone. We’ll be watching and listening. I’ll be back after my shift. Don’t go anywhere! For all the guys at the Station, you’re a just burglar getting personal LAPD justice. The app controls the electrodes. You’ll know when we’re watching. There’s audio too. We want you to join in our fun. Let’s do a test.”

He turned on his phone and made a few taps. I felt a tingle, then a twitch. I couldn’t move a muscle more than a fraction of an inch. The inches that could move, however, did. Dan played with his phone, and in in a few minutes I was erect and more than hard. “That’s good, all’s working.” Dan turned off the tingle and left for his shift.