Joes Tattoo Part 2

Author: SkinJameser
Title: Joe's Tattoo Part 2
Date: 09 March 2009

Hi. As promised here's part 2. Thanks for the feedback, really appreciate it! :-)

Part Two

Joe slowly awoke, feeling awful. He lay still, trying to gather his thoughts. His head was in a bad way, thumping as if trying to make a break from his skull. Being young he didn’t normally get hangovers unless he really overdid it. What had he been up to last night?!

Slowly he opened his eyes, and stared for a moment at a bare concrete wall. His thoughts were sluggish, but he tried to think where he’d ended up. This obviously wasn’t the hostel. Could it be the stairway outside it? Wouldn’t be the first time he hadn’t made it all the way back home after a night out with the lads.

He raised his head from what he discovered was a bare wooden bed attached to a wall, and suddenly realised that his arms were uncomfortably pulled behind his back. He tried freeing them, thinking that he must be lying on them, but they refused to move to his front. Suddenly panicking he sat upright, pausing for a moment for his head to stop spinning, and tried moving his arms again. It was no use, they were stuck behind him. He groggily realised that he was handcuffed. What had happened last night, had he been arrested?

Then his trip to the tattoo parlour started to come back to him, and suddenly he felt very scared and very sick. He was still topless, but his jeans and trainers were still on. He shuffled to the edge of the bed and put his feet on the floor. It too was concrete, as was the rest of this room. Cell was more like it. It was about 8ft by 10ft, all concrete, with a large metal door at one end and a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

What to do next? The door was obviously locked, so he was stuck in here, wherever that was. If they’d drugged him, and his head and the bruise on his arm said that was the case, then he could literally be anywhere. He was supposed to be flying home with his mates this afternoon, if it really was the day after his fateful trip to the tattooist’s. He decided that he might as well start yelling for someone, at least the ball gag had been removed.

But after five minutes of yelling there was no sign of anyone coming. ‘Man, I’m dying for a cigarette’, he thought to himself. He remembered that he had a spare pack in his jeans. Awkwardly he positioned his handcuffed wrists around so that he could grab them from his pocket, extracted one, and with much effort lit it. It hurt his shoulders and back, but it felt good having a smoke. Not that it sorted much out.

After finishing it he realised that he desperately needed to pee. Looking around the cell he saw a bucket in the corner. He groaned to himself, but he apparently didn’t have a choice. Shakily he got up and walked over to it. With some effort he managed to take his jeans down, free his cock from his boxer shorts and aimed for the bucket. With his arms locked behind him his aim wasn’t great, and he managed to get more than a little on his jeans, but it felt great, like he hadn’t peed in days. Getting his jeans back on took even more effort, but eventually he managed.

Joe went over to the heavy iron door and tried pushing at it with his chest, but as he suspected it held firm. He tried yelling again, but when that got no response he went back to the shelf and slumped on it.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but he’d got through four cigarettes by the time he heard footsteps approaching the door. He listened intently as a key was inserted in the lock, and jumped from the bed and moved to the wall furthest from it as it slowly opened outward. The door revealed a huge man. He was mid-forties, with shining black leather boots, tight leather jeans, a harness over a bare hairy chest, and a leather cap to complete the look. His face looked fierce, he had a thick goatee which framed a cruel mouth.

“Over here boy!” the man barked. Joe just trembled and tried to push himself further in to the wall.

“Okay, looks like you have quite a bit to learn” the man said, as he strode over to Joe and grabbed him by his head so that his face was only inches away from Joe’s. “When I say to do something you do it, or you will be punished. Understand?”

Joe tried to move his head away, but the man’s grip was like iron. The man sighed, and suddenly hit Joe hard across the face. Joe reeled back in shock, shaking violently.

“Now do you get it?” demanded the man. “Now, come over here.”

With his arms useless behind his back, Joe saw no other option but to go over to the man.

“Right, I see we’ve made some progress” the man said. He went behind the frightened boy, grabbed the handcuffs and pushed Joe towards the door. “Time to get you started.”

As he frog-marched Joe down the bare concrete corridor, Joe thought he might have a chance to plead his case. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. I just want to go home! I’m sorry I tried to get a tattoo. Are you the Police?” he wailed. So much for being the big man getting a tattoo, he thought miserably to himself.

“Shut up,” was all the response he got as they passed many closed doors in the corridor. Joe began to suspect they were in an underground bunker, he hadn’t seen a window anywhere.

Eventually the man pushed him into a room at the end of the corridor. It was much bigger than his cell had been, and the floor, ceiling and walls were all tiled in slightly grubby white. In the centre was a chair, similar to the one in the tattoo parlour, but this one had wide leather buckles hanging from every part of it. Tearing his eyes away from the chair, he spotted an enormous shower cubicle in the corner of the room, with metal poles running either side of the shower head, from which four chains holding a single handcuff on each hung.

Joe’s heart leapt again and he tried to pull away from his captor. The man merely dragged Joe effortlessly over to the shower cubicle, quickly unlocked the handcuffs from the boy, then attached the showers handcuffs to each wrist. Joe’s arms were now held loosely to his sides. Before he could do or say anything, the man started turning a small crank handle that Joe hadn’t noticed before. Slowly Joe’s arms were pulled from his body until they were fully stretched out either side of him. Instantly his arms and shoulders started to burn. Apparently the man wasn’t finished with him yet though. He attached the legcuffs on the lower chains to each of the boy’s ankles, then turned another handle until Joe’s legs were also painfully spread out. Joe grimaced in pain.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he cried. “What sort of Police are you?!”

At this the man merely smirked as he drew his hands over the boy’s taught arms.

“Right, I’ll go get the Doc,” the man said, apparently satisfied that his captive was secure. “Don’t go anywhere.” He stomped out of the room.

Joe had a few minutes to consider his fate. Again he tried thrashing about, but his arms and legs had no play in them at all. He bowed his head, overcome by the ache in his muscles. All he could do was see what would happen next.

After a while the man returned, but this time he had company. Another tall man, this time in a Doctor’s white coat, strode in. He glanced briefly at the boy spread-eagled and in obvious pain, then turned to his companion.

“So, what’s this one to be?” he asked casually.

“This lad was wanting a tattoo. Apparently the Boss thinks we should help him out!” smirked the leather man.

The Doctor merely nodded, then started pulling things out of cupboards that lined the walls.

“So, get rid of the hair. Anything else?” asked the Doctor.

“What?!” exclaimed Joe, “What do you mean get rid of the hair?! This is fucked up, let me go!”

The leather man strode over and hit Joe across the face again.

“Try and be quick so we can gag him,” he said to the Doctor. “Seems that he doesn’t learn too quickly.”

Again the Doctor merely nodded. He went over to Joe brandishing a huge pair of scissors. Joe’s eyes widened in fear.

The Doctor didn’t waste any time reassuring his patient, but quickly set about cutting through the boy’s jeans. Once they had been destroyed and cast aside, he did the same to his trainers and socks, and finally his boxers. Joe, despite his fear and humiliation, felt his cock begin to swell. He couldn’t believe it, he’d been captured, stretched out in the shower from Hell, had all his clothes destroyed, and was getting hard!

“Looks like he doesn’t mind too much,” sneered Leather-clad. The Doctor merely grunted. He brushed his hands over every inch of Joe’s helpless body in an analytical style. Joe tried to squirm when the Doctor brushed his bare arse.

“Not too much hair yet,” he commented. “You sure he’s legal?”

Leather-clad smirked again, “He thought he was old enough to get a tattoo, so I guess he must be.”

The Doctor nodded. “Whatever. I’ll get him shaved and get the paste on him, then leave it for fifteen minutes or so. Then I’ll need to rinse him.”

The Doctor went to the side wall, and returned with a pair of clippers. Joe usually went for the “hard” look, a number 2 all over. He saw that the clippers had no guard over them. ‘A zero crop then’, he thought grimly to himself.

The Doctor spared no time in running the buzzing clippers over his captor. Joe watched in horror as his hair tumbled down around his eyes. Unable to move there was nothing he could do.

After a short period the Doctor moved on to shaving the boy’s armpits, then started attacking his pubic hair before turning to the fuzz on his ass. Again Joe’s cock stirred. ‘What the hell is wrong with me’ he wondered.

The Doctor switched the clippers off and returned to his cabinets. He returned with a bowl of shaving foam and hot water, which he applied to the areas that he’d just clippered.

‘Oh my God’, thought Joe, ‘he’s going to wet shave my head!’

As predicted, the Doctor took out a fearsome cut throat razor and started scraping at the boy’s head. Joe could feel every movement, but was powerless to do anything about it. With a few deft strokes the Doctor then shaved his armpits, pubes and ass. Joe thought that his ordeal might be over, until the Doctor applied the foam to his eyebrows and sheared them off too. Except for a two-inch strip running over the middle of his head, Joe was now as hairless as the day he was born.

With that the Doctor took out a large tub of something that looked pink. He walked over to the terrified boy and started applying it over his head, eyebrows, chest, pubes, ass and legs. It started to tingle, then became a burning. Joe started struggling again, but it was no use.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he cried at his tormentors.

Leather-clad stared at the boy for a second. “We’re getting you hairless,” he eventually replied, “Permanently.”

The burning was getting worse, and Joe writhed in his bonds.

”We’ll leave him for a while,” said the Doctor, “there’s nothing he can do to stop the process now.”

Leather-clad nodded, and the two left Joe bucking in agony.

By the time they both re-entered the room Joe’s mind was on fire and he barely registered them. Suddenly he felt water gush over him as the Doctor turned the shower on, drenching him. Thankfully the burning started to fade. When he had regained his composure he felt the cool breeze on his bare scalp. Having no eyebrows felt weird too.

“There, much better,” said Leather-clad. “And it’s permanent. That paste has killed your hair follicles for good, so you better get used to having a mohawk!”

“So what’s next?” asked the Doctor dispassionately. “Standard ringing?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “might as well get them healing before he gets his other mods.”

Joe didn’t like the sound of what was to come. What did they mean by ringing?

He didn’t have long to find out. The leather man turned the cranks and with relief Joe felt his arms and legs start to sag. The man quickly unlocked the handcuffs, dragged Joe over to the chair and threw him in to it. He immediately started fastening the wide straps around Joe’s forehead, neck, chest, abs, legs, wrists and arms. In a few minutes Joe was completely helpless and immobile in the chair, unable even to move his head.

The Doctor stood over Joe and thrust his fingers in his nose, probing it with his thumb and forefinger.

”I’ll start with a 2 gauge,” he said to his companion who merely nodded. “I won’t seal it just now in case He wants it bigger later.”

The Doctor turned to his cabinets again, opened a drawer and poured some liquid onto a ball of cotton wool. He then wiped the noxious smelling substance on either side of Joe’s nose. Joe tried wrinkling his nose to rid himself of the smell, but it was no use.

The Doctor appeared in his field of vision, this time with a long, thick needle. He positioned one end of it to the left of Joe’s nose, and with one forceful push, rammed the needle straight through the boy’s septum. Joe screamed in agony, but was unable to move from his tormentor. The Doctor merely pulled the needle right through, then started to push something else through his butchered nose. After some fiddling the Doctor stepped back, and Joe felt something heavy and alien dragging down on his nose and tapping his top lip.

Although he couldn’t see it, he knew that it must be a septum ring. And judging by the weight it was a big one. As he fought to clear his eyes of tears he again felt his cock bulge.

“Tongue next?” asked the Doctor. Again Leather-clad only nodded.

Before Joe could think of arguing, the Doctor grabbed his mouth, and inserted something metallic in it. He couldn’t see it with his head immobile, but he could feel wire pushing at both his top and bottom lips. Suddenly the Doctor did something and the boy’s mouth was fully open, unable to close it again. The Doctor grabbed his tongue with a pair of forceps, forcing it out of his mouth. A dab of the cloth and Joe shuddered as the needle went through his tongue. He gargled an unintelligible scream, but the Doctor ignored him as he inserted a large bar through the new hole, fastening a ball at both ends ensuring it couldn’t come out. He removed the forceps and mouth clamp and Joe instantly pulled in his tongue. It too felt heavy, and he clacked his front teeth with the metal now stuck there.

“The customers enjoy bois with those,” said the Doctor’s companion.

The Doctor didn’t reply, but started teasing Joe’s nipples. With a groan Joe realised what was to happen next. Sure enough, the needle went through both nipples, and the boy felt a tugging in each as the Doctor inserted heavy rings through both.

‘Surely that’s all these maniacs are going to do to me?’ thought Joe desperately, fighting back the tears of pain and humiliation.

He shuddered as the Doctor wiped the wool over the head of his cock. With a sudden excruciating pain the needle went through his dick, and after a moment or two of tugging, he felt a large ring go through his manhood. It too must have been a thick one as when the Doctor let his cock go it slumped down quickly under the new weight. Tears sprang to Joe’s eyes again, but all he could do was gurgle as his tongue was swelling around it’s new metalwork.

“Last one for now,” said the Doctor to himself, as he swabbed the area between the boy’s testicles and anus. With another scream from Joe he pushed the needle through and added a guiche to Joe’s new body mods.

“Should keep him nice and aroused for the customers,” said Leather-clad sardonically.

“I’ll just take a blood sample to make sure he’s clean, then he’s all yours,” said the Doctor. He took out a needle and drew blood from the traumatised boy.

“Yeah, lucky lad gets some real jewellery now,” said Leather-clad. He walked over to the chair, and after rubbing the boy’s mohawk and bald head, started undoing the straps on his arms. When they were free, but leaving the rest in place, he handcuffed Joe’s arms behind him, before releasing the remaining straps.

He dragged Joe up from the chair and headed for the doorway. Joe had no fight left in him and allowed himself to be propelled down the corridor again. This time they stopped after only a short walk, and entered another room, much bigger and dirtier than the last one. Metal restraints of all sorts hung from hooks on all the walls, and lots of chains of varying lengths. All of it looked heavy.

A man tended a small forge at the end of the room. He was dressed in leather blacksmith gear which looked like it had never been washed. The huge blacksmith turned to face his visitors and gave a welcoming smile.

“Ah, you’ve brought me some fresh meat!” he said happily.

Leather-clad smiled. “Yes, and he’s virginal, so set him up with something nice!”

“Temporary, semi-permanent or permanent?” the blacksmith asked amiably. Joe felt it humiliating that these men were talking about him as if he wasn’t there.

“Semi,” replied Leather-clad. “He’ll be getting the fancy stuff later on!” he chuckled.

The blacksmith nodded, and pointed to a spot by the anvil. “Bring him over then,”

Joe was marched to the anvil, and forced on to his knees. The black smith ringed the boy’s neck with his huge fingers as if making a measurement, then wandered over to a wall. He moved over it slowly, eventually picking out a large metal collar. He advanced on Joe with it split open, then closed it around the boy’s neck. Joe shivered at the cold weight of the collar bearing down on his shoulders.

“Looks to be a nice tight fit,” remarked the blacksmith. “We can put a tight one on him from the start if it isn’t staying on too long.”

He took the collar off, and repeated the sizing process with wrist and ankle cuffs. All were tight. All were very heavy. Joe couldn’t imagine his life wearing these heavy things 24/7. He guessed that soon he wouldn’t have to.

Apparently satisfied that he’d got the right fit for everything, the blacksmith pumped up the forge and put five small rods of metal on a tray and held them over the flames. After a few minutes, when the metal was glowing bright red, he rested the plate on a side shelf, still touching the flames. He grabbed the collar and placed it on Joe’s neck again, then forced him to rest it on the edge of the anvil.

“Don’t move,” was all he said to Joe.

He grabbed a set of tongs from a rack and picked up one of the glowing rods. He quickly manoeuvred it through an opening in the collar, dropped the tongs and started hammering at the bolt with a large hammer. Joe was terrified, he could feel every blow through the heavy collar, and he could feel the heat from the bolt warming the metal and transferring to the skin of his neck. Just when he thought that his head might fall off the blacksmith stopped, and threw some water over the bolt. It was now welded in place, the collar would not come off without some serious heavy-duty tools. Joe’s heart sank even further.

The process was repeated until Joe was wearing his new collar, wrist and ankle restraints. All weighed down heavily on the abused boy’s body. Joe swallowed hard and felt his Adam’s apple hit the metal of his collar.

“There, he looks a treat,” the blacksmith beamed, rubbing Joe’s head and tugging at the ring on the front of his collar.

“I think he’ll do!” smiled Leather-clad. “You do great work. And all custom, hope he appreciates that!”

“I’m sure he does! D’you need some chains for him?” asked the blacksmith.

“Yeah, give me enough to join his new jewellery up. He might as well get used to walking in them!” he laughed.

The blacksmith turned to his walls again, and grabbed three lengths of chain and several massive padlocks. Quickly he attached Joe’s ankle cuffs together, his wrist cuffs together and in front of him, before connecting them all to his collar. The chains were heavy, and Joe bowed under the combined weight of it all. With everything either riveted or padlocked on to the boy there was no escape.

With a shove Leather-clad guided the manackled boy out of the room and back down the corridor. Walking in the chains was difficult, Joe could only take small steps thanks to their shortness. And every movement brought fresh pain from his piercings. Every part of his body seemed to be throbbing.

Eventually he was guided back to his cell. He hoped that the man might release him, but no such luck. He pushed Joe onto the bed and unlocked the padlocks on his ankle cuffs. But instead of leaving them free he used the padlocks to lock the ankle cuffs directly to hooks either side of the bed. After that he unlocked the chain between the boy’s wrist cuffs and padlocked them to clips behind his head. Joe was now in a stretched-out position on the hard bed.

“That should do you for a while,” remarked the Leather-clad guy. “You can have a rest before we start the real work. I’d have left you unchained, but judging by the way your cock is still twitching after what it’s been through I can’t trust you not to play with yourself!”

With a nasty laugh, he turned to leave, slamming and locking the door behind him.

Joe tried to move, testing the limits of his restraints. He was stuck fast. Every part of him was screaming in pain. He desperately wanted to move his hands over his piercings to get some sort of relief, but couldn’t. He slumped back on the bed and started to cry.