Taken Care Of Part 1

Author: prisonerx
Title: Taken Care Of (Part 1)
Date: 11 November 2009

Sandro lived in the city. He was a keen biker and loved everything that went with the lifestyle, not least the opportunity and reason to wear full leathers Recently his bike was not running as well as it normally did and he knew it was due for a full service. He had spotted an advertisement for a motorcycle service centre, which offered exactly what he wanted for the bike. Although it was about 80 km from his home, the advertisement offered “accommodation in a quiet secure location for you and your bike while it is being serviced according to your requirements”. Sandro telephoned the number stated in the advertisement and asked for more details. The voice at the other end sounded friendly but authoritative. He first asked Sandro where he had seen the advertisement and when Sandro told him he explained that that the next available time would be the following weekend. He told him to “report” at midday on the Friday and that the work would be done over the weekend. The accommodation was included in the cost of the service. Sandro said he would like to make a booking and gave his name and address and details of his bike to the voice.

On the Friday morning, he packed a small rucksack, pulled on his bike leathers and headed out the door of his apartment and walked over to the garage where he kept his motorcycle. Within minutes he was heading out of town and very soon was on the motorway in the direction of the service centre. He arrived in the town shortly before midday and quickly found the bike centre.

On this particular Friday, the motorcycle service centre looked much like any other shop of its type throughout the country. It was on the edge of a small town in the countryside and according to the painted sign above the entrance; it serviced and repaired most of the well-known makes of motorbikes available. Certainly anybody passing by would hardly give it a second glance. Behind the front reception office there was a courtyard surrounded by a large workshop where the bikes were serviced, repaired and any other work required was carried out. At anytime during the day, the noise of machinery and motorcycle engines could be heard as the mechanics went about their task of servicing customers’ bikes. Judging from the number of leather-clad bikers who came and went everyday, it was a busy and successful business.

The centre was busy that Friday with customers coming and going either to drop a bike in for servicing or to collect one that had been serviced. The bikes, once serviced, were parked in the courtyard awaiting their owners so no customer ever had a reason to go into the workshop. If any customer had walked into the workshop he might have noticed that, although the building extended back by about 70 metres, the work area inside was no more than 20 metres deep. In the wall at the back of the work area was a strong steel door that obviously led to another part of the building not open to public view. Again, any casual observer would probably conclude that this was a storage area for spare parts and other machinery required for the business. It was indeed a storage area but nothing stored there could be described as machinery or spare parts.

Sandro parked his bike outside the front office, removed his helmet and walked inside. A tall well-built guy wearing a black t-shirt and leather bike trousers was sitting behind the desk. Sandro gave his name and the guy said, “I’m Dirk, the owner of this centre. If you leave the keys with me, your bike will be taken care of. You can leave your helmet here as well”. As he spoke two guys wearing full leathers and motorcycle helmets with blacked out visors entered the office. “These guys will show you to your accommodation. Enjoy your stay”. As he said that a slight smile flickered across his face. Before he could say anything in reply, Sandro’s arms were grabbed and he found himself being led across the courtyard to the workshop by the anonymous bikers who remained silent. He tried to pull away but their grip just tightened as they walked him towards a metal door at the back of the workshop. Just before entering one of the guys pulled something out of his pocket. It was a leather hood which he quickly pulled over Sandro’s head. Sandro attempted to pull it off while starting to shout but the other guy pulled his arms behind him and quickly cuffed them. At the same time a gag was forced into his open mouth and was strapped firmly in place. He was now helpless, unable to see where he was going or to shout for help.

He heard the door open and, as he was pushed through, he heard it slam behind him. His escorts now marched him a few metres along what he thought must be a corridor although he didn’t know, as he was unable to see. His cuffs were removed and his bike jacket and t-shirt were pulled off him before his wrists were cuffed again, pulled above his head and attached to a chain. His arms were pulled up just high enough to force him to stand on his toes. He felt, first his right, and then his left leg being pulled up as his bike boots were pulled off followed by his socks. As he felt the waistband of his leather bike jeans being undone he tried to shout out but the gag ensured his shout was nothing but a muffled grunt. Very quickly his jeans were removed. His arms were beginning to ache and as he was straining to maintain his balance on his toes, he felt very vulnerable as he stood there, hooded, gagged and clad only in his briefs. His captors had remained silent all this time and he found that unnerving as well.

Although he was rather shocked at what had happened in those last few minutes, he felt, to his embarrassment, his cock beginning to harden and stretch the fabric of his briefs. He knew that this would be noticed very soon by his captors but nothing he could do or think off seemed to prevent his erection. He felt one of his captors grab the waistband of his briefs and pull it tight as they were ripped off him. At the same time his arms were lowered enabling him to stand properly on the ground. His ankles were kicked apart and each one was secured to either end of a spread bar. All this time his cock remained erect even though his mind was racing and he was feeling apprehensive if not scared about his situation. Before he had time to think anymore about this he was hit by a jet of cold water which he thought must be coming from a hose. His erect cock now shrivelled with the shock of the water. Again he shouted out in protest but the gag once more reduced the shout to a muffled grunt.

He felt hands grabbing his now soft cock and as he struggled to try and pull away, he felt his cock being forced into some sort of metal tube which pushed it down against his body. A metal waistband attached to the tube was fastened around him and a chain was pulled through his crack securing his cock and balls in a metal chastity device. The effect was to cause his cock to try and erect but this time it was imprisoned in hard metal and although he tried desperately to prevent it, his cock continued to harden and strained to get out of its steel prison thus causing him major discomfort. His arms, which were still cuffed and attached to a chain above him, were to his relief, released and the cuffs were removed. One of his captors then pulled his arms out horizontally in front of him, and although he remained silent, Sandro realised that he was required to hold his arms in that position. The reason quickly became clear as he felt them being enclosed in leather which he could also recognise by its smell. He realised he was being put in a straitjacket which was very expertly strapped up tightly by his captors. His ankles were removed from the spread bar; he felt his captors’ hand on his shoulders as they guided him into what he surmised was another room.

He felt his gag being unstrapped and at the same time his hood was removed. His two captors were still wearing their helmets with the blacked out visors and remained silent. He saw he was in a cell about 3 metres square with no natural light. The straps on his straitjacket were padlocked so he saw that there was no possibility of being able to get out of it. He started to shout demanding his release when one of his captors forced a heavy leather muzzle with built in gag on to his head. Once more he was silenced and could only grunt ineffectually. Although he was totally helpless, his captors shackled his ankles before leaving the cell and locking the barred door.

Sandro managed to sit down on the floor of the cell and began to think about the events of the last hour. He was still wondering what he had got himself into and was somewhat apprehensive. But as he struggled in his straitjacket and tried to no avail to expel the gag in his mouth, he felt his imprisoned cock stiffening in its steel prison. In spite of not knowing what was ahead of him, he was sexually aroused and in a strange way enjoying his predicament.

Before he could think any further about things, he heard someone approaching his cell. Through the barred door, he recognised Dirk. He grunted into his muzzle but only unintelligible sounds came out. “I hope you find your accommodation satisfactory”, said Dirk, “the bad news is that we require a part for your bike which we haven’t got in stock just now. The good news is that we can obtain it for you, but that will not be before Monday. However you are welcome to stay until then at our expense”. Sandro grunted into muzzle again and Dirk responded by laughing. “Well our advertisement offered a “quiet and secure” location”, he said. “I understand from your escorts that you seemed to…..er…..how I shall put it…..react well to your welcome here. Or at least your cock did. I find that very interesting. Perhaps it’s something we should investigate further”. He smiled again and said, “Well I’ll let you relax a little now; after all you wanted a quiet break in the countryside”. Dirk walked off as Sandro again grunted into his muzzle while at the same time struggled in vain to get out of the straitjacket.