Taken Care Of Part 3

Author: prisonerx
Title: Taken Care Of (Part 3)
Date: 17 November 2009

The sound of a motor starting up alerted Sandro to the fact that something was about to happen. Slowly he felt himself being lowered bit by bit until he was resting, (he presumed), back on the table. Although he couldn’t see anything, he was correct in his perception. The two leather clad escorts immediately set to work, (in silence of course), cutting and stripping away the duct tape that had kept him mummified for the last few hours. The feeling of cool air circulating around his sweat soaked body was welcome and as his head bindings were removed he closed his eyes momentarily in order to adjust to the glare of the lights in the room. His gag, however, remained firmly in place and he became aware of how thirsty he was. He grunted ineffectually into his gag asking for some water. His silent escorts ignored his grunts as they manhandled him into a wheelchair, which stood alongside the table. His wrists were grabbed and secured to the arms of the chair by means of leather restraints and similarly his ankles were secured to the legs of the chair.

Although he could see clearly once more, this told him nothing about his escorts and all he could see was his reflection in their helmet visors. The sight of his bound and gagged naked self caused a stirring once more in his metal belt, which was still imprisoning his manhood.

One of the escorts placed a two litre bottle of water on his lap with a plastic tube protruding from it which he pushed into the tube in Sandro’s gag enabling him to take a much needed drink and quench his thirst. As he drank the water, Sandro watched as the two escorts opened some cupboards at the side of the room and pulled out the contents. From what he could make out, they included a one- piece leather bike suit, a leather hood and various other items that he couldn’t see properly. As he sat restrained in the wheelchair, he began to feel very tired. His eyes grew heavy but, at first, he resisted the urge to close them. However within seconds he had drifted off to sleep. Whatever was in the water had done its job.

Sandro awoke with a start and for a moment wondered where he was. He was still sitting in the wheelchair. He was wearing a black one- piece leather bike suit complete with boots. Although his ankles were no longer secured to the sides of the chair, he soon discovered that they were shackled with a short chain between them. He was also wearing a tight fitting heavy-duty leather hood to which a gag was strapped and locked in place with a padlock. As he tried to move his fingers he realised that his hands were encased in tight fitting leather mitts that were also locked in place using padlocks. Like his ankles his wrists were not secured to the chair but were shackled by a chain that limited his movement. Securing his body to the chair were two very wide leather straps; one ran across his chest and was locked behind; the other secured his thighs to the seat thus preventing any attempt on his part to stand up.

As he contemplated his position, once more his imprisoned cock began to stir in its metal cage. The two escorts stood, silent as ever, watching him and he, in turn, looked back at the figures clad from head to toe in black leather and as before wearing helmets with reflective visors which prevented him from seeing their faces or even their eyes. There was nothing for him to do but await events.

He didn’t have to wait long as within a few minutes the door at the side of the room opened and Dirk walked in. Dirk walked around Sandro, secured in the chair and addressing the escorts said, “OK, take our guest out of here and let’s get him into his overnight quarters.” One of the escorts immediately moved behind Sandro and, releasing the brake on the wheelchair, pushed him out through the open door. The remaining escort and Dirk followed them.

Sandro was wheeled along the corridor towards the steel door through which he had come on his arrival. As he was pushed through it, he saw that he was at the back of the workshop, now silent and deserted as it had closed for the day and the staff had gone home. His chair was pushed towards the end of the workshop where Sandro could see two steel doors standing upright from the floor on either side of an opening in the floor. The escort pushing his chair, stopped alongside what Sandro now saw was a deep cellar or pit. While the escort started to unlock the straps across his chest and thighs, the other escort appeared carrying a set of steps which he carefully let down into the pit.

Sandro was then manhandled out of the wheelchair into a standing position. He was led to the edge of the pit by the steps and Dirk said, “welcome to your overnight accommodation. Down you go. I suggest you take it easy on the steps!” Sandro hesitated and tried to say something. But his gag ensured that anything he tried to say was just an unintelligible grunt or series of grunts. His mind was racing. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to enter this pit but at the same time he found it strangely arousing. Before he could think anymore about it, the escorts took him by the shoulders and pushed him towards the steps. Sandro first placed one foot and then the other on the first step, taking great care as his ankle chain limited his range of movement. Slowly he descended the steps until he reached the bottom. He tried to see what the place was like but it was unlit and the only light entering it was from the workshop above him. He heard Dirk’s voice saying “stand forward of the steps and kneel down!” As he did so, the steps were withdrawn and immediately everything went completely dark as he heard the sound of the metal doors above him being closed and a bolt being drawn across preventing any means of opening them from the inside.

As he tried to stand up he bumped his head against the doors, which now imprisoned him underground. He realised that the headroom was too low for him to stand up properly. Although he was not blindfolded, he could not see or make out anything in the pitch dark of his prison. He reached out in front of him in an attempt to feel his way around but whatever way he turned, it seemed to him that his leather bound hands immediately hit a wall.

He lay on his back, his legs drawn up slightly as the pit was too short for him to stretch out in. He listened intently for a few seconds but all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, the rattle of his chains and the distinct creaking sound of leather as he moved. He reached down with his leather covered hands in an attempt to relieve his rock hard cock but the combination of leather mitts and the solid metal cage imprisoning his manhood ensured he would remain frustrated in his new hell.