Date: Sun, 26 Mar 2017 20:35:07 +0000 (UTC)
From: gothguy <gothguy25@yahoo.com>
Subject: Grabbed by a Leather Glove 3

Grabbed by a Leather Glove

This story is fiction! It is of a gay authoritarian nature and should not
be read by anyone where it is not legal for them to do so. So stop now!

There will be more chapters to follow.  Comments if you wish.

Chapter Three

I had been dressed as a leather gimp, a full bodied one, for the past few
weeks, with the tight neck collar chained to a post in some basement.  Only
my eye holes in my

hood allowed me to see where I was.  My mouth had always been dildo gagged
until they were using it, or I was being fed or watered, and then gagged
again.  And my ass always

had a plug in it, locked into place unless it was needed, or I whined
enough until they understood I needed to go to the bathroom.  My hands were
always in bondage mitts, so

I wouldn't be able to turn knobs, answer phones, key pads, ot do anything
intricate.  And not only had I leather socks on, I was wearing boots.
Sometimes they changed the

size of my buttplugs to see how I handled the pain.  They liked to cause me
pain, so that happened a lot.

All the guys had been training me, and using me singularly, in pairs, or as
a trio in shifts.  The leather had made my mind very confused and weak,
like I always told people

it does.  After the few weeks, I couldn't think at all, and had no strenth.
With the mitts on, I couldn't untie a rope knot if they had them on me
instead of this chain, and

I couldn't fight my way out of here.  I could barely lift up a chair.  The
leather effected me that much.

But, the main thing the leather did, as it always did on my mind, was make
me horny.  The smell, feel, sight, sound and taste of it invaded my life
24/7.  I couldn't escape it,

and it was slowly driving me mad, and yet, also driving my mind away.  They
were doing what they had set out to do.  They had me faceless, in the hood.
They called me the gimp

now, so I was nameless, and quite frankly, I didn't remember my full name
anymore, where I lived before, or anything about my past life.  I didn't
remember their names either.

Just big Master, nice Master, and dirty Master, who liked to do anything
with me dirty, kinky, or rauchy.  I knew, if I could think at all, I would
just call all three just

Master soon in my mind, since I was beginning to blur even who was who
between them. They fucked me so often, I couldn't remember who had the
longest cock, who had the fattest,

and who fucked the hardest trying to hurt me on purpose.  I knew one of
them did.  He liked to lick my tears afterwards.  It was a pride thing for
him to make me cry.

In the middle of a long fuck session one night, with one of my Masters
breeding my ass very deeply while another was breeding my throat just as
deeply, making me gag and fight

to breath, I heard through my hood pieces of a conversation I didn't
understand.

"I think he's ready to be trained."

"The leather will make it hard for him to retain the lessions."

"That will make the punishments and his crying even more enjoyable."

They both laughed as they bred me harder, and fell into a rythmn of fucking
and impaling me at the same time.  I think I passed out from either the
pain, or the lack of oxyegen,

because when I woke up, my buttplug and gag was back in.  But something new
was going on.  There was something different about my leather suit.

I felt around, and felt something sticking out from my butplug.  Like
outwardly, hanging down.  And, on my knees and elbows, I had pads.  It was
had to feel them with the mitts,

for the mitts now were tougher leather too.  But, I could sense the
difference.

The next time the door opened, the three Masters came in together.  I
became alert, and stood up.

"NO BITCH!!  ON YOUR KNEES!!!"

I instantly dropped to my knees, wondering what I had done wrong.  I
dropped my head, away the lashes.

"Dogs are always on their hands and knees.  We have given you knee and
elbow pads.  And a tail.  You will never, EVER stand up again.  You will
always be on your hands and knees.

and when we come into the room, you will wag your fuckin ass like you are
happy to see us, or so help us, you will NOT BE!"

The second he said that, I frantically started wagging my ass, hoping I was
doing it right.  I didn't even bat an eye I was now a dog to them.  I had
been a gimp so long, in their

posession, I didn't remember being me.  Nor being upset or mad about being
grabbed by leather men.  I just remember Masters, and their cocks, and how
they gave me their protein to

keep living, and their piss to survive, and occasionally let me drink real
water and eat dry dog food from a bowl.

I didn't even give it a second thought, as I was fucked doggy style by all
three, and called a good boy, this was my new life now.  Because, I didn't
remember my old one.

As one of my Masters bred me very deep, making my head hit one of the
walls, he said as an aside to the others, "If we get any other dogs, this
one stays the lowest.  All the others

can fuck it like us, any time of the night.  He's our kennel bitch."

One of the other Master's like that a lot.  "The other dog's won't be
effected by leather.  So they will be able to think.  They will like having
a bitch at night after we hurt them."

They all three laughed, and took turns with me again, then left me in the
dark, chained to the post.


End of chapter two.

gothguy25@yahoo.com