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Mine is a cosy leather bar in the basement of a row of shops near the centre of town. Having no windows has its advantages nobody in the street can see in. I was free to decorate the place as I wanted mainly in black, of course with just some innocent photos near the street entrance to entice people in.
I am open from the early afternoon right through to the small hours. Of course, the afternoons are quiet, but tourists using their gay guides often drop in then to check the place out and see if they want to come back again later.
So it was that one afternoon, shortly after opening time, this student chappie came down the stairs into the bar. I guessed he was about 21 but I'm not that good with ages. He was quite hesitant, and the place was still empty apart from myself behind the bar.
I carried on polishing glasses and greeted him. "What can I get you?" After studying the selection he ordered one of the draught lagers and sat down on a stool at the bar not far from the stairs. That way, he had an excellent view of the whole bar, and a quick escape route.
From where he was sitting, the bar formed a narrow corridor opening into a larger seating area. At the far end was the entrance to the darkrooms but I could see he was not going to venture right down there for the time being.
I carried on setting the glasses and the bottles for the evening, but out of the corner of my eye I could see he was becoming interested in The Wall.
Although there are barstools all along the bar, there isn't enough space for any real seating along the wall opposite the bar. There is a ledge with a leather cushion on it running the length of the wall, but you cannot really sit comfortably there. Early on I had decided to make a feature of this wall and this is what was drawing the gaze of the young lad.
At about nearly head-height, all the way along the wall, metal handcuffs were fixed at two feet intervals. Half way along the wall was a notice printed on white paper. It was headed `The Wall', and underneath, in slightly smaller letters, `Rules'. At that distance, that was all the boy could read, but I could see he was curious.
Once I'd served him his second beer, he left it on the bar and walked over to the notice. Now he was able to read the whole thing. There were five paragraphs:
Cuff yourself to the Wall for one hour and you earn free drinks for the following hour.
Cuff yourself to the Wall for two hours and you earn free drinks for the rest of the night.
Cuff yourself to the Wall until the bartender releases you earns free drinks for the week.
All the above A.Y.O.R.
Signal the bartender after one or two hours to come and release you, otherwise it's up to him.
He stared at the rules for a few minutes and then walked back to his beer. Nobody else had come in yet and he avoided my gaze. He sat back down and kept looking back at the wall and the notice. I could almost hear his brain working and I knew it was just a matter of time.
Leaving his now empty glass on the bar, he got up and walked over to the Wall again. Still avoiding my gaze, as if he wanted this to be a private moment, he turned and sat on the ledge and reached up to the handcuffs. Very carefully he clicked first one and then the other wrist into the cuffs, and then clasped his hands to give himself more support. Seated like that, your arms are not straight but a little bent, and it is a position you can hold for a while. He stared intently at the clock on the wall behind the bar. I glanced at it too, showing him I had noted the time.
Three or four regulars came in during the next hour, but they paid little attention to the boy on the Wall they had seen it all before of course and for them, it was just extra dιcor. By the time the hour was up, you could see the relief on the boy's face, and he started to try and catch my eye. That was fine by me. I went over to him and unlocked his cuffs and then returned behind the bar.
Rubbing his wrists to get the circulation going again, he walked back to his spot at the bar and ordered another beer, asking politely if he could have a whisky chaser too. He got in three rounds during the next hour, none of which he had to pay for. During this time, the bar had started filling up a bit. It was time to see if my sponsorship was going to pay dividends!
Sure enough, once he realised his next round he'd need to pay for, he stood up again and launched himself towards the wall. He was still the only candidate that day, but he didn't seem to care. It's amazing how a few free drinks take away your inhibitions!
He got through the hour quite well really, and still nobody paid him much attention. You could see him thinking how easy this was. Apparently he hadn't thought it far enough through though why would this Wall be here if it were that easy? At the end of the hour he made no attempt to catch my eye, so we were now into the second hour. The stakes were higher that much he had realised.
The boy was completely unaware that we were running a book on him behind the bar. Would he stop at two hours or not? I made sure I kept an eye out as the final minutes ticked away, but although he saw me looking his way, he made no attempt to signal his intention to stop. The two hour mark passed, and I gave it another 5 minutes so that there would be no mistake.
Then I walked over to him, produced a Jennings gag and slipped it through his rather surprised smile. Once it was strapped on, I opened the gag so that his mouth was also wide open. His eyes were round with surprise too, almost as big as his mouth! I simply leaned in towards him and whispered in his ear: "At your own risk". I nodded towards the poster as I did so. Then I retreated behind the bar again my role was over for the time being.
In some bars, the bell hanging from the bar signals closing time, and in others, a free round of drinks. In my bar it had quite a different meaning. The moment it sounded, all the regulars got up and made their way to the wall, forming a semicircle as best they could in the limited space. As if following some ritual, a couple of guys moved forward towards the boy and made short work of removing his shoes, socks, jeans and underwear. These were passed back to me so that I could keep them safe.
His T-shirt couldn't just be taken off of course, but a knife soon solved that problem. The poor kid was now completely naked and starting to sweat a bit, with his cock slowly but surely rising to the occasion despite his predicament!
Before he could really catch his breath, he found his body hair being attacked by electric trimmers. Armpits, chest, nether regions they all lost their covering. Two guys then jumped up on the ledge and continued using the trimmers on his head. That was something he certainly hadn't bargained for but clearly his cock was enjoying the whole thing!
Next, shaving gear mysteriously appeared, and with plenty of willing hands to help out, the poor kid was soon shaved smooth from head to toe, arms and legs included. He probably still had some hair in his arse crack but I knew the lads would take care of that too later. One of the guys reached towards me for the padlock key. Now they were able to release the handcuffs from the wall without undoing them. Like a bit of crowd surfing, they carried him above their heads towards the dark room at the back. We all knew what was going to happen back there, but I stayed behind to watch the bar which, by now, was quite empty again!
The next afternoon, just after I had opened up, a lone set of feet strode purposefully down the stairs into the bar. He was dressed pretty much entirely in black, with a ring through his nose and chains hanging from his pockets. Apart from the fact he was not wearing any makeup, he looked pretty much like your typical Goth.
He sat at the bar and, with a broad grin that was out of keeping with his garb, but which I vaguely recognised, he ordered a lager and a whisky chaser. I was all set to charge him when the penny dropped!
As you can imagine, the bell was rung that day too and word had gone round! The bar was full to capacity this time!