your own story
excerpts from some of the stories ty has written
covert
The thud from a pair of loosely laced cloud-white Nike Air Force 1 High Tops walking across the pavement was heard as the shadow of Chris extended forward. As he exited the terminal, Chris immediately whipped out his Oakley M2 Frame XL sunglasses as the sun was intensely bright in Palm Springs.
Chris carries his backpack on his shoulder, wearing white athletic socks from Gear with black lettering that reads, Sniff me. Chris is enjoying the heat on his bare skin as he is wearing a pair of white Nike basketball shorts that shine in the rays of the sun. Deciding he doesn’t need the matching white trackie jacket, Chris removes the jacket, exposing a white basketball tank top with the Nike swoosh in blue, putting the jacket through the loop on his backpack.
Holding a cell phone in his hand, Chris was pulling his roller suitcase behind him. He barely made the weight limit when he checked in, as his case was filled with gear for his first visit to Palm Springs Leather Pride. While a newbie to the leather event, Chris was well experienced when dealing with gear, kink and leather. He was excited to spend the long weekend in the desert oasis, enjoying the warm weather over the cold shit that was happening back home.
Approaching the stall that the rental car app was displaying, Chris was disappointed to see a black Ford Explorer. While a nice car, Chris had reserved a Jeep so he could get out into the desert and do some four-wheeling. Now he was stuck with this boring vehicle that no doubt was going to suck him dry while paying for gasoline.
After tossing his suitcase and backpack in the back of the vehicle, Chris climbed into the SUV, feeling like a secret agent in the sleek black vehicle. The leather seat was burning hot as the Nike shorts exposed the flesh on his legs. Chris was quickly learning the challenges of driving a vehicle that doubles as an oven in the desert. Pressing the brake, Chris started the Explorer, making sure the AC was blowing full blast to cool the sweltering interior where everything was black! Entering the event hotel into his iPhone, which was in downtown Palm Springs, he was on his way out of the rental car lot.
As Chris checked out the surroundings of PSP, he was impressed with the huge mountain to the west of the airport. The city was like a vacation postcard with palm trees everywhere, fancy cars, and mid-century architecture along the road that took Chris into the city. The traffic light at the intersection turned yellow, and Chris brought his SUV to a halt. While waiting for the light to turn green, a black Chevy Suburban pulled beside Chris’s vehicle, which Chris didn’t give any thought to. Another black SUV pulled in behind Chris, but Chris was into the tunes that were playing through Bluetooth from his iPhone.
When the light turned green, Chris started to accelerate but the Suburban next to him steered into turning right, which forced Chris to make a right turn he didn’t want to make.
“Hey, fucker, watch where you’re going!” Chris yelled at the other vehicle while making the turn.
The SUV behind Chris also turned and was driving right on Chris’s ass. All the vehicles moved north, putting Chris on a different path other than going to the hotel. The iPhone remarked that Chris needed to get back on the correct road. Proceeding forward, Chris proceeded to head north as a third black Suburban pulled out in front of Chris, causing Chris to slam on the brakes so as to not rear-end the third black SUV.
Chris wasn’t sure what to make of what was happening. This wasn’t what he thought his vacation would be, and now he was pinned in by three unknown drivers in Suburban’s with dark-tinted windows. The vehicle that followed Chris pulled closer, which required Chris to speed up, which the Suburban in front of him also did. The side vehicle maintained a speed that kept Chris trapped. The speed increased as the group drove north.
While Chris passed streets that intersected to the right, he couldn’t make any turns because the speed was so fast, and the others kept him boxed in so tightly.
While not familiar with the desert city, Chris realizes he is being led out of the city and soon is driving across a wide open sandy area of open desert. There were mountains surrounding the valley with clear blue skies. But Chris isn’t looking at the view; he is maintaining his nerves as driving in such close quarters is causing him to sweat, or it is the fact that the Explorer display shows it is 103°F outside.
After passing a group of Smoke wood trees, the SUV on Chris’s left starts moving closer as a side road is approaching. Understanding to follow the lead vehicle, Chris turns onto the side road with the other SUVs. They all drive another mile when Chris sees a black van that they are approaching.
The surrounding SUVs come to a stop. Chris parks his vehicle and awaits what happens next.
A voice comes over his car speaker, “You know the drill, fucker. Turn off the car exit with your hands up.” This surprises Chris as he wonders how the strangers got control of his car audio.
The side door of the van slides open, and Chris sees two figures in full SWAT gear with weapons pointing at him. Sensing movement in his vehicle, Chris looks down to spot red laser points on his chest.
“What the hell?” Chris states under his breath.
While Chris has had fantasies of doing some bondage and gear fun with full SWAT gear, this is beyond any fantasy. There is true fear developing in Chris as he knows of no one who could pull off such an experience. He had talked with a few guys about meeting during Leather Pride, but none of them was into cop gear. This was a more intense welcome to Palm Springs than Chris had expected.
Realizing that he doesn’t have time to think about how horny this situation is, Chris turns off the Explorer, reaches for the door and opens it. The heat bursts onto Chris, dressed in his lightweight Nike basketball gear, as Chris exits slowly with his hands in the air. The lasers follow as Chris steps into the sandy ground, his Nike’s getting dusty. One of the figures in the van motions with his weapon for Chris to step forward, which Chris does.
As the sun heats his face, Chris feels the soft sand as he steps forward, noticing that the SUV occupants never make themselves known. The armed and masked figure that has been instructing Chris to proceed motions with his black armored gloved hand that Chris should turn around. A slight wind whips up the sand that Chris stands in, coarsely flowing over his exposed legs as Chris pivots so his back is towards the officers with their high-powered weapons.
Breathing a deep sigh, with a slight shudder of fear, Chris now faces the other vehicles, feeling the unknown eyes staring at him. Are they laughing at Chris as they toy with his emotions of fear and submission? This is a deeper submission than what Chris has ever felt, beyond any Power Exchange experience.
In seconds, Chris is tackled to the sandy ground, and his lips fill with sand as a roughly textured glove shoves Chris’s head into the sand. There is no fight from Chris, but the two figures in heavy battle gear rough up Chris as they get his wrists tightly secured in heavy metal cuffs behind his back. Feeling the heat of the sand on his arms and legs, the weight of one of the figure’s padded knee is keeping Chris in place.
Lifting his head to spit out the sand, a gloved hand pushes the head back down filling Chris with more sand as the guy yells for Chris to remain still. Not struggling, Chris allows the two aggressive men in black uniforms to control him. First, they use heavy-weight chrome handcuffs that feel comfortable around Chris’s wrists. There have been times when Chris was cuffed that the fucking things continually bit into his skin. But not these, which impress Chris as the quality of the cuffs.
Hearing some gear hit the sand, Chris begins to wonder how restrained he is going to end up. Quickly rolled on his back, his arms getting crushed into the hot sand, the two strangers pulled a high-viz vest over Chris’s head. But this vest has more hardware on it as there are belts that are secured on the sides, and the belts are pulled tightly keeping Chris trapped in the bright vest. The handcuffs are clipped to the back of the vest with hardware, and then the men in black roll their captive onto his back.
Chris tries struggling, but he feels everything on his body is now being connected. That will keep the captive’s hands well secured behind his back. As the SWAT guys work on Chris he can smell their sweat from their heavy uniforms and gear. There is a roughness to their black, sinister gear as it brushes on Chris’ bare skin. There is a heat that comes from these men as they are not gentle with their captive, with some of their pleasure in binding up Chris being felt in how roughly and tightly they secure Chris from any hope of escape.
Pushing Chris to the sand, the captive can feel the hot grains on the back of his neck as one of the officers lowers his ass on Chris’s face, the ripstop material closing in around the captive’s nose and mouth, his sight disappearing. Trying to roll his face away, the officer releases more of his weight to smoother the captive as he and his fellow officer put Chris into the next piece of transport restraints.
Pulling another piece of high-viz equipment under the captive’s legs, they wrap both of Chris’s legs in a layer of canvas that has several straps that they quickly secure, putting the prisoner into a security burrito. The canvas is rough on Chris’s exposed legs, but the officers pull with their full grip to make the canvas tight.
Chris takes in a huge breath as the officer stands, and the SWAT guys flip the captive on his stomach again. They grab a lose strap that is at the end of the leg trap, lifting it, bending the captive’s legs. One of the men in black takes that strap and wraps it around the chain that is between the cuffs. Then, in one swift, painful action, both the SWAT guys press down on Chris’s legs and secure him in a tight hogtie. The straps are configured so that if Chris lifts his legs, he pulls on his wrists, which will pull on his back. The only thing the captive can do is to lay in the hot sand and let the officers do their jobs to secure their target.
The men in black stand over their captive, the sand blowing across their black Danner Acadia boots that fill Chris’s vision, proud of their work. Struggling some to feel the tightness that he is trapped in, Chris finds his cock stirring a bit as the situation is horny as fuck. Still, Chris is scared shitless as he is unsure what the hell is going on. The SWAT guys do a high-five between them as the three SUVs immediately depart, blowing dust all over the place.
A gloved hand lays on the arm of an office chair, and a video screen shows Chris in the bondage burrito struggling in the sand as the video feed is coming from one of the SWAT officer's chest cam.
The room is dark with a green glow from some of the computer equipment as a man sits in the chair, dressed in black fatigues. The figure is in silhouette as he faces the video screen.
The feed from the SWAT officer comes closer to Chris. The officer kneels before the captive, lying on his chest in the hot sand.
“Zoom in more to that face!” commands the figure watching the video.
The officer leans in closer, while lifting Chris’s head by the hair in the officer’s duty glove. The captive’s face fills the display.
“Can you freeze that?” asks the uniformed man, and the video stops with a grainy image of the captive’s face. “What the fuck?”
A voice comes over a speaker, “Do you want to continue to watch the feed, Sir?”
Leaning back in the chair, the man ignores the question as he stares at the screen.
“Gotcha, you muther-fucker. I finally got you.” The man's gloved hands come together in a clinch.
“Continue the feed. Notify command that I want the captive brought to Z Base!”
“Sir, that will be a seven-hour drive.”
“Just fucking do it.”
As the officer starts to stand again, Chris’s vision disappears as a black leather hood is pulled over his head. It is not a tight hood but restricts the captive’s breathing and keeps him in total darkness. The second officer secures a small collar around the bottom of the hood so the hood can’t be removed.
After a couple of slaps on the head by one of the officers, both the men in black lift their captive. As Chris leaves the ground, the gear is tight but also causes painful pressure points to the captive, as Chris yells into the hood, complaining of the pain.
The men in black don’t give a shit as they walk to the side door of the van and shove their captive across the rubberized floor. There is a chain that hangs from the ceiling in the van that is attached to the cuffs that raise the captive arms and legs, keeping him from moving. The men in black slam shut the side door as Chris hears them make their way to the seats, and in moments, the captive feels the motion of the van as it heads to who knows where.