Requested Story: Kidnapped by Store Owner (M/M) and (F/M)
Posted: Thu Aug 22, 2019 9:54 am
Link to the Request: https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=42&t=4048
It was a quiet day in Hebden Bridge, Mr. Jones was slightly bored and if truth be told, a little horny. The polished wooden racks of Messrs Jones Mens Outfitters gleamed in the afternoon sun; the drawers containing shirts, ties, scarves and other assorted accoutrements looked splendid. The smell of polish weaved with the crisp odour of cotton and silk, it was something that never failed to please Mr. Jones.
His reminiscences were rudely broken by the bell of the shop's door ringing, the sunlight framing a young man who paused at the door as if he had forgotten why he was entering.
Mr. Jones studied the young gentleman, partly sizing his frame for a three-piece suit and partly for whether he was kidnappable...
Kidnap-ability, was as Mr. Jones was often to reflect on over a gin & tonic, hard to define. The victim, male or female, didn't just have to be capable of being subdued; but probably more importantly they had to possess a certain something. That small facet of personality that suggested to Mr. Jones that they were susceptible to his unique charms...
The young man closed the door, the bell ringing again and disturbing the silence that had previously existed within the hallowed environs of Messrs Jones Mens Outfitters. He stepped forward, slightly hesitant, his tall frame encased in a pair of clean jeans and a rugby shirt, short sleeved. The air conditioning in the shop raised goosebumps on the youth's arms.
Mr. Jones enquired as to whether he could help the young man.
The youth replied in the affirmative, explaining that his mother had sent to him to Mr. Jones's emporium for a new pair of trousers.
Mr. Jones learned that the young man was named Peter and he was 21. Through the use of a tape measure, Peter's measurements were noted and several pairs of trousers selected. Peter was steered to the rear of the shop and one of the two changing rooms. Mr. Jones closed the curtain and instructed Peter to call if he needed any help.
Leaving Peter to master the intricacies of several pairs of trousers and their respective hangers, Mr. Jones made his way to the shop's front door. He paused and studied the High Street, a few late afternoon shoppers wandered up and down but no-one seemed to be heading his way. Quietly and carefully, he closed the uppermost bolt on the door and then the lower one, before heading to one of the polished wooden drawers on the side behind a glass case containing a selection of handkerchiefs.
From the drawer he removed four silk ties, from the case two large men's handkerchiefs and from an adjacent drawer a fine pair of black leather gloves. Mr. Jones's impeccably cut tweed suit had been made for him about two years ago, his tailor if he had been measuring him this afternoon, might have detected a slight bulge in his inside leg; but apart from that nothing would seem amiss. Mr. Jones slowly drew the gloves on and watched the curtain covering the entrance to the changing room.
Collecting the ties and handkerchiefs he walked slowly to the rear of the shop. His assistant had been given the afternoon off, so Mr. Jones was quite alone as Peter was about to discover.
Pausing at the curtain, Mr. Jones placed the handkerchiefs in one pocket and the ties in another. He took a deep breath and slipped quietly in to the changing room. Peter had his back to the curtain and was dressed only in his rugby shirt and his boxer shorts. Carefully Mr. Jones stepped behind Peter and pulled him close with one hand while clamping his other leather gloved hand over the young man's mouth.
Peter tried to call out, he could feel how thin the leather was in Mr. Jones's glove but it was tight over his mouth and all he could manage was a muffled sound.
Mr. Jones kept his right hand tight over Peter's mouth and whispered to the frightened young man that nothing bad was going to happen as long as he behaved himself. He was to do everything Mr. Jones asked, when he asked and he was not to try and scream or call for help. Peter was scared but realised he had no choice and nodded his agreement.
Swiftly Mr. Jones removed a handkerchief from his pocket, balled it up and jammed it in Peter's mouth. Taking the other he tied the handkerchief over the top of the balled up one, effectively gagging the scared young man. Pausing momentarily to admire his handiwork, Mr. Jones cut the rugby shirt off Peter with a pair of tailor's scissors. Repeating the same for his boxers, Mr. Jones reflected on how vulnerable victims felt naked and also on what a fine package Peter had been hiding beneath his boxers.
Taking a tie from his pocket, he pushed Peter in to the changing room chair. Efficiently he tied one of Peter's arms to one chair arm, then the other and finishing with the legs.
Mr. Jones stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Peter looked back in fear.
Mr. Jones reached down and started to stroke Peter. Slow at first and then increasing in speed. Peter panted through his gag and Mr. Jones clamped his free hand tight over the handkerchief covering the hapless young man's mouth.
Then Mr. Jones stopped.
He whispered quietly in Peter's ear it wasn't time yet for his pleasure. Peter could feel how hard he was and how much he wanted release. He had never experienced anything like this, he watched in anticipation and a little fear as he watched Mr. Jones stand in front of him.
Stepping back in to the shop for a moment Mr. Jones confirmed that no-one was stood close by and that what he was about to do would go unnoticed. Taking two silk scarves from another wooden drawer and an additional handkerchief he returned to the bound and gagged Peter.
Peter remained in the changing room bound to the chair, his gag tight over his mouth and his excitement obvious for all the world to see.
Mr. Jones smiled and explained that he was about to reopen the shop. Peter had to be a very good boy and stay absolutely quiet. If he made any noise or tried to escape then Peter would be punished. Mr. Jones stroked his thin leather gloved hand up and down Peter's organ. Peter moaned through his gag.
Mr. Jones noticed how aroused Peter was and squeezed gently. He kissed Peter gently over his gag and on his forehead. Reminding Peter of the rules, he checked that he was securely bound to the chair.
Standing again Mr. Jones admired Peter and realised that maybe he could indulge himself for a minute or two before he reopened. Slowly and carefully he untied Peter's gag and removed the handkerchief from his mouth. Leaning forward he kissed Peter whilst holding his head with one gloved hand, his other resumed the stroking. Peter moaned and Mr. Jones made a shushing motion before gently placing his hand over his mouth.
Continuing to stroke, Mr. Jones could feel Peter's excitement building, and checked where he had left the third handkerchief and the two scarves. Pausing again, he took the third handkerchief and folded in to a square before taking a small brown bottle from his pocket. Ignoring Peter's quizzical looks he dripped a little of the bottle's contents on to the pad before returning it to his pocket.
Moving back to Peter, Mr. Jones pulled the second chair up and sat in front of him. His right gloved hand started to stroke again and this time he was about ready to burst. Peter moaned again and started to buck as he felt himself build towards an explosion from his loins. Mr. Jones was experienced and anticipated this. Just as Peter seemed about to explode Mr. Jones held the handkerchief and its contents over his mouth. Peter was confused, his excitement was at a peak and he could feel the pleasure of the soft leather stroking him but the handkerchief was making him dizzy. He was scared and tried to call out.
Mr. Jones stopped his stroking and held Peter's head still with that hand whilst the other administered the chloroform. Peter tried to call out but it was no use, his head was locked still and the fumes from the handkerchief over his mouth were making him whoozy. The room was spinning and he was so scared, but no-one could hear him. He could feel Mr. Jones's gloved hands and the bindings tying him to the chair. And as he continued to spin with the chloroform he felt a little something else.
Mr. Jones removed the handkerchief and studied Peter. He wasn't unconscious yet, just groggy. Peter tried to call out, but it was just a whisper and his eyes focussed for a moment on Mr. Jones.
Mr. Jones removed the bottle and refreshed the handkerchief. Settling another kiss on Peter's forehead and placing it again over his mouth, Mr. Jones finished what he had started. Peter tried to call for help again, but it was no use; Mr. Jones was in total charge. The leather glove hands clamped tight over his head as the chloroform slowly sent him in to unconsciousness.
One he was under, Mr. Jones dispensed with the handkerchief in Peter's mouth and settled on a simple cleave gag, backed up by a scarf over the top. The second scarf blindfolded the unconscious Peter and Mr. Jones returned to the shop door - unlocking the bolts and slowly removing his gloves.
Roll on closing time, mused Mr. Jones and deposited the gloves in his jacket pocket.
Hebden Bridge High Street seemed unaware of what had occurred in Messrs Jones Mens Outfitters, and Peter slumbered on in the changing room dreaming strange dreams of kidnappers and pleasures unknown...
To be continued?
It was a quiet day in Hebden Bridge, Mr. Jones was slightly bored and if truth be told, a little horny. The polished wooden racks of Messrs Jones Mens Outfitters gleamed in the afternoon sun; the drawers containing shirts, ties, scarves and other assorted accoutrements looked splendid. The smell of polish weaved with the crisp odour of cotton and silk, it was something that never failed to please Mr. Jones.
His reminiscences were rudely broken by the bell of the shop's door ringing, the sunlight framing a young man who paused at the door as if he had forgotten why he was entering.
Mr. Jones studied the young gentleman, partly sizing his frame for a three-piece suit and partly for whether he was kidnappable...
Kidnap-ability, was as Mr. Jones was often to reflect on over a gin & tonic, hard to define. The victim, male or female, didn't just have to be capable of being subdued; but probably more importantly they had to possess a certain something. That small facet of personality that suggested to Mr. Jones that they were susceptible to his unique charms...
The young man closed the door, the bell ringing again and disturbing the silence that had previously existed within the hallowed environs of Messrs Jones Mens Outfitters. He stepped forward, slightly hesitant, his tall frame encased in a pair of clean jeans and a rugby shirt, short sleeved. The air conditioning in the shop raised goosebumps on the youth's arms.
Mr. Jones enquired as to whether he could help the young man.
The youth replied in the affirmative, explaining that his mother had sent to him to Mr. Jones's emporium for a new pair of trousers.
Mr. Jones learned that the young man was named Peter and he was 21. Through the use of a tape measure, Peter's measurements were noted and several pairs of trousers selected. Peter was steered to the rear of the shop and one of the two changing rooms. Mr. Jones closed the curtain and instructed Peter to call if he needed any help.
Leaving Peter to master the intricacies of several pairs of trousers and their respective hangers, Mr. Jones made his way to the shop's front door. He paused and studied the High Street, a few late afternoon shoppers wandered up and down but no-one seemed to be heading his way. Quietly and carefully, he closed the uppermost bolt on the door and then the lower one, before heading to one of the polished wooden drawers on the side behind a glass case containing a selection of handkerchiefs.
From the drawer he removed four silk ties, from the case two large men's handkerchiefs and from an adjacent drawer a fine pair of black leather gloves. Mr. Jones's impeccably cut tweed suit had been made for him about two years ago, his tailor if he had been measuring him this afternoon, might have detected a slight bulge in his inside leg; but apart from that nothing would seem amiss. Mr. Jones slowly drew the gloves on and watched the curtain covering the entrance to the changing room.
Collecting the ties and handkerchiefs he walked slowly to the rear of the shop. His assistant had been given the afternoon off, so Mr. Jones was quite alone as Peter was about to discover.
Pausing at the curtain, Mr. Jones placed the handkerchiefs in one pocket and the ties in another. He took a deep breath and slipped quietly in to the changing room. Peter had his back to the curtain and was dressed only in his rugby shirt and his boxer shorts. Carefully Mr. Jones stepped behind Peter and pulled him close with one hand while clamping his other leather gloved hand over the young man's mouth.
Peter tried to call out, he could feel how thin the leather was in Mr. Jones's glove but it was tight over his mouth and all he could manage was a muffled sound.
Mr. Jones kept his right hand tight over Peter's mouth and whispered to the frightened young man that nothing bad was going to happen as long as he behaved himself. He was to do everything Mr. Jones asked, when he asked and he was not to try and scream or call for help. Peter was scared but realised he had no choice and nodded his agreement.
Swiftly Mr. Jones removed a handkerchief from his pocket, balled it up and jammed it in Peter's mouth. Taking the other he tied the handkerchief over the top of the balled up one, effectively gagging the scared young man. Pausing momentarily to admire his handiwork, Mr. Jones cut the rugby shirt off Peter with a pair of tailor's scissors. Repeating the same for his boxers, Mr. Jones reflected on how vulnerable victims felt naked and also on what a fine package Peter had been hiding beneath his boxers.
Taking a tie from his pocket, he pushed Peter in to the changing room chair. Efficiently he tied one of Peter's arms to one chair arm, then the other and finishing with the legs.
Mr. Jones stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Peter looked back in fear.
Mr. Jones reached down and started to stroke Peter. Slow at first and then increasing in speed. Peter panted through his gag and Mr. Jones clamped his free hand tight over the handkerchief covering the hapless young man's mouth.
Then Mr. Jones stopped.
He whispered quietly in Peter's ear it wasn't time yet for his pleasure. Peter could feel how hard he was and how much he wanted release. He had never experienced anything like this, he watched in anticipation and a little fear as he watched Mr. Jones stand in front of him.
Stepping back in to the shop for a moment Mr. Jones confirmed that no-one was stood close by and that what he was about to do would go unnoticed. Taking two silk scarves from another wooden drawer and an additional handkerchief he returned to the bound and gagged Peter.
Peter remained in the changing room bound to the chair, his gag tight over his mouth and his excitement obvious for all the world to see.
Mr. Jones smiled and explained that he was about to reopen the shop. Peter had to be a very good boy and stay absolutely quiet. If he made any noise or tried to escape then Peter would be punished. Mr. Jones stroked his thin leather gloved hand up and down Peter's organ. Peter moaned through his gag.
Mr. Jones noticed how aroused Peter was and squeezed gently. He kissed Peter gently over his gag and on his forehead. Reminding Peter of the rules, he checked that he was securely bound to the chair.
Standing again Mr. Jones admired Peter and realised that maybe he could indulge himself for a minute or two before he reopened. Slowly and carefully he untied Peter's gag and removed the handkerchief from his mouth. Leaning forward he kissed Peter whilst holding his head with one gloved hand, his other resumed the stroking. Peter moaned and Mr. Jones made a shushing motion before gently placing his hand over his mouth.
Continuing to stroke, Mr. Jones could feel Peter's excitement building, and checked where he had left the third handkerchief and the two scarves. Pausing again, he took the third handkerchief and folded in to a square before taking a small brown bottle from his pocket. Ignoring Peter's quizzical looks he dripped a little of the bottle's contents on to the pad before returning it to his pocket.
Moving back to Peter, Mr. Jones pulled the second chair up and sat in front of him. His right gloved hand started to stroke again and this time he was about ready to burst. Peter moaned again and started to buck as he felt himself build towards an explosion from his loins. Mr. Jones was experienced and anticipated this. Just as Peter seemed about to explode Mr. Jones held the handkerchief and its contents over his mouth. Peter was confused, his excitement was at a peak and he could feel the pleasure of the soft leather stroking him but the handkerchief was making him dizzy. He was scared and tried to call out.
Mr. Jones stopped his stroking and held Peter's head still with that hand whilst the other administered the chloroform. Peter tried to call out but it was no use, his head was locked still and the fumes from the handkerchief over his mouth were making him whoozy. The room was spinning and he was so scared, but no-one could hear him. He could feel Mr. Jones's gloved hands and the bindings tying him to the chair. And as he continued to spin with the chloroform he felt a little something else.
Mr. Jones removed the handkerchief and studied Peter. He wasn't unconscious yet, just groggy. Peter tried to call out, but it was just a whisper and his eyes focussed for a moment on Mr. Jones.
Mr. Jones removed the bottle and refreshed the handkerchief. Settling another kiss on Peter's forehead and placing it again over his mouth, Mr. Jones finished what he had started. Peter tried to call for help again, but it was no use; Mr. Jones was in total charge. The leather glove hands clamped tight over his head as the chloroform slowly sent him in to unconsciousness.
One he was under, Mr. Jones dispensed with the handkerchief in Peter's mouth and settled on a simple cleave gag, backed up by a scarf over the top. The second scarf blindfolded the unconscious Peter and Mr. Jones returned to the shop door - unlocking the bolts and slowly removing his gloves.
Roll on closing time, mused Mr. Jones and deposited the gloves in his jacket pocket.
Hebden Bridge High Street seemed unaware of what had occurred in Messrs Jones Mens Outfitters, and Peter slumbered on in the changing room dreaming strange dreams of kidnappers and pleasures unknown...
To be continued?