HOODER flicked off the bathroom light switch behind him and saw that BOOTBOI knelt in exactly the same position he'd left him in a minute ago. Good. The boi hadn't tried to move or leave or whined useless pleas of "let me out of this" or "I've had enough, please stop now."
He'd deliberately left the room to break the scene and see if BOOTBOI would step out of character. The fact that he hadn't stepped out of his submissive role told HOODER that he'd completed another step in breaking the boi. The first step had been to place him in a submissive position; the second to ensure that position was held even in his absence. If there was going to be a problem, it was likely to show up now. Lots of guys thought they were into this, but when confronted with the reality of the chain and hood and padlock started to freak out. If the chained rubber boi started whining about the situation, or broke character after just a few minutes alone, he'd have to 'persuade' him with more convincing evidence that he really was physically and psychologically subservient to this BOOTED LEATHER COP. The boi seemed to accept that he really WAS locked down, not in fantasy bondage with metal clips and easy outs after a few hot minutes and a shot load, but for real, HOODER thought. HE'S MINE TO CONTROL NOW.
On a whim he decided to get down to the 'BIG BOOTS' before continuing with the scene. He unlocked the boi's chain from the eye bolt and patted him on the hood to indicate approval for staying in place without supervision. He then sat down in the deep leather chair, splayed his feet in front of BOOTBOI and instructed him to carefully pull his MASTER's boots off, which took a little bit of work since the fit was so snug, but eventually they came off, leaving his feet exposed in their red-trimmed grey wool socks. BOOTBOI respectfully lined up the boots together out of the way at the side of the bed.
HOODER leaned over the bed to reach the duffle bag and dragged it closer to his side. He unzipped it and pulled out an awkward bundle of boot, leather and laces which he dropped on the floor in front of BOOTBOI's face.
"Straighten them out," HOODER ordered roughly. He watched with interest as BOOTBOI scrambled to comply. He sorted first one, then another, twisted pile of leather and thongs into some semblance of order. To an outsider they might appear to be nothing, but HOODER knew they were beautiful black THIGH HIGH LACE UP BOOTS from WESCO. He loved these boots, and their rumpled, distressed state showed he'd worn this pair often and well. Sure, they'd been expensive, but indulgences like this add spice to life and makes things more interesting. Putting these boots on, however, was a real pain, given the almost endless back and forth lacing required to do them up, and it was a LOT hotter to have a willing sub do the honours for him while he sat and watched with his legs spread.
In his own way BOOTBOI was turned on by these boots too. To a boot fetishist, these extreme puppies 'might seem almost normal, but to a novice like BOOTBOI, they were practically other worldly. He'd only seen them in digital images before, never up close and personal like this. He felt his rubber-trapped manhood swell inside the catsuit as he CARESSED and WORSHIPPED the HEAVY WESCO LEATHER. Soon these EXTREME LEATHER BOOTS would caress HOODER's calves and thighs, and the hooded boi eagerly looked forward to honouring the man who would wear them. HOODER interrupted his thoughts. "Are these the boots you wanted to see?" he asked, and BOOTBOI nodded vigorously.
From his position on the floor he could see every detail of the boots. The VIBRAM SOLES WERE HEAVY AND RIDGED, the TOE CAPS ROUND AND HARD. Extremely, long laces, crisscrossed through four regular eyelets in each boot, wound haphazardly across the floor. Unscrambled, they were probably 10 or 20 feet long, BOOTBOI guessed, maybe even longer, for all he knew. The tall front panels of each boot were lace-free, but lined with about 20 small metal 'hooks' on each side designed to take the leather laces and hold them in place, tightening each boot so that it would CLING INTIMATELY TO EACH CONTOUR AND SWELLING OF THE WEARER'S CALVES AND THIGHS, applying pressure to every square inch of skin and limiting mobility.
"Let's see you get them on me, boi," HOODER encouraged. "NOW!"
BOOTBOI struggled to work HOODER's right foot into the appropriate boot and tightened the laces to the ankle, then did the same with the left. HOODER found that he had to help BOOTBOI a little to ensure a tight fit, but he didn't mind if that's what it took to get it right. He made sure there were no wrinkles in his leather pants or the wide leather tongue on each boot that could irritate his calf or thigh, then let the boi continue his ministrations.
BOOTBOI began crisscrossing the laces through the lower ten metal hooks, cinched them up as tight as he could, and knotted the laces at the knee when HOODER instructed him to, ensuring the fit would stay tight up to that point. BOOTBOI repeated the process on the left. After he'd tied the second knot, HOODER temporarily took over to make the fit at the knee loose enough to allow some flexibility when he tried to bend. If he let BOOTBOI continue all the way up with an even consistent pressure, he wouldn't be able to bend his knees at all, preventing him from even rising from the chair, let alone do anything else. This wasn't something he wanted to leave to a novice boot bottom. HOODER knotted each lace just above the knee and let BOOTBOI continue the crisscross lacing up his leather covered thighs. The growing pressure from the tight leather rising up his thighs felt extremely good, and in response to this pressure, blood rushed to his LEATHER-SHEATHED COCK.
At last BOOTBOI reached the top hook and did the best he could to pull the laces tight, fitting the thigh high boots to every contour and detail of HOODER's gym-swollen thighs. HOODER slapped BOOTBOI's hands away and took over the job himself now that the hard part was over. HOODER was pleased to see that BOOTBOI stared at HOODER's toe cap, as he'd been instructed to do earlier.
He stood up and temporarily knotted the laces at the top of the boots, then used his gloved fingers to make minor adjustments to make the fit tighter here, looser there until he was satisfied with the pressure all along his thigh and calf. He then did a double knot at the top of each boot and wrapped the excess lace two or three times around each thigh and knotted them again.
Now that the boots were on, HOODER stopped for a moment to admire himself in the mirror. What he saw reflected back at him from the floor to ceiling mirror was a BUFF LEATHER-COVERED GOD with TALL, TALL BOOTS that SHAPED PERFECTLY TO HIS THIGHS AND CALVES and ended in thick soles that gave him an extra inch or so of height. He turned to the side to admire the boots from that angle, and was rewarded with a nice angle on his butt, just above the top of his BEAUTIFUL WESCO BOSSES. HOT FRAKING BASTARD, he thought and smiled to himself, as he unzipped his leather breeches and pulled out his THROBBING MANMEAT, already rigid at attention. A LEATHER GOD WORTHY OF WORSHIP.
"TELL ME WHAT YOU SEE BOI," he commanded, and grabbed a fistful of his BLOOD ENGOURGED NIGHTSTICK, squeezing it hard.
BOOTBOI looked up from the floor at the tall booted man before him. What he saw was a fantasy in the flesh. A LEATHER BULLCOP stood over him, ARROGANT and POWERFUL. His eyes were shadowed by a MUIR cap sitting low on his forehead, and his gloved hands stroking his POTENT TOOL. His feet were planted wide apart in front of his face, and the WESCO BOSS BOOTS dominated his vision.
"A God, Sir. A booted leather god," BOOTBOI replied with respect.
"YER GODDAM RIGHT I AM!" HOODER exclaimed, and pressed the sole of a boot into BOOTBOI's shoulder, pushing him roughly back down to the floor.
"SHOW ME HOW YOU WORSHIP YOUR GOD!" he commanded, and BOOTBOI eagerly crawled forward to comply. He knelt at the feet of his BOOTED LEATHERCOP MASTER, his eyes for a moment straying from the boots up to the FAT RIGID COCK above him, and into his master's eyes.
HOODER cuffed him smartly on the side of the head, hard enough to make him see stars. "NEVER LOOK ME IN THE EYES! NEVER!" A hard kick in the ribs reinforced his message, and BOOTBOI almost doubled over in pain.
"DON"T LOOK AT ME, BOI – WORSHIP ME!" he commanded again, and this time BOOTBOI confined his attention entirely to HOODER's boots, keeping his eyes fixed on the TALL LEATHER BOOTS in front of him. He stroked and rubbed his hands along the WESCO leather, pressed his lips to the polished toe to kiss them, and ran his tongue over the polished surface, tasting the tang of the polish and the hint of leather beneath it. He ran his hands respectfully along the crisscrossed laces, and stroked the back of HOODER's calves and thighs. It felt good. Very good.
HOODER watched the boi with growing excitement and felt his SWOLLEN BULLCOCK throb in his leather-gloved hand. "YA, BOI, SHOW ME HOW MUCH YOU LOVE IT," he moaned, thrusting his thighs back and forth, anticipating what would come next. He pressed a boot into the side of BOOTBOI's face, forcing him to the floor, and increased the pressure until he heard the boi moan in pleasure/pain.
The tightly-laced thigh high boots pressed everywhere along his thighs and calves, gently squeezing his muscles like the touch of a lover. HOODER's erection grew harder still in his TIGHT CUSTOM-FITTED LEATHER BREECHES. He reveled in the WESCO's UNFORGIVING CARESS, the restriction at his knees, the weight of the heavy sole. He loved the feel of the boots on his body, and he loved watching the DOMINATED BOI AT HIS FET, stroking his calves and grunting like a pig while he lathered his master's boots in saliva.
He's mine now, HOODER thought, pleased with the way the evening was progressing, and stroked his LEATHERCOP's COCK more vigorously. A thick line of precum drizzled from the tip of his cockhead and splattered on top of BOOTBOI's leather hood.
Oh yah, BOOTBOI was in for a very rough night, HOODER reflected, and considered several options for the next phase of his vic's training.
CELLBLOCK DUTY DESK.