hey everyone! it's Rhys AKA IncubusStories here, this is my first story on here and it combines my love of punk and my love of leather gimps. just wanted to say everyone involved is 18+ and any non-consensual plots are just for the fantasy and not meant to be carried out in real life. please comment what you think and enjoy! ;)
*
Stain Bank is an indoor market in Chelsea, London. Dozens of independent stalls, small shops and boutiques operate in the one building. Most were revolving around fashion. All of them were punk and alternative. It's a place that didn't advertise itself. It was hidden inside a nondescript mill that looked abandoned on the outside. There was one door, always covered in graffiti.
On it it said, Stain Bank. You knocked on and Robbie, the muscled doorman would answer. You would have to whisper the password which takes a lot of investigating to find. "John fucks the Pope." You would then be allowed in. Hardly anyone even knew it existed. You only found out about Stain Bank through whispers and people. The layout was like a maze.
Every shop lead into each other. You could never tell where one shop ended and began. Someone would always be fucking in the corner. People were dealing drugs. No one cared. It was an environment where you could do anything and no one cared. Every day was a party. Music would always be echoing throughout the place. This was Stain Bank. This was the place where I spent most of my free time.
Even if I didn't have the money to buy anything, I just loved the atmosphere so much. If it got too stuffy, I could literally take off all my clothes and no one would even take a second glance. Then I could leave those clothes there for two years, and they'd still be there. No one ever stole because Stain Bank never called the police. They always called Robbie to beat the felons to a pump and throw them out without a string of clothing on their back.
It was an average Saturday. I'd been window shopping at Stain Bank for a few hours. I'd taken the rickety old lift to the sub basement and the first thing I saw was a vast space filled with different stalls with a sofa in the middle. Some guy in a fishnet bodysuit was being sucked off on it and someone else was sewing a patch into a battle jacket. I looked around and saw a small doorway.
Painted in white above the door was a single word, Fuck. Fuck was a shop that sold gimp and leather gear. Everything from collars to masks to suits to rubber sarcophaguses. I noticed that the owner, Arsenic, was waving for me to come in. Arsenic was an incredible site to behold. He was the size of a mountain with a thick eight pack. He was always covered in harnesses and always dressed in leather trousers.
But he was always shirtless and always hot. I didn't know why he was waving me in. Definitely not to sell me something, no one in Stain Bank advertised. The rule of thumb was, if you want something, buy it. If you don't want something, go away. Maybe it was to give me a free gift? A lot of shops did that for customers who've never bought from their before, just to build up a positive relationship.
Looking back on it, most of my outfit that day was from free gifts. I hadn't been fucked in about two days and for an anal slut like me that was a long time. So even though I was window shopping, I was also hoping to get some dick. So I'd dressed like a slutty Femboy. I wore black platforms, black and white thigh highs that went all the way up my legs, a short skirt with no underwear under it for easy access.
And finally I wore a cropped band T shirt that showed off my tummy. Maybe Arsenic had seen me and I'd successfully turned him on, maybe he was waving for me to come in so we could have some fun together? I definitely wouldn't say no to getting fucked in the ass by Arsenic. So I gave him a smile and sauntered over, making sure to sway my hips from side to side like a proper girl.
To be honest I always walked like I was in high heels, even when I was just barefoot at home. There is a certain art and science to walking in heels. You have to sway your hips to evenly balanced your weight so you don't fall over. I made my way through the door which led to the small room that was Fuck. Lining the floor was racks upon racks of leather gimp gear which was difficult to get through.
And all across the walls were shelves of leather hoods and gas masks. Hanging from the ceiling were chains. Many chains. But they weren't just there for decoration, they were all rigged and looked like they could easily put someone in bondage. And in the corner behind a tiny counter with a cigarette box for money was Arsenic, dressed in leather trousers, a harness and literally nothing else.
Well, except for a charming smile on his face. "Salutations, my sweet baby boy. What might your name be?" He asked, still motioning for me to come closer to the counter. "My name's Max." I said, a little shakily. "You obviously know my name, don't you?" Arsenic asked. I nodded. Even though his shop didn't get that much attention, everyone knew who Arsenic was, he had a certain reputation.
"As you can see, business here hasn't been so great. Most people forget the sub basement when shopping." I moved closer and played with his harness a little, flirting with him. "Oh I'm so sorry to hear that. It must be so stressful. Anything I can do to take the stress away?" I asked, exposing my ass a little to him. It seemed to be worked as Arsenic took his veiny hand to his leather-laced cock and stroked.
I leaned further to him, looked him up and down and licked my lips. "To relax you?" I asked a second time. "Well, I had a scheme to drum up business for the shop. And I need a boy just like you." He explained. I raised an eyebrow and asked, "Oh really? What do you need a boy like me to do?" Arsenic came out from the counter and went round to where I was, coming in front of me so I was behind the counter.
