Undercover Blues

By K9


'Undercover' sounded really exciting, until Briggs and Louis arrived at the 'Master and Apprentice' in downtown seedy Soho, on a drizzly Halloween evening. The scene that greeted them was positively breathtaking, as they beheld London's premier gay porn dungeon open for 'The Halloween Balls'.

They'd received a memo, informing them that 'something big' was going down at this establishment tonight, All Hallows Eve, and they really needed the collar,....especially after that little incident with the Super, and the potted plant.

"Dave?" Bob Louis swallowed hard, as a man in leather trousers, with no rear panel, walked past, and winked. "I want to go home."

"Stop being so *wet*," Dave Briggs huffed, puffing out his chest, and flexing his poor excuse for muscles. "We're here to work, remember?"

"Dave, that bloke just pinched my bum. I want to go home," Bob whined, "I feel like a real *tit* dressed in this!"

"I suits you, it's very 'macho'," Briggs tried not to smile as he said the words, letting his gaze rake across the slightly too skinny form of his best friend. Louis was dressed in leather trousers, which fell just a shade too loosely to be considered either fashionable, or sexy. A leather waistcoat with no shirt beneath, displaying an unimpressive pigeon chest, and a heavily studded dog collar lay around his neck, to which was attached a matching lead.

Bob turned and glared, "I just want to know *who* decided that *I* was the sub, and got to wear the collar?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?"


"Well, you've got that 'ferrety' face. Men with ferret faces are always 'bottoms'." Briggs smirked slightly, feeling that his explanation was both reasonable, and sensible.

"Bottom of what?" Louis asked suddenly.

Swallowing hard, Briggs cleared his throat, "Well...you know.." he gestured with his head, and winked slowly.

"No, I don't. Bottom of what?"

"No, not 'bottom *of* anything', just 'bottoms'." Briggs enunciated the last word with precision, and without actually saying it out loud.

Louis continued to look bewildered, "What's wrong with my bottom?"

"Nothing, it's a lovely bottom!" Briggs cooed, "That's what I mean, you have the best bottom, so you get to wear the collar!"

The puzzled look on Louis' face slowly metamorphosed into a smug grin. "Oh. Well, that's all right then."

The 'bear' at the door to the club nodded as Briggs handed over the ticket. He briefly looked both men up, and down and smiled, a broken toothed leer.

"S and M to the left, vanilla to the right, 'meat rack' straight ahead," he growled.

Briggs shrugged the leather jacket he wore, until the collar stood erect against his neck, "Gotcha!" he sniffed, giving the leash to which Louis was attached a brief tug.

"Hey, Dave, they've got a buffet!" Bob whispered, "Good job n'all, I'm starvin'."

"A buffet?"

"Yeah, he said there was a meat rack up here somewhere. Wonder if there's any spam sandwiches?"

Briggs shook his head amazedly, "Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob."



The room was almost dark. The only light source, a series of dim blue bulbs sunk into the ceiling, giving an eerie glow. A number of cradles, and slings were anchored to the far wall. One was currently occupied by a young man; bound, chained, and slung easily for the taking of any passer-by.


"Yes, Bob?"

"Why have they got baby bouncers in here? And swings too, look...is this the crèche?"

"No, Bob. It's for...well...some men like to be restrained."

"The ones I arrest bloody well don't!"

"I mean 'restrained' for like...kinky sex."

"In a baby bouncer?"

"I suppose so, yeah. Lots of men have these 'baby fantasies', y'see."

Bob Louis thought for a moment, "So, how does being in a baby bouncer get you all hot, and bothered?"

"No idea mate. Probably something to do with the 'up and down action.'" Briggs looked around, "C'mon Fido, let's check out the other rooms."

"Dave, when are we going to go find the nosh?"

"Don't you ever think about anything but your stomach?"



"Evening gentlemen, you're new here aren't you?" a voice said suddenly.

Briggs, and Louis wheeled around to come face to chest with a solid block of shaved, and polished muscle wearing little more than a leather thong.

"Erm, yeah. Just checking the place out, see if it's 'radical' enough for us," Briggs sneered.

"Oh, you're looking for something...'special'?"

"Of course!" Briggs laughed, finally focussing on the 'Tom Of Finland' jaw, and the almost white blonde hair.

"Great, follow me," the big man turned around to flash an impressively muscled rear, and wide shoulders, "We get so few *really* adventurous men in here these days," he sighed, "It's always a pleasure to find gents like yourself, willing to push the limits."

Louis poked Briggs in the back with his finger, "What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Getting us into the 'back rooms', Bob, where the 'action' goes on!"

"I don't want to see any 'action', I just want a sandwich, and to go home."

"Remember why we're here, Bob?"

"Because we drew the short straw, Dave?"

The blonde man opened a heavy, panelled door, and ushered Briggs, and Louis through. The room contained cages, crosses with manacles attached, whipping stools, and a very gothic iron bed.

"Would you like a couple of the boys to help you prepare?" the big man asked, "Oh, sorry...how silly of me, of course you would, that's your 'thing' right?"

"Erm....yeah..right," Briggs visibly paled.

"Bruno? Rocky?"

From the dimness, two huge leather-men appeared, heavily muscled, and almost unnaturally good looking, with moustaches bushy enough to lose a badger in.

"What can we do for you, gentlemen?"

The blonde smiled, "Help them prep for a 'floorshow', if you would?" he suggested with a wink.

"Oh, wow...sure!" Bruno licked his lips, and looked Briggs, and Louis up, and down appreciatively.

The thud that followed was merely Detective Bob Louis fainting.



"DAAAAAVVEE!" Louis' wails echoed through the building, "They're putting electrodes on me nipples!"

"They're nipple clamps, Bob, totally harmless. Stop being such a girl!" Briggs smiled as he watched his partner being manacled to the bed.

"It's all right for you, you're not the one being molested by the Village People!"

"Bob, we're professionals, we can handle this."

Snorting derisively, Louis glared, "Huh! 'The Professionals' probably did this kind of thing a lot, they always looked a bit on the kinky side to me. Get me *out* of here!"

"Just relax, Bob. We might have to wing this," Briggs whispered as he noticed the growing audience gathering. He'd decided that this was probably *not* the moment to yell, 'Okay, police...this is a raid', considering that he, and a manacled Bob Louis, didn't constitute much of a raiding party.

"Wing it!" Louis shrieked, "Wing *what*?"

"Okay, honeybuns, you can strip now," a leather-clad giant whispered into Briggs' ear, "I'll help you into your harness. We're all really looking forward to the floorshow."

The sight was one that would be talked about in the leather community for many years to come. As the finishing touches were added to Briggs' ensemble, and a 'ponytail' butt plug inserted, everyone cheered.

"Aw, ain't that sweet?" one audience member sniffled, as Briggs crawled across Louis, and tentatively leaned into kiss him.

"Worra ya doin'?" Louis mumbled, as Briggs covered his mouth.

"We have a choice, Bob. We can play 'hide the sausage' for the entertainment of these good folks, or we can probably get 'orribly killed after shouting 'Police, you're all under arrest.' I'll let *you* choose of course."

"Where's back up?" Louis hissed.

"Obviously still 'back up' on the street. Probably down the Dog and Trumpet, if I know Nozzer."

"So, what do we do?"

Briggs swallowed hard, "Well, you just lie back, and think of England old mate."


"It's going to take me hours to get the feeling back in my nipples," Louis whined, as they unclamped, unzipped, unclasped, and untied themselves,  "Not to mention how I'm dreading trying to get that big blue bum plug out!" he winced, and chewed on his lip.

Briggs stopped, and turned to his partner, "What 'big blue bum plug'?"

"The one they handed me with the word 'Coke' down the side. It's amazing what they'll stick advertising on these days. It was a bugger to get in, I can tell ya!"

Briggs shook his head, "Bob, that was a can of Coke they gave you....to *drink*. It's so that the 'performers' don't get dehydrated."

"Oh...I wondered why it had got a ring pull top!"

"Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob!"

"Oh well, *whatever*," Louis grumbled, trying to mask the 'popping' sound, and the groan of relief that accompanied it. "At least we didn't blow our cover!" he hissed.

Suddenly, the blonde giant slipped his head around the curtain, and smiled benevolently down at the errant policemen as they fought to get their breath, and extricate themselves from the various appliances.

"Oh by the way, gents," he grinned. "Nozzer sends his love, and the message: 'Gotcha! Happy Halloween'"

Staring in disbelief at each other, Briggs, and Louis chorused: "Nozzer? The *bastard*!"

The End