Lucky number...seven?

Connors walked back to the table, his gait unfamiliar in the thick tall boots. The collar around his neck was thick and rigid and he could hardly breathe with it on. But all of that seemed irrelevant compared to his need to place another bet. He looked at his pile of chips and thought how much better it would look when he had ten times that amount. He thought about playing it safe and going for Red again, but looked down at the skinhead gear he was wearing and knew he had to get out of it as soon as possible. He pushed a pile forward onto his lucky number - number 7.

He grinned at the croupier. "Spin it." The croupier nodded back and spun the wheel. Connors was fascinated by it, hypnotised by it. He couldn't look away as the wheel slowed and the ball bounced from number to number. The wheel was moving at a crawl now, the number 7 approaching the ball. The ball slid into the number 7 slot....and then with a final lurch span out and into the number 8.

Connors groaned aloud and looked up to find the two men either side of him again.
"What now? What the fuck are you going to do now?"

In answer, the man on his left ran his hands over Connors, arse cheek and started to slide his hand down Connors leg. As he did so, Connors bleachers turned jet black and with a shudder, he was suddenly wearing skin tight black leather trousers. The man on the right, ran his hands over Connors shirt and with a similar shudder, it turned jet black and then Connors found himself wearing a thick leather shirt with a high collar. He looked down to see an unbroken layer of leather over his chest and wondered how the long sleeve shirt went on. As he raised his hands, he saw that there was no opening on the sleeves and he realised he was wearing a leather straitjacket.

Before he could react, the men strapped his arms around him and secured the crotch straps, locking Connors into the strait jacket. The straps went either side of his leather encased crotch and he found himself getting aroused. As he moved he could still feel the metal collar around his neck - he realised that he now looked like some twisted inmate of an asylum.

He looked up to see the croupier grinning.

"Place your bets, Sir"