Sunday, March 20, 2011

Pistons SocaBondage Night

Last night almost didn't happen, I had already made plans with a friend of mine weeks ago, but due to the forecast of rain and my friend not feeling well, tonight came to be.

After having a light dinner with Master, we dressed for the event and headed out.  Arriving at the bar we met with some friends and set up the SocalBondage banner.  After a few more arrangements Master leaned in and said "Let's get this party started, boy." and he began to tie me to a post in the back patio.  Binding my hands, he strung me up, making a rope harness he secured me, and finally after gagging me, he bound my legs to the post, leaving me to struggle and enjoy my predicament.  I was tied there for a while, Master watching me squirm and embrace my rope prison with a satisfied smile on his handsome face.

The term "escape into bondage" makes sense only after I've been tied and I'm enjoying it.  It is an escape, a reverse escape where I release myself into embracing imprisonment.  It is a form of relaxation, feeling the ropes hold me firmly, I feel safe and secure even as I am in the most vulnerable position possible.

As Master came and went a few times, I looked around the patio, catching gazes of other men who looked at me, and smiling through my gag right back at them.  I wanted them to look.  I wanted them to see Master's handiwork.  Soon Master returned again and he brought another young man with him, introduced him to me and asked if I would be okay with him playing with this boy.  I eagerly nodded and said I would through the gag, as I love watching Master play and have fun.

Soon I was untied in order for Master to tie our new friend, he wore a black leather harness which I found very sexy on his slim, lightly hairy body.  As Master played with him, we found that the boy had sensitive "wired" nipples (when the nipples are sensitized and playing with them results in a huge turn on and sexual pleasure).  He bucked and struggled in Master's arms and I looked on, a huge grin on my face as I watched Master work him over, slip his pants down, and give him a raging good time of sexual torture.

It was around this time as I watched Master play, that a shorter, older man commented that I should be careful keeping my hands behind my back all the time.  He wore a NYPD cap and a shirt with handcuff print.  I made short friendly conversation with him, and soon found myself cuffed by the officer.  He gave me a few good solid swats on my ass, to each one I thanked him "Thank you OffiSIR."  He soon released me from the steel cuffs and I thanked him again.

Soon Master then asked me to hold his boy, and I eagerly obeyed, gripping the boy from behind I felt like an Alpha boy, higher in the pecking order but always below Master.  I held him close, lovingly wrapped my arms around him while kissing his bare neck and back.  I wanted to make him feel so good, and at the same time satisfy my own desires to touch, kiss and caress him.

Afterward, Master released the boy, who seemed to fade off into the crowd, and we began to talk with friends around the bar for a little while.  Master then approached me with an idea, "How would you like to get tied up on stage, boy?"  I eagerly and excitedly agreed with a "Yes, sir!" and we made our way over where Master ordered me onstage and my clothes to come off.  With absolutely no inhibitions and reservations, I stripped to my boots and red jockstrap (the same outfit I had worn on that stage one chilly night in December that prior year) and Master was soon behind me, tying me in front of everyone.

Now ten years ago if I had approached myself, sat me down, and said "In ten years, you will be on stage one evening in a leather bar in California, in nothing but a red jockstrap, tall leather boots and you will be tied up in front of an audience by a man you lovingly call your Master, and you will love every second of it." I would have probably burst out laughing or ran away screaming.

But I was up there last night, bare skin shivering against the cold breeze, in helpless bondage, enjoying the fact that everyone could see me.  I wanted to be sexy for them, I wanted to entertain them, but most of all I wanted to please my Master.  After a few different positions, some swaying of my body for the boys, smiling through my bandanna gag, Master asked me if I would be interested in being flogged on stage.  Recalling my previous (and only) flogging experience that he gave me, I was more than pleased to say "Yes, Sir!"

A spandex hood was pulled over my head and the flogger lightly slapped at my back, like sharp tongues.  The first two blows came and it burned, Master asked if I was okay so far and I asked what the flogger was made out of.  Sharp rubber was his response, and I asked if I couldn't have a soft leather flogger instead.  (The material of a flogger is very important, for beginners and lovers of sensual flogging a soft leather flogger is recommended.  Sharp-ended hard rubber lashes sting the skin and is better suited for those that have worked up to that intensity.  I prefer a more blunt blow with little to no stinging, so I like soft leather with wide strips.)

After Master exchanged floggers with another Sir in the bar, he asked if I wouldn't mind being a learning tool for someone, as long as he was there to supervise.  I was happy to oblige.  Before the blows came I was given fair warning and I tried to steady my thoughts and gather myself into my own head, after I thought I was ready I gave the word and the blows came heavy and strong.  After about three or four, I was at my limit and begged to stop.  The chill was getting to me and I had been standing against it for a little while by then.  Master untied and praised me, as soon as I was loose and Master wrapped his arms around me I began to weep.  I was so happy.  Master said I was a good boy, and I was so pleased to be his slave.  Feeling his embrace, his soft comforting voice, his warmth, and in addition to the way he carried me down off the stage like a scene from a romance where the hero carries his lover away, it all deepened my love and admiration for Master.

After my recovery, Master had me dress and asked if I would be okay with him beating another sub from the audience. I was more than happy to see it, and another (slightly drunk) man was bound on stage and ruthlessly spanked, his shirt cut and ripped off his body, and his chest and back flogged.  The flogging was a hundred times more intense than mine, and I winced as I saw and heard each and every blow to his body.  At one point Master was using a small wooden paddle to spank the sub and he broke it on his ass. A small shard of wood flew to the corner of the stage and Master stood there, staring at the broken paddle in his hand as we all laughed in shock and awe.  Another Dom from the audience came forward and both Master and he flogged him from both the back and front until the sub finally "broke" (gave in and begged it to stop).  Personally I think him being drunk allowed him to endure slightly more, but I could be very wrong, so don't think that booze will help you break a Dom or allow you to be invincible.  Plus he has to wake up in the morning with welts on his ass, something I wouldn't be envious of.

After all of that, Master was pretty spent so we collected our gear and made our way out, saying our goodbyes and walking to the car.  On the way home, Master mentioned that I was an exhibitionist which probably should have been more obvious to me then, recalling all the times I had been bound and played with in public, I came to the true realization that I am indeed an exhibitionist. I enjoy being an admired spectacle of sexuality, getting up on stage in nothing but my gear, smiling at the crowd that looks me over with approving gazes.  It isn't what I would call a fetish of mine, but I'm happy to be looked at, as it makes me feel sexy and attractive.  In this society based so heavily on looks, style, body types, I feel like a treasure, something rare, so I want to back that up with a positive and uplifting grace and attitude.  I don't want to be just a pretty face, I want to be a sexy young man with something wonderful to say, so I can share my joy with others.

We arrived back at my apartment, and I led Master inside, where he took off his coat and tossed himself on my bed.  Having Master on my bed, it was a thrill!  I asked him what he wanted of his slave, "I think you should get naked."  Yes, Master!  I quickly undressed, used the bathroom, and was back at his side as quickly as possible, ready and eager to serve.  We cuddled and embraced, and things fell into place.  I then found myself on my back, Master hovering over me, looking me right in the eyes.

Then something was so much different than before, it was his eyes, they weren't innocently warm and friendly anymore.

I could see them in the darkness, blue, piercing, intense eyes that stared into the core of my soul.  I had already opened my mind to Master, every door was open and unlocked, and it was as if he came storming through in a fireball, blasting every door clean off their hinges as he pinned me against a wall.  I'm shaking again and my eyes are welling up once more as I remember the face of Master that night.  I felt like a wolf pup, naked and shaking before his Alpha.  Tears welled up and streamed down the sides of my face as I stared into his piercing gaze.  They scared me, shook me to my core, but I had no intention of tearing my gaze away.  I wanted it!  I wanted him to stare at my soul!  I wanted him to look at my core being!  I wanted Master to see every piece and inch of me.  He held me there with only his eyes, with only a piercing gaze.

He got off the bed and stood at the door, facing the bed.  He ordered me at his feet, on my knees, and I looked up at him, towering over me.  A man of intensity, strength, skill, wisdom.  A man of integrity, kindness, and compassion.  A man of men.  A man I so honorably call my Master.  Again his gaze stabbed me, and again I trembled beneath him, at his booted feet.  A man I would lay down my body for and allow him to ravage me without a second thought.

He didn't just walk into my life and grab this title off my shelf, I gave him this title of my own free will.  I named him my Master, and he accepted me as his slave.  He is the only man I will ever say I am a slave to.  He is the only man I will call Master.

The evening progressed, we became intimate, and when things climaxed, he held me in our afterglow.  Like a true Master should.

Thank you, Sir.