Thursday, March 8, 2012

Gear Night at Pecs Weekend

This weekend my friend, Sir Michael, threw his first unofficial event at Pecs Bar down in San Diego!


Last Friday Sir Michael picked me up and we made our way down to the city, along the way we stopped by in Orange County to check something out.  I had been talking with an acquaintance of mine on a mud fetish website, and he had seen something on Google Maps in this area that looked like a clay pit perfect for sinking, and I was extremely excited to scope the area out first to see if it was accessible.  Unfortunately the area he found was part of a quarry, and sure enough signs stating no trespassing were all over the gates.  As badly as I want to have my first quicksand sink, and I do so much it sends tingles up my spine, I'm not about to risk getting fined or arrested for something so stupid as trespassing.  Heart heavy, but still determined to find the quicksand pit of my dreams, we left.

Moving on, he stopped the car along the road and bound me in belly chains and ankle restraints before putting me back in the car, much like my road trip to San Francisco with my friend Patrick.  It was fun, being chained the whole way down to San Diego, I really enjoy bondage in public.

Arriving at his apartment, still in chains, we rested a few minutes before heading over to Pecs.  He released me from the chains and I donned my title vest before we headed out on foot.  Pecs Bar was comfortably spacious, a good energy flowed in the room, the makeup of the demographic was mainly bears, and a very handsome lot they were!  One barback, shorter than me and maybe around my age was wearing a red shirt, and I could not keep my eyes off of him, he was so deliciously handsome.  Sir Michael ordered me my first American Honey and Coke, with my stomach already growling I knew I was in for a fun night as I'm proud to say I'm a cheap date when it comes to booze.  My head buzzing soon after, joined by a pleasant warmth in my body, Sir Michael brought out a pair of black shackles and locked them on my wrists, and the night became that much more fun.

The shackles were comfortable, despite them being steel and the edges a little hard, and I just loved the looks I was getting.  I've come to realize that I really am an exhibitionist, and I'm starting to get a fun rise out of the shocked looks I get in public.  I feel in control, I feel empowered, given the ability to shock and awe my audience.  Using that, I can make them smile as I follow up with a grin and a warm hello.

Halfway through my drink, I could tell I needed to put it down already as I was at a very comfortable space, the lover fox was out, his tail swinging, wishing a beautiful night to everyone his gaze fell upon.  Satisfied with our visit to the bar, Sir Michael led me to a local Mexican restaurant where we ate a quick dinner, and met with his handsome friend Cameron who happened to be into needle play.  When we ordered our food, the cashier kept looking at me, a cute young man, he soon asked me about my title medallion.  Thrilled, I excitedly explained that I was chosen by a panel of judges as a holder for the title of California Leather boy 2012, and that I represented all the men who identified as leather boys in the state of California.  He thought it was really cool, and that just made me all the giddier.

At one point during the meal I went up to fetch more napkins and a woman saw my shackled wrists, and failed horribly at hiding the fact that she was staring at them from the corner of her eyes.  I stood there thinking over the situation.  I entertained the idea of looking at her, giving her a great big smile, and asking "Miss, I see you're looking at my shackled wrists, are there any questions I may answer for you?"  instead I chose to simply bask in her shock and relish in her confusion.  The more I wore the shackles, the more I fell in love with them!

When we said our goodbyes to Cameron and headed home, Sir Michael had me strip to my jockstrap and bound me in bed, chaining me to the posts, and pulled a bishop's head harness on me, then we comfortably ended the night in bondage.


Saturday morning brought with it an experience I was curious about.  I had written my first Fetish of the Month blog post on Diaper Play, and Sir Michael revealed that he himself was into the fetish as well.  He brought in a pair of adult diapers and my first diaper fetish trial began.

Diapers are just as interesting as I thought they would be.  Even though the idea of a diaper on myself was something to get used to, the soft cotton surrounding your ass, dick, and balls put me in a state of comfort, almost soothing.  The situation became more fascinating when Sir Michael, who had dressed in his own diaper, took my hand and had me grasp his bulge.  Soon my palm felt warmth spread across the front of his diaper and I looked at him, mouth open.  He nodded.  He was wetting himself.

A handful of thoughts bunched themselves at the foreground of my mind.  When I sorted them, I felt an excited realization run through me.  I was very fortunate.  This was an intimate and personal moment we shared, as were all the moments I have had so far witnessing and sharing in scenes and play in public and private as a fetish and kink journalist and as a fetishist, kinkster, and leather man myself.  Again, I was able to experience and find out for myself what a kink and fetish felt like first hand.

It was now my turn to wet my own diaper, and I had difficulty with it.  I was fighting psychological wiring, all the potty training, all the notions that soiling one's self was a bad thing deeply embedded in my mind.  It took a while until I was able to do it.  Warmth invaded my diaper, and I smiled in triumph.  At first it felt pretty comfortable, if not satisfying, as wet warmth would feel around my groin. However it did not last as I would have wanted it to. After I was finished, and stood there in my soiled diaper for a few minutes, I started to feel the discomfort of the realization I was still in a soiled diaper.

After we removed them and rolled them up for disposal, I pleasured Sir Michael on the bed as he pleased himself and climaxed after a while of enjoyable masturbation.

The afternoon was spent at various uniform stores around San Diego, I picked up a pair of tactical gloves, and we eventually met up with my friend Kathryn and invited her back to Sir Michael's apartment.  I had been  having a hard time with straitjackets, as each time I had one put on me, my tolerance level dropped significantly until it became so poor the moment the jacket was secured, it had to be removed.  This had been hitting me hard with guilt, as I felt terrible having my dominants go through all the work of strapping me up only to be forced to release me because I feared an anxiety freak out.  Sir Michael changed that, and kept me calm as we chatted with Kathryn while Sir Michael placed me in restraints, blindfolded me, and even was able to put a football helmet on me for a good while before I needed it removed.

Thank you, Sir.  I am now able to wear a straitjacket again!

Soon Sir John arrived, and Kathryn took her leave after we enlightened her with a good amount of kink and fetish information.  I was soon changed out of my bondage into my street leather, and collared with a large neoprene slave collar, which felt so wonderful around my neck.  We went to dinner, me smiling every time I was reminded that the collar was snugly locked in place, and quite visible.  My mind seems to sink more into submissive territory when a collar is in play, I heartily enjoy it.

( thoughts drift to the future, wondering if I may indeed wear a Sir's collar one day, developing a deep and meaningful loving relationship with a man I will call my boyfriend, and my Sir...perhaps even my husband...)

Dinner concluded, we headed back to the apartment and changed into our gear for Sir Michael's event.  Sir John changed into military BDUs, Sir Michael slipped into a cycling skin suit, and I was gifted with the privilege of wearing a real full American Football uniform, complete with metal-tipped cleats!  I love American Football uniforms, as I described in last month's Fetish of the Month blog post, but wearing the full uniform for the first time opened my mind to just how sexy the gear really was!

The chest pads and jersey provide a shield that fills me with the urge to run straight into a wall and crumble it, letting out a battle roar after beating the dust from my chest.  The padded pants boost my confidence, making my legs look and feel like I could effortlessly knee-smash someone in the gut!  The cleats inspire mental images of rocketing across a muddy field, tearing up the turf leaving a path of organic destruction behind me as I tear into a wise-ass, smart-mouthed sonofabitch, knocking him down a peg or two as I tackle him into the mud.  Then trampling the poor soul under my feet, he begs for mercy as I wipe the mud from my cleats on his cheek.  Then the final piece, the helmet!  Black as the anonymous shadows that cover my eyes, keeping my identity a secret, a nameless gridiron soldier with only a bold number on the back of his jersey.

My wrists bound in shackles once more, and my collar affixed, I was lead down the streets by Sir John and Sir Michael, grinning like an idiot to the few who nervously passed by us on our way to the bar!

The night was a success!  A handful of people showed up in gear, we spent several hours at the bar and I had a wonderful time.  Feeling the wide-eyed stares of sexy bears and gay men looking me up and down in my football gear, shackles, and ankle chains made me feel amazing!  Being ordered to the bar to fetch drinks as his football boy was even more fun!  The wrist shackles resting on the bar, money in my hands, there was no doubt what side of the fence I was on.

Halfway through the night, Dizzy passed right by me, not recognizing me.  I was ecstatic!  I hadn't seen him since he left that Monday morning after Puppy Love weekend! Everything I wanted to say to him caught in my throat, all of my feelings for him welled up in my chest, all the anxieties of accidentally disrespecting boy/Sir protocol he shared with his new Sir stuffed themselves at the forefront of my mind!  I didn't have much time to think!  I had to act!


He stopped!


He turned and looked at me!

Yes! Look at me! Hi! I see you! I see you Dizzy! I'm Zach! You're Dizzy! I love you! You're my Leather Brother!  You are a boy now to a Sir!  Do I talk to you!? Can I talk to you!? Are you allowed to look at me!? Goddamn this fucking protocol! I don't want to think!  I want to hug you!  But if I do I might get you in trouble!  That's bad!

He smiled at me and kept going.  He was with his Sir, Mr. Mike, and Mouse.  He obviously had to stay with them, but oh how I wanted to hug him.  Shackles are made from steel for a reason.

Sir Michael got the hint immediately and we went over to talk to the group, much to my delight.  As Mr. Mike and Sir Michael said hello, all I could do was stare at Dizzy, mouthing hello, nervous and anxious.  I had no idea what protocols he had to follow, which ones his Sir enforced, which ones his Sir was relaxed with, if I got him in trouble for my own selfishness I would never forgive myself.  It was so frustrating, here stood my Leather Brother and I had no idea if I could talk to him, and then the terrifying thoughts burned at the edge of my mind like little snickering demons.

What if his Sir does not like us hanging out together?

What if his Sir got angry, and forbade him from speaking to me?

What if...

Shut up! Not another fucking word out of you!

I was able to formally introduce myself to Mr. Mike in person.  I learned that he had already met me before, on the night of my contest he came up to me at one point, and me being delirious I didn't remember a thing, and he asked "Do you have any idea what you're doing?" and he said I responded with "Not a fucking clue."

He told me that was the best answer he had ever heard.

He also said that protocols were relaxed and I wasted no time talking up Dizzy.  I missed him. I was so happy to see him again.  He is building abs and muscle, I'm so proud of him!  He's doing so well.

The rest of the evening was filled with more stares, more attention, flirting, and merriment.  By the time 1:00am struck I was quite dead on my feet, and everyone could see it.  Shuffling home with Sir John and Sir Michael soon after, stripping, and falling into bed my only regret of that night is that I was not able to stay awake to be of entertainment to Sir John, whom I bedded with.


Once everyone was up, awake, and cuddled in the same bed, I became the object of attention.  Fondled, kissed, molested, edged, caressed, and stroked by two doms first thing in the morning was a huge gift.  Such beautiful torture, being told I was the object of desire, their hands all over me, writhing in sexual suffering, oh what a sweet hell it was!  Sir John climaxed and shot all over me, his boy rag!  Unable to shoot myself, I simply was wiped clean and we went out for breakfast soon after.

Once we returned to the apartment, I was locked in the neoprene slave collar and leashed to the wall with a heavy chain.  I love this.  The feeling of being tethered.  A heavy collar on my neck which is attached to a heavy chain which is then wrapped or locked around a bedpost, bolted into the wall, or wrapped around the fist of a Sir.  It makes me feel secure, comfortable, at ease, it makes me feel valuable, that they feel they need to lock me down so I do not escape or get lost.  It makes me feel that I am of value, and that I am treasured. If I am tethered by a large chain, and locked inside a puppy cage, then so much the better!  I am secure and safe in my cage!

At one point my underwear and shirt were ordered off of me and I was their plaything once again.  I was held down, sucked, fingered, stroked, tortured, dominated and molested!  Squirming and whimpering, groaning and grunting into the gag that was locked over my mouth.  I could only beg and plead for release with my eyes, looking into theirs, begging them to allow me sweet release.  I loved being their boy toy, their plaything, it felt so wonderful.  Sir John found my prostate and pressured it, I was kept on edge the whole time, just begging for climax...a climax that no matter how much I squirmed, writhed, groaned, screamed, or cried...would never come.  Even when I was cuffed, gagged, and my face forced into Sir Michael's boots, and allowed to jerk myself, my body was so tortured, so heavy with sexual exhaustion, that I was much too tired to shoot my load.

I collapsed and lay there, hole sore from Sir John's ruthless fingers, body limp from Sir Michael's torture.  I lifted my head and announced,

"Sirs...boy is so exhausted he cannot cum!"

...and my body slumped over, completely spent as they laughed with amusement.

What a fantastic weekend!  Thank you, Sirs.

Congratulations Sir Michael on a great event!

Play Safe.

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