Yesterday afternoon I asked my dear friend, the Canadian soldier, if he was available to meet at all. I am glad I did.
When I arrived, he told me that another sub was on his way, someone he wanted me to help tie up that afternoon. I was excited by the idea, I had always wanted to play with a helpless sub before with another dom, and doing so with my Sir would be like a dream. He suggested that I hide in the bedroom, and he would hood the boy when he arrived, we would play, then I would hide in the bedroom again right before he took the hood off when the sub left so he would never see me. I liked that idea very much, being a mystery man.
I asked who the sub was and my Sir showed me his profile. I started laughing, it was a man I already knew and had been trying to get together with for some time now, but for whatever reason we had never done so. The pure stroke of luck struck me as funny, and I thanked my good fortune.
When he did arrive, I made my way into the bedroom and waited, my Sir had him strip naked and then hooded him with a neoprene hood with only a mouth hole and nasal holes for breath, he was lead into the bedroom where I was waiting.
He was amazing, toned body, tan, beautiful chest with firm pecs, slim frame and soft skin. My Sir and I exchanged thrilled nonverbal expressions, I walked up to him, placed my hands on the sub's shoulders and said.
"Hello, boy."
He responded with "Zage?"
What the hell?
"Is that you, Zage?" he asked, placing a hand on my face, feeling my goatee, my nose, going over the details in his head. I had no idea of how to respond, I was surprised that anyone could recognize by touch like that, but then again he and I had shared maybe one or two phone conversations before, I was hoping natural phone distortion of voice would work in my favor.
The hood came off and he confirmed what he was certain about, I could only respond with a smile and "God damn it." Am I that recognizable?
He was delighted that I was the surprise dom, and we continued talking casually for a short while. He brought out his toy bag and showed me two different bottles of nipple lick, flavored gel you can put on someone's nipples in order to give a scene a little bit more detail. I taste tested them on him and I'd definitely use them myself if I obtain any in the future. He also brought out a bottle of Rush liquid incense, and explained what it was.
He told me that it basically gives you a lightheaded feeling, and it makes it harder for him to ejaculate, which he likes because he's a fan of edging and milking play. However YOU SHOULD NOT USE LIQUID INCENSE OR POPPERS IF YOU HAVE A HISTORY OF HEART PROBLEMS OR IF YOU ARE UNSURE OF YOUR HEART'S HEALTH. I myself am not interested in inhalants or anything that is a chemical-induced high, but I always wanted to know what they did for people who enjoyed them.
Eventually my new friend was gagged, blindfolded, and bound by wrist and ankle restraints to the door in my Sir's bedroom. He squirmed and moaned softly into his gag. His naked body, toned and firm was exposed to us, we were free to do whatever we wished to him, I eased in with some light feather touching. Letting my fingers slowly skim the surface of his skin, I went up and down his entire body, admiring his firm pecs, his smooth tanned skin, his toned stomach. I ran my hands through his soft, short dark blonde hair. I wanted his body. Badly. I looked back at my Sir, who was on the bed, stroking himself, nodding and smiling.
I kept going.
I leaned in and kissed his ear, letting my breath flow inside of it, I then knelt down and did what I've always wanted to do to a muscular stud. I slid my tongue all the way up from his stomach to his chest, to his neck, and softly bit down on his shoulder. He squirmed and moaned.
I kept going.
I kissed his body, starting from his neck down to his chest, around his pecs, then bit his nipples softly, running my tongue over them. I kissed his stomach and down to his hips, stopping just above his groin. I breathed on his very erect member, and it stood straight up. I stood up and slid my arms around him, embracing his sexy body against mine. Feeling him against me, helpless, restrained, whimpering into the gag. I loved it.
My Sir soon joined me, and we worked him over, licking, sucking, kissing, caressing. I wanted to make him feel like the luckiest sub in the world. I wanted to hear him moan desperately into the gag, but I could only get him to whimper.
I love it when I hear men groan, moan, and gasp in ecstasy. Their eyes rolling back into their heads, close to passing out in pure passion. I want to make a man reach cloud nine, and then push him even further skyward, have him close to screaming in pleasure. If I can do that one enchanted evening, I would feel like I had achieved the impossible.
Our sub was released and led over to the bed, where we continued our sensual scene, his wrists and legs bound in a hogtie restraint. Soon he was lubed up and stroked by my Sir. Edged to the point of climax, and then denied, several times, his slightly frustrated moans muffled by his gag. At one point my Sir edged him too far, and he was passed the point of no return, he kept stroking and our sub came. Suddenly my left leg was gripped, sharp nails dug into my flesh, I froze in shock, he was roaring into the gag. The helpless, restrained, whimpering sub boy was now a snarling beast with one clawed hand threatening to tear open my left thigh.
He calmed down and looked at me, sweet innocence in his eyes. Bullshit. Innocence doesn't snarl like that!
"Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry!"
I have seen men cum, ejaculate, climax, and reach purest ecstasy; I have heard them gasp, moan, groan, grunt, and make noises difficult to put into words; but this is the very first time I have seen a man transform into a raging animal in bed.
It was scary.
He explained that my Sir knew what to expect, as they have played together several times before, I however was not warned beforehand as to what to expect.
We relaxed and enjoyed each other, talked, I had mentioned that I had first met the sub at Soca Bondage Club, I recalled that he was dominating another sub intensely. Soon after saying this, the tables were turned...on me. He transitioned from submissive to Dominant, and my Sir blindfolded me, and placed a boot on my chest, ordering me NOT to drop it. I was stroked and dominated by two men. One being my Sir whom I respect and trust enough to have him lead me blindfolded through the plane of hell itself. The other, a self-tamed animal of sexual energy, whose sharp barking voice would send me hiding in a corner, quivering and shaking, absolutely terrified.
I did everything he told me to, out of fear. I dared not cross him at all. He hid his Dominating energy so well, I couldn't sense it at all. When I had met Ms. Cynthia, I knew the moment I got close enough to her that she held an intense power inside. I could feel it two feet away. However when I met this young man, even when he was restrained and helpless, and I was tightly embracing him, I never sensed even an ounce, let alone a droplet of the terror-inducing Domination that was flowing so freely out of him as he towered over my helpless frame.
He then pinched my nose and held a hand over my mouth, I struggled to breathe, and then he allowed it. He held my nose again, this time sealing my mouth with his and forcing his breath into my chest, I struggled again, what the hell was happening!? Soon I found a rhythm, suck air in, blow back out, suck air in, blow back out, survive, survive in pattern, he released me and I gulped fresh air.
He had performed breath play on me and did not ask my permission, nor did he warn me beforehand, he did not negotiate this with me. This was dangerous.
I was so scared of him, terror gripped me hard. I had completely forgotten that my Sir was still in the room.
At one point he asked if I was someone's boy, and it hit me like a flood of light.
Master!
My Master's handsome face ran through my mind, and a new sense of courage flowed into me. The terror vanished like flash paper. I felt in control.
"I am my Master's boy!" I answered, proudly.
"Does he know where you are, boy?" he barked at me.
"No."
"What?!" he seemed almost angry.
"I am not collared. I gave my Master his title, and I am his slave, his boy."
He understood. He continued to dominate me, but now it was more like a power struggle. I did not feel helpless whatsoever. He had me on my stomach, he gripped my balls.
"Whose are these?" he demanded.
I felt defiant, almost angry with pride as I answered "My Master's!"
"Good answer, boy."
The scene eased, and I was given gentle aftercare. He stroked my head, keeping me on his chest, I enjoyed this a lot. I love gentle, sensual, soft, and soothing aftercare. We talked a while, the three of us, and later we left and said goodbye to my Sir. He then drove me home and we said goodnight.
I also discovered something very important. My Master gives me strength, my Master gives me courage. My Master has instilled his very essence into me. I think I know when he did it too...
Before, I had slight doubt about the supernatural, the ideas of magic, ghosts, and mind over matter. I wasn't sure if it was real or not. I wanted to believe it, but people scoffing and claiming science can explain everything made me feel slightly foolish for doing so, keeping me in a less than neutral state of mind. Now I truly believe there is most definitely more than science. I have seen a ghost in the past, I have somehow made a quarter stick to a wall with what felt like will alone, and now my Master has installed a piece of his spirit inside of me. This is more than enough for me to believe that much more is possible.
Play Safe.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
The Gentleman in the Red Uniform
This afternoon I had the distinct pleasure of finally meeting with someone that I had been trying to get together with for some time now.
He is a fan of uniforms as I am, and he has one of my absolute favorites, a real Royal Canadian Mounted Police uniform! When we arrived in his hotel room, he excused himself to the storage room to fetch something and invited me to try on any uniform I wished while he was gone. I immediately went for the RCMP.
I admired it on the hanger, it was more beautiful than I imagined it or had seen in pictures. The red was so bold and proud, the dark blue so deep and powerful, the yellow stripe on the breeches was a striking accent. I admired it for a while longer before taking it and carefully laying it upon the bed. I put on the pants and suspenders and found that I was too thin for the waist, the coat came on next and it was large on my narrow frame. I walked in front of the mirror and felt my heart ache.
I looked as if I were a child trying on his father's uniform! It was so embarrassing! I felt I was disrespecting this amazing uniform by trying to wear it. I returned it to its hanger as carefully as possible and decided to change into my own CHP uniform. My friend soon returned just as I began to change in his bathroom. He asked if I wanted him to wear anything, and I asked if he would wear the RCMP, to which he happily agreed, much to my excitement.
I soon finished changing, and slid my recently acquired police baton into its holster at my gun belt. As I waited with eager anticipation for him to finish. My heart began to beat excitedly, there I was, in the same hotel room as a man who would be wearing my favorite uniform in the world. A man who was handsome, and of a gentle, worldly demeanor.
His voice finally came through the crack in the door, I moved my gloved hand to the door handle, took a moment to breathe, and exited the bathroom.
There, with his back to me, stood a Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer. He turned to face me, the coat red and crisp, the breeches blue with striking yellow, the boots a deep earthy reddish brown, the gauntlet gloves a deep brown, the belt, the hat...my heart began to flutter. My mind went blank, I could only move towards this beautiful and dignified sight.
His eyes, once gentle and smiling, now looked me over with a quiet, subtle intensity, framed by the tan stetson, and the dark navy collar. His whispered orders were met with immediate obedience. His touch and grasp made me sigh and gasp with gratitude. His gloved grip over my mouth made me lightheaded. He tore open my shirt, tossing it behind me, he forced open my belt and down to my ankles my breeches did fall, he yanked off my boots, and I was left in only my briefs and gloves.
A Canadian Mountie was dominating me.
He ordered me to his boot, and I couldn't fall to my knees fast enough. It was an honor to service these boots of lore, of fetish legend. Eventually he ordered me back on my feet and took another uniform from his closet. He dressed me in a light blue shirt, dark navy pants, firm smooth black boots, and soft white leather gauntlet gloves. He finished me off with a narrow navy hat. I discovered I was wearing a Gendarmerie uniform. He ordered me on the bed to join him, we lay together, and he kissed me deeply.
A Canadian Mountie was kissing me.
It felt beautiful, dignified, masculine. Two uniformed men in each others arms, embracing, kissing. Feeling the red coat under my gloved hands as I gripped him closer to me. The smell of the uniform, so clean and even bold in scent, bold in dignity and order.
I am so thankful for the opportunity to see, feel, and experience a gentleman in a real RCMP uniform, it is almost moving me to tears. I embrace these experiences deeply, never knowing when the next one will come about, never knowing when one may be the last of its kind. Taking in as much as possible, I grip and squeeze all I can out of them.
Serving a Mountie, one of my many fantasies has come true.
Merci! Merci beaucoup!
He is a fan of uniforms as I am, and he has one of my absolute favorites, a real Royal Canadian Mounted Police uniform! When we arrived in his hotel room, he excused himself to the storage room to fetch something and invited me to try on any uniform I wished while he was gone. I immediately went for the RCMP.
I admired it on the hanger, it was more beautiful than I imagined it or had seen in pictures. The red was so bold and proud, the dark blue so deep and powerful, the yellow stripe on the breeches was a striking accent. I admired it for a while longer before taking it and carefully laying it upon the bed. I put on the pants and suspenders and found that I was too thin for the waist, the coat came on next and it was large on my narrow frame. I walked in front of the mirror and felt my heart ache.
I looked as if I were a child trying on his father's uniform! It was so embarrassing! I felt I was disrespecting this amazing uniform by trying to wear it. I returned it to its hanger as carefully as possible and decided to change into my own CHP uniform. My friend soon returned just as I began to change in his bathroom. He asked if I wanted him to wear anything, and I asked if he would wear the RCMP, to which he happily agreed, much to my excitement.
I soon finished changing, and slid my recently acquired police baton into its holster at my gun belt. As I waited with eager anticipation for him to finish. My heart began to beat excitedly, there I was, in the same hotel room as a man who would be wearing my favorite uniform in the world. A man who was handsome, and of a gentle, worldly demeanor.
His voice finally came through the crack in the door, I moved my gloved hand to the door handle, took a moment to breathe, and exited the bathroom.
There, with his back to me, stood a Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer. He turned to face me, the coat red and crisp, the breeches blue with striking yellow, the boots a deep earthy reddish brown, the gauntlet gloves a deep brown, the belt, the hat...my heart began to flutter. My mind went blank, I could only move towards this beautiful and dignified sight.
His eyes, once gentle and smiling, now looked me over with a quiet, subtle intensity, framed by the tan stetson, and the dark navy collar. His whispered orders were met with immediate obedience. His touch and grasp made me sigh and gasp with gratitude. His gloved grip over my mouth made me lightheaded. He tore open my shirt, tossing it behind me, he forced open my belt and down to my ankles my breeches did fall, he yanked off my boots, and I was left in only my briefs and gloves.
A Canadian Mountie was dominating me.
He ordered me to his boot, and I couldn't fall to my knees fast enough. It was an honor to service these boots of lore, of fetish legend. Eventually he ordered me back on my feet and took another uniform from his closet. He dressed me in a light blue shirt, dark navy pants, firm smooth black boots, and soft white leather gauntlet gloves. He finished me off with a narrow navy hat. I discovered I was wearing a Gendarmerie uniform. He ordered me on the bed to join him, we lay together, and he kissed me deeply.
A Canadian Mountie was kissing me.
It felt beautiful, dignified, masculine. Two uniformed men in each others arms, embracing, kissing. Feeling the red coat under my gloved hands as I gripped him closer to me. The smell of the uniform, so clean and even bold in scent, bold in dignity and order.
I am so thankful for the opportunity to see, feel, and experience a gentleman in a real RCMP uniform, it is almost moving me to tears. I embrace these experiences deeply, never knowing when the next one will come about, never knowing when one may be the last of its kind. Taking in as much as possible, I grip and squeeze all I can out of them.
Serving a Mountie, one of my many fantasies has come true.
Merci! Merci beaucoup!
Monday, May 2, 2011
Mr. Long Beach Leather 2011 Competition!
This weekend has been...beyond amazing. I have experienced an overflow of wondrous, overpowering joy, but before that point I had to stand at a cliff's edge of anxiety and jump into the unknown, alongside my two leather brothers, Ian and Drew.
Three Days of amazing, insane, terrifying, and emotional experiences follow.
Day 1: Friday, April 29th
The Meet and Greet.
The evening started with Sir C. and I attending a private party for the contestants and judges at Alex Kitay's (Mr. Long Beach Leather 2010) and his Sir's house. I met the judges, Ms. Cynthia, Utah Rox, Alexei, and of course Alex himself. After an enjoyable party as well as a chocolate pudding penis (Yes, it's all completely true, Alex and Michael made home made chocolate pudding and put it in a penis mold. These guys are freaking hilarious!), we departed for Pistons Bar where Ian, myself and Drew went about the bar, meeting people, introducing ourselves and getting to know the crowd.
Day 2: Saturday, April 30th
The Competition
The day started quite early, 11:00am we had rehearsals at the bar, going through the competition step by step, practicing going up on stage, using the microphone, thinking of what we want to put together for our 90-second speeches, as well as listening Pup Don practicing his song for the evening. Pup Don has a fantastic singing voice by the way, I never thought of him as a singer before this. Then around 1:00pm we broke for lunch which was generously donated by Johnny Reb's, I grabbed a BBQ Pork sandwich, oh my god it was excellent and I am totally going there in the future. After lunch the judges arrived and set up for the interviews. David, Alexei's partner, was our coach who helped calm us down and think through things before the interview.
I went first. My nerves fried, I stepped out of the bar, into the back patio and approached the stage. After I shook the judges' hands, I ascended onto the stage, looked down upon the four people who would be placing me under intense scrutiny...and I relaxed. Almost as if my fears were shoved behind a pane of soundproof glass, squirming and writhing, but I could not hear them. The interview began, and I was asked questions like
"If you won the title, what would you do for the leather community?"
"Who are the Satyrs?"
"Do you know what the NCSF is?"
I answered each question to the best of my ability, then when the interview was over, I stepped down, shook the judges' hands once more, thanked them, returned to the bar, and had a miniature stress breakdown as all the stress died in a violent cataclysm in my chest. Ian then went forward, and after him, Drew.
The hard part was finally over, the contest was next.
Master and his partner picked me up at the bar and we headed to Razorback's where I needed to get a haircut. Unfortunately it was already 5:00pm and the barbershop was closed, we headed over to Syndicate on Broadway and I discovered they were closed as well. They directed me towards Trimmy's a small salon across the street, which I discovered which was still open. I entered and asked if they could give me a quick haircut, and Michael David gave me a wonderful cut, I was so thankful! They really saved my ass!
After picking up my gear, heading to Master and his partner's hotel room, and getting ready, we all headed out to Pistons where the competition awaited us.
Entering the bar, I made a beeline for the changing tent, Ian and Drew were already inside along with David who would be our "wrangler" for the night. All throughout the contest he helped us change in and out of our gear, gave us last minute opinions on what would help our gear really impress the crowd, and reminded us on what we had forgotten in rehearsal. The competition went in stages.
1) The competition is introduced, and Pup Don sang his song Liz Phair's "Fuck and Run" as we changed into our first outfits.
2) The first outfit judging was the "Bar / Cruise Wear", what gear we would wear normally on a night of leather in a bar. I went with my Chippewa Engineer boots, leather pants, zip up leather shirt, and my very first piece of leather my good friend George passed down to me, a black leather riding jacket. Since I was contestant #1, I went up first and answered a question about my bio about being a "casual furry". I explained who furries were, and I considered myself a casual, since I didn't really delve very deeply into the furry communities and circles, but rather I occasionally wrote stories with furry characters.
3) We changed into our next outfits, our jockstraps and "skin wear". I wore a simple leather harness, leather wristband, and a leather jockstrap which were lent to me by Luis Skobar along with my combat boots. Getting up on stage again, I was asked a question about a sexual fantasy of mine. The fantasy I chose to disclose was where I am abducted by two hot, muscled cowboys. They take me into a secluded barn for a few hours of amazing bondage play, and then drag me out to a huge mud pool where they untie me and we indulge ourselves in a few rounds of the hottest nude mud wrestling you can imagine. Then as a surprise, we were asked to strike a sexy pose on a nearby bondage table. That was fun.
4) Our final outfit change, the Formal Leather Wear and the last hard part of the entire weekend, our 90-second Speech. I went with my CHP leather uniform, and for my 90-second speech I spoke about how I was introduced into the leather world by my dear friend George. What was amazing was that as I spoke, it flowed out of my heart and into the night air, not a single tripped word or grasp for an idea. As I stepped down and entered the changing tent, I broke down in tears.
It felt so beautiful, I had never exposed myself so deeply, I had never poured my heart out like that before, I had ripped away a sheet of privacy and bared myself against the audience, and they applauded me.
Thank you George.
5) Alex Kitay stepped down as Mr. Long Beach Leather after his speech, then we were called up once more all together. The runners up were selected, Drew won 2nd Runner Up, then I was selected as 1st Runner Up, and finally Ian was named Mr. Long Beach Leather 2011.
As we stepped down and were released into the audience to find our friends and celebrate, I was so overwhelmed with joy that I burst into tears. All the stress, anxiety, excitement, hugging George and Master, I was so very, very happy. Afterward Master tied me and another sub for a while, but at that point I was so exhausted I don't think I enjoyed it as much as I could have, even though I wanted to play so bad. As I remember that night, I'm tearing up again, it was so amazing.
As winners, we all received a beautiful Tom of Finland poster, and a year of classes at Ms. Cynthia's BDSM Workshop.
As the night ended, I went home with Master and spent the night at his hotel room as a wonderful ending to an intense day.
Day 3: Sunday, May 1st
The Victory Beer Bust
After a delightful breakfast at Park Pantry, Master, his partner, and I all went back to Pistons to attend the Victory Beer Bust and BBQ. Today was a day to relax and relish in our hard work. I spoke with many members of the leather world over these past three days, many people who have seen years of experiences, but these three individuals really struck me.
Alexei Romanoff, whom I see as a proud grandfather of the leather community. A man who fought very hard so I could be up on that stage without the police coming to raid the bar and arrest us all in an act of discrimination and hate. His softness, his encouraging smile, he had nothing but a wonderful gentleness about him. I want to listen to his stories, to his history.
Ms. Cynthia, a woman who's cackling laugh is unmistakable as it is uplifting. I sensed a terrifying ferocity behind her warm smile, which I immediately respected. She works hard to educate in BDSM play so I may learn even more about this amazing fetish world.
Utah Rox, a man who told me that your boots are what carry you in your leather, and forward in my journey in the world. This man spoke with me at length about the art of boot-blacking, and that he wishes for me to study under a respected mentor to learn more. In all honesty, I admire boot blacks, and respect their skill, but never saw myself polishing a boot before. However that does not mean I will not attempt to learn the art. I may be traveling to San Diego one weekend this year, and we'll see what happens.
I feel that I have grown this weekend...these experiences, these people, everything that has happened and taken place have awakened something somewhere inside of me. I needed this very badly.
Now...I just need to sleep.
Thank you so very much. I love you all.
Play Safe.
Three Days of amazing, insane, terrifying, and emotional experiences follow.
Day 1: Friday, April 29th
The Meet and Greet.
The evening started with Sir C. and I attending a private party for the contestants and judges at Alex Kitay's (Mr. Long Beach Leather 2010) and his Sir's house. I met the judges, Ms. Cynthia, Utah Rox, Alexei, and of course Alex himself. After an enjoyable party as well as a chocolate pudding penis (Yes, it's all completely true, Alex and Michael made home made chocolate pudding and put it in a penis mold. These guys are freaking hilarious!), we departed for Pistons Bar where Ian, myself and Drew went about the bar, meeting people, introducing ourselves and getting to know the crowd.
Day 2: Saturday, April 30th
The Competition
The day started quite early, 11:00am we had rehearsals at the bar, going through the competition step by step, practicing going up on stage, using the microphone, thinking of what we want to put together for our 90-second speeches, as well as listening Pup Don practicing his song for the evening. Pup Don has a fantastic singing voice by the way, I never thought of him as a singer before this. Then around 1:00pm we broke for lunch which was generously donated by Johnny Reb's, I grabbed a BBQ Pork sandwich, oh my god it was excellent and I am totally going there in the future. After lunch the judges arrived and set up for the interviews. David, Alexei's partner, was our coach who helped calm us down and think through things before the interview.
I went first. My nerves fried, I stepped out of the bar, into the back patio and approached the stage. After I shook the judges' hands, I ascended onto the stage, looked down upon the four people who would be placing me under intense scrutiny...and I relaxed. Almost as if my fears were shoved behind a pane of soundproof glass, squirming and writhing, but I could not hear them. The interview began, and I was asked questions like
"If you won the title, what would you do for the leather community?"
"Who are the Satyrs?"
"Do you know what the NCSF is?"
I answered each question to the best of my ability, then when the interview was over, I stepped down, shook the judges' hands once more, thanked them, returned to the bar, and had a miniature stress breakdown as all the stress died in a violent cataclysm in my chest. Ian then went forward, and after him, Drew.
The hard part was finally over, the contest was next.
Master and his partner picked me up at the bar and we headed to Razorback's where I needed to get a haircut. Unfortunately it was already 5:00pm and the barbershop was closed, we headed over to Syndicate on Broadway and I discovered they were closed as well. They directed me towards Trimmy's a small salon across the street, which I discovered which was still open. I entered and asked if they could give me a quick haircut, and Michael David gave me a wonderful cut, I was so thankful! They really saved my ass!
After picking up my gear, heading to Master and his partner's hotel room, and getting ready, we all headed out to Pistons where the competition awaited us.
Entering the bar, I made a beeline for the changing tent, Ian and Drew were already inside along with David who would be our "wrangler" for the night. All throughout the contest he helped us change in and out of our gear, gave us last minute opinions on what would help our gear really impress the crowd, and reminded us on what we had forgotten in rehearsal. The competition went in stages.
1) The competition is introduced, and Pup Don sang his song Liz Phair's "Fuck and Run" as we changed into our first outfits.
2) The first outfit judging was the "Bar / Cruise Wear", what gear we would wear normally on a night of leather in a bar. I went with my Chippewa Engineer boots, leather pants, zip up leather shirt, and my very first piece of leather my good friend George passed down to me, a black leather riding jacket. Since I was contestant #1, I went up first and answered a question about my bio about being a "casual furry". I explained who furries were, and I considered myself a casual, since I didn't really delve very deeply into the furry communities and circles, but rather I occasionally wrote stories with furry characters.
3) We changed into our next outfits, our jockstraps and "skin wear". I wore a simple leather harness, leather wristband, and a leather jockstrap which were lent to me by Luis Skobar along with my combat boots. Getting up on stage again, I was asked a question about a sexual fantasy of mine. The fantasy I chose to disclose was where I am abducted by two hot, muscled cowboys. They take me into a secluded barn for a few hours of amazing bondage play, and then drag me out to a huge mud pool where they untie me and we indulge ourselves in a few rounds of the hottest nude mud wrestling you can imagine. Then as a surprise, we were asked to strike a sexy pose on a nearby bondage table. That was fun.
4) Our final outfit change, the Formal Leather Wear and the last hard part of the entire weekend, our 90-second Speech. I went with my CHP leather uniform, and for my 90-second speech I spoke about how I was introduced into the leather world by my dear friend George. What was amazing was that as I spoke, it flowed out of my heart and into the night air, not a single tripped word or grasp for an idea. As I stepped down and entered the changing tent, I broke down in tears.
It felt so beautiful, I had never exposed myself so deeply, I had never poured my heart out like that before, I had ripped away a sheet of privacy and bared myself against the audience, and they applauded me.
Thank you George.
5) Alex Kitay stepped down as Mr. Long Beach Leather after his speech, then we were called up once more all together. The runners up were selected, Drew won 2nd Runner Up, then I was selected as 1st Runner Up, and finally Ian was named Mr. Long Beach Leather 2011.
As we stepped down and were released into the audience to find our friends and celebrate, I was so overwhelmed with joy that I burst into tears. All the stress, anxiety, excitement, hugging George and Master, I was so very, very happy. Afterward Master tied me and another sub for a while, but at that point I was so exhausted I don't think I enjoyed it as much as I could have, even though I wanted to play so bad. As I remember that night, I'm tearing up again, it was so amazing.
As winners, we all received a beautiful Tom of Finland poster, and a year of classes at Ms. Cynthia's BDSM Workshop.
As the night ended, I went home with Master and spent the night at his hotel room as a wonderful ending to an intense day.
Day 3: Sunday, May 1st
The Victory Beer Bust
After a delightful breakfast at Park Pantry, Master, his partner, and I all went back to Pistons to attend the Victory Beer Bust and BBQ. Today was a day to relax and relish in our hard work. I spoke with many members of the leather world over these past three days, many people who have seen years of experiences, but these three individuals really struck me.
Alexei Romanoff, whom I see as a proud grandfather of the leather community. A man who fought very hard so I could be up on that stage without the police coming to raid the bar and arrest us all in an act of discrimination and hate. His softness, his encouraging smile, he had nothing but a wonderful gentleness about him. I want to listen to his stories, to his history.
Ms. Cynthia, a woman who's cackling laugh is unmistakable as it is uplifting. I sensed a terrifying ferocity behind her warm smile, which I immediately respected. She works hard to educate in BDSM play so I may learn even more about this amazing fetish world.
Utah Rox, a man who told me that your boots are what carry you in your leather, and forward in my journey in the world. This man spoke with me at length about the art of boot-blacking, and that he wishes for me to study under a respected mentor to learn more. In all honesty, I admire boot blacks, and respect their skill, but never saw myself polishing a boot before. However that does not mean I will not attempt to learn the art. I may be traveling to San Diego one weekend this year, and we'll see what happens.
I feel that I have grown this weekend...these experiences, these people, everything that has happened and taken place have awakened something somewhere inside of me. I needed this very badly.
Now...I just need to sleep.
Thank you so very much. I love you all.
Play Safe.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Return to Anvil
This would actually be my second experience with Anvil, a play party that is held I believe once a month at different venues around Southern California. My first experience with Anvil was somewhat jarring, but I'll tell that story another time.
Last night I was invited to Anvil by Sir. C, the Canadian Soldier I proudly served under not too long ago. I was ordered to wear my CHP uniform while my Sir brought his hockey gear, as the party's theme was sports gear that night. The Anvil party was held at the same venue as Soca Bondage Club, Threshold. After we arrived, he began to change into his gear in the lobby, transforming into an intimidating, yet very sexy hockey player in red. I couldn't help but fall into his arms and embrace him. The padding, the armor, the feeling of it all against my own body, enveloping me in a protective hug made me feel safe and secure in his arms. He broke the embrace and led the way inside the tarp curtain, I followed as if lead by an invisible leash made of lust.
The main room was darkened significantly, the only light coming from the lamp above the bartender's table, the big screen TV showing a continuous loop of porn, and some very dim lights above. The music in the air was quite erotic, dark in nature and very sinister. (I'm actually looking for some good dungeon music and so far have not been able to come up with any that is enjoyable. If you know of any great music for dungeon play, or if you were at last night's Anvil party and know what CD was playing, please share this information in the comments, or email me at leatherfetishfox@gmail.com I'd love to get my paws on some very badly!)
The front room was filled with men in varying types of gear, some walking around in bare-assed jock straps, many in wrestling singlets, some in leather, but the only one who was in full hockey gear (and pulling it off in an amazing way) was my Sir. The longer I stayed in the main room, the more I noticed the significant difference between the energy at Soca Bondage Club and Anvil. Given it is the same exact location, with only a few minor differences made, a bar is set up in the center of the room, porn is being shown, the lights are off, but the energy is drastically different. It is no longer a feeling of safe and consensual familiarity, but a dark and selfish feeling of lustful greed.
My Sir and I remained in the main room for a while, talking and enjoying each other until a gloved hand forcefully clamped over my mouth from behind and pulled my face into a leather clad chest. At first I was completely caught off guard, but as I was pulled in I recognized the firmness, the forcefulness, the scent. "Hello, boy!" a voice said. Master! It was Master! My mind immediately dove into full submission, he placed his hand upon my head and pushed me to my knees, my face in his boot and lovingly serviced them without hesitation. They had been recently polished, the smell of it wafted into my nostrils. I hear Master and Sir C's voices in the distance, as if in another room despite them being directly above me, my subspace state so strong my only objective being to service Master.
"I'm sorry, forgive me for interrupting."
"Oh, how can you not?"
They flatter me, and my loyalty to them swells in my chest. Master pulls me back up to my feet and embraces me tightly to his chest, his heartbeat in my ears, and my body completely his to do what he wishes. My memories a cloud of subspace, I recall sitting on the bondage table with both Sir C and Master, conversing until Master looks to my right and says "Oh, hello there." as I turn my head, Master forbids it and stands me up instead. Looking behind me he asks "Are you ready to receive?" unsure if he is speaking to me or the man behind me I remain silent, head awash in submission. A firm swat on my ass and my haze is broken.
"Thank you, Sir!" I thank my unknown assailant, another one, and another one, faster now, harder, arrgh! Master asks me if I know who it is, I quickly analyze the feeling of the spankings and I know exactly who it is behind me. "Sir J?" I answer, reeling ever so slightly. I was spun around and so it was! The same Sir J who is responsible for subjecting me to many fun experiences. Suddenly I am overwhelmed, I am surrounded by three amazing dominant men who have not only shown me wonderful and fulfilling fetish and kink scenes, but who have all reached me on a deeply emotional level. I could fall to my knees and weep, thanking the universe for such a grace.
The evening rolled onward, I had my boots shined for the first time and I must say the complimentary boot black did a superb job. Although during my shine, some man who has been following me around for some time at these sort of venues walked up and groped me without permission, asking if I wanted to be serviced while my boots were being serviced. I declined immediately, wishing this guy would just take the hint and reminding myself to be more direct next time. Afterward, Master ordered me to strip to my jock and boots, check my uniform in with the coat check, and placed me in a rope harness for the night. Another blur, my memory is poor after intense nights, I apologize. I had decided to explore past the curtain into the hall of rooms, Master asked if I would be okay, given the nature of the party and my current dressing he was genuinely concerned, knowing what had happened the last time I attended an Anvil party. I assured him that I would be fine, I was confidant in my ability to express myself and to refuse or decline advances. I am so thankful he looks out for my well being, he constantly upholds his title of Master as a proud and shining beacon of trust.
As I parted the tarp curtain and stepped into the hallway, the true nature of this party revealed itself. As the tarp closed behind my back, I was faced with a darkened hallway, once familiar, now shrouded in a dim blue light. The air filled with a dirty energy, a filthy vibration. It made me close myself off, and seal up my mind. I passed by the open doors. I pass by the open door to the chain spiderweb room, a pair of men are together, fucking inside. Not making love, not having sex, but fucking. An audience built around the door and spilled inside, closing in around them with no permissions asked or boundaries observed. I continue onward, passing by the throne and suspension room. A group of men are inside, huddled together, kissing lustfully and preparing a scene. I pass onward once more, the sounds of primal moans and grunts fill the air, but these testosterone sighs are different than the ones I've heard before, different from the ones I was so very fond of. These are ones that are tinged with a rasp of filth, a twisted echo.
Nothing seemed to feel right at all. I felt contempt. Why? What the hell for? I didn't understand why I would feel such a thing. What a terrible thing to think of others! Shame on me! The nagging feeling refused to leave my head. The energy spoke volumes, but was I simply ignorant of what was going on? My gut told me to tread carefully. I kept my back to the walls when standing still in observation, but I didn't wish to stay long in any specific place. My voyeurism was not entertained, but instead turned away in discomfort. I escaped the hallway and returned to the main room, leaving the dark lust behind me.
My mood was sullied, I saw an empty bondage bench and looked at it in the darkness, the light of the TV showed wet spots. Grabbing a bottle of medical disinfectant, I wiped the whole bench down. I felt eyes upon me, I didn't care, I had become angry, they could take their gazes and blind them for all I cared at that moment. Satisfied with the wipe down, I sat upon the bench and relaxed. The night continued, I returned to Master at one point and became a teaching subject of physical touch for a handsome and quite muscular gentleman. His biceps like fleshy stone, his pectorals a broad and beautiful achievement of discipline, despite his power, his touch was soft and featherlight. Fingers floating upon my skin, broad arms rising and falling, he confessed to enjoying my rear. He was more than welcome to touch it, he was polite and I felt a restrained lust from him. He wanted to do more, but he was behaving himself. Given what I had seen before, I was proud of him for holding back. He hugged me once I told him what a big fan of muscular men I was. Oh it was bliss, two large forearms of power wrapped around me from behind! Squeeze me! Crush me! Make me feel your raw power!
Unfortunately when someone else had come up and I was shared between them, he faded away, wandered off and vanished through the tarp front door. I didn't see him again, much to my dismay. I hope to encounter him again someday soon.
I returned to Sir C and we went into the hallway together, my attraction and yearning for my Sir led us to the farthest corner of the hallway at the very back, hidden from immediate view. We embraced and kissed, energy flowing strong and libido inflamed. Then, something new rose to the surface. My energy mixed with the vibration of filth that saturated the hallway, and I felt a slutty, whorish side of me awaken. I wanted Sir C in a new way, I wanted to tease him. I wanted to tantalize him. However, I did things a stereotypical twink slut would do. Looking back, if I had seen myself acting in such a way, I would have slapped myself across the face, disgusted with my own behavior, I know that isn't me nor someone I want to act like.
We eventually wandered on to find a room for ourselves, one room was left in a horrible condition. A beer can left on the bondage table, empty lube and condom wrappers beside it, and a used condom crumpled and left on the table nearby, the rubber coated in semen glistened disgustingly in the dim light. My former feelings to suppress and scold myself for feeling contempt dissolved immediately. This was inexcusable and absolutely disgusting! Pick up after yourselves for fuck sake! Slobs! The jail cell room was left in similar condition, and my Sir made sure to sanitize the bondage table in there before ordering me up on it.
I eventually relaxed again and put my anger aside, Sir C gently pleasured me and I closed my eyes to enjoy his touch. I felt shadows passing closely, watching briefly and then moving onward to the next scene. It wasn't until I felt two hands pleasuring me that I opened my eyes.
There was someone else touching me.
I was caught in a mix of submission and disgust. Sir C was so focused on me that he didn't realize someone else had approached and invaded the scene. My immersion faded and I just felt slightly violated. I wanted to yell out,
"You fucking pig! Get your slimy hands off of me! We didn't invite you! Get the hell out!"
I could only squirm in discomfort unable to express myself, thankfully Sir noticed the bastard and removed his hand from me immediately.
Never, ever, ever invade a scene. I don't care what you may be thinking at the time! It is invasive, rude, and disgusting to just step in or hover closely over a scene in progress! Regardless of the venue, or the nature of the party, you WAIT TO BE INVITED. It ruins the moment completely when someone comes up and helps themselves.
Thankfully, we were able to continue, and Sir protected me after the scene climaxed. The rest of the evening was enjoyable and relaxed and even given the unpleasant instances, I had a good time. Although I don't think Anvil is my kind of party element.
I'm still caught between two feelings. A feeling of contempt and a feeling of shame for feeling the contempt. I'm not sure how to close on that thought.
Please play safe.
Last night I was invited to Anvil by Sir. C, the Canadian Soldier I proudly served under not too long ago. I was ordered to wear my CHP uniform while my Sir brought his hockey gear, as the party's theme was sports gear that night. The Anvil party was held at the same venue as Soca Bondage Club, Threshold. After we arrived, he began to change into his gear in the lobby, transforming into an intimidating, yet very sexy hockey player in red. I couldn't help but fall into his arms and embrace him. The padding, the armor, the feeling of it all against my own body, enveloping me in a protective hug made me feel safe and secure in his arms. He broke the embrace and led the way inside the tarp curtain, I followed as if lead by an invisible leash made of lust.
The main room was darkened significantly, the only light coming from the lamp above the bartender's table, the big screen TV showing a continuous loop of porn, and some very dim lights above. The music in the air was quite erotic, dark in nature and very sinister. (I'm actually looking for some good dungeon music and so far have not been able to come up with any that is enjoyable. If you know of any great music for dungeon play, or if you were at last night's Anvil party and know what CD was playing, please share this information in the comments, or email me at leatherfetishfox@gmail.com I'd love to get my paws on some very badly!)
The front room was filled with men in varying types of gear, some walking around in bare-assed jock straps, many in wrestling singlets, some in leather, but the only one who was in full hockey gear (and pulling it off in an amazing way) was my Sir. The longer I stayed in the main room, the more I noticed the significant difference between the energy at Soca Bondage Club and Anvil. Given it is the same exact location, with only a few minor differences made, a bar is set up in the center of the room, porn is being shown, the lights are off, but the energy is drastically different. It is no longer a feeling of safe and consensual familiarity, but a dark and selfish feeling of lustful greed.
My Sir and I remained in the main room for a while, talking and enjoying each other until a gloved hand forcefully clamped over my mouth from behind and pulled my face into a leather clad chest. At first I was completely caught off guard, but as I was pulled in I recognized the firmness, the forcefulness, the scent. "Hello, boy!" a voice said. Master! It was Master! My mind immediately dove into full submission, he placed his hand upon my head and pushed me to my knees, my face in his boot and lovingly serviced them without hesitation. They had been recently polished, the smell of it wafted into my nostrils. I hear Master and Sir C's voices in the distance, as if in another room despite them being directly above me, my subspace state so strong my only objective being to service Master.
"I'm sorry, forgive me for interrupting."
"Oh, how can you not?"
They flatter me, and my loyalty to them swells in my chest. Master pulls me back up to my feet and embraces me tightly to his chest, his heartbeat in my ears, and my body completely his to do what he wishes. My memories a cloud of subspace, I recall sitting on the bondage table with both Sir C and Master, conversing until Master looks to my right and says "Oh, hello there." as I turn my head, Master forbids it and stands me up instead. Looking behind me he asks "Are you ready to receive?" unsure if he is speaking to me or the man behind me I remain silent, head awash in submission. A firm swat on my ass and my haze is broken.
"Thank you, Sir!" I thank my unknown assailant, another one, and another one, faster now, harder, arrgh! Master asks me if I know who it is, I quickly analyze the feeling of the spankings and I know exactly who it is behind me. "Sir J?" I answer, reeling ever so slightly. I was spun around and so it was! The same Sir J who is responsible for subjecting me to many fun experiences. Suddenly I am overwhelmed, I am surrounded by three amazing dominant men who have not only shown me wonderful and fulfilling fetish and kink scenes, but who have all reached me on a deeply emotional level. I could fall to my knees and weep, thanking the universe for such a grace.
The evening rolled onward, I had my boots shined for the first time and I must say the complimentary boot black did a superb job. Although during my shine, some man who has been following me around for some time at these sort of venues walked up and groped me without permission, asking if I wanted to be serviced while my boots were being serviced. I declined immediately, wishing this guy would just take the hint and reminding myself to be more direct next time. Afterward, Master ordered me to strip to my jock and boots, check my uniform in with the coat check, and placed me in a rope harness for the night. Another blur, my memory is poor after intense nights, I apologize. I had decided to explore past the curtain into the hall of rooms, Master asked if I would be okay, given the nature of the party and my current dressing he was genuinely concerned, knowing what had happened the last time I attended an Anvil party. I assured him that I would be fine, I was confidant in my ability to express myself and to refuse or decline advances. I am so thankful he looks out for my well being, he constantly upholds his title of Master as a proud and shining beacon of trust.
As I parted the tarp curtain and stepped into the hallway, the true nature of this party revealed itself. As the tarp closed behind my back, I was faced with a darkened hallway, once familiar, now shrouded in a dim blue light. The air filled with a dirty energy, a filthy vibration. It made me close myself off, and seal up my mind. I passed by the open doors. I pass by the open door to the chain spiderweb room, a pair of men are together, fucking inside. Not making love, not having sex, but fucking. An audience built around the door and spilled inside, closing in around them with no permissions asked or boundaries observed. I continue onward, passing by the throne and suspension room. A group of men are inside, huddled together, kissing lustfully and preparing a scene. I pass onward once more, the sounds of primal moans and grunts fill the air, but these testosterone sighs are different than the ones I've heard before, different from the ones I was so very fond of. These are ones that are tinged with a rasp of filth, a twisted echo.
Nothing seemed to feel right at all. I felt contempt. Why? What the hell for? I didn't understand why I would feel such a thing. What a terrible thing to think of others! Shame on me! The nagging feeling refused to leave my head. The energy spoke volumes, but was I simply ignorant of what was going on? My gut told me to tread carefully. I kept my back to the walls when standing still in observation, but I didn't wish to stay long in any specific place. My voyeurism was not entertained, but instead turned away in discomfort. I escaped the hallway and returned to the main room, leaving the dark lust behind me.
My mood was sullied, I saw an empty bondage bench and looked at it in the darkness, the light of the TV showed wet spots. Grabbing a bottle of medical disinfectant, I wiped the whole bench down. I felt eyes upon me, I didn't care, I had become angry, they could take their gazes and blind them for all I cared at that moment. Satisfied with the wipe down, I sat upon the bench and relaxed. The night continued, I returned to Master at one point and became a teaching subject of physical touch for a handsome and quite muscular gentleman. His biceps like fleshy stone, his pectorals a broad and beautiful achievement of discipline, despite his power, his touch was soft and featherlight. Fingers floating upon my skin, broad arms rising and falling, he confessed to enjoying my rear. He was more than welcome to touch it, he was polite and I felt a restrained lust from him. He wanted to do more, but he was behaving himself. Given what I had seen before, I was proud of him for holding back. He hugged me once I told him what a big fan of muscular men I was. Oh it was bliss, two large forearms of power wrapped around me from behind! Squeeze me! Crush me! Make me feel your raw power!
Unfortunately when someone else had come up and I was shared between them, he faded away, wandered off and vanished through the tarp front door. I didn't see him again, much to my dismay. I hope to encounter him again someday soon.
I returned to Sir C and we went into the hallway together, my attraction and yearning for my Sir led us to the farthest corner of the hallway at the very back, hidden from immediate view. We embraced and kissed, energy flowing strong and libido inflamed. Then, something new rose to the surface. My energy mixed with the vibration of filth that saturated the hallway, and I felt a slutty, whorish side of me awaken. I wanted Sir C in a new way, I wanted to tease him. I wanted to tantalize him. However, I did things a stereotypical twink slut would do. Looking back, if I had seen myself acting in such a way, I would have slapped myself across the face, disgusted with my own behavior, I know that isn't me nor someone I want to act like.
We eventually wandered on to find a room for ourselves, one room was left in a horrible condition. A beer can left on the bondage table, empty lube and condom wrappers beside it, and a used condom crumpled and left on the table nearby, the rubber coated in semen glistened disgustingly in the dim light. My former feelings to suppress and scold myself for feeling contempt dissolved immediately. This was inexcusable and absolutely disgusting! Pick up after yourselves for fuck sake! Slobs! The jail cell room was left in similar condition, and my Sir made sure to sanitize the bondage table in there before ordering me up on it.
I eventually relaxed again and put my anger aside, Sir C gently pleasured me and I closed my eyes to enjoy his touch. I felt shadows passing closely, watching briefly and then moving onward to the next scene. It wasn't until I felt two hands pleasuring me that I opened my eyes.
There was someone else touching me.
I was caught in a mix of submission and disgust. Sir C was so focused on me that he didn't realize someone else had approached and invaded the scene. My immersion faded and I just felt slightly violated. I wanted to yell out,
"You fucking pig! Get your slimy hands off of me! We didn't invite you! Get the hell out!"
I could only squirm in discomfort unable to express myself, thankfully Sir noticed the bastard and removed his hand from me immediately.
Never, ever, ever invade a scene. I don't care what you may be thinking at the time! It is invasive, rude, and disgusting to just step in or hover closely over a scene in progress! Regardless of the venue, or the nature of the party, you WAIT TO BE INVITED. It ruins the moment completely when someone comes up and helps themselves.
Thankfully, we were able to continue, and Sir protected me after the scene climaxed. The rest of the evening was enjoyable and relaxed and even given the unpleasant instances, I had a good time. Although I don't think Anvil is my kind of party element.
I'm still caught between two feelings. A feeling of contempt and a feeling of shame for feeling the contempt. I'm not sure how to close on that thought.
Please play safe.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Serving the Canadian Soldier
I had met this particular Sir the night of Bondage 201 at Pistons, we had talked, gotten to know each other and really enjoyed each others' company. Last night I received instructions of what I where I would be going and what I would be doing and that there would be consequences if I disobeyed or made a mistake or even so much as looked him in the eyes. I was told what to wear, what streets to go down, and to find a specific garage door in a neighborhood that night. My heart began to beat faster, anxiety rising to the surface. I have always had problems following too many orders at once, would I be able to remember every single order? Before long, I was also sent a picture of who I would be serving that evening.
On the small screen of my basic flip-phone, I was met with the image of a man in full desert BDU, and my heart began to pound even harder.
I followed each direction until I found myself standing in front of the garage door that held my destination within. I fumbled with my phone, panic gripping my chest, anxiety taking hold of my head, what was I supposed to do again? Come on, man! He's probably in there waiting right now! Why can't you remember a basic order like opening the door and standing a certain way!? Damn it, you forgot which text it was, didn't you? Get it together!
Finally, I found my order, memorized it the best I could, and carried it out. I opened the door and my eyes fell upon a pair of boots inside, my eyes shot downward to the cement floor, and I entered, closing the door behind me. I stepped backward away from the door and put my hands behind my back and my feet shoulder length apart. My heart was racing, anxiety strong, I was so nervous, he walked up to me, the boots on the concrete floor, his face neared the back of my ear.
He said some things in a low whisper, which my anxious mind couldn't record to memory for now, he walked in front of me and my eyes wandered upward to the lower left of his chin, a swift but light smack struck the side of my head.
"Don't look at me, boy."
My eyes shot downward and glued themselves there. I didn't look at his eyes, like he said, but I didn't want to even risk making him angry or displeased with me! My eyes were bound to the floor by law! He walked behind me, tied a gray bandanna gag around my mouth, bound my arms behind my back, and put his lips to my ear.
"You do realize there is no turning back from this."
I nodded, whispering "Yes, sir." into the gag. I didn't want to go back! I wanted to stay! I was terrified of him, but in a respectful way. This wasn't the same man I had met, he was so different now. Even if he was slightly shorter than I was, I didn't challenge the idea that this man wouldn't hesitate to crush me if I stepped out of line. He came to my front and opened my jacket, my eyes on his boots.
"Good, a t-shirt."
He walked to my back again and I felt his eyes on my boots, my tall engineers. He stopped.
"You wore the wrong boots, boy."
Shit!
"Those aren't the same boots you wore the last time we met."
SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!
"Am I going to have to punish you for wearing the wrong boots boy?"
I didn't dare speak at first, my mind raced for a response, I finally found one.
"Punish me however you want, Sir."
He said nothing. My heart was racing, my anxiety at an all time high, tears of fear and joy at the corners of my eyes, breath frantic. I felt my body shaking slightly. Soon a rope was thread through the collar's ring at the back of my neck and my head became immobilized, I could only nod up and down, moving anywhere was now impossible. I kept my eyes on the floor. He then moved close and kissed me, before his lips moved to my ear as I panted anxiously.
"Do you know where this uniform is from, boy?"
I nodded at first, but then shook my head, I really didn't know.
"I wore this uniform when I was in Afganistan."
My heart leaped with respect. I leaned forward and was able to take in the scent of the uniform, it was all real, all authentic, and it was being worn by the man who was dominating me at that very second. It radiated power, a power I longed to submit to.
My mind is clouded and there is a haze, a result of subspace is poor memory recollection...I vaguely recall more kissing, he plunged the room into darkness, more kissing...and I thankfully earned the honor to follow him into his apartment.
Once inside I was ordered to strip down to nothing but the collar around my neck, as he left the room I remembered the instructions but became increasingly anxious and nervous over forgotten details. Everything was on my phone, but if he caught me looking at it...I didn't dare. I was supposed to fold my clothes and hang up my jacket, the boots went under the counter, but there was no wooden hanger like he had ordered me to use, was I supposed to place the clothes on the counter? Oh god! I couldn't find any wooden ones, so I used an empty plastic hanger and tried hanging the jacket on the clothesline nearby. I remembered it was forbidden for jackets to go on the floor or over a chair, but the clothesline wouldn't hold it! I ever so carefully hung it on the edge of the counter, praying the hanger would not snap and damn me. It held, much to my relief. I was naked as ordered, I looked around and thought I was finished.
"I'm ready sir."
"You are not in the big room in front of the china cabinet."
Shit! Another mistake! What the hell are you doing, man!?
I frantically and quietly made my way into the designated room, looked around, but could only see one large cabinet piece of furniture, was that the right one? I got down on my knees, hands laced behind my neck, face down on the carpet.
"I'm ready, sir." I said, fearfully. Already having three mistakes against me, what the hell was I in for? I waited...silence was the response. Was I in the right place? I looked around as much as I dared, no, this was the only real cabinet type of furniture, this room seemed to be the biggest, was this a test? He was still sitting on the couch, the back towards me his hat just barely visible over the tall back of the couch. I stayed where I was and sent my eyes back to the floor, hoping I was obeying orders.
He moved, rising from the couch I heard him come over behind me. I froze dead. I didn't breathe. A boot was then presented under my face.
"These boots were used in the desert, boy."
I needed no order, I began to kiss them, service them, it was an honor to service the boots of a respectful soldier who had fought in a war. I was raised to my feet and informed that due to it being my first time, I was under inspection.
Inspection? Oh no...
He looked my body over, noting small details. My fingernails, my body hair, I had never felt so nervous and scrutinized. It wasn't until he went to check on how I had folded my clothes to see if I would pass that I became even more terrified of failing to meet his expectations. Time seemed to hang in the air, nothing was said in the other room, only silence. He returned and I trembled.
"It looks like I don't have to show you how to fold clothes, boy."
Oh thank god...
I was then led to the other side of the room where he blindfolded me and hogtied me with leather wrist and ankle restraints. I felt the feeling of him doing something to my exposed hole, he toyed with it, there was a warmth, then a poking discomfort. I phased in and out of headspace, thanking him for it.
After a long while he finally broke the silence.
"You don't bottom well, do ya, boy?" he asked, after he had ceased playing with my ass.
"N-no, sir. It's difficult for me, sir." I responded, unsure of what to say. In all truth I really didn't get into anal play, it was more uncomfortable for me than pleasurable.
I was ordered back over to the china cabinet, my blindfold removed, there were towels laid down upon the carpet now. I was ordered to lay on my back where he leaned in close and grabbed hold of my erect member and growled "Do NOT cum, boy." and he began to edge me.
For the next 34 minutes (as he informed me later) he tortured me with pleasure. Occasionally pulling me in for deep, sensual kisses only to further my wonderful misery as he tantalized me with a point I was expressly forbidden to reach. He asked me how much I wanted it, and then repeated that I was denied permission.
The torture continued until at last he ordered me to ejaculate, but at this point I had spent so much effort obeying his order that I could not easily do so. Clenching every leg muscle I had, I eventually forced myself to climax, and judging by my Sir's reaction, I do believe it was a success.
A warm washcloth cleansed me, and a soft order to roll over on my stomach followed. Strong hands massaged my back and body, my arms, my legs, my feet, my hands, and my shoulders. I was told to relax and shower when I was ready to do so. I lay there, absorbing the afterglow, my eyes wandering the room, taking in my environment. Noting small details, observing just how clean and tidy the entire room really was, until I was ready and proceeded to the bathroom to wash myself.
My submissive mentality still strong, I dared not shut the door recalling that I would have no privacy during my visit. I dared not even use the last sliver of soap on the shower shelf. It was not mine, I had no right to touch it. After taking care to dry myself inside the shower, and not get a drop of water on the mat, I returned to the big room. The lights had been turned down, candles lit in the fireplace and on the table. My eyes locked to the floor.
"What would you have me do, Sir?" I asked.
"Come over here, sit with me." a gentle voice responded. I obeyed, eyes lowered. He wrapped me in a blanket and held me close to him.
"Hey, it's you and me now, you can relax."
Slowly, the scene began to fade away, my anxieties melted, my stiffness dissolved, and I slowly brought my eyes up to my friend's face. His kind gaze, his smile, his gentle expression. All full of warmth. As I melted into his arms and cuddled closer, my mind begged a question...
Who dominated me that night?
Before I left that night, I was presented with a gift, the collar I wore that evening was now mine to keep and to cherish. I was also told of another surprise. He lead me into the kitchen where I had first taken off my clothes. My underwear were nowhere to be found and instead there lay a tan pair of boxers. HIS boxers. Boxer shorts that, as he informed me, were technically military issued, and ones he had used in the war.
I am wearing them as I type this, and it fills me with pride to be lent the boxers of a soldier who fought to defend his country. It is empowering in a way, slight, but it is there.
Thank you, Sir. I await your next order with bated breath.
Play Safe.
On the small screen of my basic flip-phone, I was met with the image of a man in full desert BDU, and my heart began to pound even harder.
I followed each direction until I found myself standing in front of the garage door that held my destination within. I fumbled with my phone, panic gripping my chest, anxiety taking hold of my head, what was I supposed to do again? Come on, man! He's probably in there waiting right now! Why can't you remember a basic order like opening the door and standing a certain way!? Damn it, you forgot which text it was, didn't you? Get it together!
Finally, I found my order, memorized it the best I could, and carried it out. I opened the door and my eyes fell upon a pair of boots inside, my eyes shot downward to the cement floor, and I entered, closing the door behind me. I stepped backward away from the door and put my hands behind my back and my feet shoulder length apart. My heart was racing, anxiety strong, I was so nervous, he walked up to me, the boots on the concrete floor, his face neared the back of my ear.
He said some things in a low whisper, which my anxious mind couldn't record to memory for now, he walked in front of me and my eyes wandered upward to the lower left of his chin, a swift but light smack struck the side of my head.
"Don't look at me, boy."
My eyes shot downward and glued themselves there. I didn't look at his eyes, like he said, but I didn't want to even risk making him angry or displeased with me! My eyes were bound to the floor by law! He walked behind me, tied a gray bandanna gag around my mouth, bound my arms behind my back, and put his lips to my ear.
"You do realize there is no turning back from this."
I nodded, whispering "Yes, sir." into the gag. I didn't want to go back! I wanted to stay! I was terrified of him, but in a respectful way. This wasn't the same man I had met, he was so different now. Even if he was slightly shorter than I was, I didn't challenge the idea that this man wouldn't hesitate to crush me if I stepped out of line. He came to my front and opened my jacket, my eyes on his boots.
"Good, a t-shirt."
He walked to my back again and I felt his eyes on my boots, my tall engineers. He stopped.
"You wore the wrong boots, boy."
Shit!
"Those aren't the same boots you wore the last time we met."
SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!
"Am I going to have to punish you for wearing the wrong boots boy?"
I didn't dare speak at first, my mind raced for a response, I finally found one.
"Punish me however you want, Sir."
He said nothing. My heart was racing, my anxiety at an all time high, tears of fear and joy at the corners of my eyes, breath frantic. I felt my body shaking slightly. Soon a rope was thread through the collar's ring at the back of my neck and my head became immobilized, I could only nod up and down, moving anywhere was now impossible. I kept my eyes on the floor. He then moved close and kissed me, before his lips moved to my ear as I panted anxiously.
"Do you know where this uniform is from, boy?"
I nodded at first, but then shook my head, I really didn't know.
"I wore this uniform when I was in Afganistan."
My heart leaped with respect. I leaned forward and was able to take in the scent of the uniform, it was all real, all authentic, and it was being worn by the man who was dominating me at that very second. It radiated power, a power I longed to submit to.
My mind is clouded and there is a haze, a result of subspace is poor memory recollection...I vaguely recall more kissing, he plunged the room into darkness, more kissing...and I thankfully earned the honor to follow him into his apartment.
Once inside I was ordered to strip down to nothing but the collar around my neck, as he left the room I remembered the instructions but became increasingly anxious and nervous over forgotten details. Everything was on my phone, but if he caught me looking at it...I didn't dare. I was supposed to fold my clothes and hang up my jacket, the boots went under the counter, but there was no wooden hanger like he had ordered me to use, was I supposed to place the clothes on the counter? Oh god! I couldn't find any wooden ones, so I used an empty plastic hanger and tried hanging the jacket on the clothesline nearby. I remembered it was forbidden for jackets to go on the floor or over a chair, but the clothesline wouldn't hold it! I ever so carefully hung it on the edge of the counter, praying the hanger would not snap and damn me. It held, much to my relief. I was naked as ordered, I looked around and thought I was finished.
"I'm ready sir."
"You are not in the big room in front of the china cabinet."
Shit! Another mistake! What the hell are you doing, man!?
I frantically and quietly made my way into the designated room, looked around, but could only see one large cabinet piece of furniture, was that the right one? I got down on my knees, hands laced behind my neck, face down on the carpet.
"I'm ready, sir." I said, fearfully. Already having three mistakes against me, what the hell was I in for? I waited...silence was the response. Was I in the right place? I looked around as much as I dared, no, this was the only real cabinet type of furniture, this room seemed to be the biggest, was this a test? He was still sitting on the couch, the back towards me his hat just barely visible over the tall back of the couch. I stayed where I was and sent my eyes back to the floor, hoping I was obeying orders.
He moved, rising from the couch I heard him come over behind me. I froze dead. I didn't breathe. A boot was then presented under my face.
"These boots were used in the desert, boy."
I needed no order, I began to kiss them, service them, it was an honor to service the boots of a respectful soldier who had fought in a war. I was raised to my feet and informed that due to it being my first time, I was under inspection.
Inspection? Oh no...
He looked my body over, noting small details. My fingernails, my body hair, I had never felt so nervous and scrutinized. It wasn't until he went to check on how I had folded my clothes to see if I would pass that I became even more terrified of failing to meet his expectations. Time seemed to hang in the air, nothing was said in the other room, only silence. He returned and I trembled.
"It looks like I don't have to show you how to fold clothes, boy."
Oh thank god...
I was then led to the other side of the room where he blindfolded me and hogtied me with leather wrist and ankle restraints. I felt the feeling of him doing something to my exposed hole, he toyed with it, there was a warmth, then a poking discomfort. I phased in and out of headspace, thanking him for it.
After a long while he finally broke the silence.
"You don't bottom well, do ya, boy?" he asked, after he had ceased playing with my ass.
"N-no, sir. It's difficult for me, sir." I responded, unsure of what to say. In all truth I really didn't get into anal play, it was more uncomfortable for me than pleasurable.
I was ordered back over to the china cabinet, my blindfold removed, there were towels laid down upon the carpet now. I was ordered to lay on my back where he leaned in close and grabbed hold of my erect member and growled "Do NOT cum, boy." and he began to edge me.
For the next 34 minutes (as he informed me later) he tortured me with pleasure. Occasionally pulling me in for deep, sensual kisses only to further my wonderful misery as he tantalized me with a point I was expressly forbidden to reach. He asked me how much I wanted it, and then repeated that I was denied permission.
The torture continued until at last he ordered me to ejaculate, but at this point I had spent so much effort obeying his order that I could not easily do so. Clenching every leg muscle I had, I eventually forced myself to climax, and judging by my Sir's reaction, I do believe it was a success.
A warm washcloth cleansed me, and a soft order to roll over on my stomach followed. Strong hands massaged my back and body, my arms, my legs, my feet, my hands, and my shoulders. I was told to relax and shower when I was ready to do so. I lay there, absorbing the afterglow, my eyes wandering the room, taking in my environment. Noting small details, observing just how clean and tidy the entire room really was, until I was ready and proceeded to the bathroom to wash myself.
My submissive mentality still strong, I dared not shut the door recalling that I would have no privacy during my visit. I dared not even use the last sliver of soap on the shower shelf. It was not mine, I had no right to touch it. After taking care to dry myself inside the shower, and not get a drop of water on the mat, I returned to the big room. The lights had been turned down, candles lit in the fireplace and on the table. My eyes locked to the floor.
"What would you have me do, Sir?" I asked.
"Come over here, sit with me." a gentle voice responded. I obeyed, eyes lowered. He wrapped me in a blanket and held me close to him.
"Hey, it's you and me now, you can relax."
Slowly, the scene began to fade away, my anxieties melted, my stiffness dissolved, and I slowly brought my eyes up to my friend's face. His kind gaze, his smile, his gentle expression. All full of warmth. As I melted into his arms and cuddled closer, my mind begged a question...
Who dominated me that night?
Before I left that night, I was presented with a gift, the collar I wore that evening was now mine to keep and to cherish. I was also told of another surprise. He lead me into the kitchen where I had first taken off my clothes. My underwear were nowhere to be found and instead there lay a tan pair of boxers. HIS boxers. Boxer shorts that, as he informed me, were technically military issued, and ones he had used in the war.
I am wearing them as I type this, and it fills me with pride to be lent the boxers of a soldier who fought to defend his country. It is empowering in a way, slight, but it is there.
Thank you, Sir. I await your next order with bated breath.
Play Safe.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
The Fetish Tutorial
This afternoon I had the privilege of teaching a newbie about different fetishes.
I had spoken to him before about my interests in leather and bondage, and he expressed a genuine interest in learning more about the fetish world, so I invited him to try on my leather gear.
Although my gear was a little big on him, he said that he enjoyed the feeling of leather (not to mention he looked drop-to-my-knees HOT in it too!), I had him also try on my Chippewa engineer boots, which he seemed to enjoy as well.
I then sat down with him and explained the different safety aspects that are prevalent in different scenes. For example, in bondage scenes you need clear communication with your dom/sub, "Are the ropes too tight?" "How are your arms feeling?" "Is everything feeling comfortable?" "Sir, my arms are tingling." "The ropes are too loose/tight" "I need more support around my X". When the sub is gagged, you need a form of nonverbal communication, like finger snaps or foot banging.
I also explained what subspace / head space was and how important it is to "bring the sub back down to Earth" after an intense scene, as well as how it can damage the sub if he is left in the vulnerable state without proper aftercare.
I asked him if he wanted to try anything and he said that he was interested in being taped, so I grabbed my painter's tape and wrapped a good length around his mouth and bound his wrists. I stood him in front of the mirror and he seemed to be enjoying it. Lord knows I was! Woof!
He stood in front of the mirror in nothing but his jock, socks, and the blue tape over his mouth and around his wrists. His broad chest and pecs just begging to be kissed and admired, a beautiful body just waiting to be played with. I slowly ran my fingers up and down his body, his chest, his arms, his legs, his neck, blowing softly down his back. Seeing goosebumps, I knew I was doing something right. I kissed him softly upon his neck and shoulders. I wanted him to feel completely at ease with me and in my arms. His comfort and relaxation were top priority.
As things progressed, he ended up laying back in my arms as we sat on the bed, and my fingers continued to explore and tingle his skin, I heard his breath rushing out of his nose, he was enjoying it. He was in my arms, in my grasp, I could do anything I wanted, and all I wanted was to make him feel comfortable and at ease. I stood up and got in front of him, he wanted me to play with his nipples, and I was all the more eager to make his wish come true. Soft bites, licking, sucking, he enjoyed it all, I had told him to use finger snaps when I got too intense, and I respected his boundaries as if they were fragile glass.
Things continued forward, his jock slipped below, and I took gentle care of him. After the climax of our small scene, and after the tape came off his sweet face, he told me that it wasn't like him to let that happen and he got caught up in the moment. But then that's a good thing in this case, right?
He left saying he enjoyed himself and that he was excited to learn more. As I watched him walk out of sight I smiled and thought to myself...
"Another one enters the fold."
I had spoken to him before about my interests in leather and bondage, and he expressed a genuine interest in learning more about the fetish world, so I invited him to try on my leather gear.
Although my gear was a little big on him, he said that he enjoyed the feeling of leather (not to mention he looked drop-to-my-knees HOT in it too!), I had him also try on my Chippewa engineer boots, which he seemed to enjoy as well.
I then sat down with him and explained the different safety aspects that are prevalent in different scenes. For example, in bondage scenes you need clear communication with your dom/sub, "Are the ropes too tight?" "How are your arms feeling?" "Is everything feeling comfortable?" "Sir, my arms are tingling." "The ropes are too loose/tight" "I need more support around my X". When the sub is gagged, you need a form of nonverbal communication, like finger snaps or foot banging.
I also explained what subspace / head space was and how important it is to "bring the sub back down to Earth" after an intense scene, as well as how it can damage the sub if he is left in the vulnerable state without proper aftercare.
I asked him if he wanted to try anything and he said that he was interested in being taped, so I grabbed my painter's tape and wrapped a good length around his mouth and bound his wrists. I stood him in front of the mirror and he seemed to be enjoying it. Lord knows I was! Woof!
He stood in front of the mirror in nothing but his jock, socks, and the blue tape over his mouth and around his wrists. His broad chest and pecs just begging to be kissed and admired, a beautiful body just waiting to be played with. I slowly ran my fingers up and down his body, his chest, his arms, his legs, his neck, blowing softly down his back. Seeing goosebumps, I knew I was doing something right. I kissed him softly upon his neck and shoulders. I wanted him to feel completely at ease with me and in my arms. His comfort and relaxation were top priority.
As things progressed, he ended up laying back in my arms as we sat on the bed, and my fingers continued to explore and tingle his skin, I heard his breath rushing out of his nose, he was enjoying it. He was in my arms, in my grasp, I could do anything I wanted, and all I wanted was to make him feel comfortable and at ease. I stood up and got in front of him, he wanted me to play with his nipples, and I was all the more eager to make his wish come true. Soft bites, licking, sucking, he enjoyed it all, I had told him to use finger snaps when I got too intense, and I respected his boundaries as if they were fragile glass.
Things continued forward, his jock slipped below, and I took gentle care of him. After the climax of our small scene, and after the tape came off his sweet face, he told me that it wasn't like him to let that happen and he got caught up in the moment. But then that's a good thing in this case, right?
He left saying he enjoyed himself and that he was excited to learn more. As I watched him walk out of sight I smiled and thought to myself...
"Another one enters the fold."
Sunday, April 10, 2011
A Night of Flogging and a Visit From Spiderman
(Forgive me, Sir, for my blog is late.)
Last Friday I visited my Sir who gave me such wonderful experiences as the night I discovered my love of the Rack, and who dominated me as my Superior Leather Officer. The night began as many fantastic nights do in scenes; kissing, holding, being led down into dark and sinister dungeons where you can only imagine what memorable and fun-filled fate awaits you.
My Sir tied me, bound me, played with me, and made me squirm. He bound me in the jail cell, gagged me, and I thanked him, over and over.
At one part of the evening a flogger was brought out, and I was ordered to brace myself against the puppy cage. The blows started as how I love them the most, slow, sensual, light slaps of leather against my shivering bare skin, slowly working up in intensity until I was moaning and thanking my Sir for each one. As the flogging came to an end he brought me back down from subspace, and I went down on my hands and knees, my forehead on the floor in complete and utter submission. He placed a booted foot in front of me and ordered me to service it, to which I eagerly obeyed without question. I politely and modestly asked if he would flog me again, and he began again, lightly at first and then he increased in intensity. This time it became wild, as I serviced his boots, the flogger struck me again and again, he roared with pleasure, and I thanked him "Thank you Sir! May I have another!?" repeatedly, my chest just bursting with joy.
As the flogging continued I realized just how much intensity I was receiving, not as much as Master has dealt me, but intense nonetheless, and I wanted even more! My body hungered to be beaten, to serve, to submit.
It felt amazingly natural to ache for it.
Eventually the flogging scene subsided, I came back down and relaxed on the dungeon floor.
At the end of the evening, before heading to bed, I presented myself in my black Zentai suit to my Sir. I was thrilled to hear he enjoyed it, and he then vanished into his bedroom. When he emerged, I was greeted with a sight I had seen before in pictures on some fetish profiles, but never in person.
Spiderman was standing before me. He walked up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me close. Reality was like the sky, the realm of fantasy was the ocean, and my mind dipped and bobbed upon the surface of the waters. It was my Sir in a suit of course, but then was it really Spiderman holding me that night? I sunk below, melted into the embrace, and submerged myself into my newly discovered superhero fetish fantasy.
Being held by a paragon of justice, a figure of masculine imagination made real, and led into a bedroom for an experience that would not be drawn into any comic book panel Stan Lee would dare authorize. I understood the fetish now and I loved it.
Some fetishes you can read and hear about, some you need to see, others must be experienced first hand in order to grasp the idea. I never was a fan of comic book heroes as my interests never lay in that world, but Spiderman can catch me in his web any night he wants to relieve the stress of a crime fighter!
Play safe my dear friends.
Last Friday I visited my Sir who gave me such wonderful experiences as the night I discovered my love of the Rack, and who dominated me as my Superior Leather Officer. The night began as many fantastic nights do in scenes; kissing, holding, being led down into dark and sinister dungeons where you can only imagine what memorable and fun-filled fate awaits you.
My Sir tied me, bound me, played with me, and made me squirm. He bound me in the jail cell, gagged me, and I thanked him, over and over.
At one part of the evening a flogger was brought out, and I was ordered to brace myself against the puppy cage. The blows started as how I love them the most, slow, sensual, light slaps of leather against my shivering bare skin, slowly working up in intensity until I was moaning and thanking my Sir for each one. As the flogging came to an end he brought me back down from subspace, and I went down on my hands and knees, my forehead on the floor in complete and utter submission. He placed a booted foot in front of me and ordered me to service it, to which I eagerly obeyed without question. I politely and modestly asked if he would flog me again, and he began again, lightly at first and then he increased in intensity. This time it became wild, as I serviced his boots, the flogger struck me again and again, he roared with pleasure, and I thanked him "Thank you Sir! May I have another!?" repeatedly, my chest just bursting with joy.
As the flogging continued I realized just how much intensity I was receiving, not as much as Master has dealt me, but intense nonetheless, and I wanted even more! My body hungered to be beaten, to serve, to submit.
It felt amazingly natural to ache for it.
Eventually the flogging scene subsided, I came back down and relaxed on the dungeon floor.
At the end of the evening, before heading to bed, I presented myself in my black Zentai suit to my Sir. I was thrilled to hear he enjoyed it, and he then vanished into his bedroom. When he emerged, I was greeted with a sight I had seen before in pictures on some fetish profiles, but never in person.
Spiderman was standing before me. He walked up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me close. Reality was like the sky, the realm of fantasy was the ocean, and my mind dipped and bobbed upon the surface of the waters. It was my Sir in a suit of course, but then was it really Spiderman holding me that night? I sunk below, melted into the embrace, and submerged myself into my newly discovered superhero fetish fantasy.
Being held by a paragon of justice, a figure of masculine imagination made real, and led into a bedroom for an experience that would not be drawn into any comic book panel Stan Lee would dare authorize. I understood the fetish now and I loved it.
Some fetishes you can read and hear about, some you need to see, others must be experienced first hand in order to grasp the idea. I never was a fan of comic book heroes as my interests never lay in that world, but Spiderman can catch me in his web any night he wants to relieve the stress of a crime fighter!
Play safe my dear friends.
Pistons SocaBondage Night 2!
Tonight was a very entertaining evening of bondage and restraint at Pistons!
I was tied by two different Sirs tonight, Sir K. and Sir C.
My first binding was slow, easy, simple, and lightly sensual as my arms were restrained in leather cuffs and legs were tied spread eagle with rope. A leather hood was pulled over my head and I was given a soft blindfold. Sir K then kissed me, unzipped my leather shirt and gently toyed with my nipples, at first I felt as if he wasn't doing anything, that he was holding back, but the more he did it, the more I wanted him to do more. He was torturing me with lack, like a "negative space" torture, the restraint and withholding of what you want most. Like moving in for a kiss, and right before your eager lips meet his, he pulls back, leaving you to whimper and beg for it to happen, yearning and aching for contact while he smiles sadistically as you squirm. Then, all too soon it felt, the scene stopped and he began to release me. Inside I was aching for more, I was as obedient as I could be! I was such a good boy! He teased me! He only gave me a slight hint of flavor! Damn it, I want more! Please!
After a while of talking and mingling, I met up with Sir C. to whom I offered my body for him to practice his rope skills upon. He restrained my arms with soft padded leather cuffs (my absolute favorite) above my head to the same post, and tied my legs to the post much like Sir K. did. He also blindfolded me with a black bandanna and tightly covered my mouth with black bondage tape.
Word of Advice: Even the light adhesive of bondage tape will bind to whiskers and hair in the most uncomfortable way. It may test easy on and off, but after a while it adheres to every hair and IT HURTS LIKE HELL TO TAKE IT OFF LATER! If your sub has any facial hair, use a different gagging method. Otherwise the scene will clean up very painfully!
Sir C. was sensual, sexy, and absolutely wonderful. Kissing me through the tape made me yearn for his lips on mine. He toyed with my already sensitive chest, pinching hard, licking, grasping my body, making me ache to hold him close in my own arms that were restrained above me. Argh! The frustration! But that's what a beautiful and torturous aspect of bondage is, to be unable to move how you really, eagerly want to. The teasing. He played with me, I mumbled and growled my thanks to him as he kissed and held me over and over. As the scene ended, my wishes came true and I was able to kiss him and hold him close as I came down from subspace.
The bar patio was crowded tonight, it was wonderful to see men hooded, gagged, roped, tortured, flogged, and the sounds of growls and howls of ecstasy filling the air was like sweet erotic music.
Play safe my friends, and have an absolutely beautiful night.
I was tied by two different Sirs tonight, Sir K. and Sir C.
My first binding was slow, easy, simple, and lightly sensual as my arms were restrained in leather cuffs and legs were tied spread eagle with rope. A leather hood was pulled over my head and I was given a soft blindfold. Sir K then kissed me, unzipped my leather shirt and gently toyed with my nipples, at first I felt as if he wasn't doing anything, that he was holding back, but the more he did it, the more I wanted him to do more. He was torturing me with lack, like a "negative space" torture, the restraint and withholding of what you want most. Like moving in for a kiss, and right before your eager lips meet his, he pulls back, leaving you to whimper and beg for it to happen, yearning and aching for contact while he smiles sadistically as you squirm. Then, all too soon it felt, the scene stopped and he began to release me. Inside I was aching for more, I was as obedient as I could be! I was such a good boy! He teased me! He only gave me a slight hint of flavor! Damn it, I want more! Please!
After a while of talking and mingling, I met up with Sir C. to whom I offered my body for him to practice his rope skills upon. He restrained my arms with soft padded leather cuffs (my absolute favorite) above my head to the same post, and tied my legs to the post much like Sir K. did. He also blindfolded me with a black bandanna and tightly covered my mouth with black bondage tape.
Word of Advice: Even the light adhesive of bondage tape will bind to whiskers and hair in the most uncomfortable way. It may test easy on and off, but after a while it adheres to every hair and IT HURTS LIKE HELL TO TAKE IT OFF LATER! If your sub has any facial hair, use a different gagging method. Otherwise the scene will clean up very painfully!
Sir C. was sensual, sexy, and absolutely wonderful. Kissing me through the tape made me yearn for his lips on mine. He toyed with my already sensitive chest, pinching hard, licking, grasping my body, making me ache to hold him close in my own arms that were restrained above me. Argh! The frustration! But that's what a beautiful and torturous aspect of bondage is, to be unable to move how you really, eagerly want to. The teasing. He played with me, I mumbled and growled my thanks to him as he kissed and held me over and over. As the scene ended, my wishes came true and I was able to kiss him and hold him close as I came down from subspace.
The bar patio was crowded tonight, it was wonderful to see men hooded, gagged, roped, tortured, flogged, and the sounds of growls and howls of ecstasy filling the air was like sweet erotic music.
Play safe my friends, and have an absolutely beautiful night.
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.
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.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Power Swap and Energy Flux
Today held a new experience that was completely unexpected and very energizing.
A friend I have been talking to online had come to California on business and was in the neighborhood and I had invited him to hang out for a while. We had a nice conversation, and my friend mentioned that he feels that I'm "on the fence" between sub and Dom. I said that I was a natural sub, as I enjoy submitting and serving under the right Sir and to my Master. However I have been feeling more and more dominant in the past few months, talking to submissive men online at length, some over the phone, and feeling a rush for dominant energy.
We talked some more and eventually he changed into his leather overalls and I into my leather jacket and pants and we showed them off, then we hugged and it went all downhill from there!
During the scene something very interesting happened. We swapped roles and the energy fluctuated very frequently. From a slow, low flame buildup of gentle hugging and caressing, to turbulent and passionate infernos of kissing and squeezing, gasping and sighing; the energy jumped all around the board. Roles were fallen into, then thrown across the field, back and forth. Master became boy, then Sir again, kneeling one moment and then towering over the next.
It was wild, and we both enjoyed the sudden changes in energy and flow. All that happened was an amazing exchange of power and energy, no masturbation, no ejaculation, just pure, raw energy that built up, overheated, turned down again, burned brightly once more, again flying low, then one final intense burst until it all flowed peacefully and we lay together on the bed in gear.
Play Safe my leather brothers and sisters.
A friend I have been talking to online had come to California on business and was in the neighborhood and I had invited him to hang out for a while. We had a nice conversation, and my friend mentioned that he feels that I'm "on the fence" between sub and Dom. I said that I was a natural sub, as I enjoy submitting and serving under the right Sir and to my Master. However I have been feeling more and more dominant in the past few months, talking to submissive men online at length, some over the phone, and feeling a rush for dominant energy.
We talked some more and eventually he changed into his leather overalls and I into my leather jacket and pants and we showed them off, then we hugged and it went all downhill from there!
During the scene something very interesting happened. We swapped roles and the energy fluctuated very frequently. From a slow, low flame buildup of gentle hugging and caressing, to turbulent and passionate infernos of kissing and squeezing, gasping and sighing; the energy jumped all around the board. Roles were fallen into, then thrown across the field, back and forth. Master became boy, then Sir again, kneeling one moment and then towering over the next.
It was wild, and we both enjoyed the sudden changes in energy and flow. All that happened was an amazing exchange of power and energy, no masturbation, no ejaculation, just pure, raw energy that built up, overheated, turned down again, burned brightly once more, again flying low, then one final intense burst until it all flowed peacefully and we lay together on the bed in gear.
Play Safe my leather brothers and sisters.
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