I was 20 years old and had only ever experienced leather a couple of times in my life. The fact that those times were the most rewarding experiences I could remember informed my choice to return the uniform bar, Headquarters, on Castro. This is the story of my experience that night.
I walked into the bar which was thick with cigar smoke and leather men. They had a pool table in the far back of the bar with a single light to light it up. Sitting cross-legged on the table was a man of about 60 years old. He was bald and wore a sleeveless shirt and shorts. His face was rugged and his eyes literally glowed blue under the light. It was such an amazing sight that I had tears in my eyes. He was so sweet and inviting that I didn’t even stop at the bar, I just walked right up to him to talk to him. He stared at me the entire time.
So I introduced myself and shook his hand. We had some chit-chat about this and that and then he asked me why I was there at the bar. I told him briefly about my other experience in this bar and I was ready to learn something new.
He asked if I wanted to leave the bar and go to his place on Diamond Heights. He explained that he would drive and that I could leave at any time if I wasn’t entirely comfortable. I decided to go with him.
He drove a nice sports car which indicated that the man had a lot of money. Not everyone in SF had a car. He also had a beautiful condo in Diamond Heights facing the city. From his bedroom window, you could see the entire San Francisco skyline from bridge to bridge. It was stunning.
So we parked the car in his garage and he opened the door to his place and followed me in. When we got to the lower level, he indicated that his bedroom was in the loft upstairs, but wanted to offer me a joint. I normally avoid pot because it can make me feel like a vegetable, but I took a hit off the joint and felt immediately high. I figured it was mostly nerves and excitement and tried to relax for a minute.
When we got upstairs, I could see a lot of things hanging on the wall around the loft. I couldn’t really process why they were there and when I asked about them, he just laughed and said that we would get to that in a minute.
He began taking off my clothes and rubbing my skin all over. He was excited like he had just been given a new toy or something. I felt objectified and it was kind of a turn on. I brushed away the thoughts that he particularly liked my skin.
He had me lie down on this huge bed that he had made himself. He put these super-comfortable restraints around my wrists and ankles. Then he clipped each wrist into a strap connected to the bed. He did the same for my ankles.
Next, he reached over to the side of the bed where a huge level was located and he cranked the lever one time. My wrists were pulled up and away from each other while my ankles were the same. I was being stretched out on this bed that I would later be able to identify as a rack. He pulls the lever again and I am stretched tight. I had a little discomfort on my wrists, but I was okay. He asked if I was okay and I said yes.
He then picked up a quarter from the nightstand and attempted to bounce it off my belly. It just landed flat so he said, “Not quite tight enough, boy” and pulled the lever again. This time it was moderately uncomfortable, but I could handle it.
Then the thoughts started creeping in. He knew I had done military service in the past and realized that I would recognize the quarter test. This is how the Drill Sergeant would test our bunks to see if they were “tight”. If they weren’t we’d be punished with pushups and he would wreck our bed and make us fix it while everyone else got punished while we fixed our beds.
But then he took of his shirt and pants with his back to me. His back was a twisted mess of scar tissues that reminded me of Freddy Kruger, only much, much, worse. There were literally hills and valleys where the flesh was so hideously deformed that you could lose a matchbox car in them. I stifled back the terror when a warm sensation flows over me because I realize what has happened.
It was obvious to me that he planned to skin me alive like that movie Silence of the Lambs. I had allowed myself to be completely unable to stop him and this was the end of my life. Tears formed in my eyes, but I was comforted by this warm and resolute feeling that I no longer had to worry about what was going on now or in my future. I was soon to be dead and my body was preparing for it. I wondered if I was having a heart attack or a stroke or something. I decided it was shock and went with it.
He lumbered over to me and crawled up on top of me naked with his huge penis in my face. He said to me, “son, you really are new to all of this aren’t ya? Well let me tell you something a little too late for ya. “
“Rule number 1 – never let a stranger tie you up.” he grumbled and acted upset or let down that I had not followed rule number 1.
He reached over to the side of the bed and grabbed a silver knife that was about 10″ long and perfectly shiny. He held the knife against one side of my throat and said to me, “Well, you fucked up boy. I was gonna enjoy pissing down your throat but you ain’t even worth my piss.” and he drags the cold silver knife across my throat and then stabs it into the pillow by my head. I could feel a little feather land on my face.
He crawled off of me and says, “I’m gonna piss downstairs–you stay put” and he chuckled to himself.
As soon as he was out of sight, my mind kicked into high gear. I was sure he had cut my throat and this was my only chance. I was going to get free and jump out his window so that even if I died, he wouldn’t be able to hide it. I figured I might get someone’s attention and they could rush me to a hospital. It was my only chance.
Clip, Clip and my hands were free. Immediately I reached for my neck to see how deeply he had cut me. I figured I would be bleeeding out but needed to know how deep the cut was. I figured I was in shock. There was no cut.
A fleeting thought ran through my head, “well that was easy enough” and I reached to grab the knife and hide it under my side where I could grab it and kill the mother fucker when he came up the stairs again. As I am positioning the knife, another thought goes through my mind.
“If the man wanted to kill me and harvest my skin, he would have killed me right away. He would have had a plastic bag to catch the blood. He was either the dumbest killer ever or that wasn’t his intent at all. Then I thought about Rule 1 and suddenly it became clear to me. This is a lesson. He has no intention to kill me, but he had to teach me a lesson so I wouldn’t be in this situation with someone less compassionate.
I was really trying not to cry at this point. It was a big gamble and I wasn’t sure what to do. My sense of time was distorted by the pot and I had to make a decision quick.
So I clipped my wrists back in and laid back. Almost immediately after laying back down, he comes up the stairs and we proceed to do some sexual things but nothing invasive or even slightly painful. He made me pee in his mouth which was difficult for me to do. Just simple stuff, but the entire time I was terrified that he could still skin me alive.
When he unclipped me and put his arms around me I had tears coming out my eyes though I wasn’t crying so much. I was scared and shaking and he cradled me in his arms to explain what was happening.
He told me that when he went downstairs, he didn’t really have to pee. He wanted to know if I was a willing participant. He said that he set a timer and after 5 minutes, he would come up and release me to take me home or wherever I wanted. He would apologize for scaring me and hope that his lesson was learned.
But, he said he could hear me get loose from the clips. That meant that I knew how easy those climbing clips were to release. Once he heard that, he reset the timer for 5 minutes. If he heard me clip myself back in, that was his sign that I was a willing participant. That was the only series of events that meant that it was okay for him to proceed. To my credit, I was one of about a dozen boys that had clipped themselves back in. If the timer had gone off either time, he would have brought up the lights, apologized and taken me home or called me a cab.
So he knew the entire time that I could escape if necessary. But I didn’t know that he knew. The mind fuck that this entire scene taught me was invaluable. I was once again in complete control as the sub. But not knowing that was the reward for the entire scene. This is exactly what the willful exchange of power is about. I am grateful to this day for Lesson 1.
Note: the reason his flesh was so horribly deformed is that every year, he is the whipping boy at Dorey Alley fair in San Francisco. The Dorey Alley fair is the real Leather/S&M fair in the city whereas Fulsom Street fair is the watered down commercial version that all the uptight pretty boys buy their leather costumes for.
So this guy is whipped publically by professionals that use the whip to lacerate his flesh on stage. It’s his kink, and he is always a willing participant. The process leaves his flesh in terrible shape, but reminds him that we are so much more than the flesh that we carry around. He is a compassionate and loving man and I am forever grateful to have spent time with him.