Tag: leather

Rule #1 – Never Let a Stranger Tie You Up

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.

The Choice

An exploration of the power dynamic in leather sex.

This is a true story of actual events that shaped my understanding of the Leather community and informs my belief in the role of dom/sub and the willful exchange of power.

It was a Friday night in the Castro and I was 20 years old but had a fake ID. I was horny and wanted to have sex with a big leather daddy, something I had only fantasized about. I picked Headquarters, the uniform bar off 18th Street in the heart of the Castro. It was 1990 and AIDS had already swept through the community establishing in its wake the negative connotation for leather-sex as irresponsible or dangerous. I was not deterred.

I walked into the bar and ordered the King of Beers, a Budweiser, and asked for two dollars in quarters. I loved pinball and they happened to have a couple of pinball machines right next to the bar where the hottest man was sitting. I floated over to the pinball machine, bent over to put my beer on the floor, and fed the machine its quarters. Nothing.

I was really expecting a comment or something from the man at the bar, but he ignored me. Two hours and at least a dozen multi-balls later and I had not gotten a single reaction from this man. I was bitter and frustrated as the lights came up and the bar started to close.

“You ready to go, boy” was the first thing I heard the man say. I was like Jack Russel Terrier on meth. I was bouncing around, so excited that I couldn’t help myself. As we exited the bar, I told him we could walk to my apartment just across Market Street on Castro Street. He said we were taking his car. I reiterated that it would be harder to park the car and that I lived literally 100 feet from the bar. He stated one last time that we were taking the car and I understood that I needed to shut up and get in the car.

It was a brand new Volkswagen Golf–pristine white. I kind of laughed to myself- some leather daddy, huh? When we get to my apartment, he pulls up on the sidewalk and parks illegally in front of my bay window at the garden level.

He tells me to get his bag from the back of the car as he walks to my door. I could barely lift the huge leather bag and I began to wonder what I was getting into. Not enough for my erection to go down, but a little fear creeped in.

The apartment I was living in was located right above Market Street on Castro. We had a beautiful bay window that faced the street at the garden level. I was living with someone I had fallen in love with the previous year during a computer convention my first time in San Francisco. Falling in love with this man literally saved my life. It was his choice not to be dating when I arrived, but I never though I would trick with someone in his apartment, especially not with him asleep in the back room.

We get in the door and the leather daddy has me put the bag down. He tells me to strip naked and I start to suggest going to my bedroom…then shut up and stripped naked. He walked over to the bay window and opened the curtains all the way. The bars had just closed and people were walking by the garden level flat and looking in to see us. They were forced to walk around his car that was blocking most of the sidewalk, but that gave them an excuse to look right in the bay window. I was a little freaked out, as small crowds would form and then dissipate.

Once we got started, I don’t remember thinking about the people outside for even a second. I was so focused and driven to be the best boy this leather daddy had ever played with. I had previously had some serious dental problems and pain was something I was used to. I figured I had an advantage here.

He put a dog’s choke collar on me with the teeth pressed against my neck. Then he put a cock and ball separator on me and ran a chain through the loose part of the collar through my legs and tied it to the door handle. I could hear the love of my life stir a little in the back room and my heart was racing.

He had me walk towards him, away from the door. Each step pulled my nuts and dug the teeth of the collar into my neck. He encouraged me to continue like he expected it. It was supportive, but had the tone of, I know you can do better, come on. And I did.

What I remember next was that he had his arms around me and my back was pressed against the door. I was too excited to realize that I had choked myself out. When I couldn’t breathe, he picked me up and walked me back to the door where the collar was released. He loosened the collar and could see the 40 little bruises around my neck. He told me I was a good boy and stroked my head while I pressed against his hairy chest, shaking just a little but happy, so happy.

He then pulled out a cat of nine tails and had me reach out to hold his nipple ring. He told me that he was going to whip me with this thing and that when it got to be too much, I would let him know by releasing his nipple. He would stop the second I indicated that I had enough.

As he began lightly whipping my sides, cock, and legs, I tried not to wince or express discomfort. He picked up the pace and increased the strength of each hit. I could feel the residual pain when the whip would come away from my body, but I dealt with it. He never once asked if I was okay–why should he? At one point, I felt my legs start to buckle but caught myself. I thought, surely I have to let go, right? But I was driven to be the best he had ever seen. He stopped a couple minutes later. He praised me and grabbed a towel from his bag. I could see blood on the towel and realized that I was bleeding.

He began reprimanding me in an educational sense about my sense of safety. He insisted that I learn boundaries and explained that I should have stopped him earlier than I did. He never apologized because I was in control. But I could tell he didn’t mean to cause me to bleed. He bandaged me up and packed his things. He gave me his name and number and told me to call him at 10:30a.m. tomorrow if I was ready to learn more.

He left, and I went to set down and realized it was probably best not to sit on my ass anytime soon. It was so red and sore. I went to get in the shower and masturbated for what seemed like all night. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

At 10:30 the next morning, I called. He answered on the first ring saying, “good boy” and I had tears in my eyes. I was so into this guy that I couldn’t believe it.

He explained that he was duly impressed and was considering making me an offer. He said he had never offered this to anyone without a thorough series of tests. He offered to let me come to his compound in Palo Alto and meet his boys.

He had 3 full grown men that he referred to as his boys. They were his to command and they provided for his pleasure only. They didn’t work, or wear clothes and they attended to him at all times. They were stunningly gorgeous and they had amazing bodies. They would take the scraps of affection that he would offer and they seemed content and fulfilled.

One of the boys had been there for 15 years and all three were committed for life.

After my visit, he gave me a couple days to think about what I had experienced. Then he offered to make me one of his boys. I was flattered by the offer and after talking with his boys each of them had an initiation story that sounded intense. They had to go through a lot before they got their offer. I got mine right away.

I would have to give up my six figure job where I had already established myself in the industry I was in, my apartment, my friends, everything. I would never wear clothes again and I would have my head shaved and his information tattooed in a QR code on the back of my head (this was before QR codes were common). I would become his property and he would take care of me for life.

I had one week to decide and surprisingly, it became the hardest decision I have ever made. I chose not to take him up on his offer. I knew there would be no second offer or a chance to negotiate and it broke my heart that I would never see or hear from him again.

Come to find out, he was the Dean of Stanford’s Psychology Department. He was compassionate and one of the hottest men I have ever seen. I was so close to taking him up on his offer and still today, I think about how different my life would have been.

What I learned from the situation is invaluable. I was in complete control the entire time even though I wasn’t aware of it at the time. I chose my limits and the motivation to allow myself to experience more pain for his pleasure drove me. I do not regret a single moment I spent in his presence and when times are rough, I can’t help but think that maybe I made the wrong choice.