#TBT 2010: The Taunting from Atlanta continues…

Back in 2010, I visited a (different) SIR in Atlanta.  While leading up to the visit, he sent me several emails taunting me.   It was one of my first long periods in chastity.  He really knew what he was doing.   

I recently ran across the emails and thought I’d share.   They’re still fucking hot.


You arrive at the designated time and ring the bell. I answer, gesturing you to follow me downstairs where you submit yourself for inspection. You strip, placing all of your clothing and belongings into a black bag there for just this purpose. I inspect your body – making sure you haven’t committed any offenses like wearing deodorant or sticky hair gel – and verify that the serial number on the plastic lock holding your cock in chastity matches the photo you sent me a week prior when I ordered you to lock it on. Only upon passing inspection do you earn the privilege of begging for the leather posture collar and the brass master lock that will bring boy to life.

Along with the collar comes the rest of boy’s ‘everyday’ attire – a pair of locking leather chastity shorts, a leather muzzle and a pair of black paratrooper boots. For now, the boy is otherwise unrestrained – as boy has work to do. Boy is led to a large chest – and ordered to prepare the evening’s gear. It will be a night out – and I expect that boy will do everything possible to ensure that SIR shines at the Eagle this evening. There are leather boots and acres of rubber to shine. SIR sits back and watches, removing his shirt. When the gear is ready, SIR presents himself – and the boy lubes SIR up, and slides on his rubber uniform – britches, shirt, tie, belt, Sam Brown, helmet, glasses, and of course boots. Boy give SIR a complete shine – focusing on the crotch. As a reward for a job well done, boy’s muzzle is removed so he may suck SIR completely hard before pouring a generous squirt of lube down SIR’s crotch and zipping it back closed.

Keys appear, and boy is instructed to remove his shorts and collar and don boy’s public attire – the full rubber catsuit, rubber chaps, boots, gloves, collar, and Studio Gum multi-function hood that boy shined up just minutes ago. When finished, boy again presents himself for inspection. Upon passing, boy is awarded several locks to keep boy and gear securely together – ensuring boy’s anonymity during the outing. Boy is also awarded a moderately sized rubber ass-plug and a heavy steel chain – which attaches to boy’s collar.

Led by the chain, boy follows SIR to the car, climbing in through the tailgate onto the blanket laid out for boy for the two minute ride to the Eagle.

At the bar, you attract quite a bit of attention. A few of the gawkers aren’t schooled in proper etiquette and need to be reprimanded for approaching you directly. I take the opportunity to educate them – and reward them with the chance to feel a real boy in his rubber glory if – and only if – they demonstrate an aptitude for BDSM. We attract quite a bit of interest, and many offers – but tonight I’m not sharing. We make the rounds, but don’t stay long – boy still has quite an evening ahead.

After the quick ride home in the cargo space of the car, boy is lead back to the basement. boy remains fully encapsulated, and is ordered to re-shine SIR and himself before reclining in the sling. boy’s already gloved hands are placed in rubber mits and locked to the sling’s chains – his booted ankles placed in stirrups. boy is left for awhile.

Upon my return, I continue my inspection. Gags, blindfolds and plugs are adjusted. Zippers are unzipped. I perform much of this work with my tongue. I climb atop you, sliding my rubber-coated dick into your mouth and lick around your chastity – really putting that Viagra of yours to work against that plastic cock cage. Eventually, my tongue works its way down to your ass – where it spends considerable time exploring.

How well you perform during these and related, simultaneous activities determines if and where you sleep tonight.

 

“When I get you in my clutches, you’ll just be another poor gimp locked in rubber with a great body and a big dick you’re forbidden to touch – you’ll be forced to worship mine instead.”

 

I’d arrange a full coverage K-9 look for you – complete transformation into a not-necessarily-submissive rubber Rottweiler. I envision chastity built into the suit – so you dick is allowed to get hard, but is not accessible to you – perhaps it’s in a sheath that runs up your torso. Your balls will be stretched down to hang low beneath your tail. And of course your full coverage will include rubber mitts, knee pads and a complete dog hood that completes your transformation and alters your perception of the world. Ideally it’s all custom made to encase you perfectly – the hood created using from a mold of your human face so it’s perfectly tight and restrictive. The whole suit/hood combo would lock together with the help of a heavy, solid stainless steel collar.

The collar is at one end of a heavy gauge steel chain. Your booted, fully covered rubber master is at the other.


 

To any new friends and followers I’ve made over the last two years who have not seen what I’m like during a new “Kylie Era”…

…. Brace yourself.   🙂 

 

RUFF THOUGHTS: Story from a Friend

A friend gave me permission to share this.
 
Friendly Reminder: Never let another person tell you what kind of top, bottom or versatile person you should be.  If someone pressures you to be something you are not or to do something you are not comfortable with… RUN.

RUFF THOUGHTS: Early kink discoveries

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One of my very first realizations that I was different was when I watched “GI JOE: The Movie” when I was very young.  There were many times in the movie where an act of bondage happened.  

The top photo showed my first introduction to what I’d later discover as Mummification.  The “Joes” were captured by this plant/insect like thing and wrapped up tightly.   I remember thinking… “I want to do that!”.  Here’s a clip on YouTube.

The 2nd photo of the “Cobra Commander” reminds me much of the suspension bondage I’ve been put in while my SIRS’ dungeon… except their place doesn’t involve a giant clam.  Here’s a clip of that scene on YouTube.

The full movie is on YouTube but the sound is a bit wonky so I’d suggest watching it on DVD from Netflix.  Might be a fun trip down memory lane if you were a fan as a kid.  

(Also… if you want a good laugh relating to how campy Cobra Commander was… click this  😆 )

RUFF RANT: I call Bullshit

It’s bullshit toxic masculinity like this that holds people back from discovering their kinky selves. I agreed that tradition has it’s place but your tradition is not law.

There is room for everyone in the Fetish Community.

Unfollow Shitty Twitter accounts like this.

 

 

And then he attacked a specific group of Fetishists.

Shameful.

#TBT: RUFF THOUGHTS: Growing past scenes that went bad

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  • Every now and then I like to pull this older blog entry up and share it again in hopes that it will help others.

Just ran across this older photo from San Francisco around July 2012.   I’m the boy in the Leather Straitjacket.  Another version of the photo in my blog banner above.

It had been a VERY long time since I had done a public scene like this.  I had a bad experience with a inattentive Bondage Top about 12 years ago. That experience sort of damaged my ability to trust others with total control over me in a public setting such as this.  Yet, I still craved this sort of fun years later. Some fantasies just don’t go away.

Time goes by fast and so do opportunities like this.  “Up Your Alley” Fair (Dore Alley) was approaching and I knew this Leather Top that would be attending the event.  He was (is) a close friend that I trust and thought “worst that could happen is that he’d decline”.   Man, it was still difficult to type out the question!  After getting my dorky nervous message… he replied “It would be my pleasure to have this experience with you”.     🙂

That day came and I sort of expected myself to back out but he was great with taking control by making solid plans on when to meet and what to wear.    It all happened so naturally and we had a great time.  This day was very special to me and will always be one of my favorite moments as a Leatherman.  Not just because it was a hot scene with an even hotter friend in full BLUF Gear (WOOF!)… but, because I pushed past the hurt and got to live out a fantasy once again.  

#TBT: My first Chicago Rubbermen party

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I recently found these photos on an old RUBBERZONE gallery that I had forgotten about!    Some of my first rubber.   The Rubber Chaps were from Mr S Leather.   Man, I miss those! 

This was before going out to a Chicago Rubbermen party back in 2007. That’s our first Chicago apartment.  My partner and I had just moved to Chicago.  We were so excited to be a part of the Chicago Leather Community at the time. 

“Coming Out Kinky” by Nmpc on Recon

Most gay Leathermen and Leatherwomen have a second coming out in their lives that they define as “Coming Out Kinky”.   A point where they decide they are not going to hide that part of their lives anymore.  No longer ashamed of their interests and lifestyle.   Everyone’s story is unique in it’s own special way.  Here is one person’s moving and funny story.  

 

“Guilty Pleasure” by Nmpc

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“What are we listening to?”

The teenager flipped his hair out of his eyes. Tegan and Sara’s Body Work had just started for the second time as my iPod reached the end of the playlist and started over.

“Not a fan of lesbian duos going pop Evan?” I asked as I went over to find a new playlist.

“Do you like this stuff?” He asked scornfully.

I laughed at his self evident question.

“I take it you don’t?”

“Um, it’s okay I guess, my friends just don’t like it.” He went back to chopping green bell peppers for the salad.

“Does it matter what they think?” I asked.

Before he could answer the knife glanced off the smooth skin of the vegetable as he cut down. The blade sliced into his finger. Blood splashed onto the green cutting board. That summer our boss had introduced different colors for cutting different foods. Green for veggies, red for meat, white for bread, yellow for fruit, and blue for dairy.

The other kitchen supervisor sprang into action and ushered the now ashen faced boy to the first aid room. As I cleaned up the blood and threw away the peppers, I wondered if the question was unreasonable.

Of course it matters what your friends think when you’re 15, not much else does matter. I remember sitting in ninth grade science during work time going through each other’s iPods, making catty comments about other people’s music taste.

I remember labeling Britney Spears as Arcane Fire on my iPod, because Arcane Fire was “serious music,” while Britney was not and I wanted to be considered serious.

It took me until college to figure out that guilty pleasures are a method of cultural control. Serious music is indie rock and and folk music, pop music is a frivolous thing that queer people and girls like. We let the Pitchforks of the world declare a monopoly on cool, and until very recently cool were things that straight white men liked. Or things they absorbed from other groups when some sound was so undeniable that it could not be ignored.

Liking what you like and not being embarrassed to bring it up to anyone who asks for fear of seeming “unserious,” shouldn’t be so hard.

Yesterday I was sitting in a gay bar in Minneapolis. A drunk straight woman wandered over and began an unsolicited conversation about Robyn. Most people that know me well are aware of my devotion to Robyn, so we bonded over the perfection of Call Your Girlfriend.

Behind me on the wall were a collection of beautifully shot black and white photos of non normative sexual acts. She pointed to one of the pictures and suddenly we were talking about kinky sex. It was funny because she didn’t really seem all that confused or off put. It was refreshing, given the endless aggressions on queer people, both big and small, that run through popular culture.

The miserable rat pack of Seth Rogen, James Franco, and company turn out a stream of movies where gay sex is a punchline. Because gay people are fine, but our sex is gross, and two male characters being confused as lovers is funny.

I’m sure that these men are fine with the gay men that I’m sure are in their lives, but they clearly haven’t gotten over what culture has taught them about queer sex.

I spent most of last weekend at Twin Cities Leather Weekend. A number of people in my life asked me about what event was taking up my whole weekend.

There I was again, feeling shame about an immutable part of my personality and sexuality. I just referred to it as a general gay event, leaving out the word leather. Lying by omission to almost everyone.

The thing is I’m not really sure why. I spent time worrying about if pictures made it on Facebook. But who was I worried about? And why would they care?

Apparently I’m not as enlightened as I thought. I’d let the fact that a part of my sexuality falls farther outside of the norm than just being gay, and spent a lot of time and energy omitting that from any discussion of my life with straight people.

This weekend showed me that the leather community is going to be important enough to me, that splitting my life in half is not feasible or desirable.

So I guess this is a second coming out of a sort, odd as that may be.

I’m done feeling bad about being outside of normal.

Last night I found a piece of paper on the floor of the bar. On it someone had written “The Gospel According to Gaga.” It didn’t continue to reveal what those teachings are, but anyone below 30 has heard Gaga’s slightly hokey “Born This Way.” Of course she is not the first to preach radical acceptance in popular culture, but the song launched at #1 on the main American musical chart.

I guess there’s some hope for me. In the last three years I’ve lived at nine addresses in three states, truly believed I was going to die of cancer, but still met daring, magical people at every turn.

This time last year I lived in the wilderness of the North Cascades. This time next year I don’t know where I’ll be, or who I’ll be.

Hopefully I’ll have learned to give myself a break.

Probably not, but one step at a time.

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IDENTIFIED: “Hannibal”

Some very kinky friends of mine (and myself) were trying to figure out what this gif was from.  We assumed it was from a “Hostel” or “Saw” move.    Thanks to twitter, we have been informed it’s from the show “Hannibal”.   Below is a clip from the show. Rather intense.