Saturday, April 19, 2014

The Bohemians - (Continued)

The furniture store seemed a mere distraction as Kurt went through the motions of his day.  He could not stop thinking about what kind of "reward" the kid he watched at the bar last night was going to be given by the Bohemians.  He suspected that Max would not be the only guy doing the rewarding either.

His day seemed to drag on and on, and though his customers didn't seem to notice, he struggled with an on and off again erection through the day as the scene from last night played over in his mind.  He was fascinated how Max had taken control of the kid and how his severity seemed tempered with a good dose of common sense and care.  Max didn't want to hurt the boy. He wanted to use him for their mutual pleasure.

That was a skill Kurt wanted to hone.  He had dabbled with rough sex, both as a bottom and a Top, but the Top role was what gave him the most pleasure.  He liked being the motivator in a scene, the guy in charge, something far removed from his daily routine.  Here at the store, he worked for his customers, and though he gently nudged them toward the items that would bring him the most commission, he was still serving their best interests.

He daydreamed about being someone like Max, a full-fledged leatherman Top, a guy who could attract hot men like flies to sugar.  On his break he practiced his severe look in the mirror of the bathroom.  Imagining a cigar in his teeth, he looked at every angle of his face and worked to bring out the most sinister expression.  Still, it didn't work.  He just looked like a junior serial killer.  Eyes full of anger and his jaw set in a clenched pose.  That's when he realized he looks silly, and he started to chuckle.

And, that was when he saw it!  A leatherman, dressed in a white shirt and tie, but still the impression of one.  It was the smile that made it work.  Max took joy in what he was and what he did.  It wasn't all intimidation and cold calculated aggression.  The thing that made Max so attractive to bottoms was not just his physique, which was impressive, but his attitude. Confident, assertive and yet tempered with good natured humor. That was the key, and from that time forward, Kurt would remember not to take himself too seriously.

That night when he got back to his apartment, Kurt was so filled with pent up sexual frustration that he stripped off his clothes and grabbed an old issue of Drummer Magazine.  The pages worn from being thumbed through hundreds of times, he looked at some of the illustrations and grabbed his swollen cock.

The over exaggerated features of the men in the drawings emphasized their bubble butts and immense genitalia.  As he stroked himself he looked closely at the faces the artist had drawn.  All had an expression of not just sexual excitement, but smiles.  They were enjoying themselves even if it was forcing their partners to do things that might not seem pleasurable.  The guy with the round ass, getting fucked by the impossibly muscular cop was sweating, and grinning.  The cop chewed a cigar and smirked as he slapped the boy's ass leaving an illustrated hand print.

Kurt fell back on his bed and closed his eyes.  Suddenly he was that cop.  Dressed in leather, with a huge cock, he was splitting the ass of a bubble-butted blond boy. And he was laughing.  He slapped the boy's ass over and over as he fucked him.  Then pulling the boys hair, he pulled his huge cock from his ass with a pop and spun him around.  Pointing his pulsing dick at the boy's face he barked an order.
"Open your hole!"

The boy in his imagination responded dutifully and eagerly opened his mouth awaiting the reward.

Kurt held his throbbing cock pointed right at the blonde's face as he felt his orgasm building from deep inside him.  It rushed through his body, contracting his balls, pulsing his prostate, throbbing in his hand and exploding from his cock showering the blond man kneeling before him with hot sticky cum.

It seemed to last forever, and yet it was only a few seconds.  Finally he opened his eyes, expecting to see a handsome face, drenched in cum looking up at him.  Instead he saw the ceiling fan turning slowly over his bed.

He caught his breath as his cock deflated, but the vivid image was imprinted on his mind.  He would become that leatherman.  He knew what he wanted and it went beyond a jerk off fantasy.  He would someday wear that club patch on his back, and he and Max and his club brothers would share the kinds of scenarios that would become the stuff of other men's fantasies.

Friday, April 18, 2014

Chapter 1 - The Bohemians

(At the encouragement of a few folks on Facebook I have decided to start trying my hand at fiction. This is going to be a serial, and I am not sure where it will go, but something in me needs the creative outlet.  If you enjoy it, let me know.  If you hate it, let me know that as well.  All the events and characters in this work are fictional....maybe.)

The Bohemians

It's amazing what a guy will do for a back patch on his leather vest.

It's not just a patch, it announces to everyone in the community that you have arrived, you are part of it, you are a player.  At least that is what having the club insignia for the Bohemians meant to Kurt.  It would be his ticket to not just the leather scene, but a way to get the respect he had always sought but never seemed to be able to command.  The question was would he be able to cut it?

It's not like Kurt just woke up one day and said to himself, "I think I'll join the most notorious and secretive gay leather club in the country'.  It was something that was gradual and it had been building ever since he was a teenager.  He had gotten hold of a stash of old Honcho and Drummer magazines and the fiction and pictorials fired his fantasies from that time forward.  Something about the masculine men and the rough sex just struck a chord that resonated all the way from his crotch to his brain. 

He had run across the Bohemians at a leather bar one night. They were having some kind of fund raising event and out on the club's deck the members stood around smoking cigars and carousing.  They seemed like an unintimidating group until one of them grabbed a young guy and slammed him against the deck fence.

"You gonna just watch us all night or do you want to get 'involved'?"

The slim blond mumbled something from the fence, his face pressed against it. 

"I didn't hear that, boy."

"Yes sir, I want to get involved."

The other club members laughed and gathered around as the young man was pulled away from the fence.

The man who was holding him wore a badge that said his name was Max.  He spoke into the boys ear in a sinister whisper, "well, here is what being involved means, boy".  With that he turned the young blond to face him directly.

"You will address me and any other club brother as 'sir' unless otherwise instructed."

The boy nodded, "yes, Sir."

"You will take every bit of whatever I dish out, unless you think it will do permanent harm to you or you think it is unsafe.  At which time you will let me know by asking permission to speak."

"I understand Sir."

"You will treat my brothers the same as me, but know I will not only be in control of you, I will be your protector.  Understand?"

The boy nodded.  "Yes, Sir"

With that, Max turned the boy back around and slammed him against the fence again.  He grabbed the waistband of the boy's jeans and jerked them down exposing his nicely rounded ass. 

"Aw damn, fellas!  Look at that cute butt!"

The crowd moved closer, blocking Kurt's view.  He heard them cheering and generally encouraging whatever was going on between Max and the boy.  That's when he heard the sound of a leather belt slapping skin.


It was follow by a muffled whimper and then another slap.

Kurt hesitated to move too close for fear of being drawn into the scene, but he couldn't turn away and listened as time after time the belt struck the skin of the boy's ass.  It seemed to go on for a long time, but with each slap he felt his own cock getting harder and harder in his jeans.  This was a fantasy right out of Drummer, except that it was happening live and just a few feet away.

Finally the sounds ceased and the Bohemians erupted into applause.  They moved back a bit and Kurt saw the boys ass, stripped with bright red whelps, just before he dropped to his knees in front of Max.
He buried his face in Max's crotch and energetically licked his bulge through the faded Levi's. 

Max looked down and pulled the boy's face away from his pants.  "Now that is what I call involvement!"

The boy smiled up at him. 

"Save some of that for later," Max chuckled, "you will get your reward back at the clubhouse."

Kurt finished his beer and moved back into the crowded bar.  His cock straining at his jeans and his imagination fueled with images of what was in store once Max and the boy were in the privacy of the clubhouse. 

This was what he wanted: the energy, the passion and the hot, raw masculinity on display.  Wrap it in leather and it was the whole package.  From that night he  knew he wanted to be one of those men.

( be continued.)

Flashback to Inquisition

As a lot of you know, I was once part owner of what was called the "best playspace in the US".  That was back in the pate 1990's but the memories from that time are still vivid.

One reason Inquisition was so good as a playspace was that we took great care in supplying what would make for a great playspace from a BDSM players point of view.   The social area was minimal both from a conservation of space standpoint and from the mood we wanted to set.  Inquisition was about play and we wanted it to embody "leatherspace" that elusive quality that would immediately overwhelm your senses and put you into the mood for serious play.

If you were seeking a dungeon space with lots of pillows. couches and seating for observation, you were in the wrong spot.  There were a supply of folding chairs if needed but the crosses, horses tables and racks were the main attraction.  Each had a side table for equipment, each had a dedicated spotlight so you could clearly see what you were doing.  That meant no colored lights on play areas.  A pink light or red bulb makes it very difficult to judge the effects your work is having ion the skin of your play partner!

We even striped off play areas with caution tape on the floor, clearly marking where it was safe to observe and walk without getting caught in a backswing of a flogger or whip.  It was a special space indeed.

Music was provided from a sound system that had a small DJ booth right in the middle of the area.  We usually programmed CDs for the evening, but occasionally had a live DJ for special events.  A DJ who knew what BDSM was about and that made all the difference.  Good music can flow with a party and enhance the scenes or it can be intrusive and annoying. Ours was never annoying!

All our DM's had radio headsets so they could communicate with each other and it kept tings flowing smoothly even during parties with over 300 people.

I sincerely miss Inquisition.  I miss the feeling of leatherspace and the kind of play that happened there.

We had parties that catered to different tastes, mostly pansexual, some women's nights some men only and once in a while a "queer party", those were the best.  When you hit a critical mass of gay men and lesbians who were all intent on having a good time and were sufficiently uninhibited things got wild, in a good way.

We even had the occasional "dick party".  You had to have one to enter, not necessarily attached to you!  The stories form those nights are legend.

The main point of this rant is this, a good dungeon in my opinion should be set up for people who really play, not gawkers or posers.  Create that and they will come...and you can take that however you want!

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Back to the Dungeon

So since most of my political stuff is on Facebook, I am going to revert this blog back to its original purpose, to blog about BDSM, sex and maybe even some fiction.

So to those who came here to read about politics, sorry, but remember radical sexuality is a political act in itself.  And if you came here expecting something of a more adult variety? Welcome to my dungeon.