| Subject: The Leather Fraternity |
Author:
Stan
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Date Posted: 13:58:24 04/28/17 Fri
I grew up in a medium-sized city of a few hundred thousand people. Although there were 4 or 5 gay bars in the city, there just did not seem to be enough gay people there to support any special interest groups which did exist for gay people in the larger metropolitan areas. So a gay person, like myself, was pretty much limited to meeting other gay people at the bars.
To be honest, even when I went home with someone, the "vanilla sex" we would have just did not seem all that exciting to me. I seemed to be more attracted to "rougher" guys who looked and acted more "masculine".
One Saturday evening, I was "cruising" at a gay bar, and I met this one guy. His name was "Steve". We seemed to be compatible. He was a top and I was a bottom, and, best of all, we were both attracted to each other. Steve was a "take charge" kind of guy, which was great for me, as I was kind of shy and reluctant to make the first move. He asked me if I'd like to go over to his place, and I said "Yes".
Shortly after we arrived at his apartment, Steve began taking off all my clothes. (Like I said, he was a "take charge" kind of guy. Forget the polite social amenities!) He said he'd keep his own clothes on for a while. That was okay with me as I thought he looked especially "hot" in those clothes. He wore a heavy black leather jacket over a black t-shirt, black jeans with a wide black leather belt around his waist, and black leather harness boots. He took me over to his bed, gently nudged me onto it, and then rolled me over onto my back. Then, with all his clothes still on, he lay on top of me face-down. I liked the smell of his leather jacket. It was quite an aphrodisiac. I think I now understand why some guys are "into leather". I liked feeling his leather jacket with my hands. Then, I would wrap my arms around his waist and run my fingertips over the wide leather belt he was wearing. Although I didn't exactly know why, that seemed to give me a special thrill. I also liked the way his tall leather boots felt against my legs. And, most of all, I liked feeling the weight of his body on top of me.
Then, I was caught off guard when Steve suddenly held my hands down to the bed with his hands, and pressed his boots down on my feet and legs. I tried to get up, but I wasn't able to. He had totally overpowered me. He asked me if that scared me, and I replied, "No. Surprisingly, it's quite a turn-on." He then asked me if I had ever been in bondage before, and I replied that I had never tried it with anyone. He said he thought I'd really like it, and he asked me if I would be willing to try it right now. I thought about it for a few moments and then said, "Yes. I think I'd like that".
Steve got up off the bed and rolled me over onto my stomach. He then walked over to a drawer and pulled out some leather wrist and ankle restraints. He used them to tie me down spread-eagled to the 4 corners of his bed. He told me to try to escape from my bonds, but I found I could barely move at all. Suddenly, I realized that I was now Steve's "prisoner", and I was totally at his mercy. It was scary, but it was also very exciting. Then he got back onto the bed, clothes and all, and lay on top of me again. He shoved his pelvis repeatedly against my butt. It felt so good. He could tell I was really enjoying that. He moved his head up close to mine and said, in a very quiet tone, "Do you know what goes really great with bondage? and I said "No". Then he whispered in my ear, "Discipline!" When he said that, my body tensed up.
Steve asked me if I had ever been disciplined by another guy before, and I said "No". He asked me if I'd like to try it that evening, and I said, "I'm not sure. It kind of scares me." But then, not wanting to rule it out altogether, I added, "If I say yes, what do you plan to do to me?" He replied, "First, I'll give you a little spanking with my hand, and if that works out okay, I'll give you a few good licks with my belt. Does that sound agreeable to you?" So I agreed to try it. He got off the bed and took off the leather jacket he had been wearing. Then he got back onto the bed on his knees. He pressed his left hand against my back and began spanking my butt with his right hand. He started out very lightly and then gradually used more force. After about 5 minutes, he began spanking me much harder. My butt was getting a little sore, but strangely, I still got aroused with every stroke of his hand. He kept this up for a few more minutes and then he stopped. He told me, "You've responded really well to the hand spanking. I think you're ready for a taste of my belt. What do you think?" I felt encouraged by what he said. So I agreed with him that it was time for me to GET THE BELT!
Steve got off the bed once more but stood close by where I could see him. I got incredibly aroused as I watched him "ceremoniously" unbuckle his belt, draw it out of the belt loops of his jeans ever so slowly, and double it over. He struck the open palm of his free hand with the belt several times trying to intimidate me, but it just got me more excited in anticipation of "my first belt whipping". Then he moved closer to my butt. He raised his right hand and began striking my ass repeatedly with his belt. Surprisingly, those initial strokes didn't really hurt all that much. As the whipping continued, I sensed that the strokes were gradually getting heavier. At first, they had felt like firm slaps, but they still felt good. At some point, though, I noticed that the strokes had begun to feel more like stings, and I definitely did not like the way that felt. But his belt continued to strike my ass, and it began to feel more and more painful. I found myself beginning to cry from the pain. I was embarrassed. I told Steve I just couldn't hold back the tears. He said, "Don't worry about it. Crying is a normal response to a whipping", and he admitted he got quite turned on by making me cry. The pain was getting worse and worse. I finally cried out, "Stop! I can't take the pain anymore", but I began to panic when his belt continued striking my ass. I frantically moved my body from side to side, trying to escape from his belt, but the restraints made that impossible. I began to cry even louder. But, after another minute, the whipping suddenly stopped. Steve asked me if I was okay and I somewhat tearfully replied "I think so". He explained to me that he didn't stop the whipping when I asked him to because he wanted to let me know that he was still in charge. HE would decide how much pain I would have to endure. He added that he also wanted me to know what it felt like when the punishment went over my limits. I asked him, "Does one ever become immune to the pain?", and he replied, "Whippings never stop being painful. Eventually, one just learns to accept the pain." He then freed me from the restraints, took off his own clothes, and hopped into bed where we had some sex before retiring for the night.
The next morning, after we got up, Steve told me I might enjoy attending a meeting of a private club called "The Leather Fraternity" which he was a member of. He said that, although a lot of the members wore leather, the primary focus of the group was actually on corporal punishment. Meetings were held once a month on a Saturday night. Members could bring a visitor to the meeting, and that visitor could choose whether to participate in the activities or just remain an observer. Steve said he would like to invite me to their next meeting, and I eagerly agreed to go with him.
Steve picked me up and drove me there the night of the next club meeting. One of the club members had converted the unusually large garage behind his house into a "communal playroom". And canvas sheets hanging from the ceiling gave the illusion of there being a number of separate rooms inside. As we approached the playroom, I was startled to hear what sounded like popcorn popping! I wondered if they were preparing snacks to go with the entertainment?
As we entered the playroom, the first "room" I saw was where we signed in, paid an admission fee (unlike Disneyland, all the "rides" were free), and where guys socialized and "hooked up" together for their punishment scenes.
The second "room" seemed to be the most popular. It was "furnished" with a number of couches and chairs. This room was mainly dedicated to over-the-knee hand spankings. I discovered that it was the activities in this room (hands striking bare butts) that created the sound I had mistaken for popcorn popping. A top would sit on a couch or over-stuffed chair. Then, a bottom would lie across his lap to receive a spanking, which was usually given by hand, although I did see one bottom there getting punished with a wooden paddle. I wondered what offense the paddle recipient had committed that warranted the extra measure of punishment?
Several "rooms" were equipped with "spanking benches" of various designs where a bottom could be placed in leather restraints and subjected to an assortment of punishment implements, such as a belt, a razor strap or a wooden paddle, sometimes with multiple implements being applied in order of increasing severity. I got especially aroused watching one tall guy, who was tied down, getting a vigorous whipping on his bare ass with a narrow leather belt. (Narrow belts tend to sting more than wide ones.) His body was moving every which way, desperately trying to escape from the top's punishment belt. After my first encounter with Steve's belt, I could really relate to that experience. A couple small "rooms", which were equipped with a spanking bench, offered privacy for more bashful participants.
I was amazed by the sheer variety of punishment implements that tops had brought with them to "enliven" the evening. I wondered what devious (or deviant) minds had designed them? One "correctional tool" particularly fascinated me, and I knew I would eventually want to experience its "wrath". It was a cross between a leather paddle and a leather strap. More than anything else, it reminded me of a house painter's paintbrush, but it was much wider. It had a wooden handle, but, in place of the brush portion, was a broad strip of leather about 3/8 " thick, 6" wide, and about 8" long.
The final "room" we visited was reserved for scenes involving more elaborate "bondage furniture". It contained a whipping post which consisted of a single vertical post attached to a supporting base, and 2 manacles hung from chains attached to the top of that post. There was also a traditional pillory, in which the bottom stands with his head and hands locked into holes in an elevated wooden board. And most fascinating to me, was a rectangular frame that was suspended vertically. People referred to it as the "punishment rack". The bottom would be in a standing position and secured spread-eagle to the 4 corners of the frame with leather restraints. The bondage devices in this room were often used for floggings, as well as for spankings involving some kind of whip.
When we first entered that room, a flogging was already in progress. The loud vocal outbursts from the bottom had attracted many spectators. The bottom had been "secured" to the punishment rack in a spread-eagle position with his back facing the "audience". The top was punishing him with some kind of leather flogger. The flogging had apparently been in progress for quite some time as the bottom's upper back had turned a bright pink color, punctuated by numerous dark red lash marks.
While I was watching this flogging, the bottom managed to turn his head around just enough in order to see what the top was punishing him with. When he caught sight of the punishment implement, he crled out in terror, "Oh! No! Not the cat-o-nine-tails!" Just then, 2 more lashes struck his back. "Owwwww! Owwwww!" He yelled, "Please stop, Sir. I can't take the pain any more." Then another lash struck his back, just below his right shoulder. "Oh my God! Mercy! Mercy!", he cried. But no mercy was shown as the remorseless lash struck his back again and again. I was experiencing a little guilt as I was getting quite a hard-on from watching the bottom suffer. The light whooshing sound from the "cat" as it sped toward its target created a feeling of tension and anticipation in my crotch which was only relieved when I heard the inevitable "SNAP" as the merciless leather struck the bottom's back. Watching his chest lurch forward and his head jerk back, and then hearing those horrible screams of pain completed what was, for me, an orgasmic experience. "Owwwww!" The bottom's cries seemed like they were rising from the depths of his soul. They reminded me of the howls of a wolf.
I was horrified that the top continued to apply the lash, even though the bottom appeared to be in total agony. Steve told me not to worry about it. He said the bottom had agreed to take whatever punishment the top dished out. The bottom was getting what he wanted, or at least, what he had initially thought he wanted.
While I was absorbed in watching that flogging, another top, who was holding a leather flogger in his hand, struck up a conversation with me. He said, "I'd love to see your hot body tightly stretched across that punishment rack. And I'd love to see how it responds as I administer punishing lashes to your shirtless back." At the same time he was talking to me, the top would lightly and "playfully" strike the back of my t-shirt with the tails of his flogger. He was obviously trying to arouse me and coax me into submission to his will. And I must admit that it was beginning to have the intended effect. But his forwardness kind of unnerved me, and I told him I was new to the scene and didn't think I was quite ready for that level of punishment. He insisted on giving me his phone number, in case I changed my mind. He said he was well-equipped to give me a flogging in private at his place. Just as he said that, he gave me a single, much heavier stroke with his flogger, which stung my back even though I had a t-shirt on. He said he did that to make it VERY clear to me that an invitation to his place was not a ruse for "vanilla sex" but would entail a severe flogging involving unbearable pain from which there would be no escape and no mercy shown! I must admit that I would later fantasize about taking him up on his offer. And I held on to his phone number, just in case I ever did change my mind.
After the flogging scene I had observed was over with, I wandered through the various rooms. I stopped to watch another punishment scene. The bottom had just been tied down on a spanking bench with leather restraints. The top began to punish the bottom's ass with a reddish-brown razor strap. The strokes were administered at a very slow and deliberate pace. Sometimes, there was up to a 30-second interval between strokes. Each time that strap made contact with the bottom's ass, he would clench his jaw and suck in air between his teeth. I admired his ability to take the punishment without crying or yelling, but it became apparent that this ability did not allow him to totally escape the experience of pain.
Every stroke left a bright red impression on the bottom's ass of the "business-end" of the razor strap: 3 straight edges meeting at right angles, while the 4th side did not have a well-defined edge. Once the punishment was over with, the top invited me to feel the most recent red impression on the bottom's ass with my hand. I was surprised how burning hot it felt. After he had released the bottom from the restraints, the top asked me if I'd like to be tied down on the spanking bench as he'd love to "warm up" my ass with his razor strap. That strap looked really awesome. I was about to accept the top's invitation when Steve interceded and told me that I was probably not yet "psychologically prepared" for the intensity of a razor strap. So I reluctantly turned down the top's offer. Steve suggested that, for my first visit here, I should probably limit myself to over-the-knee hand spankings. I trusted Steve. So I did as he suggested.
Luckily, one of the club's officials, probably sensing that I was shy, broke the ice and asked me if I'd like him to give me an over-the-knee hand spanking. Since I thought he was the most attractive guy in the place, I eagerly replied yes. He sat down on a couch and told me to pull down my pants and underwear and lie across his lap. I must admit that I was very tempted to lay my head face-down in his lap instead, but I did as he ordered. Somehow, he managed to use his left arm to effectively hold my upper body down so I couldn't escape. It felt almost like being in restraints. Then, he began spanking me with his right hand. His hand felt much heavier on my ass than Steve's had. I was surprised at how much it hurt. However, I think the only reason I was still able to continue "taking" the spanking was because the top was being merciful to me and showing restraint. There's no doubt in my mind that his hand could have inflicted enough pain to reduce me to tears if he had chosen to. Being in the hands of someone with the power to cause me unbearable pain was very exciting to me. Several times, he verbally "threatened" to punish me with his paddle, but I noticed that he didn't have his paddle handy nearby. I believe he was just "testing the waters" to see if I was willing to let him "escalate" my punishment. But I decided to take Steve's advice and stick to hand spankings for my first visit. So I didn't respond to his "leading threats".
After Steve and I left the playroom, I told Steve that I really wanted to experience the excitement of being tied up spread-eagled on that punishment rack, as well as try out the other bondage furniture in that room too. Steve cautioned me that there was a heavy price to be paid for using those bondage devices. Tops felt entitled to inflict a more severe level of punishment on bottoms who were restrained in those devices. And it was common knowledge among club members that pleas for mercy from those bottoms were routinely ignored. So scenes in that room were invariably accompanied by loud yelling or screaming from the bottoms as their limits were repeatedly exceeded. In the flogging scene that we had witnessed, the bottom knew beforehand what he was letting himself in for, even if he had a change of heart after the punishment had begun.
We returned to Steve's place. I took off all my clothes, expecting that we would shortly hop into bed and retire for the evening, but Steve surprised me. He tied me face-down spread-eagled on his bed. He took off his belt and began whipping my ass with it. It really hurt and I started crying, but he didn't stop the whipping until my buttocks had completely turned red. Then he released my feet (but not my hands) from the restraints. He proceeded to fuck me multiple times. As Steve was quite well-endowed, that caused me considerable pain, but I didn't complain. Although some people might call it "rape", I knew it was just Steve's way of letting me know that he was still in charge. I knew he really cared for me as he had protected me at the playroom from punishment scenes I wouldn't have been ready for yet.
For the curious, this story is basically fiction, but the Leather Fraternity's playroom was, to a large extent, modeled on that of "Spank Night", which was a real life monthly event I attended at one time. Also, rather than a medium-sized city, I actually grew up in a very large metropolitan area, where people with my special interests were fortunate enough to have a regular event like "Spank Night" where we could "explore" those interests with like-minded individuals.
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