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enter reality

It starts with an email


Setting the glass with orange juice on the table was another perfect morning in the desert. Sitting at my writing table on the patio, the sun rose about an hour ago, as it was March. Opening my laptop, my morning ritual is to check my email. The emails I look forward to the most are communication from readers of my short stories or novels. As a leather scribe here in the Coachella Valley, anytime a reader takes the time to share their thoughts with me starts my day off well. Most of the time, I receive good comments about my writing; occasionally, there is a critical email, which I'm fine with. A storyteller has to be open to criticism along with praise. Both are useful when I work on my next piece of fiction.

This morning, as I sat in my jeans, cowboy boots and a black t-shirt with the Langlitz Leathers logo, I opened Outlook to find a new email addressed to ty dehner. The subject line was "Fact or Fiction." Interesting, I thought, so I moved the mouse, opening the email. It read:


ty or should I say, boy?

I have been reading your stories for a while. It started with your short stories on Metalbond, then your novels. I find your descriptions of the bondage and control that your dominant characters take of their submissive intriguing and powerful. I notice that you say your work is fiction. Well, you need to experience some of the things you write about. I offer you that opportunity.


Now that made my cock stir in my Wranglers, as this email was forceful, and the writer was confident in what he was offering. I read on:


I will meet you on Saturday at 7:00p at Fiesta Cantina in West Hollywood. You will take a table for two and wait for my arrival. I have seen your Instagram so I know what you look like and will approach you when I'm ready.  


I had to adjust my seating as I was tempted to drop the zipper on my jeans and start jacking. This guy was pressing all the buttons!


If you accept, I will email on how I want you dressed for our meeting. Be prepared to submit to me without fail, as accepting this challenge means you submit to whatever I want until I release you.


I have set this email to contact me when you open it. You now have ten minutes to respond. I am confident you will reply with an affirmative and look forward to seeing if you can take what you write about.


There was no signature at the end, only the email address of

I paused for a moment. Was this just some sort of joke? Or could it be a real encounter? After a brief debate in my mind, I wrote my response ending with a Sir to show I was being respectful. After hesitating for about a minute, I hit the reply and secured my fate.

Leaning back, my mind swirled with thoughts of what could happen. But I decided this was an opportunity to experience being controlled by this man. I erased all my ideas and just looked forward to the meeting. There was a tingle down my spine as I realized this guy had been checking me out, especially as he said he had been following my Instagram. That made me wonder what else he might know of me.

My thoughts were interrupted as the incoming email alert sounded. Looking down at the screen, I saw the email was from this stranger. I clicked it open, and there were further instructions.


I'm very happy that you accepted, but I was confident that you would not be able to resist my desire to meet you. My instructions here are simple: you are to be wearing boots, and you may select the style. You should wear black jeans with a leather belt and a black T-shirt. Finally, you must have tight black leather gloves on your hands. There is nothing that I listed that you find challenging, fucker. Find a table at the restaurant and be ready to start the adventure of your life!


The email ended with no signature. The list of what I was to wear wasn't outrageous and actually seemed normal. While wearing gloves might be slightly unusual, it wasn't that crazy. My phone rang, and my day proceeded as the thought of this upcoming meeting went to the back of my mind.



After lunch on Saturday, I started planning out my trip to the city of Angels and the meeting of this stranger who wants me to experience what I write about. It would take a couple of hours to drive from the desert to the bustling city; traffic would be a challenge at some point, so I would leave early. I put on my black jeans, then a pair of work boots. Tucking in my black t-shirt, I look in the mirror. The t-shirt had the words "Kinky as fuck” on the front; I wanted to make a bold statement to this guy.

This guy might think I am hesitant in this meeting. Well, fuck I was, but I was also confident in following through. Slipping on my Damascus gloves, I was ready. I got in my car and headed to the freeway and the journey to West Hollywood.

It was good that I left early, as the trip took me nearly three hours because of the freeway congestion. But I was finally in West Hollywood and found parking behind the Cantina. After parking, I realized I didn't even have a name for this guy. I was twenty minutes early, so I went in, got a table and enjoyed a drink with the chips and salsa. Each time I would lift a chip to take a bit, I got the scent of my gloves, which turned me on, adding to my high sexual state.

I had selected a seat where I could see the restaurant's entry. Though I didn't know who this man was, I thought for sure I would be able to pick him out as he entered. That plan was thwarted as there was a tap on my shoulder behind me with a deep voice, "Hello, ty."

Before I could turn around, this vision in full leather stepped forward, taking the seat across the table. This man's blue eyes immediately caught my attention as I heard his leather creak while he was settling into his seat. He smiled as I took in his chiseled features, a dark goatee with some elements of gray. His head had a high and tight crewcut. His leather shirt fit him well, not too tight, defining his body. The sleeves were short that were snug on his thick arms, some detailed ink on his right arm. Tight leather cop gloves were on his hands as he lowered them below the table. Before he sat, I caught a glimpse of his leather breeches with a yellow stripe down the side of the legs. He had tall, buffed Wesco Boss boots on.

"Am I what you expected?" he asked me as I quickly jumped out of my fascination with this full leatherman.

"I honestly had decided to have no expectations, Sir." that sign of respect flowed naturally from my lips. "I am impressed that you are in your leathers."

Gently running his hands down the front of his leather shirt, "It's just natural for me, ty. I get the feeling you're not in leather as much as you'd like."

"No, no, I'm not. But I always held off on leather as I wanted to be in the leather a guy wants me to wear."

"Yes, I can tell that about you, you need guidance and instruction on how to behave, don't you, ty?"

After looking down and away, I returned my gaze to his eyes and nodded, "I like a man who takes control and is confident in himself to do so."

As this leatherman nods, "Yes, I know you do, ty."

The server arrives, asking to take our drink order. Without looking at me, this man orders drinks for both of us. As she leaves, he turns to me and states, "Just like that, right?"

"Yes, Sir." I provide a gentle affirmation of his taking control.

I watch as he looks me over, then comments on my t-shirt. "I like how you boldly state who you are. Wearing something like that could get you into trouble."

Laughing, "You think." But I notice he doesn't respond to my levity. I return to being sober.

"Yes, ty, I think you are kinky as fuck, but you've yet to meet someone that takes you down those paths of kink that you put in your stories."

"Remember, they are works of fiction. In some of my works, the scenarios couldn't be possible." I watched the leatherman for his reaction to my statement. I have always thought that some of the intense situations would be very difficult for the sub.

From under the table, I feel his gloved hand touching my right leg, gently rubbing it. That is very comforting as he looks at me. "I agree that few men could handle the intensity you write about. But you ty, you could handle it; you need the right man to ensure you do."

His confidence was very distinctive, along with his touch. I sensed the slight scent of his leather as the server brought us each a margarita. This leatherman lifted his drink, "Here's to you discovering the real submissive you are inside, ty."

With a slight grin from thinking of the possibilities, I raised my glass and brought them together. "You have lots to explore don't you, ty?"

This man is very positive about his ways and keeps me focused as he doesn't refer to me as a boy but by my name. After taking a sip, I look at him, "There is so much to do out there. Just like there are many stories for me to write about, there are many experiences to bring into my life."

"What has held you back, ty?"

Pausing for a moment, many things have held me back, but there is one major item. "Having someone to be with to do these things with. This isn't all about me getting tied up; it is about a dominant man controlling a human being and enjoying the power he was born to have."

"Why haven't you had this in your life?" the leatherman asks as he sips his drink.

"This I have thought about often, it is because the men I have been with lacked the courage to act the way they want to. To use the power they were born with to build their own world. There is too much worrying about what someone thinks." I notice he slightly nods, raising his lips as I believe he likes what I am saying.

"Personally, this trying to bring power exchange relationship, kink and SM into a politically correct world is bullshit. I've learned I can't make someone into something they aren't. I sometimes believe in them, even though they can't see who they are. I don't need to please everyone; I only need to please the man I serve and trust with my life."

Leaning back, the leatherman looks at me, his blue eyes firmly staring. "Fuck man, I thought you were amazing with your writings, but you fucking believe that don't you. You know deep inside you are meant to be a piece of property, aren't you ty?"

While I've known this for years in my heart, I've rarely stated it out loud. But this man makes me feel safe that I can admit to him that it is true. Some men are more powerful than I am, and I am meant to serve and worship them, to ensure their lives are the best and provide them with the happiness they are destined to have. After feeling a grip on my leg by his gloved hand, I look at him with my green eyes, "Yes, Sir."

There is a long silence as he places his boots on my feet, applying some pressure to let me know that he is showing me that he is comfortable being in charge.

The server comes, and the leatherman orders for both of us, a seafood enchilada plate and chicken fajitas for me. As the server leaves, this man gives me my first command, "Put your left hand on my knee. Keep it there until I tell you otherwise."

Reaching under the stable, I feel the soft, cool leather that this man wears, squeezing his knee a bit. "Yes, Sir." He returned a smile as I responded to his request quickly.

After taking another drink from his margarita, he holds it in his gloved hand, "Do you have any questions for me, ty?"

Feeling the leather in my hand, I realize I don't know this man's name. I hope he won't mind, but I needed to know. "May I ask your name?"

He takes another drink and sets the glass down, leaning forward and placing his arms on the table. "My name is Chris. But you can refer to me as Sir. Are you comfortable with that, ty?"

"Yes, Sir. I can and will."

Chris presses on my feet again with his boots. As he does, surprisingly, the food arrives and we start eating. Our conversation is one-sided as Chris asks about my experience, writing, and ideas I want to explore. He is polite, allowing me to ask about his experience and what he liked in my writing. Through our meal, we truly connect, enjoying each other's company. Though it is comfortable, he maintains his control of the meal, my hand never being allowed to leave the grip of his knee. We just met, but there is a level of trust between us. I am showing him respect as this leatherman shows me he is sure of who he is and what he wants.

After cleaning our plates and removing them, Chris allows me to release the grip on his knee as he removes his boots from my feet. When the check arrives, I go to reach for it and he slaps my hand away. "Fuck ty, let a man take care of you."

That impressed me, and I lowered my view and thanked him for providing my meal.

"One thing you need to understand if we are going to proceed: I take care of everything in your life." Leaning in, he is serious as I smell his leather, and he tightly grips my hand that is on the table, "I take care of every fucking thing, you get that, ty?"

"Yes, Sir!" I state firmly and sharply. This brings a smile to his face as he squeezes my hand and then sets it back. The server picks up the check and Sir's credit card. Placing his napkin on the table, Chris looks at me.

"So, I have enjoyed your company, ty. You have a long drive back to Palm Springs, but I want to go to the Eagle tonight. The night is early. Would you want to do that with me, ty?"

While it was a question, there was an element of it being a statement. I am flattered that this handsome man in full leather is interested in me and being with him at an establishment like the LA Eagle. "Yes, Sir, I would enjoy that."

Reaching for my hand again, Chris continues. "I know you weren't prepared for this, but fuck, you didn't know what was going to happen tonight. We can take my car, and there is a bit of gear I'd like to see you in when we get to the Eagle."

I smile, "I would be honored, Sir."


Shortly the server returns with Chris's card and the receipt. He looks at me as he stands, and I follow him out of the restaurant. A part of me can't believe this man in full leather is leading me, and I'm going to the bar tonight as his boy.


Take a chance


Walking through the parking lot, I keep a pace behind him, showing him I understand my position. We arrive at his flat gray Jeep. He turns to me, reaching for me and hugging me tightly. This is the first time I feel his leathers so completely, and I melt in his arms with the warmth he provides. Pushing us apart. He holds onto my shoulders as he looks me in the eyes. "I said I have some gear I want you to be in when we get to the Eagle."

"Yes, Sir.", I affirm, anxious to see what he would like me in. He opens the back door of his Jeep and pulls out a large piece of leather. Holding it up, it is a heavy, quilted leather straitjacket. I look at the jacket, then at him. "Yes, Sir."

"Fuck, I knew you would, ty," states Chris. He holds it open as I slide my gloved hands down the thick sleeves. Pivoting on my feet, the leather wraps my body, and the scent fills my nose. Sir works the leather around me as it fits snuggly. The back zipper is fastened, and my arms are wrapped around my body. Sir secures all the straps tightly, and I see him placing locks on all the buckles. I look at him as I see that, and he smiles, "Come on, ty, you know you want it very secure."

My cock is growing in my jeans with all this, which Chris discovers as he squeezes my crotch a few times while securing the straitjacket. The tall leather collar is snapped and locked around my neck, which lifts my head slightly. Stroking my arms, Chris is very happy with his work putting me in the leather bondage. He steps back, "ty, you look fucking amazing, just how you should be."

I struggle a bit to feel the tightness of the bondage and enjoy his smile as he is happy to have me secured this way. "Thank you, Sir."

"Oh, ty, we will have so much fun!"

He leads me to the passenger side door, where Chris helps me climb in. I get settled in the seat, and he straps the seatbelt across my chest. Shutting the door, he gets into the driver's seat, and shortly, we are heading through the traffic to the Los Angeles Eagle near Hollywood.

Chris finds a parking spot that isn't too far from the legendary leather bar. Personally, I've only visited on rare occasions, but I felt that Chris must be more familiar with this establishment. During our drive, the leatherman asked me how I felt while sitting in the leather straitjacket in the car, which I didn't mind. He pointed out that when we were stopped at traffic lights, someone could notice me bound the way it was. As he drove, he kept his hand stroking my leg and I enjoyed reviewing the leathers he wore. I wondered what it would be like to live in leather like he is wearing, to drive, heck, to sit in a restaurant in leather. The one thing that this short drive did was to calm me and put further trust in this man. He has been so polite yet confident and in charge.

Putting the Jeep in park and turning off the ignition, Chris climbed out of the driver's seat and came to me, where he helped me out of his vehicle, my boots landing on the pavement. Closing the door, Chris ran his hands down my arms, enjoying the feeling of the smooth, quilted leather as he looked at me and smiled. "You look amazing, you know that, ty?"

Looking directly into his blue eyes, I responded, "I'm glad you suggested this and glad you are enjoying it."

Pausing momentarily, Chris looks at me, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm in this leather straitjacket."

Chucking, Chris responds, "Yeah, you are."

Rubbing his gloved hands on my arms quickly, "I have another idea if you are up for it. It would please me and add another element to your entering the bar with me."

I watch as Chris steps away, opens the back hatch of the Jeep, grabs something, and then closes the Jeep door. Coming to me, the leatherman holds up an intense-looking leather muzzle with a small gag that inserts between the lips. "I want to put this on you, ty."

Before I can respond, he is already working this contraption on my head, adjusting the straps as the gag fills my mouth and the leather chin cup presses it in deeper, silencing me. He adjusts the straps again, then adds seven locks to all the buckles on the harness. I feel the snugness on my head, the lack of speech and the scent of the leather.

My cock was hardening in my jeans as I was aroused by how Chris just went ahead to lock me in the harness without asking me if I wanted it. He stepped back to admire this guy in a leather straitjacket and head harness. "You've really impressed me ty with how cooperative you've been. A leatherman looks for this in a sub to serve him. How do you feel, ty?"

Knowing I can't speak, I nod, and he smiles, "I love to hear the jingle of the locks on a boy's harness or hood. It reminds me of his submission and how I control a man."

Chris grabs my chin tightly in his leather glove, gripping it firmly. Placing his face close to mine, our eyes connect as he speaks with authority, "And you love being controlled like this, don't you ty? If I felt down your jeans, your cock would be hard as a rock. Deep inside, I bet you are craving even more control. You are going to be so fucked, ty." Chris pushes my head away, pulling a chain from his jacket pocket that he attaches to a ring in the collar of the head harness. Then, the leatherman reaches into my back pocket to retrieve my wallet. Holding it up to see, "I need this to show your ID for when we enter the Eagle."

With that, he tugs on the chain and we proceed towards the leather bar.


Entering the Eagle, the guy at the door checks our ID. Chris hands my wallet to the guy since my hands are not free. The guy holds up the wallet to check my eyes and nods that all is good. Turning to Chris, the doorman states that I look good and could get into trouble if left alone. Chris smiles, "Yes, perhaps he might end up in trouble tonight!"

With that, the leatherman tugs on the chain, pulling me into the dark bar. It is early for bar time, so the place isn't crowded. Chris enjoyed leading me in a roundabout path through the place as I noticed most guys checking us out. Of course, they are impressed by the man who holds the chain, as he looks amazing in his leathers. Chris creates a powerful statement as his leathers are fitted and reflect his confidence. There is also the fact that this leatherman is towing me behind him, secured in a heavy, thick leather straitjacket and firmly muzzled.

The guys here understand what is happening, and I thoroughly enjoy this. One of my fantasies that I've written about is being at a very public place, dressed head to toe in leather, hooded and secured in a straitjacket. Just an object led around in public, perhaps blindfolded where I can't see what is happening around me. Right now, this is very close to that; I can't speak and will go wherever I am led by the leatherman.

Chris makes a stop at the bar, getting himself a bottle of craft lager. After all, this is Los Angeles; no one drinks Bud anymore. They have to drink things with trendy names like pumpkin spice daisy moonbeam dark. If Chris knew I had that thought, I bet he flogged my ass to make it look like a black and blue moon!

After securing his brew, Chris tugged on the chain, leading me through the rest of the establishment until he found a quiet spot to settle. Leaning against the brass rail, Chris smiled at me. "Sorry, ty, I know you might like a drink, but for now, I enjoy the fact that you are silent." With that, he takes a swig from his lager.

Placing the bottle on a small shelf, Chris positions me against the wall as he releases the chain. Lifting his gloved hands, the leatherman starts to paw me as he feels his leather boy. This man thoroughly enjoys me in his command, the smooth leather that keeps me trapped and the silence from my lips as our eyes connect. Closing my eyes, I take in the leather scent from both of us with the bar's heat. This man is very handsome, and I wonder what he looks like beneath his leathers. Still, right now, I take in the feeling of the leather he has locked on me, that he enjoys touching me, the connection we are having as my cock is hard in my jeans, releasing the man juices that lubricate it, continuing to arouse me.

After a while, Chris steps back, taking the end of the chain connected to my collar, wraps it around a shelf bracket and locks it with a padlock. I'm a bit surprised by this as I look at him. He smiles, reaching up and stroking my face, "Don't worry. I'm going to walk around and see if my friends are here. You'll be safe here, though someone might be attracted to you and check you out." With that, Chris picks up his beer, and I watch him disappear into the growing crowd.

I take my time to look around the bar, as the customers have been entering with the night getting later. I'm unsure of the time as there is no clock in his bar, and I can't access my phone in my jeans pocket. Thinking of my pocket, I realize that Chris has my wallet, which could leave me in trouble if someone leads me astray. But that is highly unlikely with the size of the lock that secures the chain to the wall. Deciding to relax as there wasn't anything I could do and enjoy my situation, I had often thought of being in leather like this in a public place. I never thought I'd meet a guy who would follow through on it.

Standing alone, guys would walk by, almost too shy to say anything to me. A few would smile, pause and admire how secure I was. A couple of men that had to be Masters looked very serious with their harness and ink, no doubt able to control a boy very well. Then, I spotted a black-haired guy in a tan CHP uniform. His tall black boot showed that he was a motorcycle cop, with everything he was wearing looking very official. He was handsome; his long sleeves went into his tight cop gloves, and his duty belt sat on his waist. Even though this CHP officer was in a dark bar, he wore dark sunglasses. I watched as he was scanning the bar when he turned towards me.

Even though I couldn't see his eyes at that moment, I knew we had connected. The cop took a drink from his beer, then a slight smile grew on his lips. My heart skipped a beat as I saw him turn his body, and he stepped towards me. Here, I was secured in leather with a chain on my collar, keeping me from leaving, and this CHP cop was now standing directly in front of me.

Lifting his sunglasses, his deep brown eyes looked deep in me, "What have we here?"

Since I could not speak, I nodded, hoping he would take that as a sign of respect.

"You are obviously not here alone. Did your Master leave you here?" asked the cop. My head nodded that indeed he did.

"He took a chance doing that, as you are fucking hot, secured in that leather, unable to speak. A cop like me could pick that lock, and you'd end up on the back of my bike.", the cop chuckled. "You have ever been taken out to the desert on the back of a cop bike, then fucked under the full moon with the coyotes howling?"

Gees, this guy doesn't start slow, does he? My cock jumps in my jeans as I find myself just moaning with his description. I get this vision of me on the back of a police bike in this leather straitjacket, muzzled under the helmet as he races down the 10 freeway at seventy miles an hour.

My imagination was interrupted by the cop's grip, taking my chin in his gloved hand and lowering my head to view his highly polished boots. "Too fucking bad that muzzle is locked on your head, or you'd be tasting my boots right here." He lifts my chin, so I look into his eyes and nod to let him know I would taste his boots if I could.

Releasing my chin, the cop leans against me as I'm pushed against the wall, feeling the pressure of this beefy Hispanic man against me. Keeping me under his pressure, his gloved hand reaches down and begins tapping the balls that are in my jeans. He can hit them just right to create pain, and I jump, but he presses upon me to keep me under his control. A smile was on his face, behind those sunglasses, as he continued to beat my balls. He nodded his head a bit as I was moaning in the muzzle with the gag filling my mouth. My eyes closed as the hits would strike my balls just right, so I wanted to lean over and move away from his strike.

Since I was so focused on this cop, I didn't see Chris return. As I struggled, I heard the cop through my moaning stay, "Hi Chris, I like your boy here." With that, the cop punches my balls hard, and I yell into the gag as he releases me and sees that Chris is smiling. As I bend down in pain, Chris introduces me to Billy. Catching my breath, I nod with respect to him. He reaches over and rubs my belly fondly.

They both stand back and admire me chained in the bar. "So this the writer you've been telling me about these past few years.", notes Billy as he drinks from the beer bottle.

Chris steps forward, touching my shoulder and rubbing it affectionately. "This is ty dehner. ty, this is Billy, and I know you have been admiring his uniform and boots." I tilt my head with slight embarrassment that, indeed, I have.

Chris leans in and whispers in my ear, "He is a real CHP officer also, motor patrol out of Carson."

I look at Billy, and his eyebrows jump up and down as he confirms that I have been informed by my leatherman.

"You finally got up the courage to meet him and bring him to the bar, huh?" asks Billy.

Chris notes, "Well, I met him for dinner earlier this evening and suggested we could have fun at the Eagle. He actually agreed to the straitjacket and muzzle."

Billy looks at me, "Good for you, ty. You should know this guy speaks about your stories often; he likes what you write." I look at Chris, unaware that he was into my writing.

Leaning in, the cop adds, "But, beware, he is a fucking sadistic Master that loves gear and bondage." The cop punches my balls again as I release a burst of air from behind the gag.

"Look who is sadistic!" exclaims Chris. Billy shrugs as he looks at Chris, then gazes at me.

Billy puts his arm around Chris, and they leave me, moving into the crowd.

The night moves on as the two friends meet up with other guys, and they all catch up. At one point, Chris released the chain and brought me to a corner where a stool awaited me. He secured me once again and left me on the stool until late in the night, and he was ready to go. I got a hug from Billy as he whispered in my ear that he would enjoy having me in his jail for a few nights.

I was led out of the Eagle by the end of the chain and down the sidewalk. We made it to the Jeep and returned to the restaurant parking lot where my car was. As much as I didn't want the night to end, it was late, and I had a two-hour drive home. Chris didn't take long to remove me from the straitjacket, but he didn't unlock the muzzle. I looked at him with question.

"So, ty, I have a plan for you, and you can decide. I would like you to come home with me, but I know you never planned on what we've done so far tonight and I don't want you to become untrustful of me. But I like to tempt you, so I won't remove the muzzle. You will keep it on until you get home, and you can cut it off." this doesn't bother me too much, for I figure I can stay in my car for the drive home.

Chris smiles, "I know what was running through your head; you would just stay in your car until you got home. Well, you will have to get gas as I had a friend pump out most of your gas, you can't get home. So, you'll be exposed with that muzzle on."

Reaching up, Chris strokes my chin with his gloved hand. "You know that muzzle suits you perfectly, and I fucking love seeing you in it. The question is, will those at the gas station be ok with it?"

Lifting my chin, Chris looks me in the eyes, "Or you can stay; give me your keys, and my friend will bring your car to my house, and you can spend the night with me. I'll put you back in the straitjacket and take you home."

My cock is aroused once again as the voice of this leather master gets into my mind. He certainly knows how to tease me when I end up going against my better thoughts so that I do what he wants but make it all my decision. Deep inside, I ignore my desire to go home and agree to be his for the evening. I hand him my car keys, and he hugs me, looking me in the eye and telling me I made the right decision. "I knew exactly that you would agree ty. The possibility of you having to get out of your car with a muzzle on doesn't really threaten you, does it?"

I shake my head that it doesn't.

"Fuck, I knew you had more balls than so many of these wimpy guys I encounter." He attaches the chain to the collar and we walk back to his Jeep.


The ride through the metro area was interesting as Chris controlled the conversation. He had questions about my stories, letting me know he had spent a great deal of time keeping up with my imagination. I felt safe during the ride, secured in the leather straitjacket and muzzle, and a bit excited with the unknown of all this. As we exited the freeway, I didn't know where he lived as he didn't discuss much about himself when we talked. When I responded to his questions during the drive, I mumbled through the gag, my throat getting dry as it had been a while since I had anything to drink, not even water. But I was glad we weren't sitting in silence this entire time. 

Driving down Riverside Drive, the road was on the edge of the Los Angeles River along the edge of the mountains in Griffith Park. The area was filled with established homes near the movie studios where amazing films have been created over the years. Chris told me that the area is known for being close to the Los Angeles Equestrian Club. He joked that I would enjoy lots of guys in riding gear and boots. Perhaps one day, the leatherman could introduce me to a friend who likes to train a guy like me into being his horse. I looked at Chris, realizing he was referring to the story where one of my characters is turned into a leather horse and ridden in the woods. 

As Chris drove, he turned from street to street, from the main thoroughfare to neighborhood drives. These homes were California ranch-style, probably built in the 1930s and 1940s. Before us, I noticed the garage door sliding up as Chris approached. This had to be his home, a nice ranch with a large Jacaranda tree in full bloom. These trees are amazing when they bloom with their bright purple flowers. As he pulled the Jeep into the neatly organized garage, Chris stopped the vehicle, released his seat belt as the engine turned off and turned to me, "You still up for this, ty?"

Without hesitation, I nod that I am indeed. While I didn't expect where he might live, I was interested in seeing what he had in store for me. 

Exiting his vehicle, Chris approached my side, opening my door and helping me exit. As my booted feet are planted on the concrete of the garage floor, Chris hugs me and then smiles. He moves me to an area next to a doorway that exits the garage, pauses and turns me to face him. "This is where we begin, ty."

Taking his key ring, Chris unlocks and removes all the locks from the straitjacket I've been in all night. I look up at him, "Once I take you into my world, I want you to be naked and raw. I want you to feel vulnerable and nervous as you don't know what you are stepping into. You will be exposed for the first time, ty. Allowing me to fully control your experience. I value this trust you have given me, ty." 

His words worry me a bit, but his touch to my cheek with his glove hand causes me to feel safer and allows me to trust this man. As he stands before me with his arms crossed, I remove all my clothing and become totally naked before this leatherman. While the muzzle stays, my cock is exposed, erect and dripping. I am not ashamed of being naked before him, as I know this is my showing him the respect and faith of fully submitting to him. There is actually a level of confidence in what I am doing.

Chris opens a small cupboard where he has me place all my clothing and boots. He closes it and takes the keys, locking the cupboard door. Placing my hands behind my back, just because it felt natural, my eyes meet the leatherman's as he smiles. "You continue to impress the fuck out of me, ty. I still don't understand how a man of your pedigree isn't collared and making a man fulfilled."

Reaching up, Chris takes me in his gloved hands, pressing my naked body against his leathered torso for a warm and strong hug. His right hand strokes my back, "I think we're ready, ty."

Releasing the hug, Chris firmly grips my arms, looking me directly in my eyes, "Follow me, ty."

With that, he turns, leading me out of the garage.

The room is lit with red light, creating warmth to the environment. Standing in the center of this space, which is clearly used for bondage and sadistic sex, Chris has created a space that undoubtedly reflects his varied interest in leather. I am standing at attention, my hands in the small of my back, behind and ready for Chris to return. 

I was led outdoors from the garage to this outbuilding that looked like a classic California pool bungalow next to his rectangle swimming pool. But upon entering there was a very different vibe going on. Allowing me a moment to take it all in, Chris came up behind me, stroking my body with his gloved hands, whispering in my ear, "Imagine the possibilities, ty. What stories you could write." I sensed his warmth as his leather scent filled the space, and this man continued to twist me to his proprietorship.

Quickly, Chris removed the muzzle so that I was completely naked. While enjoying a bottle of cold water, he instructed me to use the small bathroom to empty my bladder and refresh. After, I made my way to the center of the room and waited as Chris left the space.
And waiting, I was. As I looked about the space, my mind started thinking of how a specific hood could be used, or how that sleep sack hanging on the wall could keep a boy locked up for a long time. I think I stopped those thoughts as I didn't want to have expectations about what Chris had planned. So, I emptied my mind, focusing on paying attention to this leatherman who had taken me further than I expected that night. 

The door opened with a cool burst of air coming into the room and floating over my bare skin. The leatherman was still in the leathers he had worn all night. Proceeding directly to one of the drawers of the wall of cabinets, Chris approaches me with leather wrist and ankle restraints, which he quickly puts on me, small locks added to keep them secure.

He moves me to the large king-sized bed covered in a leather sheet with his gloved hand on my back. "On the bed, ty, face down."

As I open my mouth to respond, Chris grabs my arm tightly, "Until I state otherwise, ty, you will not speak. I don't need to hear you, only to see you follow my orders. Do you understand, ty?"

I nod, which Chris likes, "Nice, ty, you catch on quickly."

Releasing my arm, I climb onto the bed on my stomach, my arms at my side. As Chris steps away from the bed, I keep my eyesight directly in front of me. I don't want to know what is coming next as he prepares me for his pleasure. I hear his boots on the concrete floor as he moves about, no doubt gathering the equipment that will be used on me.

As I focus on the sounds, I am startled when I feel the leather man's weight on the bed and a heavy leather hood slipping over my head. Lifting my skull so that Chris has easier access, the leather envelopes my head, sending me into darkness. Chris works the hood around to fit under my chin, the leather now hugging my face. A small grommet hole is at my lips as he lines up the two breathing holes built into the heavy leather. Adjusting the leather, I realize there are straps that Chris is adapting with a thick, tall band of leather that acts as a collar that wraps around my neck.

As Chris gets the hood settled properly, he pulls down the zipper that brings all this leather snug around my skull, and I begin to only hear my own breathing. It is dark inside this leather as I take in the scent, with Chris closing the collar around my neck, buckling it securely as I hear the sound of a lock. The leatherman starts tightening the straps that tighten over my eyes and my lips to silence me even further. As he buckles them, he makes sure they are also locked. Rubbing my head, I take it as a signal he is happy now that I am blind, deaf and silent. As I lower my head to the bed, I hear the locks jangle and feel hooded in leather.

As he leaves the bed, I wonder what will happen next. My wondering ends quickly as I feel my hands brought together behind my back and secured in what must be a lock. My cock gets a bit harder as I feel helpless. There is an element of excitement because I really don't know this man, and here I am now, hooded and being put into bondage while naked and exposed in his house.

While Chris stays on the bed, I feel his work with my arms, bending them towards my neck and securing them with rope. This now puts my arms in a position that will become painful over time and starts to choke me some as I am now in a dance between relieving pressure on my throat or arms. 

As I try to keep my struggle to a minimum, Chris works on my waist as he wraps several rounds of rope around it, making it snug. Then he takes the rope, lifts my ankles and places them at my side in a stress position that will expose my ass. I moan into the hood as the leatherman slaps my naked ass hard. The man seems to be an expert with the rope as he quickly secures my ankles, allowing very little give in their position. Once he is confident in his bondage of me, Chris sits up as I struggle, knowing enough that I'm going to feel this bondage fairly quickly. 

Before Chris gets off the bed, he reaches under me with his gloved hand to pull out my hard cock and balls, settling them on the leather sheet. As he leaves, I focus on remaining relaxed, for if I tense up, I will start to hurt. 

My focus changes when I feel Chris working on the top of the hood I am locked in, and my skull is lifted. He takes a long piece of rope where the other end, wraps around my balls then pulls them away from my body. My head is tugged as the connection is tightened, the leather of the hood now pressing against my face. My head naturally drops when he lets go, but he tugs on my balls, creating another element of pain as I yelp inside the leather hood.

My breathing is becoming labored as my body is stressed while lying on the leather-covered bed on my chest. My face is tight in the hood as I feel my balls being tugged. I also find that my cock is continuing to drip as I like the feeling of my struggle in the bondage. As I am concentrating on my being in bondage, I realize that the room has gone quiet. I don't know if Chris has left or is watching me struggle on the bed. The room is also getting a bit warmer, and my labor starts building sweat on my naked skin. 

Time passes as I move very little in the tight, restrictive bondage that this stranger in leather has placed me in. I sometimes cease my breathing to hear beyond the hood, but I hear nothing other than my movement on the leather bed. The bondage is relentless, keeping me secure as I feel my muscles starting to tense while weakening in their restraint. 

Suddenly, one of the muscles in my legs starts cramping, and I yell into the hood that presses upon my face. I thrash on the bed, trying to release myself from the bondage that I am in. The pain is intense as I continue to yell, muffled in the heavy leather strapped and locked on my skull. 

In time the crapping ceases, and my leg relaxes. My breathing slows as I feel my cock softening. That is when I heard the voice of the leatherman. "This is what real bondage is, ty. I have never seen you write about this in your stories."

I feel cool gel being rubbed at my asshole as I realize that Chris will up the torture of me. In moments, he has a rubber dildo at the edge of my hole, a hole that is tight and hasn't been used in a very long time. Slowly, the dildo pushes into my ass, stretching upon entry as I sweat even more, moaning into the hood. Struggling with the bondage as it is pulling my muscles to their limits, the rubber dick goes in deeply and then starts to pull out. There is a rhythm building as I figure out that Chris has me at the end of a fuck machine. Ramping up the pistoning, a new focus on the pain that my body is experiencing fills my mind as my ass is being stretched and opened. 

All these sensations go on for a while, as I am no longer in tune with time. My body is quivering in pain, taut in bondage, my head pulling my balls as my ass is plundered and my limbs twisted in a position they aren't meant to be in.

My pain and suffering are taken away for a split second as I feel the gloved hand of Chris stroking my leather-encased head. I feel the weight of his body lying on the bed before me as his touch calms me a bit. I moan with contentment as I feel his touch. 

"How are you doing, ty?" I hear his voice beyond my breathing in this intense hood. "Actually, I can see how you're doing. You are struggling, and you're in pain. This is good for you ty, very good for you."

His other hand moves across my sweaty, naked back, "The thing is that right now, I know you are focusing on your suffering, ty, you're not focusing on my pleasure. Don't you say in your writing that the sub is for the Master's pleasure? This, where you are right now, ty, my pleasure."

"You are suffering because I love when a naked, exposed fuck like you are bound, hooded and helpless. Being exposed and at my mercy to struggle in bondage and pain the way I like my sub to be."

I hear his words and recognize that I'm not paying attention to his pleasure, focusing only on my pain in this complicated bondage. I moan a bit in the hood as the leatherman removes his touch. The dildo is continuing its plunder of my ass.

"The bondage you are in now, ty, is how you must be more often. You are meant to suffer at the gloved hands of a Master like me. Think about how enthralled you were when I sat down in front of you in leather; you couldn't believe that someone would actually meet you in leather. I am pleased that you have given yourself to me, ty."

Chris increases the speed of the plunger that is the dildo in my ass. "You need to focus beyond this moment and understand that this is all about me, not you. You suffer for my pleasure, so you get to see me in leather. You feel the pain so that you will later become an encased object to be locked away and disappear from the world. You have allowed me to do all this to you because you must serve, suffer, and please a powerful man like me, ty."

As Chris speaks to me in a gentle and firm tone, I realize that my cock is getting harder through all this agony. Chris sees that also, "Fuck, ty, your cock betrays you; you are so fucking screwed that you know you need to be treated like a fuckwad to gain your ultimate release."

The dildo moves faster and faster; my struggle causes my limbs that are pushed beyond their limits to quiver, and my breathing becomes more difficult.

"Listen to me, ty, you want to shoot your load; you don't want to be released from this bondage because you are pleasing me beyond what I could have expected."

I feel the presence of Chris lean in close to my tension-pulled hooded head, "And ty, you allowed all this to happen." At that moment, the fuck machine goes even faster as I feel the weight of the bed adjust as Chris moves off it, and as I hold my breath, I hear his boots move across the floor and the door closing. 

Screaming into the hood, I cause my own pain as I struggle for release. In my darkness, I focus on taking this pain for him. That man in leather who met me tonight took me to the Eagle in leather and has now put me in this strenuous position that provides him all the pleasure that controlling a man brings him. 

Alone in this room, I take a deep breath, absorbing all this pain, slowing my struggle and accepting that I am going through all this because I want to be with the leatherman. I need to be with and serve this leather master.

When your body is being assaulted in all directions, it isn't easy to keep track of time. My focus would jump from the most painful point to the next as the bondage kept me in the most unnatural position on the leather-covered bed in the leatherman's room. In my darkness, locked in the heavy leather hood strapped and locked on my skull, I moan and sweat as my ass is filled with a forever pistoning dildo that keeps me on edge as my hard cock leaks on the leather, causing slight pleasure in the predicament. As my body gets weaker, it is more difficult to keep my head upright to release the pressure on my balls as they are stretched when I lower my head. 

Over time, I realize how simple the bondage is that Chris has placed me in, but how intense it is. He has created a space for me to suffer for his amusement, and I can only imagine him sitting in the large leather chair I saw in the room before I was hooded. In the fine leathers Chris wears, he must be sipping a scotch held in his gloved hand as the leatherman watches the naked and bound object struggle, moaning in a position of its own making. 

As time has passed, I have focused more and more on making that man happy by experiencing all this, the stress of my muscles as they suffer more tension than they have ever experienced. The tightness of the leather on my face as the hood pulls on my balls. My thoughts now imagine that the rubber dick that is fucking my ass is actually the cock of the leatherman as he intends to seed me and takes deeper ownership of my soul.

My thoughts have always been about being encased in leather or rubber; now, this man has shown me that my destiny isn't being in heavy gear; it is raw and exposed to provide enjoyment to a leather master like Chris by being his tool to use as he sees fit. Fuck, if my cock hasn't been hard during most of this if I could only work it, I would shoot my load. But I am certain that Chris has set things up so that I can't shoot my load; that leatherman will want to control even that. I stop myself once again from thinking about my release, focusing on taking all this pain to please Chris and make him proud of me by going as far as he wants me to go.

As my body gets weaker, I give in to the pain as my balls are stretched, with my head falling more and more towards the comfort of the bed. The images in my darkness are of the leatherman, sitting in the Eagle, his boots, the leather he wears, the smile on his face as his gloved hand lifts the beer bottle to his lips. The man is very confident in who he is. His blue eyes sparkle with authority and knowledge of what he wants in life. There is a devious part of his smile as I now know in the back of his mind he has planned how to treat a man like me for his ultimate pleasure. Chris is a man that I want to have in my life; I serve him and suffer like I am now. Even when I focus on him, I find that my cock gets hard as I think about following this man wherever he leads me.

Those thoughts are overcoming the pain that I'm in. Wading deep into the man that is Chris, my numbness becomes aware that the pistoning of my ass has stopped; there is an emptiness as the dildo has been removed. Coming back to the real world, my leather-encased head is lowered to rest on the leather bed as I moan with relief. Gently but with some urgency, Chris works to release the rope bondage, first with my ankles and then my wrists. As the leatherman helps me move my limbs into a natural position, I scream in the hood as these parts of my body have been seriously stressed. The blood returns to locations that have been missed for a long while.

After releasing all the bondage, the leather cuffs remain. I feel the leather man's gloves stroking my sweaty skin to comfort me, but he is still silent. Gradually, Chris rolls me over to my back, and I release a heavy breath as I feel him lay his leathered body next to me. I feel the leatherman place his lips on the grommet hole of the hood as his gloved hand lightly moves over my chest. Chris whispers, "I'm very impressed with you, ty. You are fucking good toy, ty."

This moment of affection fills my heart as my emotions are heightened by the struggle I have been through. His appreciation makes me want to connect with Chris even more.

"I know you've been wondering, ty; all you need to know is that you pleased me for three hours!" the leatherman kisses me again.

Chris kept us on the bed for a long while as his gloved hands helped bring my body back to life. While still in darkness, I reached over and hugged him, holding him to feel his leathered body against my nakedness and showing him that I needed to hold him for safety and assurance. 

But Chris had more plans, and it wasn't long after he allowed me to get some water in me to use the bathroom after the hood was removed that the leather man was putting me in leather. First came a one-piece motorcycle race suit of black leather, followed by a custom-made leather bondage suit that the leatherman laced up and tightened around my body. A pair of heavy black motocross boots were placed on my feet with very tight-fitting leather gloves on my hands. A new leather hood was placed on my head, filling my mouth with a gag with eye holes allowing sight. 

The leatherman led me to a custom-made chair made of wood on wheels. I discovered the chair was based on the famous Academy bondage chair as many belts and restraints kept me in place, including a wood piece that lifted my chin so that my head couldn't move. As I was seated, an opening in the leathers allowed a steel butt plug to slide into my ass that filled me as I settled into the hardwood seat. Only my hands were left free as he slid a small lap table at my waist, and I was securely in this bondage chair. 

The leatherman smiled as he checked all the restraints that he had secured. I felt the chair start to move, and Chris moved me to a small cubby hole in the wall where I was pushed in that fit all this perfectly. As I was settled, a computer monitor was attached to the wall directly in front of my sight. Chris attached a couple of clips to keep the chair from moving, then placed a keyboard on the table in my lap. Placing my gloved hands on the keyboard, he moved my right hand slightly so I could reach a mouse next to the keyboard. Then, the leatherman placed metal cuffs on my wrists, providing enough movement for the typing I figured I was about to do. Another chain was attached to the center of the straps that went across my chest.

Everything was quite secure as Chris stood beside me on my right side, the monitor flickering on. There was a desktop image of me in the bondage I had just experienced. "You like what you see, ty?"

Chris rubs my head with his gloved hand as I moan in the gag, seeing what I experienced for the first time.

"We’re almost done for the night, ty. Well, that is up to you, actually. I want you to write about your experience tonight. You will have two hours to do your magic with the words you create. You know I love what you write, and I am anxious to read what you write about what we’ve shared tonight.”

With the little movement that my head allows, I look over at Chris, surprised that he wants me to write situated like this.

“Oh, ty, I know you’ve often thought of being so used that even a Master like me makes sure your writing is controlled. You’ll notice you can use the keyboard and mouse with no problem, and let’s face it, this is much more comfortable than what you just experienced.”

My sight reviews the desktop to see a folder titled ‘ty’s story.’ Then I look back at Chris.

“So, this is what we’re going to do. You have two hours to write; I’m not looking for a polished story, just the best you can write about what you’ve experienced tonight. When you finish, put your document in the folder that is on the desktop. I will then review it. Now, this is the exciting part. If I like what you write, I will release you, and you will be headed home. But I think you could do better. I will keep you longer and encourage you to write better; you will go through an even more intense experience. After all, I can keep you for as long as I want.”

That last comment makes the cock jump as I look at Chris, seeing a very serious look on his face.

“I’m really proud of you ty, you have impressed me. Don’t let me down now.”

With that, Chris stepped back, and a wall slid into place and I was plunged into darkness with only the monitor's light before me. I heard the sound of a power drill securing the wall in place. Now, I was a leather writer in storage. Fuck, if this isn’t a fantasy of a guy that has many fantasies!

I place my fingers on the keyboard, close my eyes for a moment to gather my thoughts and start writing the most important piece of literature I’ve had to write while encased in leather, bound and secured like an object in a small room of a leatherman I only met through an email. As I get through the first paragraph, the steel plug in my ass comes alive with a current of electricity. This is going to make my focus on writing well a bigger challenge. But I will do my best because I want Chris to be very impressed when he opens this file in a few hours.

Is this the end?

It took me a couple of hours to write the story for this leather master. The writing was difficult at times, as my focus would stray from the written word to the pain in my ass as the steel plug would ramp up the electroactivity. However, I was able to conclude my writing, provide Chris with the signal that I had completed it, and save the file to the folder that he had instructed me to. Now, I had to wait for him to read it. The screen went black, and I was alone in the bondage, hearing my breathing as I awaited my fate.

The fresh air filled the space, and my nose picked up his scent as I knew that Chris had read my work and would render my verdict. The light filled the small space I had been trapped in for several hours. My cock grew a bit as I thought about the results of my writing about the power that Chris had taken over me. 

Chris's smile appeared at the edge of my sight, and I moaned a bit to let him know I appreciated seeing him again. “Glad to see you too, ty.”

His gloved hand reached out and stroked my hooded head, the first human touch I’d had in a while. I leaned my head as much as I could because of the restrictive restraints of the chair into this touch. Chris's smile reflected that he liked how I appreciated his touch. 

The leatherman then released the chair from the connections in the small hole, rolling it into the playspace. 

Standing before me, he started to speak, “So, you’re no doubt interested in how much I liked your story.”, Chris stated as he released his stroke of my head. Listening to his words, I latched on to the words of ‘how much I liked.’ That was positive; perhaps I am about to get out of this bondage.

Taking a wooden chair from the corner, Chris sat down directly in front of me so I could see him clearly. Wearing leather jeans, a black t-shirt, and gloves, he looked casual as a leatherman. The leatherman placed his hand on my knee.

“As you remember, I told you there were two outcomes today. If I like your work, you will be released and can head home. If I don’t like what you’ve written, you will be returned to the intense bondage but for double the time you were originally in. Then you will have to write about the experience again and face the same decision as you are now.” 

As he spoke, he gently rubbed my encased legs to encourage me. Then he continued, as I was now prepared to hear my fate. “I have another choice that came to mind as I read your words. I know you don’t know how I will respond, but I will give you one more option. If you agree, right now, without me providing you the outcome, I will put you in even more restrictive bondage and gear for a deeply intense experience. It will be long-term, but you will be released fully after you complete the challenge.”

Fuck! Where does this guy come up with this shit! I really wanted to get out of this bondage, but didn’t my cock get hard as he described the third option. As I took in this option, Chris squeezed my leg as I think he really wanted me to take this new option and see how far he would torture me.

“Are you confident that your story is the best you can do, considering that it has not gone through a proof? Or can you just admit you are meant to be an object, controlled by me and suffer for me?” his gloved hands stroke my legs, with his right hand moving up to the crotch where he rubs my encased cock, building the solidness of my manhood. The leatherman smiled as I lifted my crotch up to meet his touch, as he knew I was horny as fuck. “Time to decide, ty.”

My mind was a whirlwind; all the options were exciting, and I had experienced more than I ever thought I would. Chris has provided me experiences beyond the fiction that I write. I had been in bondage for what had to be a day, but I truly don’t know. This leatherman had gotten into my head, me learning to suffer for his enjoyment. I learned that by my suffering to please this leather master, I pleased myself as he enjoyed what I was going through. When I saw him in the restaurant last night, I could have never imagined that I would end up here, in such intense leather gear, bondage and awaiting the decision of my fate based on my writing. 

My thoughts were stopped by Chris's final instructions, “Grunt once, if you want me to just throw this story away and you continue your captivity for my enjoyment. Grunt twice for me if you want me to tell you my conclusion of your story. What is your choice, ty?”

My cock was rock hard, telling me to keep going with this time, Chris. My mind was telling me that I had had enough and needed to be released. As the leatherman lifted his hands from my legs, he encouraged me, “Come on, ty, you know what is right.”

Feeling my cock, I struggled a little in the bondage as the leatherman’s stare didn’t give me any clue what he wanted in my response. With my mouth full of the gag, I couldn't get into a debate with him. Ultimately, my mind knew the correct choice, so I gathered all my breath to give him the first grunt. The grunt was clear and loud as a smile grew on the leatherman’s face.

A split second passed as I gathered my strength for the second grunt. 

But before I got it out, Chris immediately stood, grabbed my chin and exclaimed, “Good choice fucker, you are going to suffer for me even more. Shit, I can’t believe you decided that, as I know you were into being owned, I just never thought this much!”

I struggled in my restraints as I started the second grunt; I didn’t want to continue the bondage for a longer period. I knew my story was good, and I wanted to get free. I grunted over and over as I was sweating in all this gear.

Laughing, Chris looks at me, “What the fuck, you can’t back out now! You made your decision! It was your fucking choice. Gees, ty, I will have so much fun with you!”

As I struggled, unable to speak or let him know that he misunderstood my response, Chris turned to leave. But he paused, turning back to me and bringing his face close so that our eyes connected.

“For your information, I loved your writing! You would’ve been released.”

Chris caressed my face, “You need confidence in your writing, ty. But with my help, I’ll make you the best writer you can be.”
The leatherman left me alone, my fate awaiting.

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