Like a descending harmonic scale returning to its tonic base, we returned home from work separately, solidly. You know the feeling. The satisfaction of the rasping sound the key makes in your door lock. The scent memory of home envelops you, recognized, familiar, expected yet largely ignored (but if missing, filling you with a sense of wrongness). Those comforting neglected shades of normalcy seat you firmly in the reality of the situation. I'm home!
In just such a way, my Man and I embarked, on a May evening, into a most particular duet.
It was a normal evening routine. Established habits adhered to. Familiar footpaths through the carpeting, followed. An embrace unhurried and meltingly sweet filled with the smell of him stretches a legato phrase of comfort to its conclusion. You see the energy of a snare drum roll as you gaze into his eyes and inspired, you astonish and delight the Man with a cymbal crash of a smile.
We each showered. We shared a beer and read the mail. Dinner was a Middle American march through burger and fries and ("Ah, shit. Alright.") a salad.
Accelerando
The dinner conversation was lively with plans (or not) for the weekend and domestic babble centered on "Should we this" or "What do you think about . . ." and "How was your . . ." etc. Midway through the meal the tempo began to change. The Boy drew in a bit, an action not noticeable by anyone other than the Man. The Man looked at the Boy and knew what was there. The Man's knowledge of his boy was a conductor's knowledge of a particular idiom or style that once studied, appreciated, loved and internalized becomes facile and resident at a cellular level of consciousness. A knowledge unbidden which flows from him like breath.
Each of them was a force. Each of them was responsible. Each made decisions every working day and wealded such power as the job required. Each a symphony of personality.
The past 3 weeks had been especially trying on the Man and the Boy. Each having to be there for others. Required. Deadlined. Salaried. Pushed. A very low tuned physic timpani had begun a roll weeks ago and the crescendo was to be accomplished tonight.
The Boy was watching television. The Man came into the room and said,
"Boy, I think you need for me to play some cards tonight."
The Boy stood up and said, "Yes sir. I expect I do."
He got the cards for the game and went to the table and pulled out a chair for the Man. The man, the intuitive, knowledgeable guardian and trainer saw the slight quiver in the Boy's hands as he offered the chair to his Man.
"Boy, you're in bad shape."
The Boy looked into his Man's eyes with a defiant, hard gaze, which said,"I know you think you know what's best for me. I know it's worked in the past but I'm a strong capable adult and I should be able to care for myself."
The Man, annoyed, said," Yeah, Yeah Yeah. Go into the bedroom and take off you clothes. Put on your boots and vest and bring me the collar and leash and the hood too." "NOW!"
A cannon shot of sound propelled the Boy to do his Man's bidding. No use to argue.
Legatto
A solo Boy walked into the room wearing the sound and smell of leather, as he had been required to do. The requisite items in his hand. These would be used to color the melody of the scene. The Man was standing there glaring at him, clothed in boots, chaps, vest, wrist wraps and cap, his tattoos visible, as grace notes. His beard glistening, black, soft begged to be touched. He just, simply, stood there expressing an inexpressible sense of manhood, power and solidity. A single sustained baritone note that provoked in the Boy an arpeggio of delight. We each have an archetype of what a God might look like. Here was the conductor! Here was the maestro! His gaze and intent pointed directly at His Boy. Yes, pointed at his well worked tits. Yes, pointed at his hungry ass.
Yes, the Boy looked wonderful and powerful in his gifted leather. Long ago, at first meeting, the Boy had confessed that he had no leather because he felt it should be earned. The man had seen to that! He had been proud and delighted with each new piece he gave the boy. Each piece was emblematic of a lesson taught and learned. Each piece, therefore, was endowed with a pentimeto of love given and love received. Each piece was a testament to trust and commitment. Yes, he was pointed directly at his Boy. At his mind, his will and his heart!
Tempo a Tempo
The downbeat was the Man's reaching out and taking the hood, leash and collar form the Boy's offering hands. They both considered the collar as a vestment appropriate to a sanctified rite.
"Come here Boy."
A three note phrase that when spoken raised the hair on the Boy's neck. He stepped forward. A long languid movement as the collar rose to the Boy's throat lead inexorably to the smell of cold leather and the flesh feel as it encompassed his neck. As it was fastened, he heard a staccato click as the lock sealed. With the locking, he felt the first wave of panic wash over him. Not a fear for his safety, because that was tacit, but rather the panic of weeks and months of obligation and production all resented after a while. To do one's work day in and week out is often pleasurable but we all have a breaking point where it simply becomes too much! Now was the beginning of healing from too much!
The Man leaned into the Boy, his scalding breath in the Boy's ear, he said," This collar will keep you down Boy." He fastened the chain leash to the clip. The metal links washing over each other sounded to the Boy's heightened senses like a run on a xylophone.
"This leash is the control. I hold it and I guide you!" "Who controls you Boy?"
"You do Sir."
"Who can put you down Boy?"
"Only you Sir."
"Then get down for me Boy."
The Boy kneels on the floor looking up at God the Protector and Controller.
Now the full orchestration was brought to the fore. The hood. The hood was the Man's special friend. He used it to make the lesson concentrated and laser-like. With no sight possible and only the mouth and nose open to the air, he was assured that the Boy's full attention would be given to the lesson at hand. He was virtuoso in his use of hoods and gags. He was in possession of the knowledge that the Boy needed nurturing and strengthening and the only way he would receive it was to be subjugated. To give his will and personhood to the Man. The Boy needed to give himself up totally to this Man's will and receive strength and calm and centering in return. In the Man's hands, this ancient and revered game became music, art and cleansing fire! The Maestro.
The hood in place the man pulled down on the leash and said,"Now boy, under the table."
"Yes Sir."
The boy crawled under the table lead by the leash. The Man sat down on a chair and spread his leather legs. He guided the Boy to kneel there on the floor between his spread feet and intoned, "Now here's what you'll do. Take my cock in you mouth and suck it gently. Suck me into you. Do not give me a blowjob. If you can't control your lust and you get too greedy then I'll know what I have to do to you. Do you understand your orders?"
"Yes Sir."
The Boy's senses were razor- like at this point and as he descended to the Man's crotch the main theme of this particular duet was begun.
No sight. Movement restrained. The only senses available were smell, taste, touch and hearing. The creak of leather as his arms went to steady himself on the Man's thighs. The touch of leather as his enormous belly brushed into the chaps. Now the longed for and cherished scent of hot leather and the Man's crotch. The smell of two of his favorite things came to him in duet as he opened his mouth and came down on the Man. His dick was soft at first and gave no resistance to the gentle tongue as it washed the beloved. He kept the dictum in mind. No blowjob. This is nurture. The Boy, like an infant marsupial just arrived in the pouch, by blind instinct alone, attached himself to the cock and sucked in life force. He nursed gently letting his tongue venture down to the balls once or twice just as a variation on a theme, but always returning to the tonic satisfaction of the cock. The Man's greatest gift to the boy was this balancing of energies. The Boy, strained to the point of breaking was brought down and subjugated. Horrible in his eyes! Yet, now, he was receiving strength as a gift given from love by the Man. Glory in his mouth! Give and take. Yin and Yang. The Man's need to give. The Boy's need to take. Balance. Duet!
The Man is, all this time, playing Solitaire, feeling how the Boy is taking joy in his task. But he knows what to watch out for, and here it is. The Boy is getting more forceful and starting to breathe harder and is actually trying to suck him off. The nerve of the little fucker! He pulls the leash tight and pulls the boys head off his dick. He over turns the table and pulls the boy up to his knees.
"What did I tell you Boy? You've gotten greedy haven't you? I will let you know when I want to cum. Do you hear me?"
"Yes Sir."
"But you didn't obey me did you shithead?"
"No Sir."
"What shall I do about that?"
"As you wish Sir."
"Goddamn right, as I wish. I think maybe part of the problem is in your little dick. I think if we attack the problem there we can make some progress with this lesson."
The Man grabbed a handful of the Boy's cock and balls and squeezed. The Boy's head went back. Though the Boy saw none of this, the Man took a 2 inch wide piece of leather and pulled the Boy's dick forward and down. Then with the other hand he began to wrap the cock and balls together with the wide long thong. When it was done, he secured it with a thin thong and tied it off.
"I guess that will keep your dick behaved. But, your will played a part in this too. I don't like that. Hang you head Boy."
The Boy knew what was coming. It was important to stay limp. Without warning a full hand slap played rhapsodically across his left cheek and before he was done gasping a full backhand caught him on the right cheek. The pain and surprise pushed the Boy over the edge of anticipation and into a maelstrom of endorphin pushed ecstasy. The deliberate measured force of the blow, like a Jovian thunderbolt, banished whatever demons remained lurking and hidden in the well of the Boy's soul.
"DO, I, HAVE, YOUR, ATTENTION?"
"Yes SIR!"
"Can you do as you're told?"
"YES SIR!"
Rit a Poco
The table replaced, the position resumed, solitaire being played, lesson learned the opus begins to retard to its conclusion. After a half-hour the Man got up and pulled the Boy to his feet. He held him in a soft yet tight embrace and whispered in his hooded ear, "Feel better Boy?"
"Yes Sir, I do. Thank you Sir."
The energy had been exchanged. The giver had taken and the taker had given. All's right with the world. The Man unclipped the leash and removed the collar. He unfastened the hood and pulled it off the Boy's head. But one more set of energies needed to be exchanged. The Man embraced the Boy and kissed him with tongue and soul and whispered in his naked ear in his French horn sounding voice, "Now boy, lets go to bed. I want to fuck you.
We made love and sang at the moon until we both, exhausted, fell into the sleep of the innocent and the well loved.
FINIS