Tag: leather

A pair of sleek black leather gloves rests neatly on the dark brown armrest of a leather chair, with soft lighting highlighting their smooth, shiny surface.

The glove and the collar

2025-07-07 / admin bot / 0 Comments

The rectory was still, lit only by the faint golden spill from a desk lamp. Father Brad Whittaker sat at the edge of an old oak armchair, the burner phone hidden in his palm like contraband. The screen glowed in the dark, casting a blue light over his knuckles, which were white from the way he gripped it.

He scrolled an app he swore he’d delete after just one more look. Profiles, a mostly anonymous and faceless parade of torsos and gear, harnesses and collars, whipped past. One profile pinged.

Close-up of a person wearing black leather gloves and a dark suit with white cuffs.

Numbered assets

2025-03-31 / admin bot / 3 Comments

Drake always told himself he wasn’t like the others.

He knew all about his boyfriend Michael’s specialist kink—the serial numbers, the leather gloves, the obedience conditioning. He’d watched the transformations, the way Michael smoothed men over, reprogrammed them and paired them off like dolls. He’d seen the glassy eyes and the scripted lines. Hell, he’d even helped pick outfits and personalities for their new lives as retired assets after Michael lost interest in them.

Close-up shot of a person wearing a clerical collar and a chain. The image is stylized with a dotted, high-contrast effect, emphasizing the texture and shadows on the persons face and clothing.

Confession

2025-03-17 / admin bot / 0 Comments

The confessional was dark, save for the flickering candlelight casting broken patterns against the wooden partition. The air, thick with ghostly wisps of incense, felt even heavier with something deeper—unspoken desires pressing against the walls, waiting to be exposed, waiting to be exorcised.

Nathan knelt on the worn leather cushion, his hands folded tightly on the tabletop. His belly, straining the buttons of his shirt, pressed against the prayer kneeler with each shallow breath. The act of kneeling itself sent a strange thrill down his spine. He closed his eyes and exhaled, slow and unsteady.

A glass of whiskey with ice sits on a wooden table against a dark background.

ThinkTech (chapter 1)

2024-11-11 / admin bot / 3 Comments

Rick’s leather jacket creaked as he hunched over the two-top table, shifting his weight from foot to foot. It was barely ten o’clock, still early for a Saturday night, and the regulars had only just started to trickle in. From his perch in the corner, Rick nursed a sweating glass of whiskey, its contents now more melted ice than liquor, and ran a finger along a rough patch of cracked leather on his sleeve. The only piece of leather gear he owned, the old jacket’s worn edges and snug fit lent him a rugged look he rarely felt he lived up to.

He was a middle-aged bear with a build that was beefy and soft at the same time—rounded gut, broad chest, and thick arms hidden under the leather, with a bald scalp and a beard he kept trimmed short but full. His leather look was more functional than flashy, a way of blending in rather than standing out, but tonight, he felt something different in the air. He scanned the bar as it filled with patrons and music grew louder. Surrounded by men he only vaguely recognized from local leather events and meetups, Rick envied their easy camaraderie from a distance.

A black barber chair with a chrome base sits in a dark room. The room is so dark that the only thing visible in the image is the barber chair.

Freshly shorn

2024-05-06 / admin bot / 0 Comments

Marcus led Jamie down the cracked pavement of Main Street, directing his boyfriend from their car toward the barbershop. Clear Creek wasn’t a ghost town in the strictest sense, but whatever community existed was conspicuously absent from Main Street this Sunday afternoon. An autumn gust whipped through the thoroughfare, swirling old newspapers and fallen maple leaves into a mini cyclone. Jamie pulled his dark green bomber jacket tighter around his slender frame as they passed under an American flag, which flapped noisily from its mast above the awning of an abandoned storefront.

Contrary to Jamie’s efforts to shield himself from the wind, Marcus cut a carefree, imposing figure as they walked to the barbershop. With his back straight and shoulders square, Marcus walked with a confident stride that seemed to make even the swirling leaves calm down in his presence. His sharply tailored jacket clung tightly to his broad upper body, the black leather creaking with every smooth, undulating motion.

The pageant, part 2 (My perfect dad 50)

2024-04-08 / admin bot / 0 Comments

Read part 1 to get caught up…

As the evening started, Patrick perched on the edge of his barstool, his heart thumping with perturbation and disbelief. The air buzzed with an energy he barely recognized, charged with surreal, disquieting novelty. Mr. Leather Evergreen, the local fetish pageant he had followed religiously and whose title he clinched last year, had been turned on its head. The familiar program of events was gone, and each had been replaced with a bizarre suburban analog.

Instead of showing off their leather craftsmanship skills, the contestants were each handed a pair of shears and tasked with trimming a small patch of lawn to perfection. The stop clock ticked its final seconds, and Patrick watched in bewilderment as a dozen portly, middle-aged men sweated and fretted over every blade of grass on their miniature plots of turf. The winner, a guy Patrick recalled from the old Hideaway days, high fived the entire panel of judges when they revealed he’d trimmed his grass uniformly to one-quarter inch in height, exactly what the HOA prescribed.

Man's black-leather gloved hands holding a cell phone in the right hand and four credit cards in the left hand

Courtesy call

2022-08-26 / admin bot / 0 Comments

Marc’s hands trembled as he reached for his cell phone. As soon as he had it safely in his sweaty palm, a pair of gloved hands clamped onto his shoulders and pulled him roughly back into his chair. Marc sighed with pleasure as the scent of Master’s leather gear filled his nostrils, and the sensation of Master’s hands on his naked body sent waves of arousal radiating outward from each point of contact.

The phone continued to ring, but Marc hesitated to answer. He felt awkward taking this call while sitting naked in his Master’s dungeon. It was a further step in blurring the lines between facets of his life that were, until recently, strictly compartmentalized. Master deserved credit for blurring a lot of those lines Himself, and Marc had a hunch that the bank’s urgent requests to speak to him might be related to his new status as Master’s slave.

Selected (My perfect dad 30)

2022-08-06 / admin bot / 0 Comments

This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

The windowless room was thick with the smell of cigar smoke, leather, and sweat. My brothers and I had roughhoused enough for one day. It was time to relax and wait for our visitor to get here.

“What do you think he’ll be like?” I said.

“Master” (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0) by bearloveorg

Empty-headed dad (My perfect dad 27)

2022-08-06 / admin bot / 0 Comments

This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

Hello. My name is dad. I am a dad. I like to stand here and dad all day long.

I used to wear dad clothes, but then my Son gave me this dad uniform for when I’m performing my dad duties. Like standing here with this cigar between my dad lips. Maybe one day, my Son will actually let me smoke it. I’d do it myself, but I don’t know how.

“A Cigar is a good smoke” (CC BY-NC 2.0) by thaths

My Son’s musk (My perfect dad 21)

2022-08-06 / admin bot / 0 Comments

This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

Everything changed when I turned 40. The day before my birthday, I was at Buddies, my local leather bar, drinking a glass of scotch while a pup serviced my boots. I’d always been dominant, the one in control, the one calling the shots.

What a difference a day makes.

I set my empty glass down on the bar and felt a hand grip my shoulder, the friction causing my leather jacket to creak. “Hey, dad,” I heard someone say.

Tag: leather

The glove and the collar

Numbered assets

Confession

ThinkTech (chapter 1)

Freshly shorn

The pageant, part 2 (My perfect dad 50)

Courtesy call

Selected (My perfect dad 30)

Empty-headed dad (My perfect dad 27)

My Son’s musk (My perfect dad 21)

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