Leather Skin Biker

There was another Master/slave couple online that I had been exchanging messages with off and on for some time. I wanted to get to know them, and possibly develop a friendship, since we had things in common. Schedules were not conducive for a long time, but in the Fall of 2006 I was able to get a meeting on the calendar with the master. I looked forward to meeting this master who, according to his profile, was dark and sadistic. This master, known as Master David, had owned his slave a lot longer than I had owned mine, so I thought I could learn some things from him. It never hurts to compare notes with other doms, share experiences, discuss strategies, protocols, etc.

On the night of our first meeting, we met at a club near my house. I appreciated his willingness to meet at a place so conveniently located for me. I liked that. It made me think that even though this master was sadistic and dark, he was still a nice guy. So I arrived first, and ordered a drink. This club specializes in martinis, so I had a martini. Yeah, it may sound a little shi-shi for two leathermen, but it was the location that was really the draw. So I had already started my drink when Master David arrived. Master David is a handsome early 40s Jewish master with dark hair and eyes. He’s trim and fit, and stands at about 6 feet 1 inch tall. When he met me his handshake was firm and warm.

He ordered himself a margarita. I like margs myself, but had chosen the martini that night instead. And he ordered salt on the glass. We started talking and considering how loud the music was in the club, we were able to carry on a good conversation. Sometimes when music is too loud, I end up missing whole pieces of sentences, which is very frustrating. But we had no problem. I ordered another martini when he was done with his first marg. I was in that pleasant light buzz state, and the music was actually good, what I remember of it. It was kind of funny, but all around us this political meeting was going on. A local candidate for alderman was working the crowd. I had been oblivious to his presence until I had to get up to use the washroom. I encountered a very densely packed club full of jazz lovers and political supporters.

I managed to navigate back to my seat near Master David, and our fresh drinks were waiting. I liked this Master David as a person, and respected his experience. We had exchanged some background about ourselves, talked about our style, our perspectives on Old Guard, rules and limits on our slaves, and so on. It was a good exchange. For whatever reason, as I eased into my second drink, I shared some information about myself that might have come as a surprise to Master David, but I felt I had nothing to hide and no reason to avoid talking about it. I told Master David how I had gotten my start in BDSM as a slave. It wasn’t for a long time, but I learned a great deal from the experience. In the mid-90s I had met a master when I was in grad school, and he really was the first man to introduce me to Master/slave relationships in an ongoing, serious way. Master David seemed completely non-judgmental about my past experience. In fact, Master David seemed like one of the most understanding men I had ever met. In my former life I was into some new age, spiritual stuff, and I am still sensitive to energy. Master David was full of positive energy. I could feel it.

So there I was, in the midst of all this commotion in a club, sharing some of the most personal details of my BDSM life with Master David. There must have been something that told me I could trust him. As anyone in a BDSM relationship can tell you, trust is essential between master and slave. While a slave is vulnerable after surrendering his life to a master, a master is also vulnerable. A slave can wreak havoc with a master’s life if he sets that out as his objective. It’s the old too much starch in the boxers thing. If a slave gets angry and wants to be spiteful, he could hide a master’s car keys in the freezer. Trust is definitely important, and I could see why this master had owned a slave for so long. I could sense he was a good man.

There was an interesting moment that I will never forget that evening at the club. I remember distinctly watching Master David lick the salt off of the rim of his marg glass, and I felt this stirring. I’m not the kind of person to live in denial about too many things, and it struck me clearly that seeing his tongue on that glass was arousing me—watching that made me think about kissing him. I tucked that ideation away, and suggested that we settle the bill and go to my place for a few minutes, as my slave would soon be home. I wanted my slave to meet Master David. So we cashed out and I brought Master David home.

I had a pretty good buzz going after two martinis, and was feeling a little giddy about hanging out with my new friend. Inviting him to stop up for a few minutes was significant for me. I don’t think I had my slave get things organized or extra clean for company. So I was just going to let Master David walk into whatever condition the place was in. I didn’t feel worried or anxious about the appearance of my place. We were upstairs and at my door in a matter of minutes. The quiet of my building was a welcome change from the din of the club.

I opened the door and invited Master David in to my place. I was immediately struck by the way that Master David navigated my home. I was not quite prepared for how comfortable he would be in my home. Without me inviting him or saying a word, he went to my bedroom and sat on my bed. I thought to myself that it seemed kind of bold of him. But I didn’t really mind. I figured if he felt comfortable doing that, then it was fine. It was right after that point when Master David excused himself for a moment. He wanted to call his slave. I wasn’t standing right next to him while he conversed with his slave on the phone, but I couldn’t help but hear bits and pieces. Master David was checking on his slave’s progress getting home that night. I understood that the slave had been out of town, and just flown into Chicago. His slave was on the train, on his way home, apparently. I was familiar with the ways a master protects and looks after a slave, although I’d only been doing it 24/7 for about a year or so at that time. A slave is reassured and comforted by a responsible, loving owner who takes care to ensure that he is safe.

Next I showed him the view, which isn’t spectacular, but it’s a nice unobstructed eastern and southern view. To the east you can see Lake Michigan, and to the south you can see the near south side of Chicago. My place is on the top floor of the building, although that is only six stories up. As I mentioned, I had a good buzz going, and I think Master David did as well. So I had just opened the sliding glass door leading to the balcony for him, in case he wanted to step out for a better look. We were standing very close to one another, for no reason in particular, and I felt this “electricity” in the air. I really didn’t expect this. I thought that Master David was going to be my master buddy, and I still did think that. But there was something more going on there. In retrospect it makes perfect sense. But that night it was really a surprise.

Within moments of sliding the door open for Master David, my slave arrived. Quite honestly, if my slave hadn’t arrived, I’m not sure what would have happened. But I have some ideas. With my slave home, I introduced Master David to my slave. We sat and talked a bit, exchanged pleasantries, and after a few minutes had elapsed, Master David said that he should be going. Since he had not driven, he was without a car. I insisted that my slave drive him to his car, which was at the parking garage near his workplace. Of course, I also insisted that I go along.

I sat in the back seat, and let Master David sit in the passenger seat. My slave was driving, since he was the only one among the three of us who had not been drinking. I definitely had no business driving after those two martinis. It was a crisp autumn night, and we bid Master David good night. I moved up into the passenger seat where Master David had been sitting. I could still feel the warmth of his body in the seat, and I could still smell him, even though he was out of the car. On the way back home I asked my slave how his work day had been. As I listened to my slave tell me about his day, I couldn’t help but reflect on the things I had thought and felt when I saw Master David’s tongue lick the salt from the rim of his marg glass.

This entry was posted on Monday, May 5th, 2008 at 7:12 pm and is filed under Dominance, Master/slave, Power Imbalance, Submission.