Leather Skin Biker

There is a slave who I found through a Craigslist ad over the summer. He does not live in Chicago, but travels here on business from time to time. He also travels abroad on business. I made plans to meet him at his hotel near O’Hare to use and abuse him. He expressed certain hard limits, which I acknowledged before the planned meeting. This slave is into bondage and humiliation. He is the type of slave who enjoys a nice heavy boot on his neck, holding his face to the floor. The fact that he is German feeds right into my whole fetish milieu, what with my skin orientation and such. German blood is German blood, and something told me that I could appeal to his respect for power by exercising mine.

At the time of the  proposed meeting, work commitments on my part kept me from being able to meet the German slave. These things happen sometimes. I’m not generally one to flake on a play date or first meet, but in this case circumstances were just beyond my control. And since I don’t yet have sufficient number of slaves to pimp out and/or cashrape, I still have to work for a living. As many of my readers know, I work hard, and I work some long hours. So the proposed meet date just didn’t work out.

In spite of the fact that I did not have an opportunity to use and abuse the German slave in person before he flew back home, I did stay in touch with him through recon.com, e-mail, and text messaging. I have saved the e-mails and photos the German slave sent me, and we have an ongoing communication stream. The interesting thing about this German slave is his extraordinary level of concern about discretion. He told me that he has an important job, and that his colleagues just wouldn’t understand his “special interests.” Add to that the fact that he claims to have a girlfriend, which may or may not be true. But everything he says suggests that he does not want this girlfriend to know about the extracurricular activities in which he indulges.

The German slave’s alleged level of concern about discretion seemed to be contradicted by the fact that he sent me photos of himself naked, bound, and gagged by dominant men. I know that if I were trying to enjoy BDSM activities on the down low, that I would be very careful about spreading photos of myself in bondage to guys I meet on Craigslist who I really don’t know and haven’t met. Add to this the fact that he gave me his wireless number, and then tells me that his girlfriend sometimes answers the phone. This slave urged me to be discreet when calling or texting that number because of the girlfriend.

Considering my sense of entitlement, and my moral compass, I pondered this slave’s situation, and his borderline paranoia about having his secret BDSM life exposed, and began to consider whether he might, in fact, be a cash slave ripe for use. In fact, a little voice in my head told me that he was just begging to be used, in spite of the fact that he never had the opportunity to meet me in person. Sometimes my gut just tells me things about faggots like him. In this case, my gut told me that he wanted to feel me exert my power, and that he would respond to power.

Over the course of the summer, our communications continued, and he began asking about the photos he’d sent me. He wanted to know whether I would mind deleting them. When that request came in, I started to think about what it might be worth to this slave to make those photos go away. Me being me, I just presented him with the offer to delete the photos and protect his secret in exchange for some “gifts” that he could send my way. I have on many occasions spoken with Master David about cash slaves, and the merits thereof. I do have a fetish for cashrape, and felt it was time to experience that fetiish more fully.

Toward the middle of summer, I suggested to the German slave that I would destroy the incriminating photos for a price, and that he would be willing to pay that price. Needless to say, this launched the German slave into damage control mode, and he plead with me to just delete the photos and leave it at that. I told him that if his job was so important to him, and that if his girlfriend was important to him, that he would pay me to destroy the photos. Keep in mind that I was not asking for an exhorbitant amount of money. In fact, it was a fairly paltry sum, and I was happy to allow him to pay in installments over time. Regardless the small amount and the favorable payment arrangements for the “gifts” he could provide, he put up resistance and bitched and moaned. His whining about the whole thing got to be pretty annoying, but I could tell that on some level he was really getting off on it.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that he was enjoying this. I also came to see that he was, in fact, responding to my power, and it was turning him on. That’s when I began to see this in a whole different light. Specifically, I started to realize that I provided something he needed—namely, to be dominated by someone more powerful than himself, and to be put in a position to beg for mercy, while all the while sporting a hardon about the whole thing. It was after having the realization that I was, in fact, providing him with something that had value, that I felt even more confident that he would be paying for my services. I see this as being no different than a dom for hire who goes to some faggot’s hotel room and dominates him for pay.

After much discussion and a lot of whining on his part, he came across with $50. I have to admit that when the e-mail notification came in, I became rock hard. Okay, I admit it: I love having a slave give me things, including gift certificates, just because. I love it so much that it makes my cock hard. So the German slave thought that $50 would be the end of it and that I would destroy the photos at that point. I was quick to remind him that I did not say $50 represented the magic number. I suggested that 10 installments of $50 might do it, and that he could easily afford to pay $50 ever other week.

The next thing I knew, the German slave told me that he was going on holiday with his girlfriend for some weeks, and that he would not be so easily accessible. What I heard was this: “blah, blah, blah.” I told him not to bore me with his vacation plans with his girlfriend. Who cares where he is going on vacation with this girlfriend who may or may not be real. And so I didn’t hear from him for several weeks. I had nearly forgotten about him, and then he returned from vacation and messaged me. As I have suggested so many times in past months, I was very busy over the summer, and I wasn’t sitting around worrying about whether I’d ever hear from this slave again. But there he was, back in touch, back from his holiday, and wanting more.

I told him he was long overdue for another payment. He went through the whole litany of reasons why it was wrong of me to expect him to pay more, about the need for me to be discreet, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Been there, done that. Just pay up, faggot. The chat I am thinking about ended in more or less a stalemate, with him not agreeing to pay any more, and me suggesting he ought to consider how much his “important” job and “girlfriend” are worth to him before blowing me off. Well, within a matter of minutes, I received an e-mail message indicating that someone had sent me a gift through an online payment service that begins with the letter “P.” I was surprised. I thought for sure that the German cash slave was gonna walk away and take his chances. But there he was, going along with the spirit of O/our agreement, if not the specific terms. So another “gift” had come my way. Again, that made my cock hard—very hard.

I just had another conversation with the German cash slave yesterday. He told me that he was done providing me with “gifts” for services rendered, and that was the long of it and the short of it. I told him I still have all of the compromising photos and e-mails, and that I have a blog. I suggested that some of his colleagues my be closet readers of my blog. I also suggested that if I posted his photos on my blog, and included his e-mail address with the photos that it would not take long for Google to index the pages, increasing the chance that someone he knows somewhere will find his photos, should it be necessary for me to post them online.

At that point the German cash slave demanded that I provide him with a link to my blog. I told him that I would write a post about him, and then send him the link, in order to prove that I’m serious about him. Well, this is the post, and I am serious.

To my readers: this is just one of the ways that I have been spending my time since last June. There’s so much more to tell about so many different things, that it is going to take time to catch you up. But at least this is a start.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 15th, 2008 at 6:42 am and is filed under Cash slavery, Dominance, Master/slave, Psychological Control.