Leather Skin Biker

I’ve written only Parts 1 and 2 thus far. I need to keep going. There’s more to tell. It’s been a very busy winter–more than you’d think for the months of January and February.

So given O/our common interests, things just evolved. his need for approval played right into my hands. his darkness dovetailed nicely with my darkness. To use a term from1980s business think, there was synergy there. he was looking for no one, but he found Me. and as for Me, I didn’t seek him out. But there he was. Day in, day out, in regular, almost constant communication. It’s important to note that as things evolved between U/us, one could look at what happened in very different ways. I know both his version, and I have My own version. I have discussed it with him ad infinitum.

So in his version of things, I manipulated him—methodically, deliberately, and willfully—to suit my purpose. As he sees it, there was something I needed, and he happened to be the one who appeared at the right place at the right time. In the way that he paints the picture, I had been ramping up to this, and was waiting for someone like him. he will tell you that I was just waiting patiently for a boy who had a high need for acceptance and approval, with a submissive nature, who would be willing to do almost anything for a superior MAN. he’d have you believe that I took advantage of him. he might even go so far as to say that I tricked him into asking me to do what I did to him. he would say that I’m dark enough and smart enough to do all this to a man who is just as dark, if not darker, than Myself. FJB is no dullard. he is smart, successful, insightful, and nobody’s fool. he knows what he is, and what he is built for: service. Always the 15 year old boy serving superior men. Some things never change.

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Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while know of the boy I refer to as “faggotjewboy.” his story has not been told yet. I’ve related part of his story, but there’s so much more I can say about this manboy who is bound to me for life. There’s all the backstory—now over three years of it—a rich, and complex backstory that needs to be told.

Consistent themes in my blog, and in my life, are these concepts of hierarchy, inequality, and power imbalance. How many different forms can that take? How many ways can one man submit to another? What are the limits? How many variations can there be? What could represent the ultimate form of submission? And what would compel a man to submit so permanently and completely? These are all good questions to ponder.

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So the German cash slave has been responding to cashrape, but has become kind of sluggish with payments lately. Apparently, there is some risk of slipping into cashfuck mode, which is a whole different matter, and nothing in which he has an interest. Cashrape is not cashfuck. Now they tell me. <G>

I’ve turned a corner with this cash slave, and I’m confident that payments will be coming more regularly soon. If he’s reading this, he knows what I mean.

I’ve found a boot whore in the UK who pays tribute to this SSuperior ARYAN MaSSter on a regular basis. This faggot loves to see me cam in my big Wesco Boss boots and gear. He’s a pathetic inferior faggot who begs to see my boots, and jacks his useless tributeslave cock off watching me in them. So how it works is he pays up first, and then I cam for him. So far, the tribute this boot fag pays is sufficient only for the boots and my heavy black leather gauntlet gloves. No face.

I’m going to send the tributeslave a link to this post.

I’ve found another fucking cashslave to pay tribute to this dominant, SSuperior, ARYAN, MaSSter on a regular basis. I’ve imposed a fagtax on this submissive leatherfag who needs to be humiliated, taken advantage of, and turned into a loser. I found this piece of shit on the soon-to-be defunct Dominants4Cash site, and have him right where I want him. It gets my cock hard when I get the e-mails notifying me that I have received funds from an inferior faggot. Love that.

I’m saving the funds to buy more leather gear. I’m thinking about breeches, a new leather shirt, or some leather jeans with a white or yellow stripe down the legs. I look hot as fuck in leather, and need more. Using funds from these cashslaves to buy more leather for me is a winning system. I help them out by taking their money, and they get the satisfaction of living out their lives as they were meant to live: as submissive, inferior, faggot who need to be humiliated, used, abused, and ruined.

Will keep you posted on developments with this new cashslave. I’ll also soon provide updates on the German cashslave I’ve been cashraping.

See a pic of the inferior leatherfag now.

Those of my readers who have been around for a while may remember my original post about smokedog. The fun part about blogs that I’m learning is that sooner or later, most of the men I write about find the posts I’ve written about them. And the good news is that most of the men really appreciate the fact that I’ve blogged about them. Actually, no one has complained to date. This summer, smokedog found the post I published about him. From publish date to his communique was probably not more than a couple months. This communication, came after a period of non-communication, so his message was welcome.

One thing that I want to clear up right away is that contrary to what I implied in the first post I wrote about smokedog, he was, in fact, not under the influence of any drugs or intoxicants during the play session I described in the post. What appeared to me, the inexperienced smokedog user, as some sort of intoxication, was simply the result of time well spent in layers and layers of rubber sweating and smoking—nothing more, nothing less. I didn’t intentionally misrepresent smokedog’s state of being, but reported what my impressions were at the time. With that clarification on record, I can proceed to tell you about my reconnection with the smokedog this year.

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Since the Chicago Eagle closed at the end of the summer, I’ve been spending more time at Jackhammer (The Hole). I’ve been having some fun there visiting with friends and making new ones. Jackhammer has come a long way since I first patronized the place in 2006. They added “The Hole,” which is the basement bar. It is kind of amazing that it was not until about a month ago that I finally visited “The Hole.” I have to say that I’m glad I did.

It’s an interesting place, “The Hole.” There is a decent size bar, a tub for watersports, a St. Andrew’s cross for flogging and such, and a row of urinals lined up across from the bar. There is a short wall on which the urinals are attached, so men can piss and still see the bar and the crowd, and depending how close other men are, it’s easy to see the men pissing. I really enjoy that feature of the place. There is also a long narrow backroom, which I will say more about later.

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Late last month, I had an opportunity to have dinner with Master David—the dark, sadistic master who lives here in Chicago. The two of us don’t get to hang out together very often, so it was a pretty big deal. I hadn’t seen Master David since over the summer, when I took him to a ball game. The dinner plans fell together pretty much effortlessly, once we found an evening that worked for both of us. He let me choose the restaurant, so I chose a gay restaurant in the heart of Boystown—one where there would be no real restrictions on me, in terms of clothing, demeanor, or PDAs, should those occur. We have had dinner at a few different places over the years, and being in a “regular” restaurant has never stopped Master David from expressing himself. I can recall vividly one time we had dinner at a sports bar/restaurant in my neighborhood, during which he stuck his boot into my crotch under the table, and pushed quite hard while we ate. Ahh, good times, that.

Of course, on the appointed day, there were logistics to be worked out. We are both working professionals, and are both quite busy during our work hours. And since Chicago is a city, we have several options for getting to the restaurant, where to meet, etc. The key in this case was that I really wanted us to both be able to enjoy a few drinks before, during, maybe even after dinner without being irresponsible and driving. Normally, if Master David picks me up and he drives, then he limits his alcohol intake. I was hopeful that in this case, he could get buzzed, along with me, instead of being the designated driver. With that objective in mind, there was the question of how best to get together and get to dinner. Options included cabbing and public transportation. During the negotiations about the how, Master David was commuting home from work, so he could get ready for dinner. I had taken off work a bit early, so I would have time to get ready and have some time to spare to relax with a drink and a little weed. I wanted to be uninhibited and relaxed with Master David at dinner. He likes me relaxed, open, and buzzed. If I go beyond buzzed, and enter the state that I call “kind of fucked up,” so much the better, in his opinion. So while he was commuting home, I was working on the fucked up part fairly enthusiastically.

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I’ve decided to be very up front about one of my fetishes and put it on the table for my readers and anyone who happens to find my blog through other blogs, word of mouth, and search. I’ve really discovered my fetish for cashslaves and cashrape through recent experience with the German cash ssklave. I’ve found that every time the German cash ssklave sends me funds, it makes my cock hard. I want to see more of that.

I definitely need more leather gear, including more boots, full leather SS uniforms, officer coats, skin gear, and Nazi gear. I know I was born to wear that kind of gear, and want more of it.

Subhuman cashslave maggots who get off on sadistic use, abuse, torture, humiliation, degradation, dehumanization in exchange for tribute should definintely contact me. Sieg Heil!

I’ve found a Web site that caters to my fetish. You can view my profile on the site at http://dominants4cash.ning.com/profile/LthrSSkinBiker

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