Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Mad boy's Love Song

(I think I made You up inside my head.)

Suited in dark gray with silver hair and starched, white shirt, I face You over a glass of fine, Italian wine. Your handsome, carved face denies the dark-scented perversion of Your Leather. You look at me and I look away, embarrassed.

I blink once, twice, and then look up as you loosen your tie. Your silver hair brilliant against the backdrop of the night. The stars try to warn me, but my thoughts go black. Like the Stones song, I am blinded but to the darkness of Your immediate need.

Tipsy now, you lead me defenseless to your bed, iron-black and stern. And you lay me down and remove my pants, my cock leaping helpless against Your confident mouth. Your lips and tongue work the hard shaft of my boyhood and I become helpless. And simultaneously You unbutton Your shirt to reveal Your hirsute, silver against the darkness of the moon through Your open window. More Werewolf than Man, Daddy takes me and I succumb, my innocence blurred by Your desire.

“How could I have been so trusting,” I thought, Your cock now hard and pressing against my thigh. “I have been deceived,” my thoughts racing. Then I feel Your kiss, soft against my shaft, my abdomen, Your mouth working its way up until it finally reaches my chest. Caressing each nipple between your lips, You tease each tender mound with Your experienced tongue. I sigh and look down in time to see You unzip Your tailored trousers. Your perfect cock surrounded by a wreath of black hair flecked with gray.

“Daddy, please take Your boy,” I plead. I am now helpless against You. You force me down head first and shove Your cock into my waiting mouth, and I realize that my saliva is the only lube that You intend to use when You fuck me. I try to slobber out some spittle and my mouth goes dry. You pull Your cock out of my mouth and move it down to my tight hole. And I close my eyes and wait for the burn of that first thrust.

My thoughts turn to the forced morality of Sunday School lessons, of David and Jonathan and stories of Old Testament fraternities. I wonder why I have been drawn to You, a man twice My age. My first steps beyond the apron strings, and I find Another to parent me, a Leather Daddy in suit and tie, a Gentleman now exposed by the drive of His perversion.

“Your type disappeared long ago,” I mumble, my desire meeting Yours halfway. You ignore me and I kiss You in return. Then I lift my legs to guide You deep within me. I feel Your cock shaft moving definite in and out and I ignore the pain. Instead, I give myself to You. You have moved into the silhouette of my darkest fantasy and I surrender. I close my eyes again and feel You cum deep within me. Your cock throbs, You arch, and I lie back satisfied.

(I think I made You up inside my head.)

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Occupy Wallstreet (or Take Back Your Leather)

In the last month, hordes of people young and old are congregating on Wall Street and in every city of the country. They are angry, frustrated at the fact that banks and financial institutions have been bailed out by the government while jobs continue to dwindle. They are angry that one percent of the population is getting richer while the other ninety-nine percent grows poorer.

The powerful hide behind their corporations, entities now equal in rights before the law. This shift began more an one hundred years ago, when the highest court in the land declared that corporations had equal protection under the Bill of Rights. Although other cases laid the foundation for this ruling, it was Noble versus Union River Logging Railroad Company in 1893 that marked the shift. And continuing this trend toward the rise of corporate power, Randall versus Sorrel in 2006 opened the floodgates relative to elections and corporate political influence.

Today citizens are rising up and declaring that the fabric of this country is not built on corporate greed. It is built on the working men and women of this land.

As a Leather/kink Community, we seem to be a microcosm of society at large. And mirroring this trend, individuals are growing tired of "Community" being equated with titles and organizations. As if individuals without titles or affiliations are ciphers. Do we forget that our organizations were founded to serve the players of our Community, and not the other way around?

Local title organizations flock like flies toward the newest face in the bar, anxious to enlist him or her as a contestant in the next contest. And clubs sign them up as quickly as frat houses sign up pledges during rush week. Rather than emphasizing mentorship between individuals, these groups favor workshops and how-to books, the quickest way to not only learn the "right" way to play, but also the easiest way to charm the money from the pockets of these newcomers. Leather and Kink organizations insist that this is the way to build Community.

But there is another voice rising, the voice of those kinky fuckers who play, who value Leather Family more important than Leather titles and workshops.

In stating this, I do not wish to negate the title that I held as International LeatherSIR in 2010. Nor do I want to dismiss the importance of Leather clubs and runs. They have their place as a means of bringing like-minded people together. The danger lies when we lose sight of their purpose and begin believing that organizations are more important than the individuals that they are supposed to serve. As ILSb's Mark Frazier reminded me many times during my title year, "Family comes first."

In short, it is about people and what they do to each other. It is about fucking, sucking cock, beating a back bloody. About serving a MASTER and, in turn, caring for HIS property. About mentoring boys, providing them the protection and safety that they cannot find in society at large.

Perhaps it is time for us to occupy our bars and our clubs and declare with a loud voice that we are the Community. Long after the titles and clubs have faded, men and women will be playing and exploring the delights of BDSM. And just as those protesting in cities across the United States proclaim "We are the government; you work for us," we need to raise a similar cry in the Leather/kink Community.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

The Dysfunctional Leather Family

Drama is the black hole of Leather. It draws almost everyone into its dark vacuum, robbing them of energy and the ability to mentor and assist others. Years ago I found myself drawn into one of these black holes. I fought the gravitational pull of such drama for a few weeks, finally protesting that my Leather had nothing to do with the foment of politics. And the response, "We are Family, and that means that things can often be dysfunctional. That is part of being a Family."

This is utter bullshit!

As adults we often form families in order to heal the wounds left by our biological families. Our goal in forming chosen families is to end the patterns of dysfunction that left us scarred in adolescence. Even though we protest that we do not want to reproduce these patterns in our adult relationships, we know of no other way to interact with others. As a result, we pass our dysfunction to our boys, our sirs, and our friends. A plague that manifests itself not only as physical abuse and emotional manipulation, but also as politics, drama, and gossip.

In the eighties I led parallel lives. I usually had a Daddy, an older Man who nurtured and guided me, and a man who was my primary partner, and with whom I relived the abuse of my biological family. A carbon copy of my childhood, a period of suspension between the night and the day selves. In 1990, both collided in a volatile relationship that ended in physical violence. At this time I realized that I needed a counselor to address the role of victim that I was playing out over and over again. I was unable to have a healthy, fraternal relationship due to the sexual and emotional abuse of my past.

At that time, my therapist said to me, "Abuse is not defined solely by an act. It is also the repetition of that act through emotional manipulation." I recalled the sexual abuse that I had suffered as a child and my subsequent manipulation by older brothers. And I realized that emotionally I was finding satisfaction from my abusive relationships.

Because Leather and kink lies outside of the hegemonic definitions of sexual health, we live in an environment where emotional problems can lurk undetected. For this reason, we must be diligent in our honesty, recognizing patterns of abusive behavior and dysfunction in ourselves. Any external attempt to police such patterns becomes ineffective without the willingness of both the abused and the abuser to cease such behaviors. No rules that we establish as a Community can stop the rampant abuse between dominant and submissive men unless they recognize the roles they play in the cycle.

Exiling abusers is no longer a possible tactic in dealing with this problem. With social networking sites, chat, and texting as the primary means of communication within our Community, expulsion is futile. Virtual space rather than physical place has become the nexus of the Leather/kink Men's Community. And it is impossible to flag the curious regarding potentially harmful men due to the myriad of online meeting sites.

I suggest a new paradigm. In order to root out the cancer, both the dominant man and submissive man must receive support and therapeutic intervention. We cannot simply exile them or deny them admittance to our bars. Rather, we must offer safe havens to those who need them, and to know to whom we can turn in the therapeutic and medical fields to assist those who need help.

As a Sir, I must acknowledge that the most I can do is to provide a safe haven for men who are trying to address this karma. I must recognize my limitations as a more experienced member of my Community. I can provide safety but I cannot offer therapeutic intervention. I can, however, help others find professionals who understand our issues as deviants and perverts. This is crucial in healing the wounds of abuse.

But first and foremost, before we can help others we must help ourselves. This is an indictment to all of us to boldly examine ourselves, to recognize the residual wounds from our past. And to obtain the counsel of professionals if we find ourselves thinking about these wounds on a recurring basis. This is the very first step in routing out the abuse in our midst.

Many shun therapy in the Leather Community, especially those men who claim dominance. They believe that they are somehow immune from the karmic effects of negative behaviors. Some believe that they can use SM in lieu of therapy. This is like saying that Leathermen do not need professional medical attention when they are ill. Many years ago Guy Baldwin spoke with me about this issue. He was quite direct. Play can have therapeutic effects but it is not a replacement for professional treatment.

There are a number of ways to find a therapist who is Leather/kink friendly. And while it is not the topic of this article, I would encourage anyone who is looking for therapy to put the question plainly to the mental health professional. Then ask for the opinions of others in the local Community. In choosing a therapist, one must be bold and discerning. This is very important.

About twenty years ago two women in the greater Leather Community offered me a place where I would be safe. Later, when my relationship dramatically ended, I was offered a place with my brother and friend, Al D Sowers. All three of these individuals did not save me. They did not coddle me. Rather, each expected me to put forth some effort to help myself. This is the key.

I remember the night that my life was threatened, talking to Al D at 3 am. As I spoke to him from a pay phone in Seattle's Capitol Hill neighborhood, he asked me if I could make it to his house a few miles away. "Do you have money for the bus?" he queried.

"Yes," I responded.

"Then come to my house. I will be waiting for you at the door."

About an hour later, I arrived at Al's house in Ballard. And sure enough he was there, standing at his door in his robe. He gave me a place to stay during those first months of therapy. And he continued to open his home to me whenever I needed a place to stay during my healing.

Brothers and sisters, we must help ourselves. Becoming the emotional police is not a permanent solution for ending abuse in our midst. We must first obtain help for ourselves in order to address our own unresolved issues. Only then can we help our brothers and sisters in the Community.