User blogs

MASTER DIESEL Introduction

The weather is dull, my house has never been so clean or organised and another Monday in Lockdown, so I thought I would be productive and do an introduction to myself on Owned Fags. So, let’s start how would I describe myself in a few words? Well an Old Guard Leather Master, Dominant, strict but fair, Confident in knowing who I am and what I want and expect in every aspect of MY life. I have always been into wearing leather from being a teenager. Financial Domination started for me at school being in a gang of lads picking out the weak loners and cornering them and emptying their pockets and enjoying spending their money at the corner shop. I have always worked and have a long successful career, so be clear findom is not about making quick cash or easy money! I have been draining and using fags for over 20 years. I enjoy the control, obedience and getting inside fags and slaves heads and getting them onto the path of service to work hard, to earn good money, to then hand it over to ME, giving them satisfaction, fulfilment and purpose to want to do it all over again knowing you are pleasing ME. Getting that cash large or small is as horny as fuck to me watching the figure going up and spending MY money on what I want when I want.

As part of this domination is a huge part of this for me, Boot worship soles treads, heal shaft the whole boot fags, Leather worship, Oral pleasure ready for a deep throat fucking love to hear a fag gagging on my pierced thick cock, Ash use fags with open mouths ready to take my thick hot ash is not a choice is a requirement if any fags are near me while smoking MY gars, smoke abuse nothing better than seeing a fag in my gas mask in tight bondage, fuelling the fags lungs with MY thick heavy gar smoke from MY 8x80 Asylums through the gas mask tube, strict Corporal Punishment for MY pleasure not just when a fag disobeys or disrespectful, Domestic service why should I clean MY house when I can get a fag to do such mundane tasks in life. Poppering a fag slave up makes them weaker to be used and drained for MY gain and pleasure.

So, Fags PM me or approach me in the chat room and let’s show you your rightful place in life.

MASTER DIESEL

Humiliating Faggots
I've been on this site for a while, but I haven't been very active. There are a LOT of faggots who just enjoy being bastardized and humiliated. They seek being treated like shit, taken advantage of and stepped on. These faggots know who they are, if you get hard just reading this blog.


I had the opportunity to train a number of faggots. Usually they start off and then they cry that it's too hard! But each and every time I let one go, they come crying back to me, begging to give them another chance. I love this. Faggots live to be humiliated. But my rule is, if you leave, the return will be three times harder. So, while my other slaves, are tributing 100 tips, they will be tributing 300. Or if my slaves have to drink their own piss, the punk ass faggot has to drink his piss and two other's piss at the same time. If I'm being honest, I prefer that a slave leave and come back, because those are the slaves that will go through hell and high water to prove themselves and please me. But I have had very good slaves who have stayed with me for the long run.


Currently I have a slave who is training his pussyhole for me. He is doing it online, as he is in America and I am in France. But he sends me pictures and videos of himself beating his pussy up, just to please me. I like coming up with the harshest, most degrading things for slaves to do to go even further into their slavedom. I am a part of a number of forums and chatrooms where Masters throw around suggestions to dehumanize their fags, this is my biggest turn on. If a fag wants to really please me, he needs to become an IT. 


Hit me up if you are a fag looking to serve. I also have a kik slave group. It is only for slaves who can take humiliating videos and pics of themselves. I play fag bingo and the like, to see who is the most depraved. Man, my dick gets hard just thinking about those fags. I also have a twitter which I will share soon on my profile.

Master is Here
Hello,


I'm new to this site, but not to domination. I'm young, strong, and am willing to give strong and consistent Mastery to those who can show themselves worthy. Of course, none of you slave fags will ever come close to deserving me. But, I am a consistent Master with selective taste. If you know how to be a proper slave and worship me, I might consider you. If you are new, but can entertain me and are willing to learn, I might consider allowing you into my Stable.


Stable privilege include bespoke humiliation, individual attention and domination, and occasional access to view my body and sexuality, for the very best of the class. 


You need to be ready to surrender. You need to know your place. 


If you think you could serve, message me.


- Night Prince

Faggot's daily reminder

Its Masters deserve humility.

Its Masters deserve devotion.

Its Masters deserve worship.

Its Masters deserve obedience.

Its Masters deserve tributes.

Its Masters deserve pleasure.

Its Masters deserve the best.

Its Masters own the rubber gimp.


Faggot repeats this mantra every morning when it wakes up and every evening before going to bed. It says the mantra out loud fine times in a row.

A fag’s Berlin: New Action
This post is the final part of a 5 part series.    

The last night of Folsom EU, a few of SIR DCCashMaster's friends are going to a leather bar and He decides we’ll join them. My outfit is simple - boots, knee pads, a leather jock and bicep straps. I’m feeling very exposed and SIR lets me wear a t-shirt and sweatpants over the top for the walk down to the bar.

Before we leave, He lays out a lot of toys on the bed. He tells me that I am to pick two things from the collection, and He will use them on me tonight. Thankfully, He doesn’t rush me, and seems to enjoy watching me think through different scenarios and how this might play out.

There’s a gag that would lock my mouth open. I consider the idea, especially as I’ve been working on my gag reflex recently, but eventually decide against it. The nipple clamps are also tempting, but I’m not sure how long I’d be able to keep them on for before they started to really hurt.  

Eventually I settle on a leather paddle - The Enforcer SIR brought with him from Mr. S Leather - and a gag in the shape of a dog bone. I figure if I’m going to be beaten it might be good to have something to bite down on!

Separate from this selection, there’s a flogger hanging from SIR’s belt - a beautiful leather one with the soft side of each tail dyed a rich blue. I’ve always loved floggers, so I’m glad that’s coming with us no matter what, but sadly there probably won’t be enough room to use it in a bar.

We set off for the bar and meet up with some of SIR’s friends on the way. He tells them about how He told me to pick the toys and shows the gag to them by fixing it into my mouth. We walk most of the rest of the way to the bar with me unable to speak and quietly trying not to drool too much. When we reach the bar, SIR has me remove the gag, the t-shirt and the sweatpants outside, making sure I am seen in my skimpy outfit by a couple of passers by before we go in. Thankfully Berlin is full of guys in fetish gear during the festival, and the people who see me barely bat an eyelid, but it’s still a bit scary.

Inside, SIR sends me to the bar for drinks, handing me some of the money I brought with me, that He’s been looking after since I have no pockets. Obviously I’m buying tonight. When I get back, he motions to the floor and I kneel next to Him and put an arm around His leg while He chats. After a while His friends go to explore the darkroom, and He points me to a corner near the back of the bar, where another Dom that we spoke to at a different bar earlier in the day is sitting.

There’s some banked seating in this corner, and the Dom is sitting on top at the back, resplendent in a full leather uniform. SIR orders me onto my hands and knees on the mid level, which puts my face about level with the Dom’s boots. With SIR standing on the floor behind me, my arse is at about hip height for Him. Perfect for flogging.

SIR and the Dom allow me to work the Dom’s boots with my tongue. The Dom presses his leather gloved hand into the back of my head, making more of my tongue against the leather of His boots. He leans down and explains what He wants. I’m not to miss any part, I’m not to whine and when I’m not cleaning His boots I’m to maintain eye contact at all times.

Meanwhile, SIR is stroking my arse with His hands, letting me feel the leather of His gloves, and letting me get used to my position. He starts to spank me very lightly with His hands, warming me up. At one of the slightly harder smacks I grunt and lose eye contact with the Dom - I get a stern look and a “no whining, boy”. I apologise and resolve to try harder.

SIR steps up the spanking and my arse starts to sting. I can feel the heat building now and each smack is an effort to take and stay focused.

After a while, SIR switches to the Enforcer. The Dom helps me through the first few strokes. When I take them well, I get a “good boy”, and when I start to break He reminds me of my instructions. The waves of pain start to build. I’ve never been pushed this hard before, but I’m determined to make SIR proud. He’s given me a way to signal to Him if I need Him to stop, but I’m resolved not to use it unless I’m truly desperate.

The beating continues. It’s getting loud, and the Dom tells me we’re drawing a crowd. I can’t see them because I’m facing into the corner, and I’m focused on the Dom’s boot, or His dick through the leather trousers, whatever He rewards me with when I take a hard hit without complaint.

SIR leans over and tells me I’m a good fag, that everyone in the bar is watching me take this beating. He’s clearly turned on, and that just makes me more resolved to take my reward as well as I can.

The strokes get harder and faster. Each time SIR pushes me to the point of breaking before easing off and letting me get my focus back. He tells me that to handle this I need to concentrate on something that isn’t my arse, something other than the pain, or I won’t get through it. I’ve never concentrated so hard in my life. My breathing, the weight of my body pressing down through my hands and knees, the Man in front of me, the Man behind me, the boots I’m licking or the eyes I’m staring into.

I talk myself through each of these in turn, cycling through each of them in turn, struggling to keep my vision focused, my breathing steady. I’ve lost track of time. Occasionally SIR or the Dom remind me of the audience we’ve attracted, but for me the rest of the world has fallen away. I don’t know who’s watching and I don’t care. All that matters is SIR, this Dom and my endurance.

I have no idea how long my punishment goes on for. It feels like it must be over an hour but my perception of time, like my perception of pain, has been bent totally out of shape by the experience. There is rhythm to it all though - SIR is a musician and varies the beat of the strokes like a master percussionist, building crescendo after crescendo of crashing, stinging, hot pain.

SIR switches to a different implement, a leather paddle belonging to the Dom, which has two separate leather straps that slap together on impact, making an even louder noise and attracting ever more attention. I’m grunting and growling, focussed, intense, determined to keep myself under control, to take it, to make SIR proud. SIR switches again. This time it’s a riding crop, the sting is incredible, heightened by the soreness, the heat in my skin, and the endorphin rush that’s overtaken me.

Eventually, He draws things to a close, gradually bringing me slightly closer to earth, although it will be a couple of hours before I really come down. SIR holds me, tells me how proud He is of me and it means so much to hear that. I’ve worked so hard for Him, and it’s so fulfilling to know that He’s pleased with my performance.

He strokes my cheeks and I flinch. I can feel the welts rising already, my skin feels hot and angry. I touch it delicately, exploring this new sensation. I’ve never been anywhere near this deep into physical punishment before, and there’s no-one else I would have wanted to take me there. I’m grateful to SIR for helping me explore, for giving me new experiences and helping me to push my limits.

SIR is not the only one pleased with my performance - several other Men approach us over the next hour, to say “bravo”, to compliment SIR on knowing how to beat a boy properly, to compliment me on how well I took it. They are all surprised that this was the first time I’ve really been beaten properly. I can’t help but feel my chest swell with pride. I feel like I’m floating, I’ve never felt like this before and it’s incredible.

Looking back, the rest of our time in the bar is blurry - I was on such an endorphin high that I think my memory partially shut down. I remember getting to suck some dick and kneeling, but that’s about it. My memory clicks back into gear around the time SIR decided we should head home.

On leaving the bar, SIR decided that I wasn’t going to be allowed to wear my casual clothes over my outfit. He reasoned that at 4am the streets would be pretty quiet, but I still felt more exposed than ever before walking home in almost nothing other than a jockstrap, hands behind my back, my wrists held by my MASTER. When we reached the hotel, we walked past the receptionist. She barely blinked, but I think by the last day of the festival she was probably nearly unshockable.

We got into the elevator and pressed the button. SIR’s room was on the top floor. As soon as the doors closed, He bent me over, pushed me up against one side of the elevator, pulled out His dick and sank it into my hole. I suppressed my panic and tried to concentrate on the movement of the elevator, to tell when it was about to arrive. SIR pulled out and zipped up just in time, although thankfully the corridor outside was empty when the doors swang back.

Before going to the room, SIR took me on a detour up a flight of stairs. There was a door out onto a small concrete area on the roof. We propped the door open with a plant pot and stepped outside. The air was chilly by this point, as the sun hadn’t started to come up yet. Briefly, I had a fairly spectacular view over Berlin by night, before SIR span me round to face the wall, and kicked my feet apart. I braced against the cold concrete and arched my back as I felt him line up behind me.

By this point my hole was loose and ready. Even with his PA, SIR’s dick slid all the way home in one thrust, filling me and reminding me of my purpose. He pulled back nearly all the way out before thrusting forward again. His fuck built into a rut and He pounded my arse. I could still feel the heat from the beating earlier every time his hips slammed into me. I tensed and massaged His dick as much as I could, pushing back into His thrusts.

Eventually, His hands gripping my shoulders for maximum purchase, SIR finally came in me, breeding me deeply. I held still as He came slowly down from His orgasm, squeezing my hole gently around His cock, buried deep inside. After His breathing had returned to normal, he gently slid out and we made our way back inside and down to His room.

Once there, we showered together, SIR gently lathering my bruises and me reverently washing His body. After we were dry, we fell into bed. SIR held me and we talked about everything that had happened that weekend. SIR told me again how proud He was of me and I beamed knowing I had been a good boy for Him. Eventually, we were both falling resting, and I knew SIR would be leaving for His flight early in the morning, so we let exhaustion overtake us and drifted off.

The following morning, SIR took this photo before He left for the airport.

After He left, I busied myself trying to fit all the gear He had given me into the suitcases I had brought. I finally figured out that if I wore the knee high patrol boots, and the leather trousers, that would make enough space for everything else, so that was what I wore for the flight home. As I made my way to the airport later in the afternoon, I thought back over the weekend. It was an incredible weekend, and I’m enormously grateful to SIR for giving me such an amazing experience. And I didn’t stop thinking about for a long time after I got home. Not least because it took four or five days before I stopped being reminded of the last  night, every time I sat down.


A fag's Berlin: Lab

This post is part 4 of a 5 part series.   

We spend the following day at the street fair. We drink, meet people, chat. A few people take photos. Lots of guys stop SIR, DCCashMaster, to compliment Him on His tattoos. We look in a few of the shops around the fair. After scratching up my knees pretty badly serving SIR at Full Fetish in London, I buy myself a pair of knee pads. At the checkout SIR takes my credit card from my wallet and nonchalantly demands the PIN. I give Him the number and He makes the transaction using his BLUF membership discount. I can’t help but feel extremely submissive watching my MASTER use my card to buy me such an unmistakably faggy item.

Around 6pm we grab some food and then head back to the hotel to start getting ready for the evening. SIR helps me pick out my outfit - combat boots, socks, rubber jock, a rubber vest, and my new collar, of course. SIR looks great in His outfit - it’s brand new and custom made rubber from Regulation in London. Rubber football pants with yellow trim and a large codpiece, and a matching top.

We arrive at Lab about 40 minutes before it opens, but the queue is already long. After a while it starts to move forward slowly, and after about two hours we finally get in. The place is huge. The main bar is a large, high-ceilinged room adorned with steampunk and mysterious mad scientist style contraptions. In other rooms there are slings, benches, cages, dark areas, concrete bunkers, urinals, glory holes and a room with a grate floor and a chamber underneath full of thirsty, rubbered up piss pigs.

The atmosphere builds as the place starts to fill up. I mention to SIR that I’ve never been fucked in a sling, and He changes that straight away. Feeling his chunky 2 gauge PA slip into my hole definitely helps push me into subspace. His dick filling me up feels great as He swings me back and forward, and soon I’m hungry for more.

He marches me into a large room with some tables made of wood and steel. He tells me to lie down on one on my back with my arse hanging over the end. The legs of the table continue up past its top, so there’s somewhere to brace my boots to really expose my hole. SIR tells me to close my eyes. It dawns on me that He’s not going to let me see the Men who will fuck me tonight. I’m so turned on.

SIR stands beside me, one hand fingering my hole, the other pressed onto my face, covering my eyes. After a few minutes, the fingering stops and I feel His stance shift as He leans to speak to a Man. I lie back and try to relax, wondering if this Man will want to use me.

After a short while that feels much longer to me, I feel the Man move between my legs and start to line up His dick with my hole. As he pushes the head in, thankfully fairly slowly, SIR leans down and speaks directly into my ear - “keep your eyes closed, fag”. He lifts his hand off my face and quickly replaces it with the sweaty rubber codpiece from his pants. He presses that to my nostrils as the unknown Man picks up the pace and starts driving hard into my fag hole. I’m clinging to the sides of the table, trying to keep the right angle. Trying hard to make SIR proud of His little slut.

I don’t know how much time passes, but eventually the Man using my hole slows down and pulls out. I can hear Him exchange a few words with SIR, but I can’t make them out. SIR checks in with me and tells me what a good fag I’m being. He rewards me with a quick lick of his armpit, which has got pretty sweaty now that we’re inside the hot club. He reminds me that I’m not allowed to open my eyes, and goes back to rimming and fingering my hole.

The cycle repeats. I’m so lost in subspace, focused on being a good hole, that I start to lose count of the Men that use me. It’s not always easy to tell whether a guy has taken a break, or whether another Man has taken His place, although sometimes the dicks are different enough that it’s clear.  

One guy in particular has what feels like a really meaty, thick dick. He uses me for what feels like an hour. Every time I think He’s going to cum or need a break, He just slows down and long dicks me before building the pace back up. After four or five of these cycles, I’m starting to get delirious. My moaning is load, my hands are starting to hurt from how tight I’m gripping the table to hold myself in place.

While He’s using me, SIR leans over me, His mouth next to my ear. He starts working my nipples and telling me exactly what I am, what I’ve allowed Him to make me. “Slut” - the word drops into my brain and a wave of pleasure washes over me. “Whore” - He’s getting deeper in my mind and dropping me ever further into subspace. “Bitch” - SIR knows exactly what to say, what to do, to break down all my resistance. “Pussy” - I’ve never been more turned on, embracing my desires and surrendering to these Men, to this Man. “Faggot” - I’m grunting, broken down, opened up, exposed, humiliated, reduced to nothing more than a hole, an object, a fuck toy. I’ve never been dominated and owned, more deeply, more totally than in this moment.

I’m still not allowed to look, and I’ve kept my eyes shut tight the whole time, but I allow myself to reach and touch the Man’s hands as they grip my thighs. I feel the hair on the back of His hands, the veins and muscles on His forearms, and I fantasise about what He looks like and what I look like getting fucked on my back by a procession of anonymous Men.

When this Man finally finishes, He speaks briefly to SIR as I lie back in ecstasy, trying to catch my breath and get hold of my thoughts. All I catch from their conversation is that the Man is from Paris. It’s killing me that I won’t know who He is or be able to identify Him later, but I have my orders.

At this point SIR can tell I need a break. After the Man has moved away from us, and out of sight, SIR helps me up and holds me while I gradually reconnect with the space around me. I follow Him to the bar and we get a drink before moving to a relatively quiet corner and slowly recovering.

After that I’m on a high for the rest of the night. SIR lets me go and play on my own for a while, which is great fun, but eventually I find my way back to Him. He fucks me a few more times and eventually we’re both exhausted and we head back to the hotel.

A fag’s Berlin: BLUF gathering
This post is part 3 of a 5 part series.  

Later on Friday we go back to the hotel to get ready for the evening. We’re going to BLUF social gathering and it’s going to be my first time in full leather. SIR, DCCashMaster, puts me in the tall Dehner boots, the North Bound pants, the newly repaired braided belt and matching Sam Browne, and the Expectations shirt. I feel amazing, I can’t stop checking myself out in the mirror. I had thought it would be years before I would have this much gear and I’m over the moon to see myself in the kind of outfit I’ve wanted for years and years.

We walk down to the bar where the social is happening. It’s easy to spot - there are probably around a hundred men mostly standing around outside the bar, all in full leather uniforms (or as SIR calls it, “High Cow”). It’s such a horny scene for me. SIR introduces me to some of His friends that He knows from the leather scene in the states. It makes me beam with pride every time He introduces me as His boy. Such a simple thing but still so exciting.

I spend the evening chatting, getting to know some of SIR’s friends and some men that we’re both meeting for the first time. SIR is relaxed and easy going. He tells me not to worry about some of the protocol He’s taught me, like always standing to His left, I think He wants me to relax and really enjoy the evening.

I’m still on drinks duty, so I’m dispatched to the bar a few times to get more beers. After a few of those SIR needs to piss. He excuses Himself from the group and leads me to the bathroom at the back of the bar. There he motions towards His feet and I kneel before Him, my knees on His boots. He unzips and I open wide, taking his pierced dick into my mouth. A few seconds later the stream begins and I swallow as fast as I can, desperate not to spill anything. SIR is kind and pauses a couple of times when I’m not quite keeping up.

SIR has had several beers by this point, so this goes on for quite a while, and I’m alternating between concentrating on swallowing and looking up to see Him above me, watching me take His piss.

Eventually the stream slows and stops. SIR motions for me to get up, spins me around, pulls my jeans down around my thighs, spits on my hole and slowly eases His dick in. I’m leaning over the toilet bowl, hands on the back wall, pushing my fag hole back on His dick and it feels amazing to be used like this. He doesn’t fuck me for long - I think this is more of a reward for me than to satisfy His need to fuck. Teasing me, He pulls out slowly and zips up. I pull my leather pants back up and He leads me back outside.

Later, when the social is winding down, SIR takes me back to the main street of Folsom and we go into Prinzknecht. We get a couple more drinks and find a spot in the corner at the front, next to some floor to ceiling windows. We meet an Italian guy, also in leather and get chatting to him. SIR decides to show me off, and has me unzip my jeans and gives me a glass to piss in. The bar is quite crowded, so I’m not that visible, but I still feel very conspicuous when I’m down and He tells me to drink it. I chug it slowly, my stomach is getting full by this point and it’s work to drink it down. When I’ve finished SIR turns me towards the window and starts slapping my exposed balls. It’s not long before we have a small audience outside, watching me grimace and tense as He starts to squeeze and punish my balls. It’s so humiliating being watched by strangers through the glass, but it’s so horny at the same time.

The experience gets SIR horny too and He leads me downstairs to the darkroom. He wastes no time, pushing me against a wall, pulling my leather pants down again and making his dick into my fag hole. After fucking me in that position for about ten minutes, he moves me into the middle of the room and fucks me over a table. Another boy is getting fucked over the other end of the table and we make eye contact as we feel our Men’s dicks thrust into our respective holes. I moan and push back, squeezing SIR’s dick, concentrating on His pleasure and He thrusts harder.

Once SIR is done fucking me, He leads me back upstairs. We say goodnight to the Italian and go back to the hotel. SIR has me help Him undress. Even kneeling in front of Him to help take His boots off is a turn-on by now. Once undressed, we shower and He washes my body. It’s very intimate, and I feel a bit like a well cared for toy being cleaned and put away after use. We dry off and fall resting in His bed. It’s been a great night, but there’s more to come the next day.

A fag’s Berlin: Collar

This post is part 2 of a 5 part series. 

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Nearly everything SIR DCCashMaster has brought fits me. A couple of pairs of uniform pants go back in His suitcase but pretty much everything else is the right size. I can’t believe how I look in a full leather uniform. It’s an intensely sexual feeling, seeing myself in the mirror. And I can’t stop checking out my arse in the Northbound Leather trousers.

The basketweave leather belt needs a new buckle, so after we’ve packed most things up, SIR tells me to put on the Corcoran combat boots, the Rubio Leather shorts with lace-up sides and the Priape leather tank top. We’re headed to a place around the corner that does repairs. It will be the first time I’ve been outside in public, during the day, in fetish gear. I’ve seen a few other leather guys outside already, but I’m still nervous.

We leave the apartment and call the elevator. A guy gets out of it when it arrives and clearly notices my outfit. I hold my nerve. Standing just behind SIR’s shoulder, where He’s trained me to be, gives me some comfort. This Man is in charge and I don’t need to think right now.

We arrive at the ground floor and step outside. I concentrate on my training and shut out the other feelings. A few steps onto the street SIR stops me. He turns me to face Him and motions for me to kneel. I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but I trust Him, so I comply.

He reaches into His pocket. Pulls out a blue and black chainmail collar. And a padlock. Some part of me realises what’s happening and I bow my head but I haven’t fully processed it yet. He lays the chain around my neck and my dick twitches and my heart thumps as He clicks the padlock shut. Here was the physical symbol of His ownership. Suddenly I am a locked boy. His boy.

I look up and He smiles down at me. On my knees at His feet, on the street outside this apartment block. He says something to me but my mind is racing too fast to take it in. This is beyond my fantasies. Suddenly this is very, very real.

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A fag’s Berlin: Surprise

This post is part 1 of a 5 part series

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I arrive at the apartment building and buzz the number I’ve been given. I landed in Berlin for Folsom Europe about two hours ago - passport control, collect bag, bus, hotel, quick shower, report to this address, a few streets away from the hotel. Sadly SIR DCCashMaster can’t make it to Berlin, so I’m meeting another of SIR’s fags who is going to help me shop for some outfits I’ll need for the weekend. I don’t have a lot of gear of my own, and SIR wants someone to keep an eye on me and make sure I only buy things that fit and look good.

The door lock buzzes and I push it open, making my way up the stairs. Should I have let someone know where I was going? I’ve never met this guy, but surely SIR wouldn’t send me somewhere where I’d be in any danger.

Knock at the door and wait. Eventually it opens. Phew, he looks normal, invites me in. I start to relax. Just as he closes the door someone grabs me from behind. Suddenly there’s an arm around my waist and a hand over my mouth. The fear rises quickly, but that’s not bare skin on my face, it’s a glove. A leather glove.

Still confused, but slightly less panicked. Whoever is manhandling me spins me around. It takes half a second to understand what’s in front of me. SIR can’t be here, He’s in DC. But He isn’t, He’s right in front of me, in Berlin. What?!

He explains. Turns out everyone is in on the plan. The other fag I was supposed to shop with. My friend who was arriving later this evening. Even my boyfriend knew. Alliances shift subtly in my head as I process what’s happening. So do my plans for the weekend. I have a new goal now - make SIR glad He came.

It takes me a while to get over the surprise, and while I’m still dazed SIR leads me into the living room. He starts opening a suitcase and pulling out rubber and leather gear. It’s all His old gear and He’s brought it to see if any of it fits me. He had been talking about shipping some of it to me a week or two before, but the shipping would have been $300 just for a few of the lighter pieces.

He tells me to strip and I stand naked wearing only my chastity cage as He sorts the gear.  First SIR hands me a Male Hide Leather bar vest to try on, along with Corcoran boots and a pair of North Bound Leather shorts. He sends the other fag to find some socks for me to wear with the boots and the fag comes back with a pair of football socks.

“They’re not clean, sorry”, he apologises. He’d worn them the night before and says they might have got covered in piss. SIR likes that idea, so He motions for me to put them on and get dressed.

The leather feels great against my skin. Well worn in but immaculately cared for, it’s soft and slides on very comfortably. I go to the mirror in the hall. I’ve never seen myself in a full leather outfit before and the sight takes me by surprise. SIR smiles. He can tell exactly how much this means to me and how excited I am in this moment, still reeling from Him being there at all, and then the outfit on top of that…

A few moments later, back to reality. Take those boots off, put these Dehner ones on, swap the North Bound shorts for these Rubio ones and try on a Priape Leather tank top. After that, some North Bound Leather trousers, a leather shirt from Expectations, and some leather jeans from there too, a Sam Browne, a cap… The gear comes thick and fast and this is before we’ve got to the rubber! There are a couple of things that need some repairs, but my outfits for this weekend are definitely sorted!

An introduction - The Natural Order of Things

Well, what to say? New to the site (this time around, at least) but old to the game. Contrary to what this site's definition of "straight" seems to be -honestly, some of you make me laugh- as the name suggests, I am 100% straight. So if you're looking for a role-playing closet faggot to cater to your straight domination fantasy, don't waste my time. I was born a natural alpha male and have a typical alpha male personality. I do things my way or not at all, I won't be talked down to by anyone, and if I seem as though I think I'm better than you, it's because I am. My dominance naturally extends to the bedroom, but unfortunately for you faggots your luck doesn't extend that far.


Though I'm in this game primarily for the financial benefits, it does feel very right to me on a base level. There's a very real satisfaction to be had from assuming my place in the natural hierarchy and exploiting those beneath me. Likewise there's pleasure to be had in seeing a lower being put effort into pleasing its superior. Nothing gives me more pleasure than an obedient pig knowing its place and draining its account for me merely for the privilege of grabbing a real man's attention. The thrill is not sexual, it's primal. I say pig and not man because, for you submissive nancy boys reading this: make no mistake, you are not men. A man takes what he wants, a pig exists to feed real men with the fat from its back until it outlives its usefulness. 


Looking for faggots who respect this natural hierarchy. Faggots who understand that their place is on their knees at the feet of a real man, putting their b***d, sweat and tears into his pleasures, and their lives in his capable hands. Ideally, I like to devote my time to a select few and build real master/slave relationships that can be nurtured and capitalised on. I want your wallet, but your obedience and devotion are equally important. Short term works too, it's always worth a laugh, but the more devoted a slave proves itself to be the more time and energy I will spend on it. Golden rule: don't waste my time and I won't waste yours.



Just a nod to the Masters on here. Don't think I lump everyone into the category of, "role-playing closet faggot." Many are, but there are some sound cats about that I have genuine respect for. Keep doing what you're doing, lads. I'll keep an ale cold for you in Valhalla.