Date: Sat, 2 May 2015 20:21:11 -0700
From: Jon Hold <jonhold@earthlink.net>
Subject: Slave Son (FmM. Domination. Bondage. Discipline. Leather.)

Slave Son
By Jon Hold
Copyright  ©2007, 2014, 2015 by the author
jonhold@earthlink.net


This bit of personal history takes place in the early 70s. I was teaching
and doing a bit of leather work on the side. I had made friends with a man
and his family down in Mexico who raised cattle and owned a tannery. I got
some really great specialty leathers and stock leathers at a good price
from them. I'd lucked out and found a broken commercial sewing machine that
could sew leather that I bought cheap for junk metal. All that I could find
wrong was a broken bearing support bracket. A quick cast iron weld and some
cleaning up and I had a like-new sewing machine. Total cost to
repair... some time and 10 ¢ worth of welding rod.

I didn't advertise, getting all the business I could handle, or wanted to
handle, by referrals. A female Lady sort of person called and said that she
had some leather-work that she wished to commission me to do. I told her I
didn't work on commission, then explained that I liked to concentrate on
creating whatever was wanted and when it was done the client and I would
discuss my time and the cost of materials and how much I wanted for the
item. When we agreed on a price we shook hands and that was that.

"But what if you can't agree on a price?" she asked.

I thought for a minute and then said, "I don't know. That's never
happened."

She laughed a very pleasant laugh and said, "I think I'm going to like
doing business with you Mr. Hold. Ummmmm, what I want made is of a very
personal nature. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, not really. I've made a leather jockstrap for a guy with a dick so big
he had to have custom work because he couldn't fit in any of the commercial
models --- and, I built a leather buttplug for his wife at the same time. I
hand fitted both to the clients. Is your work any more "Personal" than
that?"

That happy laugh again. "No, Mr. Hold. Not at all. I look forward to
designing my project with you.

We set a date and time to meet and I promptly forgot all about her. She
sounded like a nice person and I thought I might be able to make her dildo
or whatever it was she wanted. Actually, I vastly preferred making clothing
and other leather goods for men, but had no real objection to working with
women if they could make up their minds and not get snotty.

I have a truly shocking memory, and it was bad even before I had old age to
blame it on. So, naturally, I forgot all about my appointment with the
lady. I got home from shopping one afternoon and there was a woman and a
boy standing at my front door. The woman was very upright and good looking
in an all-business business-suit sort of way, mid or early-forties I
guessed. The boy was eighteen or so, grey suit, and reserved smile with
lively eyes. I got ready to dismiss a couple more Jehovah's Witnesses but
when I got near the door she looked at her wristwatch, "You are over twenty
minutes late, Mr. Hold!" she accused.

I stopped, my head whirling, trying to figure out what was going on and how
to respond without using curse words. Then that spring in the back of my
mind that I call a memory went "SPROING!: and it dawned on me who this lady
must be. "Ms. Smith???" (not her real name) I said.

Well, after apologies and warnings about my lousy memory meaning that this
could happen again I asked Mrs. Smith ("Please call me Ruth") if she'd like
her son to stay upstairs and watch TV while we talked. She responded that
the leather goods were for him. All three of us ended up in my basement
workshop. Not as dreary as it sounds. The house was built on a slope and
one wall of my workshop was all-glass, looking across the koi pool into the
garden. Made it very pleasant in there while the cinderblock fence and all
the plantings kept it very private.

"Now, Ms. Smith," I asked, "...what is it that you want me to build for
your son?"

"Bobby is NOT my son, Mr. Hold," the frost in her voice nearly freezing the
room, "he's my slave and I want you to design and make a restraining
harness for him that will remind him of his place and allow me to punish
and use him as I wish. And will you please quit calling me, `Mrs. Smith'. I
am not married and Ruth is my name."

I stood there looking blank, looking at the slave boy.

"Mr. Hold."

"Mr. Hold!"

"MR. HOLD!!!"

"Huh?" I responded, waking up from my trance. "Sorry about that. When I
concentrate I pretty much block out the world. Comes from having so many
brothers and sisters, I think. I was trying to visualize your boy. I assume
that he will be naked, or very nearly so when you have him in his harness?
And I'll call you Ruth after you start calling me Jon!"

She very nearly sputtered in consternation, but just barely managed to
restrain herself. "Yes, Mr..... Jon. He will be naked when he is in
harness."

"OK. Just don't forget that some added clothing can be fun. Or that taking
him certain places fully dressed can be fun --- especially if you and he
are the only ones that know he's not wearing any underwear, but that he is
wearing a full leather harness."

She looked at me in a calculating sort of way, "Mr. Hold. You truly
irritate me. And I think I'm going to like you very much."

I grinned, "Thank you, MRS. Smith!"

She gave me a dirty look, which I pointedly ignored. "Bobby, strip naked,
please."

The boy looked to his mistress, obviously distressed.

"Do as he says!" she snapped, slapping her thigh as if she were holding a
riding crop.

The boy stripped quickly, neatly folding his clothes and putting them on a
chair and placing his shoes just so under the chair. He was obviously well
trained. He was also slick as a seal, and every bit as pretty. I pointed my
finger at the floor in front of me and he immediately hurried across the
room to stand were I had indicated in his version of attention. I couldn't
see a hair on his body below his ears. His butt was slightly reddened and
showed a couple of lines where something like a cane had hit his ass in the
recent past. Without any real thought, I reached out and felt his
ass. Smooth, warm and hard. He didn't flinch or try to draw back, but I saw
his cock bounce and fluff up a bit. Apparently he expected to be
inspected. I reached over and got one of my yellow legal pads and a tape
measure and started taking some measurements. Just eyeballing him told me
he had a damn near perfect body, and the tape backed that estimate up. He
had some ticklish spots, but a quick hand-slap to his rear made him hold
still. I finished my measurements and rolled my chair back around my
worktable leaving the boy standing in the middle of the floor with half a
hard-on.

"What did you have in mind, Mrs. Smith?"

"JON!" she said, pointedly, walking over to her slave. "I want him to have
full freedom of movement, but to be reminded every minute that he can be
restrained anytime I choose. I want to be able to limit his movement and
force him to maintain a position while I punish him. I want straps here,
and here, and here and something to keep his rod under control. He gets
erect at the most awkward times and it takes too much time and punishment
to make it go back down which detracts from the meaning of the discipline
he is supposed to be receiving.

We talked a while longer and used Bobby as a mannequin to show each other
what we meant. When Ruth and her boy finally left, she and I were warm
friends with a mutual goal. I asked her to give me a week or two to come up
with some designs. She didn't say anything, but she did look disappointed.

"Let me guess." I said, looking thoughtful. "You own your own company,
probably several businesses involved. Your time is valuable and you don't
like wasting your resources. You are efficient, thrifty, you plan ahead and
nothing is allowed to surprise you. Bobby is your vent for all your
repressed feelings and you use your control over him as an excuse for any
deeper emotions." I raised an eyebrow and challenged her to deny any of
what I had said. All she did was stand up taller, brace her shoulders back
even harder, and look like she was about to do me violence. Oh, and her
face turned bright red; in embarrassment or anger or how much of each I
wasn't sure.

Looking at her with a purposefully quizzical look on my face, I said, "You
act as if there were something wrong with being as you are. Bobby? What
would you do if your mistress didn't love you and keep you?"

The boy got a confused look on his face and then saw how rigid his
mistresses face was and suddenly look panicked. He fell to his knees, tears
suddenly streaming down his face, his hands supplicating as he sobbed,
"Please, Mistress."

Looking suddenly confused herself, she visibly got ahold on herself and
snapped, "Oh, get up, Bobby, and quit acting the fool. You're not going
anywhere until you've been properly trained!" Then she turned on me with a
look so venomous that I expected her to hiss at any moment.

I just sat there and grinned while she got Bobby dressed and out the
door. Mentally, I scored one for myself in this first encounter.

-----

One week later I called Ruth in the evening and asked if the project was
still of interest to her.

"Of course it is. I'm not going to be put through the mill like that and
not get something for my pain and effort. You are no simple craftsman, are
you Mr. Hold.

"Are you referring to my degree in psychology, or the one in education?" I
asked, amusement obvious in my voice.

"Neither. I was referring to your degree of gall!" she said with some
asperity.

I laughed. "Touchy! Or is that `Touché?"

"Hummmm. I'll reserve my opinion on that for the time being." She said with
a touch of humor in her voice. "Did you call for a reason, Jon, or were you
just trying to annoy me?"

"Well, I'd never pass up an opportunity to annoy you, but I need to talk to
Bobby, alone if possible. I've been trying to come up with some complete
ideas for this project, but all I'm getting are bits and pieces. I think I
need to see this from Bobby's viewpoint."

"Hum. Tomorrow's Saturday. How about my bringing him over about 10 am?"

"Sounds good. Why don't you come back for dinner about six and we'll
discuss the ideas I have so far."

---

She knocked on the door promptly at ten. She told her boy that he was
totally in my charge and that he was to obey me absolutely. She then gave
me permission to do whatever I found necessary, as long as I didn't leave
permanent marks or break any bones. With a withering glare at Bobby, that
promised little happiness in his future if he embarrassed her, she swooped
out of the door like a visiting Duchess.

Bobby and I looked at each other with mutual amusement and then I told
Bobby to follow me downstairs. He immediately said, "Yes, Sir." and
followed right behind me. Once in the basement Bobby asked me, politely, if
I wanted him to get naked again. He obviously wanted to be naked in front
of me so I said, "Sure."

I watched the boy strip down and I have to admit that I boned up pretty
good. He was fucking gorgeous. Lithe, supple, muscular, smooth. Hung like
most men wish they were hung with a set of perfectly smooth balls to
match. He erected immediately and flaunted himself, letting me know clearly
that he was available for ANYTHING I wanted. I smiled and motioned him
over. I felt his velvet cock, marveling at its erect size. I almost drooled
all over his lovely balls. Then I folded my middle finger under my thumb
and used it to snap the multicolored and flared head of his organ, HARD. He
wilted in pain and confusion. In a no nonsense manner I took a pile of
leather off my workbench and strapped it's belt around his waist,
tightly. A strap riveted to the back of the belt went down and under and I
laced it through the bottom of a wire cage that I snapped shut around his
limp dick and balls. I had guessed the size of his cockhead too
conservatively and the cage pinched a bit, which was all to the good since
his cock shrunk even more. I pulled the strap up tight, parting the cheeks
of his ass where it could hold a buttplug in place. The strap fit through
the tang of the belt-buckle and a padlock kept everything nice and
secure. "I figured that you probably weren't very good at self-restraint,
so I put this together to help you keep your mind on business."

He looked shocked --- and then went into a frenzy of contortions and
dancing around, trying to wiggle his way out of his chastity belt or to rip
it open.

"STOP IT!" I ordered.

He redoubled his efforts to escape and started screaming about how his
mistress was going to take care of me, but good. And how he was going to
call the cops on me and see to it that I was properly dealt with and
punished. I shook my head and reverted to plan B.

I got up and grabbed him by his thick, blonde hair and pulled him over to a
straight-backed kitchen chair. I sat and pulled him down across my lap and
immediately, no warming up or getting him ready or any of that nonsense,
used my hand to best effect. It didn't take long for the whole tone of his
voice to change--not only that, but soon after his threats turned into
pleas. Apparently he'd never a) been spanked by hand; b) spanked by a man;
or C) spanked so hard and fast. I told him I commiserated with him and felt
deeply for his plight. That he had my sympathy and total
understanding. Meanwhile I never slowed down or eased up on whacking his,
by then, aching ass.

I finally got tired (to say nothing of my hand burning like crazy) and
pushed him off my lap, onto the floor. I got up and then told him to get
up. He just laid there on the floor, crying and holding his butt. I stepped
over to him and rolled him onto his belly before putting my boot right in
the small of his back I took my time taking off my wide leather cowboy belt
and folding it so I had a good grip. Then I simply let my belt do the
walking --- ALL over his butt and back.

It finally seemed like he had taken about all he could handle so I asked
him if he were ready to be a good boy and show me some respect. A very
shaky "Yes, Sir." was his only reply.

I let the boy up and went and sat in my favorite Lazy-Boy. I motioned the
boy over and then patted my lap. He looked scared at first but I just shook
my head and pulled him down, seating him on my lap. The boy cuddled up to
my chest and we quietly talked. Mostly man stuff that would be of little
interest to any of you but was of intense interest to him. Surprisingly,
never having had a son, I found what turned out to be our "father-son" talk
totally interesting and emotionally powerful. I asked the boy if he would
be interested in exploring the possibilities that leather
provided. Bashfully, but with definite eagerness, he agreed.

Our session ended up being a great deal of fun, and unbelievably
horny-making, for both of us. For openers, I loved the accessibility of his
body and his willingness, his demands to be touched and felt, groped and
petted. To say he was responsive to touch is to state the obvious. He tried
to wheedle me into removing his chastity belt and I offered to spank him
again. He stuck his tongue out and got a swift swat across his already red
ass. It didn't stop him from teasing me, but it did give me an opening to
swat his behind from time to time and give his warm butt a good grope. If
he got too mouthy I'd grab him and play with his pecker until he started
getting hard inside his wire prison. That really made him crazy! Fluffed up
he filled the cage. Any attempt to actually get hard or achieve some sort
of orgasmic relief was quickly overcome by the wire of the cage. He just
kept getting hornier and hornier. His only release was to crawl all over me
and try to return the favor. It didn't take him all that long to have me
stripped down to sandals and my leather work apron --- he loved to rub his
body against me and the smooth leather --- I loved to spank his tight
little butt when he got too distracting or eager. Sometimes I spanked him
just so I could feel his smooth ass. His balls were trying, desperately, to
pull up against his groin so he could shoot, but each was trapped in a
separate globular extension of the cage so that the harder the scrotum
pulled, the more each ball was abused).

I told him I had an idea I wanted to try and that I needed him as an
experimental subject. He was an excellent partner to work with. Willing to
try anything I suggested and giving me good feedback about how things felt
and what seemed to work and what didn't. He finally admitted that the
chastity belt worked all too well. That it made him so horny he could
hardly stand the back-pressure that was building. I just laughed and
grabbed him by the back of the neck so I could give him the sloppiest,
wettest tongue-tongue slurping kiss I could create, rubbing up against his
sweat slick body set him toʿ moaning to beat the band. Damn but he
was HOT! I jammed a finger up his tight asshole and he went crazy as I
finger-fucked him while continuing to suck his face.


To be continued...