By ty dehner

It starts with an email

Setting the glass with orange juice on the table, it was another perfect morning in the desert. Sitting at my writing table on the patio, the sun rose about an hour ago as it was March. Opening my laptop, my morning ritual is to check my email. The emails I look forward to the most are communication from readers of my short stories or my novels. As a leather scribe here in the Coachella Valley, anytime a reader takes the time to share their thoughts with me starts my day off well. Most of the time, I receive good comments about one of my writing, on occasion there is an email that is critical, which I’m fine with. A storyteller has to be open to criticism along with praise. Both are useful when I work on my next piece of fiction.

This morning as I sit in my jeans, cowboy boots and black t-shirt with the Langlitz Leathers logo, I opened Outlook to find a new email addressed to ty dehner. The subject line was “Fact or Fiction.” Interesting I thought, so I moved the mouse, opening the email. It read:

ty or should I say boy?

I have been reading your stories for a while. It started with your short stories on Metalbond, then your novels. I find your descriptions of the bondage and control that your dominant characters take of their submissive intriguing and powerful. I notice that you say your work is fiction. Well I think you need to experience some of the things you write about. I offer you that opportunity.

Now that made my cock stir in my Wranglers, as this email was forceful and the writer was confident in what he was offering. I read on:

I will meet you on Saturday at 7:00p at Fiesta Cantina in West Hollywood. You will take a table for two and wait for my arrival. I have seen your Instagram so I know what you look like and will approach you when I’m ready.  

I had to adjust my seating as I was tempted to drop the zipper on my jeans and start jacking. This guy was pressing all the buttons!

If you accept I will email on how I want you dressed for our meeting. Be prepared to submit to me without fail, as accepting this challenge means you submit to whatever I want until I release you.

I have set this email to contact me when you open it. You now have ten minutes to respond. I am confident you will reply with an affirmative and look forward to seeing if you can take what you write about.

There was no signature at the end, only the email address of enterreality@weho.org

I paused for a moment, was this just some sort of joke? Or could it be a real encounter. After a brief debate in my mind, I wrote my response ending with a Sir, just to show I was being respectful. After hesitating, for about a minute, I hit the reply and secured my fate.

Leaning back, my mind swirled with thoughts of what could happen. But I decided that this was an opportunity to experience being controlled by this man. I erased all ideas and just looked forward to the meeting. There was a tingle down my spine as I realized this guy had been checking me out, especially as he said he had been following my Instagram. That made me wonder what else he might know of me.

My thoughts were interrupted as the incoming email alert sounded. Looking down at the screen I saw the email was from this stranger. I clicked it open and there were further instructions.

I’m very happy that you accepted, but I was confident that you would not be able to resist my desire to meet you. My instructions here are simple, you are to be wearing boots, you may select the style. You should wear black jeans with a leather belt and a black t-shirt. Finally, you must have tight black leather gloves on your hands. There is nothing that I listed that you find challenging, fucker. Find a table at the restaurant and be ready to start the adventure of your life!

The email ended, no signature. The list of what I was to wear wasn’t outrageous and actually seemed normal. While wearing gloves might be slightly unusual, it wasn’t that crazy. My phone rang and my day proceeded on as the thought of this upcoming meeting went to the back of my mind.

After lunch on Saturday, I started planning out my trip to the city of Angels and the meeting of this stranger that wants me to experience what I write about. It would take a couple of hours to drive from the desert to the bustling city, traffic would be a challenge at some point so I was going to leave early. I put on my black jeans, then a pair of work boots. Tucking in my black t-shirt, I look in the mirror. The t-shirt had the words “Kinky as fuck” on the front, I wanted to make a bold statement to this guy.

This guy might think I am hesitant in this meeting. Well, fuck I was, but I was also confident in following through. Slipping on my Damascus gloves I was ready. Getting in my car, I headed to the freeway and the journey to West Hollywood.

It was a good thing that I left early as the trip took me nearly three hours because of the congestion on the freeways. But I was finally in West Hollywood and found parking behind the Cantina. After parking, I realized that I didn’t even have a name for this guy. I was twenty minutes early, so I went in got a table and enjoyed a drink with the chips and salsa. Each time I would lift a chip to take a bit I got the scent of my gloves which turned me on, adding to my high sexual state.

I had selected a seat that I could see the entry of the restaurant. Though I didn’t know who this man was, I thought for sure I would be able to pick him out as he entered. That plan was thwarted as there was a tap on my shoulder behind me with a deep voice, “Hello, ty.”

Before I could turn around this vision in full leather stepped forward taking the seat across the table. This man’s blue eyes immediately caught my attention as I heard his leather creak while he was settling into this seat. He smiled as I took in his chiseled features, a dark goatee with some elements of gray. His head had a high and tight crewcut. The leather shirt he wore fit him well, not too tight, defining his body. The sleeves were short that were snug on his thick arms, some detailed ink on his right arm. Tight leather cop gloves were on his hands as he lowered them below the table. Before he sat, I caught a glimpse of the leather breeches he wore, with a yellow stripe down the side of the legs. He had tall buffed Wesco Boss boots on.

“Am I what you expected?” he asked me as I quickly jumped out of my fascination with this full leatherman.

“I honestly had decided to have no expectations, Sir.”, that sign of respect just flowed naturally from my lips. “I am impressed that you are in your leathers.”

Gently running his hands down the front of his leather shirt, “It’s just natural for me, ty. I get the feeling you’re not in leather as much as you’d like.”

“No, no, I’m not. But I always held off on leather as I wanted to be in the leather a guy wants me to wear.”

“Yes, I can tell that about you, you need guidance and instruction on how to behave, don’t you, ty?”

After looking down and away, I returned my gaze to his eyes and nodded, “I like a man that takes control and is confident in himself to do so.”

As this leatherman nods, “Yes, I know you do, ty.”

The server arrives asking to take our drink order. Without looking at me this man orders drinks for both of us. As she leaves, he turns to me and states, “Just like that right?”

“Yes, Sir,” as I provide a gentle affirmation of his taking control.

I watch as he looks me over, then comments on my t-shirt. “I like how you boldly state who you are. Wearing something like that could get you into trouble.”

Laughing, “You think.” But I notice he doesn’t respond to my levity. I return to being sober.

“Yes, ty, I think you are kinky as fuck, but you’ve yet to meet someone that takes you down those paths of kink that you put in your stories.”

“Remember, they are works of fiction. In some of my works, the scenarios couldn’t truly be possible.” I watched the leatherman for his reaction to my statement as I have always thought that some of the intense situations would be very difficult for the sub.

From under the table I feel his gloved hand touching my right leg, gently rubbing it. That is very comforting as he looks at me. “I agree that few men could handle the intensity your write about. But you ty, you could handle it, you just need the right man to make sure you do.”

His confidence was very distinctive, along with his touch. I sensed the slight scent of his leather as the server brought us each a margarita. This leatherman lifted his drink, “Here’s to you discovering the real submissive you are inside, ty.”

With a slight grin from thinking of the possibilities, I raised my glass and we brought them together. “You have lots to explore don’t you, ty?”

This man is very positive about his ways and keeps me focused as he doesn’t refer to me as a boy, but by my name. After taking a sip, I look at him, “There is so much to do out there. Just like there are many stories for me to write about, there are many experiences to bring into my life.”

“What has held you back, ty?”

Pausing for a moment, many things have held me back, but there is one major item. “Having someone to be with to do these things with. This isn’t all about me getting tied up, it is about a dominant man controlling a human being and enjoying the power he was born to have.”

“Why haven’t you had this in your life?” the leatherman asks as he sips from his drink.

“This I have thought about often, it is because the men I have been with lacked the courage in themselves to act the way they want to. To use the power they were born with to build their own world. There is too much worrying about what someone thinks.” I notice he is slightly nodding with a raising of his lips as I believe he likes what I am staying.

“Personally, this trying to bring power exchange relationship, kink and SM into a politically correct world is bullshit. I’ve learned that I can’t make someone into something they aren’t. I believe in them at times, even though they can’t see who they are. I don’t need to please everyone; I only need to please the man that I serve and trust with my life.”

Leaning back, the leatherman looks at me, his blue eyes firmly staring. “Fuck man, I thought you were amazing with your writings, but you fucking believe that don’t you. You know deep inside you are meant to be a piece of property, aren’t you ty?”

While I’ve known this for years in my heart, I’ve rarely stated it out loud. But this man makes me feel safe that I can admit to him that it is true, some men are more powerful than I and I am meant to serve and worship them, to make sure their lives are the best and provide them with the happiness they are destined to have. After feeling a grip on my leg by his gloved hand, I look at him with my green eyes, “Yes, Sir.”

There is a long silence as he places his boots on my feet, applying some pressure to let me know that he is showing me that he is comfortable being in charge.

The server comes and the leatherman orders for both of us, him a seafood enchilada plate and chicken fajitas for me. As the server leaves, this man gives me my first command, “Put your left hand on my knee. Keep it there until I tell you otherwise.”

Reaching under the stable, I feel the soft, cool leather that this man wears, squeezing his knee a bit. “Yes, Sir.” He returned a smile as I responded to his request quickly.

After taking another drink from his margarita, he holds it in his gloved hand, “Do you have any questions for me, ty?”

Feeling the leather in my hand, I realize that I don’t know this man’s name. I hope he won’t mind but I decided that I needed to know. “May I ask your name?”

He takes another drink and sets the glass down, leaning forward and placing both his arms on the table. “My name is Chris. But you can refer to me as Sir. Are you comfortable with that, ty?”

“Yes, Sir. I can and will.”

Chris presses on my feet again with his boots. As he does, surprisingly, the food arrives and we start eating. Our conversation is one-sided as Chris asks about my experience, writing, and ideas that I have wanted to explore. He is polite to allow me to ask about his experience and what he liked in my writing. Through our meal, we truly connect, enjoying each other’s company. Though it is comfortable, he maintains his control of the meal, my hand never being allowed to leave the grip of his knee. We just met but there is a level of trust between us, me showing him respect as this leatherman shows me he is sure of who he is and what he wants.

After cleaning our plates and removing them, Chris allows me to release the grip on his knee as he removes his boots from my feet. When the check arrives, I go to reach for it and he slaps my hand away. “Fuck ty, let a man take care of you.”

That impressed me and I lowered my view and thanked him for providing my meal.

“One thing you need to understand, if we are going to proceed, I take care of everything in your life.” Leaning in, he is serious as I smell his leather and he tightly grips my hand that is on the table, “I take care of every fucking thing, you get that, ty?”

“Yes, Sir!” I state firmly and sharply. This brings a smile to his face as he squeezes my hand then sets it back. The server picks up the check and Sir’s credit card. Placing his napkin on the table, Chris looks at me.

“So, I have enjoyed your company, ty. I know you have a long drive back to Palm Springs, but I would like to go to the Eagle tonight with you. The night is early. Do you think you would want to do that with me, ty?”

While it was a question, there was an element of it being a statement. I am flattered that this handsome man in full leather is interested in me and being with him at an establishment like the LA Eagle. “Yes Sir, I would enjoy that.”

Reaching for my hand again, Chris continues. “I know you weren’t prepared for this, but fuck, you didn’t know what was going to happen tonight. We can take my car and there is a bit of gear I’d like to see you in when we get to the Eagle.”

I smile, “I would be honored Sir.”

“Good!”

Shortly the server returns with Chris’s card and the receipt. He looks at me as he stands, and I follow him out of the restaurant. A part of me can’t believe this man in full leather isn leading me and I’m going to the bar tonight as his boy.

© Copyright 2021  ty dehner, www.tydehner.com

All rights reserved.

To be continued …