The Blac Rose Ecstasy

We pick up our jackets form the Bike Stop coat check, banter with the attendant who reaches out and tugs my nipples hard, then head for the door. As we pass the main floor bar a tall, muscled boy in leather chaps and harness reaches out and gropes me, smiling at Sir, who smiles back. Taking that as an invitation he grabs my collar and slides his tongue into my mouth. Taken aback with a combination of surprise and pleasure, I find myself being pulled backwards, over this young hunk's knee. Holding me there by my hair this leather-boy takes his pint of beer and swallows hard; then he grabs my jaw with his left hand and, prying my mouth open, spurts beer through his pursed lips directly into my gaping mouth. I choke and cough on the beer, as he leans forward and sucks the beer back out of my mouth again. As he pushes me back up on my feet he plants a hard smack on my ass, nods at Sir and watches us walk away. Sir grabs me and pulls me outside to the cheering of some of the other men.

We linger on the sidewalk for a few minutes, flirting and making out with some of the men who, too shy earlier, are now made more bold by the exceptionally strong, free-pour drinks they'd consumed tonight. The smell of leather and sweat is intoxicating as leather-clad bodies grope and slither against each other, tongues exploring other tongues, armpits, nipples. The sexual tension is palpable, hungers are awakened, there is anticipation and excitement.

Before long five of us are making our way in the same direction, the direction of the baths. Two of the others, a hairy bear-type couple, like the unpretentious nature of the baths and are regulars there. They're friendly and relaxed in their jeans and black leather boots. The third man is a small black man with an almost feminine physique, wearing an outfit of nothing more than a thong under head-to-toe see-through black netting; he has a very sensual, erotic quality about him, something that turns heads, even in a leather bar. If a male counterpart to Madonna were ever possible, this hot, sexual young man would be it.

Before long our group reaches the baths, only 2 or 3 blocks from the Bike Stop. Without a word everyone quietly turns and walks up the stairs to the entrance. This is it, the point of no return -- beyond those doors you're going drop your pants for all the world to see. There is probably no greater sexually charged place than a gay bathhouse. The premise is simple -- you pay your entry fee, don a towel, and circulate through the facility until you find some mutual interest -- then you have sex. That's it. That's the only reason anyone is there. Simple, not complicated, definitely not marriage material. It's all about sex.

Sir takes me by the collar and pulls my head into his chest, and whispers, "You're mine, boy, this is my ass," as he slaps my buttocks hard, "mine to play with, mine to command. You'll do as I say, boy!"

With a gruff shove Sir pushes me ahead of him. I lose my balance and fall, on my knees, and find myself staring into the crotch of someone in chaps, ... and a harness.... and someone who smells of spilled beer. I look up to see who it is -- sure enough, it's the muscled boy in leather that spit beer into my mouth at the Bike Stop. "Good place for you, fuck-hole!" Laughing, he grabs my hair and pushed my face hard into his crotch, grinding my mouth against the hard, swollen cock I can feel stuffed down the right leg of his jeans. The smell of leather, of sweat, of beer, the masculine smell of his crotch make me roll my eyes back into my head. I open my mouth, suck on the outline of his dick that stands out so clearly through his jeans, feeling his width, imagining what it would be like to take him down my throat.

A hard slap stings across my left cheek, then the other, and again another across the my right cheek again. The muscle boy pulls me up to my feet by my hair, saying, "Bad fucker! I never gave you permission! Know your place, you cunt!"

"Yes SIR!" I reply, instinctively falling at the knees of my Sir, my Master, having been put back in my place.

"Good boy, you did good for me, boy! You know your place, you're my ass, my meat, and you always come back to ME. You do what I tell you to do, and if you don't, these boots are gonna be up your ass, and your head is gonna stay on the floor, licking my steps behind me, Boy! Say 'Yes SIR!' you worthless piss-hole! Keep your head down! I'll tell you when you can look up at your Master!"

"Yes SIR! I'm sorry sir. My ass is your's SIR!"

An overly-heavy, chain-type leash is clipped to my collar, and sir leads us past the front desk, towards the back stairs that lead to the rooms on the upper three floors. We stop on the second floor and do the circuit through the corridors. The baths are busy tonight, and even though I am consciously trying to keep my head lowered, I can still recognize many men from the Stop. As we pass the rooms, all dimly lit, several men are reclined on their beds, some with towels wrapped around them, others nude, and others wearing leather and other fetish items, most of them rubbing themselves and smiling flirtatiously as we pass. By the time we reach the stairs to the third floor we've lost the other three people in our group.

We climb to the third floor. At the landing a large, beefy black man in a towel reaches out and puts his big hand on Sir's shoulder, turns him around sharply, with a little too much force, and kisses him. I keep back, not being sure how my Master will react to this overtly aggressive cruising. They embrace is a mass of arms and moans as Sir violently pulls the towel from the black stud's waist, revealing a 6'3" lean, broad-shouldered stud with a tiny waste... and a HUGE dick. Sir strokes the black cock with his right hand and massages the black hunk's scrotum with the other, pressing firmly against the hidden base of his shaft. The black beefcake leans against the wall, moaning. It's so hot watching my Master work over another man!

I open the zipper on my tight leathers and my swollen dick pops out, hard and red, ready for stroking. I work my dick, my eyes glued to the action in front of me. Watching Sirs hands expertly driving that hot man wild reminds me of the many times he's worked me over the same way; I KNOW how good it feels, and I know how close that black stud must be to cumming. Before long I blow my load all over the floor, fall to me knees and lean back in pleasure. Sir smiles at me, and pressed his leather boots hard against my dick.

"Yeah, fucker, you like that, don't ya? Mmm hmmm.. I know how to make you feel good, make you feel hot... Sir knows how to make you cum, don't I BOY!!" sneers my Sir.

"Yes! UHH!! Oh shit!! Owe! Fuck AHH! Yes, okay okay OKAY!!!!.... alright, yes you do, yes... yes, ... sir..." cries the black man, in a tone of defeat and total submission.

Sir leans forward, whispers with a harsh, threatening growl, "Next you grab hold of ME, without my PERMISSION!, you'd better be prepared to play my game, 'cuz I play for keeps, fucker!" Pressing hard with his left hand Sir digs his fingers deeply into the black man's scrotum, then suddenly grabs the black man's low-banger balls, squeezes them hard. In a fit of ecstasy, pain, and excitement, the black man blows a huge load of cum all over sir's jacket; when he was finally spent, the black man falls to his knees, exhausted. Sir takes the towel he'd been holding and stuffs one end in the black man's mouth.

"Now clean your cum off my leathers, BOY!" Slapping the black man on the face, the big stud starts wiping the cum off Sir's leathers, using nothing but the towel in his mouth, his hands held firmly behind his head by Sir. When he finishes, Sir gives him a shove and pushes him against the wall. As Sir walks past me he grabs me leash and tugs be to heel behind him, the smell of fresh cum thick in the air. Other men have emerged from their rooms to watch the scene play out, all of them stroking their hard cocks; they slowly press out of the way as my Master and I press forward down the hallway, and climb the stairs to the fourth floor.

It's clear now that this facility was originally two small houses joined by a common wall, now removed. The staircases are the only features that remain of those domestic days. My mind wanders for a moment to consider what the families that once lived here would think if they knew what happens now within these same brick walls .... who cares! I decide, as I am snapped back from my reverie by the passing of a tall blonde man with enormous pecs. (men are SO shallow, we really do think with our dicks). The Fourth floor is crammed under the sloping roofline of the original building, making it treacherous to walk around for really tall men who constantly run the risk of banging their heads. The hallway, too, is narrower -- people meeting in opposite directions have to turn sideways to let each other pass. I, of course, turn my face to the wall and push my ass out as the tall blond man slides past me. My leather-clad ass brushes against the towel, nearly pulling it off. He quickly lowers his hand to catch the towel, his hand now planted firmly on my right cheek. Slowly he thrusts his crotch against my ass and lowers his left hand onto my left cheek and begins to thrust against me. I can feel his dick pressing against me as it grows under the towel, probing the crack of my leather pants.

"Mmmm... nice piece of ass, boy," he whispers in my ear. He nods at Sir, who smiles back, then tousles my hair and walks away, discreetly adjusting his dick under the towel as he goes.

We turn the corner and enter an open area at the end of the narrow corridor. The room is surrounded with benches on 3 sides, and has a large television playing what I think is exceptionally explicit porn on the far side -- "Jesus Christ! is that shit even legal in the USA?" I think to myself. It's completely black in here, except for the light from the television. Most are simply watching the show, some rubbing themselves, cruising the room for interest as they do. Sir sits on the bench and signals me to sit on the floor at his feet. Sir pulls his dick out and begins to stroke it with one hand, pulling my head backwards by my hair with the other. I moan in pleasure, the sensation tingling down my spine. Harder and harder he squeezes my hair with his fist, my scalp wrinkling and bunching up in his hand. For several minutes this goes on.

The porn movie is getting more intense, a take-down scene where several men corner, restrain, then take turns forcing their "straight" victim to have sex. It's frightening, in a way, and extremely erotic and exciting in another. NO one can take their eyes of the movie as the tension and excitement builds. The "victim" in the movie is now being worked over by a police officer, who rapes his ass with his night stick, probing it deeper and deeper as the "frightened" man screams louder and louder; the scene closes with all 6 actors blowing their loads onto the face of the "victim" who eventually submits and agrees to be their sex toy. I am suddenly aware of something warm slowly sliding down the nape of my neck, down the small of my back, and smell the familiar scent of Sir's cum. Sir wipes the cum from my back with his gloved hand and works it into my hair as though it were a rich, thick lather of shampoo. Suddenly he shoves my head forward, throws the chain of my leash to the floor, and leaves the room.

The other men watch him go, then turn their eyes to me. I keep my head lowered, but I grow increasingly uncomfortable as I can feel their eyes working me over. My nipples harden and my crotch bulges from the attention, but I'm nervous, too. Why did my Master suddenly leave me here. Some of the men grew bold; one older man in his 60s moves in first, his aging body unabashedly spilling over his towel, the full effect of gravity and time apparent even in what is the near darkness of this room. He begins by touching my hair, and I cringe in disinterest, and pull away. Suddenly impatient he grabs a handful of hair and pulls me towards him, forcing my head down low to the floor. He is amazingly strong for his age and condition and I struggle, for real this time, to get away, my erection quickly disappearing.

"Hey!" someone shouts. There is a thud as I feel my hair released from the firm hold. I look up to find a tall man wearing only leather chaps and a harness holding the old man at arm's length from me.

"You! Come with me, BOY!" he calls gently to me, pulling me by my arm to my feet. "Your Master sent me to fetch you." As I get up I realize that the man that just came to my rescue is the man from the Bike Stop, the hot man that spit his bear into my mouth then sucked it out passionately. Bewildered, relieved, and a bit uncertain about following him, I follow anyway.

I am led down the hall to a room mid-way to the stairs; it is a large room with a large bed, and a window opening onto the hallway. The small black man in netting is there in the corner, as is the tall blond man I passed not long ago in the hall. A few moments later the black man that SIR had worked over and forced to submit swaggers into the room and slowly closes the door; he's holding thick leather wrist and ankle restraints. "Get on the bed, NOW!" orders the tall black man. The others slowly move towards me as I feel the hair on the back of my neck rising up.

"No, please, don't do this... I can't do this... I belong to someone, someone owns me, you don't understand! No, NO NO PLEASE, don't!" I beg.

I am ignored as the black man throws the restraints to the tall blond. With one firm thrust to my chest the black man lands me flat on my back on the bed, pulls my legs apart, and rests his knees across my thighs, pinning my arms down with his huge hands. He slowly leans forward and tries to kiss me, but I am really pissed off now and fight as hard as I can. I struggle and struggle, and although I throw him off balance several times, he's able to keep me pinned to the bed. I can feel the others putting the restraints on me, laughing quietly, as someone pulls the red hanky out of my right pocket and stuffs it in my mouth. "He likes getting fisted, huh? Let's find out!" shouts the blond.

My legs are clipped to chains from the ceiling and my arms are pulled apart high above the bed. I'm almost suspended over the mattress, my ass precariously open for inspection, except for my leather pants. The small black twink in the black netting body-suit walks up, slides his hands over my things and calves, then slowly unzips my pants from my ass, slowly, opening the zipper from the back to the front. All the while he's cooing softly, his eyes never leaving mine (which are by now terrified and panicky). I try to roll free, but the other men hold me still. My ass, dick and balls are now all fully exposed; gently he slides his fingers over my balls, tugging gently on the steel ball stretcher, softly whispering reassurances that I'll be okay. My breathing is hard and fast, by heart is pounding as the pulse throbs in my temples with a combination of rage and terror. My submissive side might otherwise enjoy this if my dominant side wasn't so indignant and absolutely enraged, my dominant side now having taken over my psyche. I was focused, on surviving, on getting out of this, on getting revenge! I violently thrust my whole body against the men holding me down and for a moment am able to flip myself over in spite of the restraints, but the weight of my body eventually forces me to roll back again, my ass fully exposed.

Then there is a new sound, a knock at the door, and everyone falls quiet, as the blond man puts his hand over my gag to help keep me silent. The tall black man opens the door, then falls to his knees and says, "We're ready for you, SIR!"

My Master ambles in, smiling, nods at the other men who back away. He's wearing only a leather cod piece and his tall leather boots, and gauntlet gloves. There are chuckles and smirks cast around the room as my Sir approaches, thrusts the pouch of his cod piece against my exposed ass. He leans forward, tugs my nipples hard, and announces to the room, "Men, this is my Boy. He's mine, and I'm proud to own him." He looks down at me and says, "Good boy, you put up a good fight, you did me proud. You've proven yourself worthy of my love, and now I'm going to reward you with what you want most, right here, right now, and I want everyone to see."

The baths are not what I would call a romantic spot to take your boyfriend. Or at least that's what I used to think. There is an honesty in the refreshing openness and complete acceptance that exists there between the men that go to the baths. It's another world, ruled by different rules, where natural instincts and human lust are accepted and honored. Ironically that night at the baths was one of the most fulfilling sexual memories I've had, not only for the excitement and pleasure that it brought, but for the deeper connection and appreciation that grew between myself and my Master. It was possible to explore our appetites, and it was also possible to be brought closer together for it, as well. It was an intense night of passion, of longing, and of release ... and of acceptance and growth. From such a shallow surround came much depth of meaning and understanding, much freedom and peace. Good sex is like a good conversation; sometimes connecting with others in new ways can profoundly transform the very nature of your soul. I feel fortunate for having had the opportunity to explore a part of my identity that is denied to so many who are trapped by the snarl of "morality." What was in a physical sense shallow, was at once spiritually deep and profound. I changed that night. I would never be the same again.