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The man my eyes were most intrigued by was the one smoking a cigar on the couch along the wall. He had a thick white mustache, wore leather pants, a leather vest with a harness underneath but no shirt, and a leather cap. His left arm laid across the back of the couch while he slouched in his seat with his legs spread wide. Between his legs was one of the guys in a black jock. He was young and fit, maybe in his late 20s or early 30s. He was on his hands and knees with his face buried in the man's crotch! What was going on here?
I stared at this scene before me while I waited for the waiter to leave our table. My eyes left the young man on the floor and traveled upward to the leather man with his cigar. He was staring directly at me! His stare was stiff. It gave nothing away. A cold shiver ran down my spine. I wanted to look away, but for some reason I did not dare to. His gaze held me there. We continued to look at each other, our vision only becoming hazy by the occasional cloud of smoke from his cigar.
"...John. Earth to John!" I jumped in my seat. My head snapped back to a smiling President May. he laughed. "I know. The place can be a lot to take in for a first timer. Tell me. What do you think?"
I looked around the room again and my eyes fixed on the bare ass of a guy in a black jock, "It's... interesting," I said. President May's head turned to find what I was looking at.
"Yes, it certainly is. But in a good way, right?"
I did not answer his question. I looked back at the man in the corner. Suddenly the door nearest their lounge opened. A large heavy set man with a bald head in full leather stepped out dragging behind him a young guy in a blue jockstrap. The young guy stumbled sideways. He appeared to be wincing. The bald man plopped down on the empty couch and pointed at the ground. The guy in the blue jockstrap got down on his hands and knees and began kissing his boots. The bald man motioned to one of the other younger guys across from him, the one in the red jockstrap... He was bigger, had a middle linebacker's build―broad shoulders, thick arms and thighs, a small but noticeable pudge belly. He, too, dropped to his hands and knees and began kissing the bald man's other boot. The bald man leaned back on the couch, stretching his arms out over the back of it and said something to the man with the cigar I had been staring at earlier. He must have been still focused on me because the bald man turned his head and looked directly at our table. This time though, I did not stay and stare. I quickly averted my eyes and looked back at President May. He was still smiling, clearly enjoying my reactions to the club.
"Give me your hands."
"What?" I asked.
"John, give me your hands."
I extended both my arms across the table, and he grabbed both my wrists.
"John, I told you. You have nothing to worry about. I am going to be with you the entire time. Yes, this is outside your comfort zone, but so was talking to another man about being gay. And that was barely a month ago! Look how far you've come! Relax, my boy." He brought my hands together and pulled them upward. He gave them a small kiss. "Daddy's right here!" He grinned ear to ear. My pride tried to fight back my own smile, but he was too contagious. I mimicked his smile.
"Here. Scoot over." He let go of my hands, and I got up and moved to the seat against the railing. He came around and took the chair I had been sitting in. He grabbed the legs of my new chair, and pulled it next to his so we sat hip to hip. He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side. "Come here, my boy, Daddy's got you. Tell me. Who's your Daddy?"
"You are." I mumbled.
"No, boy. You can do better than that. Use your words and say it with pride. Who's your Daddy?"
"You are my Daddy."
"There you go! And nothing, or no one, is going to change that." He gave me a tight squeeze. "Now, I know you must be filled with all kinds of questions. Ask away!"
Where to begin? I thought. I went with the most generic question possible. "Up here, what is this place?"
"Johnny, this is a special part of The Phoenix. This is what's called the Icarus Club. It's an exclusive leather club for doms and their subs. It was started by Master Martin decades ago. It's a very exclusive club―made up of distinguished gentlemen. It is invite-only. You'll get to know more of the members of the club soon enough."
"Who is Master Martin?"
"He's the owner of this place. You see that man over there in the corner." He pointed at the couches I had been starting at.
"Yes." I said.
"That man there in the leather cap smoking the cigar―that's Master Martin." Master Martin was now getting a shoulder massage from the guy who had been sniffing his crotch earlier. Even though I sat hip to hip with President May, I still felt fear for the man. "You'll get to meet him tonight." President May said.
"I will?" I said with more of a scared protest than a question.
"Yes, Johnny boy. He is the president of the Icarus Club. He approves all prospective subs. If you want to earn this key," he patted his chest, "you'll have to make a good impression on Master Martin. Don't worry though, you'll do fine." He ran his fingers through my hair.
The key! I had completely forgotten about it. I guess that's what the shock of your first gay leather bar will do to you. I desperately wanted to be awarded that key. I kept my eyes on Master Martin. I observed everything going on around him. He was clearly the leader of the group. He carried that kind of presence. But the bald man on the couch next to him caught my attention once again. He, too, was now smoking. The two guys who had been kissing his feet were now in different positions. The bigger guy in the red jockstrap was on his hands and knees turned sideways and being used as a footrest by the bald man. The smaller guy in the blue jockstrap who I had seen hobbling out of the room behind them was kneeling upright at the bald man's side and holding an ashtray. There appeared to be a bit of contrast in color between the blue jock and the small guy's backside. I thought I detected shades of red.
"Who's the other man over there? The one with the bald head?" I asked.
"That's Sir David. We get along." I sensed a hint of judgment in President May's answer. "As you can see, David is not shy about public displays of submission. He can be a bit much at times, in my opinion." He paused and took a sip of his drink. "I'll give him credit though. He does have his boys well trained." I threw a nervous glance at President May. He stared back, saying nothing―only lifting his eyebrows inquiring what I was thinking.
"What about the jocks?" I asked.
President May chuckled. "Yes, yes. How could one not notice? Beautiful aren't they? Those are the subs. Or, in the term I use with you, the boys. Subs and boys serve their dom, their Daddy." He gave me another squeeze. "The jock signifies their place in that hierarchy. It's a uniform of sorts. It also serves as a collar, a sign of ownership. All those wearing jocks are boys. All those wearing pants are doms or daddies."
"Subs and doms, boys and daddies. Got it." I said.
"Correct, boy. You'll meet some of the subs, too. You can call them by their first name. But the doms, you shouldn't speak to unless spoken too. And you should call them Sir." He turned and looked at me. "You have only one Daddy!" He looked right through my eyes.
"Yes Daddy!"
"Good boy!" He ruffled the back of my hair. I laid my head on his shoulder, and we stayed like that for a few moments.
"Why are the subs wearing different color jocks?" I suddenly asked.
"Good question. Are you familiar with any kind of belt system in a martial art?"
"Yes," I said, but President May did not continue. He gave me a stern side eye. Somehow, I knew what I had done wrong. "Yes Sir," I corrected myself.
"Don't forget that. Especially not in front of Master Martin. Don't embarrass me, Johnny."
My shoulders shrank. "I'm sorry Sir."
"It's okay, don't worry. Deep down you're a good boy, and soon you'll be a well trained good boy." He rubbed my shoulder up and down. "Now, the jocks. Like in martial arts, the color represents a certain stage of achievement or skill. But, instead of using a belt, we use a jock. Subs are awarded a new color by their dom when the dom thinks they are deserving. There's normally a ceremony to mark the occasion. Those are always fun." He paused, seemingly reliving these ceremonies in his head.
"What are the different levels, Sir?" I asked.
"We have five colors. White is for new subs just starting out, then it goes blue, purple, red, and finally, black. It's a very special thing for a sub to be awarded a black jock. It's the closest a sub can ever be to a Sir. You get to wear the same color as your Daddy and the other Sirs. But, you're still bare assed and in a jock. Remember, no matter what color your jock is, you don't wear the pants. Your daddy does."
A hundred other questions ran through my mind. It was a tough task deciding what to ask next. "Am I your sub?"
President May pondered this question a moment before speaking. "Officially, no. Not yet. You don't yet live under my protection. You don't yet wear my collar. But, my boy, you are well on your way to becoming my sub."
My heart beat louder than it had before. The news both excited me and made me nervous. I lifted my head off his shoulder. "You're going to collar me? As in make me wear a jock?"
"Yes John. I am. That is, if you want to be my boy. That is, if you want this." He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the key. I gazed intently at it, noticing every groove and indention in the key―memorizing them. But then the key was put away.
"Will I have to wear a jock in front of everyone? Like them?" I nodded at the nearest table. There were six men seated at it―three Sirs and three men in jocks. One of the Sirs had their hand in the back of his sub's waistband.
"Look Johnny. If you want to be my boy, and I mean my boy 24/7, not just during fun times in the bedroom, then you're going to have to let go of some fears. You're going to have to let go of some reservations. You're going to have to submit to me." He looked me square in the eye. It reminded me of being lectured by my father when I was young. He continued.
"If you're going to live at my house as my boy, my sub, you will live by my rules. Obedience is a matter of course. I am in charge 24/7. When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it. If that means wearing a jock at the bar, then that's what you will do. None of this I'm too embarrassed or afraid of crap. If you're too embarrassed to do what I say then you shouldn't be my boy. You should leave. We should walk away from each other."
I swallowed deeply. I was unsure what to say. I had never heard President May use this tone before. It was different from when he gave an order. It was matter of fact, let's get real with reality. The only thing it reminded me of was when I had gone to his office one day and overheard him telling off one of the deans who had messed up big time on some decision. I did not know the guy's name, but when he left his office his face was white as snow. I wondered if that's what I looked like now.
"Johnny, say something. I may want you to be my sub, but you aren't dumb and mute. You're a strong, confident young man. That is why I've grown so fond of you. I don't want some cowardly dog afraid of his master. Speak."
"Sorry Sir. I mean, yes Sir. I understand what you're saying. I want to be your sub, your boy. I'll do what you say." President May held his icy stare for a few seconds. Did I say something wrong? Had I not pleased him? Then, just like that, the icy stare was gone and the icy light was replaced by a beam of hope. He smiled genuinely.
"Oh my Johnny boy, that is good to hear. Of course, you still have to prove yourself. Are you ready?"
"Ready? Now?"
"Yes boy. Unless you were lying about doing what I say?"
"Oh no Sir!" I scrambled to prevent that thought from living in his mind for another moment. "I'll do what you're say. I'm your guy, your boy."
"Good. Now, reach into my pants and hold my balls."
"What? Now?" I couldn't stop the questions from pouring out? I dropped my voice to a whisper. "But people will see."
His face dropped with a look of disappointment. "Perhaps, I was wrong. This was too soon. I'll put this key back in the safe. We're not meant..."
"Okay! Okay! I'll do it."
The disappointment on his face smoothly transitioned to a look of satisfaction. He was a master of manipulation. He faced the table once again and brought his arm to rest around my shoulder. I hesitated. He pulled me in closer as if nudging me to obey his order. "Well?" he said impatiently.
My left hand reached the bottom of his stomach and tried to snake its way inside his waistband, but his belt was tied too tight.
"Loosen my belt. Undo the top button." he said. I clumsily undid his belt. It was different undoing it from this angle. I did the same for his top button. Then, I fought the urge to look around for I knew if I saw eyes on me I would hesitate, and then maybe that would be my last strike. I slid my hand inside his pants. I felt the top of his cock tucked into his boxer briefs and kept plunging downward until my fingers curled underneath his package. I was now holding his balls in a public bar filled with people.
"Now, that wasn't so bad? Was it?" he whispered into my ear from above. Easy for you to say I thought. You're not the one with your hand down someone's pants with everyone looking at you.
"Johnny, look around." I did not want to. I knew, surely, that there would be a bunch of older men staring and laughing to themselves, whispering to their neighbor at my humiliation. But, I knew I had to obey. I looked up. To my relief, there was no such picture before me. The men of the club kept chatting away and having their own merry time. I knew the other tables could see us. Their eyes flicked our way at times but did not linger. A waiter walked by with another table's drink orders, but gave no such look of shock or anything of the sort. When he returned he asked President May if he needed anything. President May told him we were fine, and the waiter walked away. It was the most normal of exchanges.
"What happened Johnny? What did you notice?" President May said.
"Nothing. Nothing happened. They didn't notice. Well, they did. But they didn't care!" I looked up at President May with a wide eyed expression.
"You see? There was nothing to fear. Are you starting to learn yet you can trust me? Because if you are going to be my boy, if you are going to continue to hold my balls in your hand, you're going to have to trust me. You're going to have to learn that I would never do anything to embarrass or humiliate you. Now, I may humble you at times, but never humiliate. I'm a father, not a master."
"Thank you Daddy." His eyes widened. I saw a flame behind them. He rubbed my head forcing me to bend down and look away.
"You're welcome son. Now speaking of masters. Let's talk some more about this relationship." The waiter came over and handed President May his drink. I remained bent over with a handful of his balls. He thanked the waiter, took a sip, and continued. "I don't like the term 'master.' Others may use it and prefer it, such as Master Martin, but I don't like it. You will refer to me as Sir, Daddy, Dad, or President May if we're at work obviously. And get this, boy, you are not my slave. I demand obedience and expect you to submit to me, but that submission is willing. You do it on your own accord. There is no coercion, here." He paused a moment. I looked up to him to see why. He stared down at me contemplating what to say next.
"John, take your hands out of my pants for a moment." Confused, I did so and sat up.
"John, you have the freedom to leave this relationship anytime―and without consequence. I will not hold it against you if you no longer want this. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes Sir."
"Good." Again, he ruffled my head. I stuck my hand back in his pants. Apparently, this was a good move. He was very pleased by this given the growl he emitted from deep inside his belly.
"I want to live in your mind, so much so that you come to me of your own free will. I do not need any physical tool of coercion - no chains, or whips, or collars―the real kind―none of that! My collar for you is worn in here." he tapped my forehead.
I raised up a little in my seat. I leaned forward, so did President May. We both had the same desire. We closed our eyes and locked lips. Our kiss was soft and gentle, and then he took over. He worked his tongue into my mouth, and I twirled my tongue around his. We didn't make out long, but enough for me to be sure several people had seen us. It was the first time I had kissed anyone in public before let alone with my hand down their pants at the same time.
"So what kind of house rules does Daddy have?" I asked. President May laughed so loudly at my question that he hurt my ears a little. He was delighted to see the tide turn in my acceptance of his newly defined authority.
"Well, like I said, you will do what I say, when I say it. That goes for the chores you are responsible for, the events you attend, it all depends on my word. Now, I don't need you asking me for every little thing. You're a big boy. You can make menial decisions about what you eat and so forth on your own. But the big decisions must come through me. I am in charge. I wear the pants. And you wear―"
"―the jock!" I interrupted.
"Yes, you will wear a jock―my jock. But, you will also wear what I tell you. I may change it up from time to time. You can wear clothes in the house, but occasionally I will make you wear the Icarus uniform at home." He leaned forward and kissed me again. It was a light peck. "The only thing you have to remember, you are the boy. I," he grabbed my hand and pressed it firmly into his crotch, "am the man!"
"Yes Daddy."
"Good boy!" We entered into another make out session, and then President May broke it off.
"Alright, enough chat. I think you're ready. Time to meet Master Martin and have your interview." President May lifted his hand and called James, the host from earlier, over.
"James, let Master Martin know that we are ready for him whenever he is available." James took President May's request and marched straight over to the lounge in the corner where I had seen Master Martin earlier. As I watched James make this walk across the room, President May told me to take my hand out of his pants. He would give me a signal for when he wanted my hand to return. It would be an easy way for me to impress Master Martin, he said.
James reached the leather couches in the corner and leaned down and whispered something to the cigar smoking Master Martin (his cigar was much shorter now). There was a different guy, one in a red jock, now sitting in Master Martin's lap. Master Martin nodded his head when he received James' message and lifted the young guy off his lap. Master Martin then stood up, gave James a sharp pop on the ass, and made a B-line for our table.
"Relax Johnny. You have nothing to fear. Master Martin, and I have been friends for years. Just be yourself."
"Yes Sir."
"Call me Daddy in front of him. When he gets close, stand up to meet him. And only speak when spoken to."
"Yes Daddy."
Master Martin shook a few hands with a few of his club brothers on the way over but did not stop to chat. He even squeezed a few naked shoulders on a few subs including a plump middle aged man I had noticed earlier in a black jock. Like James, he also gave this man a pop on the ass, but this time I could hear the slap from the impact of skin on skin. The man blushed and his eyes followed Master Martin as he walked by. Master Martin looked to be a couple inches taller than President May, probably about 6'2. His upper body looked as if he had been quite the powerhouse back in the day, and still had some old man strength left in them. His chest was hairy and a mature white in color. Once he was within ten feet of us, President May stood up, and I followed suit.
