Date: Mon, 7 Aug 2017 00:10:18 +0000
From: criggums (at) gmail.com
Subject: When a Leather Daddy Disciplines a Boy

WHEN A LEATHER DADDY DISCIPLINES A BOY
By Criggums

FORWARD

This story is a work of fiction, but it is based loosely on an experience I
had with a boy that crossed the line and required discipline.  The
situation presented here is very different, and may seem innocuous, but the
important point is that when a boy breaks the trust of his sir, even for
the smallest thing, it creates a vast gulf between them that cannot be
ignored, and may provide an opportunity to grow the relationship in ways
not possible before.

---------------------------------------------------

He was kneeling naked in front of me and I was pissed.  He knew something
was amiss because my anger had created a wall between us you could cut with
a knife.  He was here on trial, and I was the judge and jury, and so far,
the evidence wasn't making me inclined to rule in his favor.

I looked down at him, agitated, annoyed, and not at all encouraged that I
could salvage him.  This time he may have gone too far. And as sweet as his
ass and mouth might be, his behavior put him outside the boundaries of what
I was willing to accept in a boy.  I'd caught him in a lie. Not just that,
a lie that involved me, and affected another boy whom I knew to be innocent
in this entire affair.  Either the boy before me had simply been careless
in constructing his fabrication, or he had purposefully set out to hurt
someone else. Either way, it was grounds for dismissal from my service.
Integrity is crucial to a man, whether he is an alpha dominant or a lesser
submissive to that alpha.  My boys are held to higher standards than one
would find in a common schoolyard.

At other times, the scene would have seemed quite normal. I was in my full
leather regalia of boots, chaps, vest, harness, cap, and wristband.  Each
piece is special, has years of wear on it, and identifies me as a true
leather man, not someone playing dress-up. I take the lifestyle seriously,
meaning that concepts like integrity, loyalty, truthfulness, and
dependability are just as important as power, sex, and masculinity in
creating a "real man."  I aspire to all of those things.  In my fifties, I
still work out regularly and carry over 300 pounds of muscle on my 6'3"
frame.  I fuck like a madman and can give the most virile displays of
animal sexuality when I know I won't harm anyone permanently.  But I also
see the value of self-restraint and discipline, which old school leather
advocates.  Sometimes I feel like I am one of the few left around
practicing it.

I know this combination is successful because of the number of boys I have
in my service.  If I had my way, I'd fuck every deserving boy on the planet
to ensure he'd been able to experience some real masculinity for once - it
would do each and every one of them a world of good.  But, being human
after all, I can only get to so many, and even then, there are more than I
can manage.

This boy had been with me for many years.  He called me Daddy, and he was
intimately familiar with my ways, predilections, fetishes, desires, wants,
needs.... In other words, he had become exactly the kind of boy I look for,
and work hard to cultivate once I've found the raw materials. To encounter
a misfire of this magnitude in his character was beyond disappointing. It
could well wreck the entire relationship.

I looked down at him, his head bowed, as I smoked my cigar and sipped on my
straight Kentucky bourbon.  These things - my leather, cigar, bourbon, and
boy - were the defining attributes of my position as a leather daddy:
Strength. Pleasure. Masculinity. Superiority.  In the soft glow of the
candlelight on other evenings with this boy, you would have seen me extend
my hand and place it on his head, draw him to me, place his mouth on a
nipple and command him to suck it, to bring me to a passion, aroused and
ready to use him for the more involved carnal pleasures of my cock.
Tonight, although I had the ever-present need to fuck and release my seed
into a boy, this impediment would be a hindrance to that agenda.

"You lied, son."

"Daddy, I..."

"Yes or no, boy. You lied, didn't you?"

A long pause. "Yes, SIR. I lied, SIR."

"To whom did you tell this lie?"

"To Sir Gavin, last night at the bar during the gear night festivities."
That much at least added up. Gavin had pulled me aside and clued me in.
He's also an honorable man and follows the old code.  Normally, you don't
violate trusts or out people, but when you see a boy stray as this one had,
it is better to run it to ground quickly rather than see him and his sir
head further into the storm.  Gavin said he had not questioned the truth of
what the boy had told him, but knew it was likely a lie, and that I would
most likely want to know.

I can't say I wanted to know.  It's a damn nuisance to deal with. But I
needed to know, and deal with it.  So here we were.

"And what exactly did you tell Gavin?"

"That you had messaged boy Jason and directed him to bring his kilts to
gear night so that I might wear them."

"And why did you feel the need to tell Gavin that?"

"Because I had asked Jason to bring them, and he said Sir Gavin wouldn't
allow him to bring them because they were for special occasions only.
Jason thought that if you had asked, Sir Gavin might be ok with it."

Another red flag.  "Jason thought that?"

A long pause. "No, SIR. I thought that.  Sir Gavin respects you, and if you
had asked it, he would probably say 'Yes.'"

I took another long draw on the cigar, shaking my head in disgust. "Another
lie. You just lied to me. What the fuck is wrong with you, son?  First, you
know that Jason is Gavin's boy. I would never direct another man's boy to
do anything without his sir's permission.  Second, you know Gavin respects
me specifically because I follow the code. He knows I'd never transgress
that boundary, just as he would never direct you or any of my boys to do
anything without my permission.  Are you fucking stupid or just forgetful
of how this all basically works?" I was furious.  The boy began to tremble,
knowing he was in serious trouble.

"I just thought I would look good in a kilt, Daddy. I wanted you to see me
in one so that maybe you..."

"DON'T FUCKING CALL ME DADDY AGAIN UNTIL I REINSTATE THE PRIVILEGE,
FAGGOT," I was done being gentle, and his prevarications and attempts to
ameliorate the situation by playing to the father/son aspects of our
relationship was the last straw.  Although I wasn't his bio-dad, I had
taken him on as a submissive slave who had more privileges than such a boy
would be normally afforded. He had thrown all that away.

"From now on, you're just a cocksucking slave, until you prove yourself
otherwise.  You currently wear one of my prized collars.  I'm relieving you
of it and replacing it with a piece of hemp rope to encircle your worthless
neck.  You may not think what you did was a big deal, but it involved ME,
and one of my close friends, and an innocent bystander. You've shamed not
only yourself, but ME, and I will not have that. DO YOU HEAR ME, BOY? DO
YOU UNDERSTAND THE GRAVITY OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE?"

And then the tears came.  He rarely cried. Usually, it was tears of
endurance when he was under the crop or other feats of sacrifice and
devotion I would set for him, in order to build his character.  This was a
gut-wrenching sobbing I'd never heard, and it was genuine - of that I was
certain.  Everything he had worked for in five years with me - his long
hours of training, learning my ways, how to service me, how to please me,
how to find joy in being sub to a man such as I - all of that was down the
toilet because he wanted to wear another boy's kilt.  I felt my heart begin
to soften, though I didn't want it to be; it seemed there may be hope for
the boy, after all.  I knew he was really feeling sorry, and that he was
beginning to realize that what he had done was far more serious than he had
at first imagined.  This, combined with two other much smaller lies I had
detected in prior weeks but thought were not enough for grave concern,
couldn't be ignored. Besides, I had already demoted him.  And, really, that
was the only thing I could do and continue to meet my own standards.

I took a sip of bourbon, smoked the cigar and allowed him to sob for
several minutes until his outburst began to subside.  Then, I stood up,
determined to start the salvage operation.

"Boy, if you are of the mind to redeem yourself in my eyes and resume your
status, you have a long road ahead of you, but - just as I trained you from
a know-nothing punk to be one of my best collared boys - I will walk that
road with you. But only under these conditions. You follow every rule to
the letter. Even the smallest fuck up, the smallest lie, prevarication,
deviation from protocol - anything outside of the rules - and your ass is
out the door. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

I was bellowing now. Yes, I was upset, but I was also horned up and ready
to tear into his ass, for my pleasure and his punishment. I rarely needed
to administer true punishment, and there is a side of me that relishes
doling out justice that hadn't had the pleasure of doing it in some time.
My cock was growing rock hard in the leather pouch of the jock strap,
knowing it was about to help me dispense wisdom and a helluva lot more into
this boy.

"Yes... yes, SIR, I understand, SIR.  Please don't dismiss me. I will do as
you command, SIR."

"For now, the rest of the household will call you simply 'cocksucking
faggot' and your name and any previous titles will be shelved.  Your duty
roster will be changed to include all the unpleasant chores that the other
boys have, until now, shared amongst themselves. You are toilet boy, trash
boy, dog shit scooping boy, and any other demeaning, dirty job that would
normally be shouldered by all four of you. You will be the lowest in the
house.  If any boy chooses, he can use you for his pleasure as he sees fit,
as long as he follows the code and my additional rules, which I will make
clear to them. The point is, you are their faggot bitch until further
notice. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

The sobbing had resumed. "Yes, SIR. I understand, SIR. I am nothing but a
faggot bitch, SIR.  I live to serve everyone else in your household,
SIR. Thank you for not sending me away, SIR. You are truly just, SIR."

"Good. We have an understanding then. This recasting of your position will
last for exactly 60 days, at which time I will reassess the situation. Any
infraction during that time will result in immediate dismissal. If you make
it to reassessment at the end of 60 days, and I am convinced you are truly
contrite about this incident, then I may reinstate you. There is no
guarantee.  I may find another boy to take your place in the interim. That
is my prerogative, as you well know. Now, remove my collar from your neck
and place it between boots, then back away on all fours and wait for
instructions."

He slowly reached up around his neck, fumbled with the collar's clasp, and
slowly removed it, looking at it longingly.  I'm sure a part of him thought
of it as "his" collar. It was no such thing, of course. It was mine, and he
had abused it, so he was no longer my designated wearer.  I would put the
collar in safe keeping, either giving it back to him, or training another
boy to replace him.  It had never happened before, but the protocol was
already established. There were no ambiguities in these situations.  The
code was quite clear.

I picked up the collar and placed it on the table at my left, then took
another big gulp of whiskey. I was going to need it. I wanted to get a
little drunk with this faggot, to let him see through the civilized veneer
that had so often kept him from the full impact of my unrestrained self.
The removal of the collar was like the removal of any such protections
against my abuse and misuse of him.  What he had thought was abuse and
misuse before he would now see as the sexual play it really was, not the
true punishment he'd be receiving from me over the next two months.

The way to train a boy is through his mouth and ass.  The cock is the tool,
which must be wielded by a strong willed man that carries himself with both
masculine strength and dignity.  This boy was already familiar with my
cock, but I had always been gentle in its application.  At 7 inches and a
fat beer can girth, it isn't something one just rams in without
preparation.  Yes, I had fucked the boy's mouth and ass many times, but
always with an intent to nurture and improve.  Now the intent would be to
wreck and tear down, humiliate and break the boy so that I could once again
rebuild his character.

I stood up and walked to the gear shelves, taking down a pair of cuffed
restraints and two connecting links. "Presents your wrists, faggot."  He
held out both hands as I tightly applied the cuffs.  I walked over to my
workbench in the corner, where I mended and built things of wood, metal and
other things to improve our household.  A roll of heavy braided hemp rope
hung on a spindle above the bench, along with other supplies. Using a
folding knife, I cut off a length with which to fashion a crude slip
collar, and placed it around his neck, attaching a chain to the slip knot,
by which I would control the amount it would constrain his throat and neck.

"Stand up, faggot."  He complied, still sobbing slightly, not from
anticipating his punishments, but in understanding the scope of what he had
thrown away.  I grabbed each wrist in turn, violently, and raised them to
the chain hooks hanging from the rafters, connecting them just low enough
that he could stand on tip toe - to stand any lower would be painful to his
wrists.

And then, from the special bin of implements that only I am allowed to draw
from, I pulled the fraternity paddle.  My own father's souvenir from his
college days, the letters of his fraternity had been routed in deep grooves
along its length, and then it had been varnished and lacquered to a bright
shine.  The boy saw it and knew it. He had rarely felt it, and then only in
play in which I had mightily restrained myself. He'd now learn the full
extent of its ability to teach.

"You have brought this on yourself, liar.  You are no longer fit to serve
me. But you are submitting to my discipline and I am giving you a chance to
show me you are not the lying faggot you seem to have become. Kiss the
paddle, boy, and then count each lick as I dole it out.  Your lying will
cease. Did you think I had not noticed the other two falsehoods you
committed against your brothers concerning your availability to assist in
repairing the toolshed last weekend?"

He looked up at me, red-faced.  He thought he had not been observed.

"You will receive one for each of the three lies you have told to others,
and two licks for the lie you told me just moments ago. You will count each
one out loud.  If you forget to count, the tally will start from the
beginning.  You can opt out at any time by simply asking, but if you do,
we're done. For good.  Kiss it."

I held the paddle to within a few inches of his lips, but he had to strain
to reach it and follow my command.

"Now count off each one followed by 'I'm a faggot liar, SIR, and I
apologize.'"  Without waiting, I delivered the first of the five strokes
against his taught, bare ass.  The smack was clean and startling.  He
gasped.  He had never felt anything like this from me, and the real pain
was grabbing his attention in a very real way.  It was all he could do not
to cry out more than a whimpering gasp.

"Oh! One. I'm a faggot liar, SIR, and I apologize!"

Whack! Gradually getting harder.  I pack some mean arms - 20 inch biceps.
I almost never have to use my strength with a boy.  Tonight would require
that I do so.

"Aaagh! Two! I'm a faggot liar, SIR, and I apologize!"

And the strokes continued, each time harder, and each time his ability to
receive and process and count it out was further impaired.  My cock was
raging inside the pouch.  It wanted in on the action, and it knew there was
a literally hot ass being prepared for an animalistic fucking.

Each lick was deliberately driven home by my muscled upper body, and the
intensity continued to increase.  The boy began to cry again, but - to his
credit - he kept the tally with each blow.  By the fourth lick, his ass was
bright red and showing signs of bruising.  But there was one more to deal
him.  I waited before landing the most devastating blow of all, knowing the
anticipation of it was burning in the boy's mind - wondering when it would
land.  This one was the final vehicle of my outrage and anger, as well as
the sadistic fucker in me that was getting some airtime after having been
constrained for so long.  I intended to drive it full force, which would
certainly injure him - except that at the last fraction of a second my
anger subsided slightly and my love for the boy emerged.  Knowing I could
seriously hurt the lad if I did not pull my swing, and that he was
suffering mightily at my hands, I didn't deliver the full fury of my
displeasure with him, though it was still by far the strongest of the five.
It brought the boy to full and screaming agony.

Still, he counted "FIVE! I'M A FAGGOT LIAR, SIR, AND I APOLOGIZE.  OHHH
DADDY!!!" Even though he violated the injunction of how he should address
me, I excused it. My wrath was subsiding, but my need to fuck some sense
into him only escalated when he called out to me in this way.

"Yes, boy. I'm still your daddy, but your daddy isn't the safe place you
can run to right now.  No, son, I'm the Law and I've come to take account
of your transgressions and mete out punishment. The paddling was the start.
Now you get the real lesson of daddy's cock without any inhibitions.  You
will be fucked. Hard. Rough. Deep. Mercilessly. You won't enjoy it, but I
will. I rarely get the opportunity to just fuck with abandon like I'm going
to fuck you now. It will hurt you, although there will be times I expect
you may feel something close to pleasure, at least in seeing me get mine
from your sorry, worthless ass.  But this daddy is going to correct his
boy, and fuck some backbone into him."

With that, I dragged over a heavy steel sawhorse, unhooked the boy from the
rafter chains, and pushed him forcefully over the sawhorse, attaching the
cuffs to either leg on the other side.  The sawhorse was a familiar fuck
bench the boy had been draped over many times, but never so roughly and
without a care for his comfort as now.  I stood in front of him and removed
the pouch from my leather jock, revealing my swollen, angry, red
cock. Still smoking my cigar with my right hand, I grabbed his short hair
in my left and forced his mouth deep onto my waiting dick with a deep grunt
of satisfaction.  "Aw fuck, yeah. You earned this, boy.  Now you're going
to pay. You're going to FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHO MAKES THE RULES IN THIS
HOUSE AND WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FUCK UP AND PISS ME OFF."

He was gagging violently, but I didn't care. The more he gagged, the more I
was getting off on it.  I had temporarily turned off the safety that
shields my boys from the deeper, twisted animal inside me that rarely sees
the light of day, and I was finding it needed to be let out. After this,
perhaps this boy would be the one trained for that purpose? Maybe it was
all for a good reason after all, that I could find a boy to take the
darkest most disturbing side of me and cater to it.

I was impaling his open mouth onto my raging cock harder, faster and deeper
while I smoked and cursed and took all manner of glory in my wanton use of
the boy's body.  My cock was the center of the universe and I was all
powerful within the realm over which I ruled, and this faggot was just
another tool in the garage to serve me as I pleased.

And then I was ready for his ass. I wanted that bruised hot ass, already
wrecked on the outside by the frat paddle.  Now it was time to wreck it
inside with a real man's monster cock.

"Now, boy, is the time for truth.  You've never taken my cock the way I've
wanted to give it to you, or any other boy.  But now you're nothing more
than a faggot for even the lowest of men's pleasure.  I am going to fucking
WRECK your pathetic pussy and you may never walk again. But my seed will be
in your gut, and maybe it will turn you into somebody worth a shit!"

And, using only the spit from his gagging earlier, I rammed it in deep,
hard and true.  I have never driven my cock that hard into anything or
anyone, and all of my energy and power was directed into that thrust.  It
stretched his anus without warning, and with great pain, splitting the
tender skin of his velvety hole as it bore quickly and deeply into his
being.  The thrill of power I felt rose inside of me and I roared with
satisfaction at my pure masculine being doing what evolution had designed
it to do: Fuck. Use. Take. Abuse. Seed. The boy screamed and begged for
mercy.  "No, please, SIR! Oh, SIR, you're too big for me to take you this
way!  Oh, Daddy, please!"

"This is what you need, (deep thrust) FAGGOT!  This is what you've earned,
(deep thrust) SON! Damn right this is what you NEED, and you've needed it
for a long TIME. A real punishing FUCK from your SIR, putting you back into
your god-damned PLACE, and teaching you the reality of your master's COCK
being your GOD and final JUDGE.  Every FUCK I make into you is MAKING you
more of pathetic BITCH to be FUCKED and USED by even the most PATHETIC of
men.  You're DAMN lucky this GOD of a man is STILL interested enough to
FUCK some GOD- DAMNED - SENSE - INTO - YOU!"

After that, I stopped talking and accenting my speech with the thrusts. I
just went to fucking. Hard and deep and without any care of what it was
doing to him.  The smoke from the cigar was intoxicating as I smoked it
like an erupting volcano. The smoke rolled down my sweaty chest and over
his tortured body, held in place by my huge arms, impaling him over and
over with my rampaging dick. He continued to sob, the sensation in his ass
long ago having gone numb from my assault.  I laughed and jeered at him as
I fucked and smoked. I reached over for more bourbon and got drunker and
drunker as I plowed his pathetic ass, telling him what a loser and
disappointment he was.  After thirty minutes of non-stop fucking, and
starting another cigar, I was ready to finish it and move on.

"You're a pathetic lying faggot, boy.  You don't deserve any cock inside
you, especially mine, but mine is special. I've fucked some sense into you,
son. You may not feel it yet, but you will. And now, I'm going to blow my
load up your ragged shithole and breed you with my seed.  It's a helluva
lot of spunk, boy, because you've got me riled up and ready to dispense
justice in the form of my daddy cum.  And I find I like being rough and
letting the animal out, so you're going to get this frequently from now
on. Get used to it. You're my ragdoll fuck bitch and cum dump, and that's
all you're good for until I say otherwise. Tonight you'll take my superior
load in your pathetic ass off to sleep on the bathroom floor, and tomorrow
you'll suck your former brothers off and come to me in my bed for another
vicious fucking." All of this I said while continuing to fuck and pound his
ass, but now was approaching the finale.  The sweat was pouring down my
chest. The second cigar was getting shorter as the fire inside shone bright
cherry red, mirroring the raging fire of my unbridled animal passion.

"Now, boy, TAKE MY FUCKING SEED AND DO BETTER!"  The feeling of the load
rising through my dick and issuing forth, blasting into his tortured fuck
hole, brought me intense pleasure and I yelled in ecstasy.
"FU-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-UCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!"  It was a long, trailing
expletive that lasted as long as my gushing cum.  When it finally subsided,
I slowed my thrusting, and eventually pulled out.  A mixture of blood and
cum dribbled from the boys wrecked hole. I grabbed a hand towel from the
shelf, where I kept a ready supply of them, wiped the mess from my still
twitching tool, spit in his already wet face, unclipped the cuffs pushing
him to the dirty floor, threw the bloody towel on top of him, took a long
draw on the cigar, and walked out, slamming the door behind me.