[Leather Skin Biker] How Did faggotjewboy Become My ?son?? - Part 1

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Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while know of the boy I refer to as “faggotjewboy.” his story has not been told yet. I’ve related part of his story, but there’s so much more I can say about this manboy who is bound to me for life. There’s all the backstory—now over three years of it—a rich, and complex backstory that needs to be told.

Consistent themes in my blog, and in my life, are these concepts of hierarchy, inequality, and power imbalance. How many different forms can that take? How many ways can one man submit to another? What are the limits? How many variations can there be? What could represent the ultimate form of submission? And what would compel a man to submit so permanently and completely? These are all good questions to ponder.

It is interesting to me to consider how what began with a simple “nice pic” comment from FJB led him to serve me in the way that he has and will continue to for the rest of his life. In retrospect, all of this was very planful, methodical, dark, and sadistic—like Me. They say that Germans are good at planning. I think that I have proven that beyond any doubt. My German heritage has served me well. I can be very determined, strategic, and methodical when I want to be. FJB can attest to this. In fact, he has on many occasions. He’s not shy about acknowledging my prowess, my singleness of purpose, my capacity for manipulation and control. These are all just accepted as givens at this point. But how did W/we get here?

My regular readers know about FJB’s past. Being used by anonymous men in the woods at age 15. Being used by men ever since. A lifetime path set at age 15. Every experience, every degradation, leading him right to me. The times he found himself on the sticky floor in a booth in an adult bookstore, everytime he swallowed a stranger’s load, everytime he sought acceptance through service to other men, all preparation for this—all steps on the path that led him right into my waiting arms.

Within a few weeks of that first communication between FJB and Me, O/our chats led naturally to our common interests. FJB is turned on by the idea of gun play, and so am I. FJB is turned on by the idea of the cold steel blade of a knife on his neck, and so am I. FJB is turned on by cigars, tight leather cop gloves, and hard backhands, whether deserved or otherwise. You get the idea.

To be continued.

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