It makes me feel good to know that out there, across the wide river Hudson, in the heart of the great city, is a man who is wearing my collar. Yup. I took the plunge. I got this email...

I am deeply sorry to have missed you and hope and prey I am still in good
graces. Shortly after the First left I felt you coming down the stairs
and could only kneel on the playroom floor for what seemed like seconds and
hours at the same time. I heard the door shut and did open it back up but
all I remember is next the First came in and found no one except one
anxious boy in residence. I am impossibly scared and thrilled and do not
approach for so many reasons all good so Sir without being sillier than I
am I only hope you understand your very presence even through walls and
mortar returns this boy to such happiness me tend to smile and
cry and just hope you understand that we become so perfectly drunk on elixir
we were beginning to doubt existed please indulge my irresponsibility until
I can adjust to the ecstasy again that a boy finds perhaps a handful of
times in his life when the accidental immortal You Sir are alights upon his
person. I hope to be still Your boy.

I forgot about the other play room. It's near the back stairs, and completely soundproof. And how could I not respond to a missive like that? So I emailed and said I'd be over as soon as I was done with some GMSMA business. (Today was a mail party, followed by nine (!) hours of doing Treasury stuff with the Prez. When we were done, much later than anticipated, I gave a call, and told b.w. that after I got something to eat, I'd meet him at the Lure.

I didn't see him at first, but then I did. He was wearing heavy duty kneepads and a wrestling singlet. And locking wrist cuffs. His body felt so nice and warm on a cold night like tonight. I sort of massaged him roughly then sensuously, and smaked his beautiful ass. I said 'hello,' he introduced me to his buddy. And then I put the collar on him. He sort of melted. I enjoyed his body--which now belongs to me--for a while. I got a great idea at one point. I finished my O'Doul's, put my finger in the neck, and had good leverage to rhythmically paddle his balls with it. He kept his head buried in my chest, moaning softly in ecstasy.

When it was time to go, I told him I'd give him a ride home. He went and retrieved our coats. He chatted with nervous energy as we drove to his place. He asked about GMSMA. He told me that he thought being Episcopal wasn't so much a religion as music appreciation. "All that ritual, and none of the guilt," I responded. On the way out, his friend was putting the moves on some boy. He said--for the boys benefit, "It's getting late. You'd better call your parole officer. And I'll get you some more of that ointment. My doctor gets me free samples all the time." He's a jokey boy, and I like that.

In the car he told me that while I was working his body, he came three times at the Lure.

Love that.

So I'm happy. I'm kind of inspired by Does Mean Well. DMW collared his slave at an Inferno pool party several years ago. He did it with the expectation of "once I put this on you, you're mine for the rest of the night." And his slave is still wearing it. Even though slave has become more Number One.

Who knows where this will go. Mebbe nowhere. Mebbe not.

He wears my collar.

Anyway, my boy-boy (the canine one) needs a walk. It's about thirty below outside, but Demns da breaks when you own a dog.

Very tired. Must sleep now. Sure wish I was in The Room at boy wonderful's. The fire going. Him massaging me until I fall asleep. Then sleeping on the floor outsiide my room.