your own story
excerpts from some of the stories ty has written
booted aggie
The crack of the wood paddle striking the bare ass filled the leather-scented small room. A muffled scream into the gag that plugged the lips of the cadet as Cody felt the paddle strike again, then leaped off his reddened skin. The sound of creaking leather was heard as the Boss holding the paddle swung his arm back and then forward to strike Cody's ass over and over. Between the heavy breathing of both men, another gagged scream brought a smile to Butch as his arm was getting tired from paddling the cadet. The smooth round orbs of the cadet's ass were bright red from the many swats that had been administered by the Boss in his leather room.
As his ass received another hit, Cody struggled in the bondage that held him down on the leather padded table that his chest lay upon. With his booted feet barely reaching the floor, the tan Texas A&M Senior boots were the pride of the cadet, having graduated just a few hours before. The spurs jangled as Cody's feet moved with each strike of the paddle, rope binding the boots together at the cadet's ankles and knees, with his leather boot trousers lying on top of the boots.
Cody's gloved hands had been secured together over his head to the legs of the table, the rest of his uniform remaining on the cadet. Cody was wearing a unique custom-made Senior Aggie Cadet uniform made of leather that was presented to him just an hour ago by the Boss. Now Butch has this cadet under his complete control.
The pace of the wooden paddle striking the exposed ass stops, causing Cody to sigh with relief as Butch places the paddle on the bare skin of the cadet's back, the coolness of the wood feeling cool on Cody's flesh.
Hearing the Boss's boots on the wood floor, Butch speaks to his bound cadet, "I need a beer. You can rest there and feel your burning ass, fucker. I'll back to fill your faggot ass with my seed!"
The boots move to the door. Butch exits as the door shuts with the sound of a lock being used to further secure the cadet in the room.
Cody rests and catches his breath while he feels his flesh burn from the attack by the thick wood paddle. This is not how Cody thought he would be spending his graduation day from Texas A&M. The cadet reflects back to when he met Butch, allowing his love of boots to cloud his mind.
A few years back, Cody was sitting on his sofa, watching some long-forgotten television. He was feeling horny and had geared up in tall Wesco boots that he found on eBay. It had been difficult to find a small foot size that Cody had in the Dehner boot. Still, when he came across a size seven, the guy’s cock started growing in his jeans while arranging the shipping from eBay. Cody loved the look and feel of tall boots, dreaming of one day owning a pair of the tan boots worn by seniors at Texas A&M. Being a Texas guy himself, he couldn't pull off what was needed to be a student, but he searched online sites for a pair of those custom made boots but was never lucky to find.
Tonight, he was wearing his Wesco boots with a pair of leather jeans and harness on his bare chest. Cody always wore tight leather cop gloves when he wore his boots, and tonight wasn't any different.
There was a message from his device coming from the Recon app. Before responding, Cody checked out the profile attached to the screen name and was surprised to see a hot-looking guy who was a few years older. The main photo showed a guy with cropped hair, wearing a bull rider's vest and rodeo gear, a man that seemed as big as some of the bulls he must ride. But it was one of the profile’s smaller photos that grabbed Cody's interest. The guy was wearing a full Texas A&M uniform, complete with the trademark tall tan boots that seniors wear. That photo alone impelled Cody to respond to the text.
Sitting up on his sofa, Cody responded to the message with a respectful greeting to the man who was clearly a Master in his world. Their first dialog went well as they got to know each other and Cody was responsive to any question the man asked. Before they completed their conversation for the night, Butch revealed his name to the younger man and suggested they meet over the weekend at a neutral place in town. Cody agreed.
Cody put his device down, looking down at his cock that was pushing against his jeans. Laughing at his state of horniness, Cody wondered what he would be like when he was in the presence of the hunk that he just messaged with.
The agreed time on Saturday afternoon finally arrived as Cody was sitting at a small round table in a dark corner at the Copper Star Bar that Butch had suggested as a meeting location. Located on the west side of town, Cody drove his Toyota pick-up some twenty miles so he could arrive early, ordering a beer as he waited. Cody was wearing a pair of polished black leather military boots, black Levi's 501s, a plaid flannel shirt over a white t-shirt and a leather biker-style jacket. On the slender side, Cody stood five foot seven. Cody always felt taller when he was wearing his boots.
As Cody was taking a sip of his beer, outside the bar there was the throaty sound of a motorcycle approaching. After a few moments, Cody looked towards the entrance of the bar seeing this huge brick of a man entering.
Cody nearly choked on his drink as he saw that the motorcycle rider was dressed in full, thick black leather. Immediately, Cody noticed what had to be size 15 Dehners that were polished to perfection. As the biker stood at the entrance of the bar, he looked about like he was scanning for prey.
Standing tall at six foot five inches, the biker’s face was covered in his open-face helmet with goggles and a black bandana covering his face. Time was standing still as Cody stared at the leather the biker was wearing, a heavy jacket that was zipped and the flap open that revealed a leather shirt under the jacket. The pants were the famous Langlitz Leathers competition breeches that had quilting on the hips and knees. Cody was in awe as he never thought he would encounter a man with such leather.
The biker turned towards Cody, which caused Cody to freeze for a moment. As the biker stepped towards the smaller man sitting at the table, the boots were heavy on the floor, the scent of leather moving in Cody’s direction.
Hearing the motorcyclist's boots on the hard floor heightened Cody's awareness of the biker's approach. The biker stopped where Cody was sitting. As the goggled man looked down at Cody, Cody felt so small and weak. It was as if Cody could feel the breath of the biker through the biker’s bandana.
Playing it cool, Cody took a sip as he watched the biker take off his matte black open-face helmet after lifting his goggles and pulling down the black bandanna that covered his face. That is when Cody knew that the God standing before him was Butch, recognizing him from the photos in his profile.
Setting the helmet on the table, Butch ran his hand through his lightly sweat-soaked dark hair, which is cropped on the sides and back with longer hair on the top.
Quickly, Butch's brown eyes focus on Cody and his green eyes as the biker's hand is extended stiffly, "You must be Cody." The biker’s voice was deep, speaking with authority.
Flustered, Cody choked and then set his beverage on the table, lifting his hand to shake.
As soon as Butch's hand gripped Cody's, Cody felt the padded leather of the glove that held the small hand. The biker grips firmly and pulls Cody forward, lifting him from the chair. "Don’t be a faggot, shithead, real men always stand when shaking another man’s hand.”
As Cody is about to agree with the biker, he is pulled closer as Butch places his lips next to Cody’s ear and whispers, “And a boot-licking fag should always kneel to greet their Master.”
This statement surprises Cody as he quickly lifts his head, looking into the steel blue eyes of the biker. There is no doubt that Butch is very serious in what he stated.
Cody responds with a feeble “Yes, Sir.”
Butch turns his head and spits on the ground, then rolls his eyes at the weak response from Cody. Releasing his grip, the biker lightly pushes Cody back to his seat as Cody can feel his cock growing in his black jeans, having found himself a man that is definitely in charge of his life.
Confident, Butch pulls out the chair and sits across the table from Cody. There is a nervous quiet from Cody as the biker keeps quiet to see how the younger man responds to the biker.
“Sir, may I get you a drink?” Cody asks.
“Fuck yes, what are you waiting for, peckerhead?”
Cody stands quickly and heads to the bar. The biker reaches up, taking hold of Cody by the sleeve of his leather jacket. Cody stops and looks at the biker.
“Listen faggot, when you’re around me, you need to show your respect; you should ask for my permission to leave my presence before you step away.”
The firmness that the biker speaks to Cody causes Cody to move his hands in front of his crotch as he is worried that he is only getting harder. “I’m sorry, Sir. Please excuse me, I will return shortly.”
The biker releases his grip, reaching up and slapping Cody on the face, which stuns Cody. “Now get the fuck out of here, faggot.”
Cody moves quickly to the bar.
Watching Cody make his way to the bar, the biker liked how Cody’s black jeans fit his round ass snugly. Looking down the jeans, Butch sees that the guy wears a nicely polished pair of black leather military-style boots. The shine shows that Cody takes pride in himself and his boots. Butch then wonders how nice Cody would look in a pair of tan Senior boots. Nodding his head, Butch gets a smile on his lips as he imagines Butch in full Senior uniform, his boot pants tucked into the tall shafts. Of course, Cody would be handcuffed, standing at attention in the middle of Butch’s living room, awaiting the first command of the night.
In a short while, Cody returns with the beer for the biker, placing it on the table in front of Butch. As Cody sits in his chair, the biker takes a sip from the bottle of Lone Star, checking the leather jacket that Cody wears. It is a motorcycle race style of black with some blue accent piping.
“Do you ride, fucker?” inquires the biker.
“No, I have thought about it, but not sure I would be a good rider.”
“Yea, faggots should only ride bitch on a Harley. You’d be gagged under a full-face helmet on the back of my bike fucker, then clean my boots after a ride.”
Both men take a swig of their beers.
“Are you proud of your boots, shithead?” asks the biker.
Cody looks down at his black boots, “Yes, Sir, I am. I polished them this morning so that they would be shiny for you. When I saw your profile and your tall boots, I knew you’d expect me to take care of them properly.”
“Then why the fuck are you not showing your fucking boots?”
Cody has a questioning look at the biker.
Butch continues, “You should cuff your faggot jeans so that your boots are fully displayed, fuckhead.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” States Cody.
There is a moment of silence, then Butch orders, “Then do it, fucker.”
Cody is surprised by the firmness of the suggestion by the biker. He leans down and cuffs his jeans until his 14-hole boots are fully revealed. When Cody is done, he plants his feet on the ground. Doing so, he feels the firmness in his cock as the biker is taking charge, which Cody likes.
“You like to worship a man in tall boots like a real faggot?”
“Oh, yes, Sir. I truly admired your Dehner. I noticed in your profile you were wearing an A&M uniform. Do you go to school there?”
“I graduated two weeks ago with a degree in criminal justice. I wear my Senior boots and am proud of them. I love the sound of the heel taps and spurs as I walk. But when I ride, I wear my Dehner as I like being in black. Black leather and boots intimidate fucking weak faggots like you. The Dehners are great when I stomp on faggots like you.”
That last comment concerns Cody as he takes a swallow while imagining being under the heel of Butch’s boots. Probably in bondage, helpless, having to lick the boots clean after the stomping.
Rubbing his hands around his beer, Cody shares with the biker, “I’ve dreamed of going to A&M, earning a pair of those Senior boots. I’ve also looked on eBay to find a pair, but so far, no luck.”
“Stupid fag, you wouldn’t wear those boots with pride if you just purchased them from a website. You fucking have to earn those boots, faggot.” Butch lifts his right boot to the table.
Before Cody is a real pair of Dehners, the same boots motorcycle cops wear with pride. There is the smoothness of the black leather that gives a slight scent. The Dehners are fully exposed as the competition breeches tuck into the top of the tall boots. Cody’s mouth starts to salivate as he sees how dirty the sole is and has the need to lower his head and stick out his tongue to clean that sole. But Cody has never tasted another man’s boot, and he is afraid of the reaction he would get.
Butch notices how Cody’s gaze has fallen from looking at the biker’s eyes to being mesmerized by the boot that sits right next to Cody’s beer. This is exactly what Butch wanted to happen, which brings a slight grin to his lips.
Cody breaks his trance, remembering the comment from the biker and nodding in agreement, “You are right, Sir. I think that is why I don’t work hard to buy a pair.”
“A fag like you just needs the right training and motivation.”, notes the biker.
Cody responds with a confident “Yes, Sir.”
“You fucking want to clean my boots with your faggot lips, don’t you, peckerhead?”
Slowly, Cody turns his head to look at the biker, then nods.
Smiling, Butch reminds Cody that he needs to verbally respond. Which Cody does.
“Go ahead, you fucking fag, let your pussy tongue lose on my boot.”
This comment surprises Cody as he looks deep into the eyes of the biker Master, “Really, Sir?”
Leaning forward, Butch releases a harsh face slap across Cody’s cheek with a muffled sound as the glove leaves a red handprint on Cody’s face. “Fuck yes, shithead!”
Hesitant for a moment, Cody lowers his head to the foot of the boot, opening his mouth and allowing his tongue to slide out.
The temptation is too great as Cody adjusts his position. The first smell of the black polished leather comes from the boot, mixing with the scent of the leather from Butch’s riding leathers. Cody closes his eyes, allowing his tongue tip to touch the smooth surface of the foot of the boot.
Taking a short lick on the toe, Cody then performs a longer swipe of his tongue up the foot as he feels his cock actually getting hard. About to take the next lick, Cody hears the command “Stop, faggot!” from Butch. Pulling his tongue back in, the new boot licker lifts his head and sees the look of satisfaction on the face of the leathered biker.
Butch reaches into his leather jacket pocket, pulling out a business card. The biker hands the card to Cody, which Cody reads. “I’m giving you my address and phone number faggot, don’t fucking share it with anyone.”
“I won’t, Sir.” Cody is surprised that the biker is providing this so quickly.
Reaching across the table, the biker takes his right hand, taking Cody’s chin with his gloved hand, lifting it. Butch stares into Cody’s green eyes, “The fuckhead is to be at that address at noon sharp tomorrow. Does your tiny fag brain understand?”
At first, Cody nods, but the biker then grips Cody’s cheeks between his thumb and fingers. “Fucking stupid fag, always respond to me verbally.”
“Yes, Sir.”
With that the biker releases his grip, lowering his booted foot to the floor.
“Thank you, Sir.”
The biker takes a swig of his beer, then spits it at Cody, splashing on his leather jacket and shirt. “Don’t take your fucking boots off until I tell you.”
Cody starts to nod his head, then stops, responding confidently, “Yes, Sir.”
“Now get the fuck out of here, faggot.”
Cody stands and makes his way to the exit, with the beer soaking in his shirt and being a reminder scent of his encounter with the biker.
The sound of the door slamming brings the cadet back to his reality as he feels the burn on his ass slowly cooling. Looking towards the door, the Boss stands, still wearing his leather uniform, arms crossed, waiting to be acknowledged by the bound and gagged cadet.
Both men’s eyes meet as Butch likes seeing the helpless cadet, his ass exposed and red. There is a look of submission and an element of fear on the face of the cadet, little beads of sweat on his forehead.
Bound and lying on the table, Cody starts to reflect on how this day started, the day of his graduation from A&M. The Senior was in his bedroom, putting on his uniform as the sun was shining through his window. It was the start of a day for traditions.