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A servant’s prayer by Lee Harrington

from “On Starry Thighs: Sacred and Sensual Poetry” with author’s permission

You lay
languidly back
as I lay out our course
nervous of what
you will think
of my tribute

Black latex
slides down
over each finger
snaps into place
as you look up
grant me a smile

Hands lube wet
palm to palm
in a lover’s prayer
as eye catches eye
and I stop
to stare

I take you in
as one finger at a time
you take me
into your cavern
your secret realms
breath by breath

Clench and release
you make room for me
in your life
I coach you
on taking me in
taking this path together

Each grunt
builds on the last
until at last
you open up
rosebud
blooming in my palm

Birthing goddess
welcoming god
I stop caring
as my hand rests
inside your root
and comes alive

Pulse to pulse
my fingers
reach up
caressing eternity
in your churning core
from the inside

Both of our heads
roll back
tears streaming
clenching down
in time
with my heart

Let me worship
this moment
of vulnerability
bowing low
your servant
before the sling

Your spark inside
explodes
before my eyes
each breath
an eternity
in the thunderous sky

You writhe
divinity unfurling
quaking in my hands
rain streaming
down both
of our flushed cheeks

I pull away
moment at a time
until you release me
trying so desperately
to hold onto
this moment

Open wide, inside
your starry thighs
I am stripped away
as my hands
tremble at the loss
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Bar Louie…A Tale of Strangers by Kinky Whovian

Our first meeting was over a cocktail at Bar Louie (RIP). She came from the swinger world, and I came from the kinky netherworld.  Apparently my world piqued her curiosity, as she quickly asked me about a kinky fantasy I’d like to try, and this is what I shared:

One day, I will say to you, “You will receive a package at your door, but you must wait to open it. At 6 pm sharp, take the contents (lingerie, skimpy dress, flipflops, and GPS coordinates), change into the clothes and input the coordinates into your maps app.

Do not delay.  I have calculated that you will arrive at 7pm SHARP with an hour of sunlight left to illuminate your progress. Park at the bottom of the hill and make your way up the trail. You’ll know when you have arrived.  Do not bother texting me; I will know you are there.”

Our first meeting was over a cocktail at Bar Louie (RIP). She came from the swinger world, and I came from the kinky netherworld.  Apparently my world piqued her curiosity, as she quickly asked me about a kinky fantasy I’d like to try, and this is what I shared:

One day, I will say to you, “You will receive a package at your door, but you must wait to open it. At 6 pm sharp, take the contents (lingerie, skimpy dress, flipflops, and GPS coordinates), change into the clothes and input the coordinates into your maps app. Do not delay.  I have calculated that you will arrive at 7pm SHARP with an hour of sunlight left to illuminate your progress. Park at the bottom of the hill and make your way up the trail. You’ll know when you have arrived.  Do not bother texting me; I will know you are there.”

Here is what comes next:  When you get to the top of the trail, you find a tree with a chain wrapped around a sturdy limb. You feel exposed and vulnerable in your skimpy dress when you spy me dressed to the nines. “Remove my necktie,” I instruct before taking it from you to cover your eyes. Having robbed you of your sight, I instruct you to present your wrists for binding.  The solid click of the cuffs closing continues to echo in your ears as I hoist them up, locking them to the chain. I unsheathe the rather large and SHARP knife strapped to my belt and proceed to cut off your dress, revealing the cotton bra and panties underneath. I carefully run the knife up and down your exposed flesh and watch the goosebumps rise up and lay siege to your skin. I grab your hair and pull your head back before deftly cutting off your bra and panties so I can revel in the way the soft twilight caresses your naked body. I deploy my arsenal of toys –  floggers, canes, violet wand, vampire gloves, wartenberg wheels, nipple clamps, and vibrators. Like Mozart to the harpsichord, I play your body with passion and precision, composing music made of gasps, whimpers, moans, and other gratifying noises.  Using my tools, I shape them into a symphony of pain and pleasure, culminating in an explosive orgasm.

Your head is bowed, your breathing is heavy, and I unlock the carabiner and gently lower your arms down in front of you. I free you from your blindfold so I can look deep in your eyes to bring you back to me.  The scent of rose petals greet you when I lead you through the door of a nearby cabin. I softly kiss your wrists when I uncuff them before lowering you into the warm water of a waiting bath.   You luxuriate in the feel of my fingers on your scalp as I wash your hair and wonder at the play of candlelight in the water drops as I rinse the sweat off your glistening skin.  You know that next I will lead you to the bed where I will ravage you… and make you my own.

As I spoke these words, her eyes grew wide, her breath deepened, she absentmindedly stroked my arm… and I knew then that she would be mine.

Written by Kinky Whovian

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“Friends, Romans, Cunt-rymen, Lend Me a Hand “

It occurred to me that while many sorts of play have a seemingly boundless level for more/harder, some types of play have more limits. I found that unfortunate.  Take for example fisting (that’s it, take it you filthy little pig. You like it, don’t you?).

Santa, the man with all the ho’s

Where was I? Oh right, fisting.

For almost all of us, the limits of fisting are two hands and ten fingers. This is really a shame if you think about it.  Imagine, you’re in the moment, all is going well, every zig is met with a perfect zag, all of your fingers, palms, and wrists are occupied, and THEN your person is encouraging, nay DEMANDING, more.  

What is one to do in such a moment to keep the spirit of the fisting going?  Sure, we could call a friend, but that’s hardly creative. Anyone can call in a second set of hands. As a top, I want solutions that are more innovative. Things that will keep the bottom guessing as it were. I want my person to always wonder (and worry) what’s next.  With that spirit in mind, I created a list of pervertible finger substitutes that can pinch hit when you need to take your fisting scene to the next level.  Please note that I accept no responsibility for any outcomes using these suggestions causes be they good or bad. Your mileage on these items may vary.

With no further ado, here is my list of ten fisting pervertibles to keep your fisting party going:

  1. Finger hooks.  If you’re not familiar with these, they are the hooks for robes, keys, and so for that are made in the shape of a human finger.  In my book anything that checks off the insertable, hardware, and home décor boxes is always a winner.  Note to tops, the ends of these are usually screws so be careful not to stab yourself as you put them in.
  2. Chicken fingers. Not only do they take up that space for your extra fingers, they make for a tasty mid-scene snack.  I’d avoid using sauces; the spicy sauces may make your fingers go numb and the sweet ones may cause post-scene unpleasantness.
  3. Lady finger firecrackers.  These are pretty tiny so you should be able to find space for lots of them. If you want to give your scene an added punch add fire play to your scene – it’s sure to end with a bang!
  4. Finger sandwiches.  Like chicken fingers but fancier.  Be sure to wear your fancy lady hat.
  5. Finger monkeys.  Believe it or not, I do have a, very low, level of decorum.  Nuff said.
  6. Finger brushes.  Adds a whole new meaning to the phrase “clean as you go.”
  7. Finger cymbals. Add some mirth to your scene with an impromptu game of “Name that Tune.”
  8. Wendy’s chili finger. A few years ago, someone claimed they found a finger in their bowl of Wendy’s chili.  Time to put that finger to good use.
  9. Finger hooks.  If you’re not familiar with these, they are the hooks for robes, keys, and so for that are made in the shape of a human finger.  In my book anything that checks off the insertable, hardware, and home décor boxes is always a winner.  Note to tops, the ends of these are usually screws so be careful not to stab yourself as you put them in.
  10. Chicken fingers. Not only do they take up that space for your extra fingers, they make for a tasty mid-scene snack.  I’d avoid using sauces; the spicy sauces may make your fingers go numb and the sweet ones may cause post-scene unpleasantness.
  11. Lady finger firecrackers.  These are pretty tiny so you should be able to find space for lots of them. If you want to give your scene an added punch add fire play to your scene – it’s sure to end with a bang!
  12. Finger sandwiches.  Like chicken fingers but fancier.  Be sure to wear your fancy lady hat.
  13. Finger monkeys.  Believe it or not, I do have a, very low, level of decorum.  Nuff said.
  14. Finger brushes.  Adds a whole new meaning to the phrase “clean as you go.”
  15. Finger cymbals. Add some mirth to your scene with an impromptu game of “Name that Tune.”
  16. Wendy’s chili finger. A few years ago, someone claimed they found a finger in their bowl of Wendy’s chili.  Time to put that finger to good use.

There you have it, kids. Next time you are planning that mood that will bring out your sexy, delicious, raunchy best keep these things close at hand (pardon the pun.)  You may not need extra digits to make the most of your party, but you’ll be relieved to know they are there if you need them.

You’re welcome, now go have fun!

-Todd Lawrence

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Writings To The Editor: A Poem by JustAsheli

 I asked you what you loved about yourself

and pressed my lips to your silence

as if I hoped

I could make you understand me

by osmosis.

I will kiss you until the final breath leaves my lungs,

and if you only take in

a tenth of my love for you,

even that would be enough.

You will know there is no one alive more beloved than you.

*The NewsLeather Editors graciously thank JustAsheli for allowing us to reprint this poem.

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“Summon Him” by Trix LotusWolf

At five feet tall and slightly plump, Sara Clarence, had a radiant smile to match her fiery hair.  Never at a loss for partners, pleasing as they were, they had always left a taste in her mouth for something more. Each day, Sara passed a shabby looking occult shop across from her job but never had the right amount of courage to step inside…until today.  The draw to go inside was irresistible.  Her feet crossing the threshold, she found titles and herbs she had never heard of.  One book in particular called to her: “A Summoning of a Lover.”  Her fingers turned the book of spells in her hands, nervous about the energy she felt calling.  After a moment of hesitation, she brought it to the cashier and quickly slid out the door.

Weeks passed as she read the book, all the while gathering tools, candles, herbs and picking the perfect place for the ritual.  Samhain (All Hallow’s Eve) finally came upon her. She pulled on her most sultry black dress and made her way to the woods outside of her home – book and ingredients in tow. 

Looking around to make sure all was safe, she reached the circle she had cleared out during the past week and dropped the bag, blanket, and book. She laid everything on a red pillar candle, some various herbs, some wine, and a bundle of rope. She didn’t understand why the spell had called for the rope as it was used nowhere in the text, but she brought it anyway. 

The sun set and the full moon was rising as she finished setting up her space and then poured a glass of wine. “The worst thing that could happen is me looking stupid, and I’m pretty familiar with that.” She tossed back the last of her wine and opened to the page she had marked with the sales receipt from the store. “Summon Him” it was titled. She read aloud as she followed the steps to the spell, finishing with the last step of lighting the red candle.

The spell now complete, Sara looked around expectantly. There was no one around. No magical lover who could make her feel what she was looking for. “Figures,” she scoffed as she tossed the book aside and grabbed the bottle of wine, turning it up and finishing it spilling just a little on the ground. She lay down on the blanket with her bag balled up under her head and watched the candle’s flame lick the wax away. “At least it’s a beautiful night,” she sighed and closed her eyes. 

With a bolt and a gasp, she awoke abruptly to find herself hanging in the air, suspended with some intricate pentacle of rope across her chest.  Mouth open, eyes wide, she let out a silent scream. A deep voice growled, “You will scream many times tonight, but no one will hear them. You summoned me here, and here am I.” The sound of claws against the grass and leaves sent chills up her spine as the speaker appeared before her. The sight  of the beast pulled another silent scream from her lips. He chuckled as his sharp claws roamed across her silk black dress, ripping trails of holes in their wake until it hung off of her like a shredded rag. Nicking her flesh a few times, she whimpered as the hot liquid swelled from her skin. “But lover… I’m who you asked for.” He indicated the red candle that had seemed to not burn down at all, its flame flickering against the night. “Now you have me until the flame is spent and I intend to make you cry, beg, and plead for me to stay with you.” 

His claws dragged against the ground as he disappeared behind her once more.  A hum through the air heralded a light knife-like slice in her behind. She whimpered as she struggled to steady herself with her tiptoes. Another hum and cut. She cried out as each one was harder than the one before. Another and another, no real rhythm of the fall of the whip, nor did he seem to be counting. She became lost within each strike and time became meaningless. Her bottom welted and bleeding, her body excited and trembling for him, tears stung her cheeks. 

“Beg me,” he laughed. She opened her mouth, but words refused to come. Her screams had worn her throat raw. She thought as loud as she could, “Please Sir, Please give me release!” She instantly felt his hot breath against her shoulder and his teeth on her skin…and then nothing.  Just …nothing.  She glanced up to see the red candle reach its spend before his arms disappeared from her waist and she fell  to the ground. 

The sun was bright and warm against Sara as her eyes fluttered open. Her skin was covered by some sort of fur blanket, and the air around her smelled of sweet spices and sweat.   The night came rushing back to her as she sat up and immediately cried out, her hands reaching for the tender welts on her bottom and thighs. She smiled coyly as she poked them a little more then picked up her book which fell open to the page labeled “Summon Him.”  There she found a scrawled note in what looked like blood,. “Next time use a larger candle, pet.”

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Poet’s Corner – Noelle Boone

I asked for this.

It’s quiet anxiety at first.

Building.

Rising.

Raising waves of succulent fear, and anticipated horror.

I’ve been given only morsels of insight at this point, every crumb of the terrors to come careful scraped from my own tepid requests. We are bakers of a hateful bread, unleavened and unleaving fear that sits in the back of the throat, taking residence for weeks upon my palate. We bake and break our bread to serve appetites grotesque. A hungry mouth needs to eat, and how can we leave shit behind if digestion doesn’t occur?

I asked for this.

It’s the hill upon which I make but another last stand. I am scared of the prayers I’ve offered to dark things, yet I am scared of myself more.

For all of the looming pain and misery, I asked for this.

I asked for this.

I begged for this.

I needed this.

What kind of creature does that make me?

I am here to receive, and we aim to please.

Escorted to my demise by my lover and protector, my trembling feet cross a threshold that I’ve only seen in nightmares. “Welcome to the dungeon.” Careful lips beneath sympathetic eyes hurl these atrocities against my quaking form. I am spat upon, drenched in the mucus of their amity. Soaked, stinking and stained in the filth offered by only the truly gentle. I hate them, and they know it. I hate this, and I hate that, but most of all, I hate me.

What the fuck am I even doing here?

I asked for this.

The music is loud, the lights are low and I have sunk to the floor. My ever-watchful guardian is Judas, treasonous and dancing to the ministrations of my dark things. She seals my fate with a butterfly’s kiss, pulling me to my feet just to throw me upon the altar of the iniquitous. Her beautiful, quivering liar’s eyes are the last thing I see before stifling darkness swallows my sight and drinks the stagnating liquid air from my lungs. Arms wrap around the bag wrapped around me and I am pulled away.

I asked for this.

The dark things lead me to a pillar, lashing my arms around it with tape to keep me firm in their clutching grasp.

I asked for this.

Claws and talons dance down my back, twirling and cascading against feverish, needy flesh.

I asked for this.

My clothes are torn off, but the dark things are so overwhelmingly gentle. I’m screaming on the inside, but my lips are disobedient to the whims of these monsters that I have submitted myself to. Tongue, cheeks, curses and pleas, I bite down on them all, crushing this weakness between my teeth until all I can taste is blood behind the arterial fear.

I asked for this, and I will give no quarter. I will not beg for mercy.

I asked for this.

A knife rings out in my darkness, and I feel the point dragging lightly against my ass. I can only just tell the difference between metal and a monster’s claw. Knees pressing together catch the fall that threatens to take me, and an all-too-familiar burning swirl blossoms in my belly. I want this, these demons and their silken caresses. I starve willingly, and my soul grasps vainly at the last gasp that slips away, taken from me just as my panties are sliced apart and pulled free from the panicked grip of my thighs.

I can see nothing but I can sense the loving way that evil fingers trace and grip implements of cruelty. I crave that touch for myself. These moral deformities deny my silent urging, and in that denial, I am deprived of myself. Suddenly I am gone from this place; suspended in void, and held captive by the swelling tide of gazes that pierce and sounds that crush. I am finally endless in this instant, a mote that is pressed into submission and being by all the violent potentials of infinity.

My silent forever is broken by a single sound, a thought served by the flaming chariot of my cusping fear as it transforms to something more, and my prayers to dark things are answered.

I asked for this.

The first hit is something personal, just for me. It explodes around and through me, as if the combined voices of my dark things had shouted down from the doorsteps of Paradise, “Let there be pain,” and I am gifted through a veil of wood, steel and leather. My mind goes blank, and my body awakens. The pain comes to me, just as I feared, in bright blasts of wanton lust and devastating sensation. I have lost track of myself, and my whimpers. My feet tear free of their bindings, heedless to my commands, and my lips are pried apart by screams. I do not know who is hitting me. I do not know is being used to hit me. I do not know what I am. I only know pain.

I asked for this.

I am being cut loose, allowed to slump on the cold floor. The dark things are patient with me, and they ask if I want to stop. There is just enough of me left in myself to say no, to say that I am not done.

My mountain still hangs above me, the peak of my challenge yet to be crested.

I will not have mercy, and though I cannot see it, I know my dark things are pleased. They move me to a more opportune spot, and continue to wage my wars for me, the drums of their efforts thunderous against the battlefield of my heaving body. Blood has been coaxed from me, soaking the slope of my ass and thighs in thick sheets of crimson. I feel a splash and smile through my screaming, understanding that the dark things are dancing in rubied rain; my rain. I feel the joy in their sustained effort, and I know love as their blows cascade with the violent roses that bloom and pour from me. This love is my mountain, and I have overcome. I have claimed it.

This is what I asked for.

Written Nov 5, 2018 by Noelle Boone

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Keeping Community First At The Dallas Eagle

If 2020 were a hula hoop, it would be made of barbed wire.  Individuals and businesses are having to make difficult decisions with no good options.  The Dallas Eagle is no exception.  Last open on March 16, of this year, the bar has remained closed as a precaution for both employees and patrons. 

We all have a place that is a home away from home, and for many of us it has been the Dallas Eagle.  Owner Jeffrey Payne takes that responsibility seriously.  Upon the announcement of closures, he immediately contacted the mayor’s office pushing for a comprehensive plan from the City of Dallas and various agencies to assist those within our community with lost revenue and lost wages.  Regardless of the city’s response, though, he has continued to look out for his community’s best interest.  “Money is not at stake,” says Jeffrey. “Our patrons, 

my staff and my families’ lives and health are what is at stake…Do I need to open

for financial reasons? You bet your ass, I do. But I will never value a person’s life and well-being over my making a buck.”

As a place where many of us have made lasting memories, had unforgettable moments, and found many friends, we feel the loss of our gathering place acutely.  Founders Matt Miller and Mark Fraizer first opened the doors of The Dallas Eagle in 1995 to meet a perceived need in the DFW Leather Community.  Since the opening of the bar, through moves and changes of ownership, numerous clubs and organizations (some still around, some now defunct) have called the Eagle home. Across the years, on any given night, one could attend meetings and gatherings of a myriad of clubs such as the Leather Knights, NLA-Dallas, Discipline Corps, Lone Star Cigar Men, Eagle Bears, United Court of the Lone Star Empire, Dallas Bears, Texas Gay Rodeo Association, DFW Leather Corps, Dallas Diablos, and The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.

Other highlights we are missing include themed bar nights, community fundraisers, weddings, and a variety of contests traditionally held at the Eagle.  Annually we have hosted many contests – South Central Leather (Sir, Boy, BB), Great Plains Olympus Leather (Mr, Ms, Mx), Dallas Eagle (Mr, Ms, BB), and Texas Leather (Mr, Ms, BB).  Bartender Dylan Brown had this to say, “The Dallas Eagle has been my home even before I started bartending there. I’ve made lifelong friendships with the people I work with and awesome customers I have grown to know. I’ve seen people learn to be comfortable with fetishes, kinks, people who are different than them and, of course, themselves…I’m proud to be a part of a bar family that cares about the community and the employees.”

Since Covid hit, our home away from home has been staying closed for our welfare and safety.  Throughout the crisis, Jeffrey has consistently chosen to err on the side of caution to protect his people.  “We could take precautions that could limit the potential spread of COVID-19,” he says, “however, I do not feel the risk involved in potentially spreading this within our community is a risk worth taking.”    He assures us that he and the staff miss each of us immensely, but they will remain closed at least till the end of September or there’s a better outlook.  We can rest easy, though, knowing that when the time comes, the doors will open again, and we all can go back to the place we call home and enjoy drinks and cigars with all of our friends and family.

Jeffrey in front of The Dallas Eagle
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Leather Masters: This Isn’t Goodbye. It’s See You Later

On May 30th, 2020 at 6:03pm, Leather Master’s Markus posted a picture on its Facebook page with its final customer, Ronin. When asked how he felt about being the final customer before Leather Masters (LM) shut its doors permanently, Ronin had this to say, 

“It was saddening, I took pictures and recorded a few words. I can’t believe it’s gone. Thanks for the opportunities, the knowledge, and most of all the memories. This isn’t the end.”  

The history of Leather Masters stretches back to 1989, making them 31 years old as of April 2020. Starting in a single room above a bar called “The Heat” in San Jose, California, founders David Carranza and Tony DaCosta recognized the need for high quality leather clothing in their community. They eventually moved and expanded to 969 Park Ave. and began selling their products online in 1996. In 2001, they opened a store location in Allentown, PA and ran that location successfully until forced closure due to harassment from the city of Allentown.  In 2004, a bar owner contacted David and Tony and they opened a spot in San Antonio.  Unfortunately in 2005 both the Allentown and San Antonio locations had to close, but in June 2005, Leather Masters opened in Dallas, Texas, along with adding a 25-year legacy from Leather by Boots, including new unique designs and a manufacturing department. 

Markus, who has been working with leather since he was 13 years old, met David and Tony at a kink event about 7-8 years ago where he filled in at their vendor booth due to an emergency. From there, they began building a relationship with each other, with Leather Masters selling House of Markus products, until, eventually, both businesses decided to merge, and Markus took over the business while David and Tony retired. During the year 2020, Leather Masters moved from its Deep Ellum location to a bigger location in Dallas with plans to open an over 14,000 square footage of space that would have included a 60-person classroom meant to serve the community, with the idea of being a central education hub for the DFW leather and kink community. However, due to COVID-19 and the mandatory quarantine, Leather Masters was forced to postpone its Grand Opening and remain closed. During the pandemic, Leather Masters faithfully served the Dallas Kink and Leather Communities and beyond by making masks during the PPE (Personal Protective Equipment) Shortage.

Leather Masters, to Ronin and to the entire community, was more than just your average leather goods store. It was an information hub for the Dallas kink and leather community.  Numerous educational events sponsored through his group H.O.M.E (House of Markus Endeavor) were held at Leather Masters, to include classes that sometimes crammed up to 60 people in the manufacturing section at the Deep Ellum location, or the all-day intensive which hosted 4 classes on various topics in one day.  

 Sometimes though, the education was not always taught in a formal setting.  There was a welcoming atmosphere in which to make  connections at Leather Masters, even through casual interactions and conversations, and that really drew Ronin and others to keep coming back to the store time and time again,“…It was more about etiquette and social norms learned from conversations,” Ronin said. 

 For those who are not necessarily leather but are into kink, Leather Masters served as a safe space for those in the lifestyle looking for gear, connections, or an all-around unique experience.  “Anytime we went, we were always greeted by a friendly associate, and when we had questions about something, there would always be more than one associate trying to help us, by making suggestions or other recommendations if they didn’t have exactly what we were looking for.” says Taylor, a member of the Dallas Kink Community. “I remember thinking, ‘Wow, what a revolutionary place. Putting a place that promotes and normalizes kink right in the middle of Deep Ellum.’”

On top of providing education, high quality leather products and goods, and a friendly welcoming atmosphere, Leather Masters also made a name for itself through its numerous donations to Raffles, Run bags, Vests, Back Patches, and Medallions for various events and title runs, large and small, throughout the country supporting events such as Mr. and Mrs. Texas Bootblack, GPOL (Great Plains Olympus Leather), SPLF (South Plains Leatherfest), a primary sponsor for ILSB (International Leather Sir and Boy), and for IMSL (International MS Leather) for which they provided Medallions and Lanyards. 

They’ve been a sponsor for numerous events as well as a vendor selling their products. Countless title holders and contestants around the world have worn or currently wear Leather Masters clothing and/or products.  When asked what they would like Leather Masters to know, numerous voices from the community had this to say: 

  • “If I could say anything to Leather Masters, it would be, thank you. Thank you for helping me grow as I first came in as a little boy and grew into a leather man that is now standing here in front of everyone as a proud leather woman.” (Maria “Rev Angelique” Trevino) 
  • “I’m proud of them. Their vision for the future of the business as a core part of the community was remarkable. They saw a need for classrooms and meeting space and included that in their plans.” (Giant) 
  • “Thank you, for all of the time, resources, and energy you have put into the community through the years.” (Bootblack Zahira, 2020-21 Route 66 Bootblack) 
  • “I think it’s admirable that they’ve been serving the community as long as they have. And so efficiently.”   (Da Kollector)
  • “I think I would like to say that what you have done for the kink Community by creating a space for kink education and offering quality leather goods is something we are thankful for and that we are going to miss. And that we hope that you are able to make a comeback and continue to make leather goods after this Coronavirus stuff is over!” (Taylor) 
  • “It saddens me to lose such an iconic place where people would come to Dallas just to visit and the leather world will never be the same.” (Master TC)

When speaking of any future plans, Markus already has ideas in the works. He intends on getting back to his roots with custom leather work and House of Markus high end custom made pieces, with that being his main focus and missed passion while running the business of Leather Masters. While stuff from the old store location has been moved into storage, Markus does plan on donating rich pieces of history from Leather Masters to put into the Leather Archives Museum in Chicago, IL, such as Dave’s Original Mail Order Catalogue and IML posters that are autographed by title winners and runners from 1989. As for Leather Masters, as a brand, there is hope as he shops around for local leather businesses looking to pick up the product lines.  He has found a manufacturer in Kansas that can produce vests and he is currently in talks with someone to produce harnesses.

In the end, another chapter in the exemplary story of this historic business in the community comes to a close.  However, due to its versatile history, the only question that remains is, when and where will Leather Masters begin another chapter?                                                                                    

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Omedetou Valentine’s Day

I have always been a big fan of Valentine’s Day. It is strange I hate chocolate (yes I know that is weird lol ) and I am not big on flowers. I tell Sir every year that I do not need a showy act of love in the middle of February. I feel his love for me every day. The thing I really love about it is that Valentine’s Day is one to celebrate love in many different ways. Most of us know that Valentine’s Day is a mash up between both Christian and ancient Roman traditions. Now I am all for a good fertility festival, and a cool priest who gives it to the Emperor by marring people who have been outlawed to do so. This year however I found about a cool new version of this holiday.

In Japan there’ll be millions of men hoping to receive chocolate from girlfriends, wives, daughters, and the other women in their lives. Yep just the men you read that correctly. Valentine’s Day has a really neat twist there, women are expected to give chocolates to each of the men in her life, even the ones she doesn’t care for. There are two types of chocolates that girls give. First is Giri-Choco which roughly translates to obligation or duty chocolate. It is given to bosses, teachers, colleagues, and male friends. There is no romance with Giri-choco.

Next you have Honmei-choco, Honmei means favorite or best candidate. This is given to boyfriends, lovers, and husbands. It is considered to be true love chocolate. In Japanese culture effort is greatly valued. Many women in Japan prepare the Honmei-choco from scratch as too many it is not thought of as an act of true love to just buy them. Others will spend in the several hundred yen range on store bought Honmei-choco.

Pretty cool tradition and some fun trivia knowledge, hope you enjoy!

～おめでとう
omedetou (Happy) Valentine’s Day!