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I was encouraged to purchase some fetish gear by the back-room dress-codes that most leather bars exercised. Boots and a harness were within my budget. I was urged to “look the part” in order to gain entrance into this exciting new world. I was persuaded to “stand and model” with the presumption that the clothes alone can make the man. And that notion worked – for a while. Just being there, in the sweaty, testosterone-filled, dark caverns of the leather bar satisfied my yearnings to some degree – but just for a while. I soon sensed there was something missing; there was a lack of truthfulness in my dress-up; there was a lack of integrity in my play-acting. I became frustrated.

Nevertheless, it was through these forages into the leather scene that I was introduced to some members of the Chicago Hellfire Club. These men, even with their personal differences and individual interests, collectively displayed an honest integrity. I was invited to the Hellfire clubhouse where I was able to first observe, and then participate in activities that did indeed address the feelings that simmered in my soul. I met men that were willing to “connect” in ways that were soothing, cathartic, embracing, and liberating. I came to understand a sense of “community” that was an epiphany. I came to understand that “leather” was not the goal, but rather a symbol of a connection built on trust, power-exchange, and community. When I received the Chicago Hellfire patch for my bar vest, I felt pride in belonging – I felt at home.

But at the same time, while I felt pride in being a member of CHC, there was still something in my heart, something tugging at my soul that was not completely satisfied. There was still a primal need that kept screaming to be met. I considered the fantasies that filled my head; military boot camp, fraternity pledge periods and initiations, Native American rites of passage. I thought about my “real” life activities: gaining a post-graduate education, being an educational professional, participating in competitive sports. I was led to an understanding that my personal satisfactions come only through effort — training, testing, enduring, earning. With that realization, I put my harness away, knowing that any personal purchases were merely hollow sham. To have meaning, any leather, piercing, tattoo, or collar would need to be earned.

Suddenly, as a mature man, I realized that I still had the heart and the perspectives of an untested, uneducated, untrained, leather boy – needing to actually experience the rite of passage in order to feel complete, needing to be stripped of the personal identity of ego and transformed into a selfless servant to a greater good. I needed to know and embrace the realities of surrender and submission, discipline and obedience in order to be made whole. I have developed the belief that for any of those iconic lifestyle adornments – leather, piercing, tattoo, collar — to be meaningful, they need to symbolize and confirm a personal commitment to a lifestyle of service and integrity; they need to be gained through training, testing, enduring, and serving; they need to be gifted from a respected mentor, a SIR open to claiming and marking me as one of his own; they need to be earned.

So what is my “earned leather” story? I don’t have one yet. But with any luck, through serious intention, by dedicated effort, with eager willingness, and in abiding hope, I am still in the process of writing one. The prospect of “earned leather” has become a personal priority, not as a goal in and of itself, but as a symbol of accomplishment and commitment, of service and submission, of transformation and redemption, of acceptance and value. If and when I am gifted with such recognition, it will be treasured, honored, and valued as a reminder of what it truly represents.

keep it up as your certainly keeping me up.

Paul USMC

Bubi