This year marked my fortieth trip around the sun. This year has been my best year yet, for numerous reasons. Two of those reasons are at the very top of the list…one named Drew and the other Axel. This post isn’t about that but if you need a list about those two and what they do for my life, just message me. I am the best I’ve ever been because of these two, and it just keeps getting better.

Of course this year’s milestone birthday wouldn’t have been complete without the customary birthday spanking. So, let’s discuss that. 

Somewhere, somehow we (or maybe He) pre-calculated a rate of 10 swats, hits, or whatever word you like to call it per year. I knew that gave me at least 400 – reasonable enough. That made my titanium clad dick strain and I knew my mental limits would be pushed. Of course, that made the titanium strain more. 

At some point that evening I asked my Master to hurt me to tell him I was ready (He loves when I ask for or volunteer for taking his pain). After getting the clearance from Daddy that I was done with whatever chores he had given me, I was instructed to get four things from the gear closet. 

I entered the combination in the lock on the door to the gear room. As the door opened, I remembered what I was instructed to get. A steel paddle, a steel rod(think steel version of a cane), the big, heavy leather paddle, and the paddle I call the tenderizer in my head. It is a small wooden paddle. One side is smooth, and the other side looks like a meat tenderizer. 

I closed and locked the gear room and went to the bedroom as instructed. I placed the four implements on the bed. My straining cage gave away my excitement as I kneeled on the floor waiting for my Master. He likes to make me wait for a bit. During this time my mind does different things. I think about looking into his eyes while he hurts me. I think about the beautiful grin on his face. I think about how I love to make him proud of me and how loved those words “good boy” make me feel. I use this time to clear my mind and go to a space that centers me. Of course, my balls have usually turned a purplish blue color by this point. 

I hear my Master coming up the stairs. As his footsteps steps get closer, my cage pulses with my heartbeat. As he walks through the door, I look up and our eyes meet. There is a glint of something that I don’t know how to describe, but it makes me just want to get closer to him. The trouble is that I can’t ever get close enough. Despite that, I plan on always trying to find close enough, but hoping I never really get enough. 

He asks me if I need this tonight. Of course I do, but he needs my reason. My reason is that I had a hard week with him traveling and let it get to me. I didn’t communicate that well at first, but it had been corrected. 

In my uniform (naked with just my collar), I was ordered to get on the couch on all fours. “Yes Master,” I replied as I assumed the position. As the steel rod made contact with my ass, I felt the thuddy deep burn that let me know I’m going to feel this one for a few days. One hit after another, I entered a space in my mind that allows me to take my Master’s pain. It is good for both of us. I look over my shoulder and see that grin of his and beautiful eyes, a look of pride, a look of determination, a look of kinky unconditional love mixed with a little bit of sadist. Fuck, I’m hurting, swooning, and maybe even leaking. The deep burn of the impact hitting a quite sensitive spot brings my attention back to the spanking. My Master stops to admire the results, the ass he owns is starting to warm and redden a bit. He feels the warmth of this slave’s smooth ass and makes some remark about just getting warmed up. 

He switches to the steel paddle. The first strike hits hard and deep. I feel a burning sensation run down my leg. My teeth grit, but I make no noise. My Master doesn’t like a loud slave. Each impact gets a little harder and more intense than the last. I feel proud. I want to take more of his pain. I want my limits pushed. I want to remember this when I sit for the days to come. I feel my ass start to burn with warmth, and I grin. 

He stops for a minute, admiring his work. He reminds me that I need this and tells me I will take more. The sound of his voice makes my caged cock press against the titanium with even more force I’m in a zone of pure submission at this point. I’m mentally begging for more. My physical senses are heightened and I feel in the feeling of pain, pleasure, and pride that I am taking his pain. 

The tenderizer is my Master’s next choice. The feeling of the spikes on my ass sends a different sensation than the steel implements. It stings with a quick burning, tingling sensation. A rapid succession of hits makes me writhe. My Master grabs the back of my collar, and it helps center me again. I feel the very specific pattern it leaves forming on my almost white hot ass. I know that feeling, and I know I will feel it tomorrow. 

My Master switches to the big leather paddle. It is heavy. The first impact on my ass hits with a combination of a heavy thud with the sting of a lighter paddle. The best of both worlds, maybe? This combination along with the fact that I can be hit harder with this particular paddle makes it the one that hurts the most, in the best possible way. I know it hurts, and he knows it hurts. I feel a sense of pride as I take his pain. I can see his pride in me, too. It is written all over his face. He stops. He feels the heat coming off of my bright red ass. My mind is in a place that is hard to describe. I’m near my limits. He knows it. I want more and he knows it. He also knows me well enough that I will push my limits. I trust my Master with every part of my being. This means that he often can sense my limits before I do.

“Do you need more?” He asks with this swoony southern drawl, already knowing my answer. 

“Yes Master. I need more.”

“How many?”

“Twenty,” I answered. Not totally sure that I could take twenty more at this point, but I also wanted to make him proud. Again, he knows my limits better than I do most times. The other side of that is he knows how far he can push those limits. Damn, it is good to be owned!

“I think you can take forty,” he says as my dick strains in the cage. I’m more than willing to let him push my limits and responded with a strong “Yes Master”. He asked which paddle hurts the worst. Him knowing that it is the leather paddle and me knowing it is his favorite one, this question didn’t really need to be asked. We both knew it would be the leather paddle. 

He instructed me to go into the bathroom and bend over the tub. I did as instructed and waited. My ass burned and I could feel the heat coming from it. I could also feel a stirring in my cage. The first hit with the leather paddle burned deeply. I started to count in my head, and at some point decided that I don’t like the counting, so I quit. It does things with my head and takes me out of the moment. I don’t need anymore numbers beyond 1 and 2 for the most important things important in my world anyway. As I kept taking my Master’s pain, it hurt and I loved every second of it in some perverse mix of pleasure, pain, and pride. It was amazing, and I one we had pushed a new limit. My body was shaking. My breathing was telling I was at a new limit. My cage was giving me away. All exposing my feelings to my Master without speaking a word. He stopped and held me. “You took sixty,” he said with that amazing grin. He held me close. I felt protected, loved, and an amazing bond growing deeper. For the record 400 turned into 700+. 

Following this, and every spanking, he will normally allow me on the bed where he can literally wrap almost all of me in his arms and we just wait there until I settle. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we make out. All times, I feel protected, safe and fucking proud. Then, of course, I am sent to put up my toys.

I feel, my words seem to fail to appropriately express what our spankings mean to me. Even better yet, to us. They are more than just a physical act. As I go throughout the following days and sit or my clothes hit just the right sensitive spot, I grin. These feelings of pain (not harm) remind of that moment of being held, loved unconditionally, bringing pride to my Master, and feeling safe in knowing every fucking part of me is owned. 

Growing up my family’s tradition, like most families, was to go around the room at Thanksgiving and say what we thankful for. It was the anti-festivus which, you know, is for the rest of us. In my family, we wrote our lists (did I ever mention my mother was an English professor?) and would read them at the appropriate time to those in the room, As we kids became adults, that tradition stopped and I started writing somewhat of a self assessment that was meant only for my eyes which did expand a bit as social media grew. However, for the last few years I have not done anything as, in my mind, life was testing me in ways that I never expected and I wasn’t sure how to be thankful for anything, or if I was. I am not going to go into the story because I vowed to not take this blog that direction, but let’s just say I went to a lot of funerals, have about six new scars on my body, pandemic-ally changed just about every aspect of my career by force, gained weight, lost weight, lost friends, gained friends, but I have lived to tell about it.

However, reading the above paragraph actually just makes me smile because, frankly, despite those things, I couldn’t be more happy. I met my slave/boy during this time too and he continues to make me swoon. In addition to all of the validation he has given me in owning more and more kinks, he honestly has helped me build an even stronger bond with my husband in ways I never expected. Axel and I used to talk about growing old together and, looking at a recent picture of us together, we both kinda laughed and said “fuck, dammit we HAVE grown old together”. We were in our late 20’s with sweeping hair and 32″ waists when we met and now, in our early 50’s, the skinny pants went away right after the hair did. There are so many factors in being middle aged that we didn’t plan on, but, again, we ARE doing okay, but damn I wasn’t prepared. In a marriage like ours, things change but, if you work hard, both of you can change with it. Physically and mentally we are so different, but we keep going. Things that once drove us, like sex, friends, careers, have all changed. As an example, for us, sex is important, but luckily it is not THE driving bond between us because when you add one stressful career (me) to one, often incredibly dark, mentally taxing, stressful career (him) add in health, money, and retirement one day, you get a pair that no longer get the instant erections of yesteryear because there is always something that either mentally or physically competes. Or we are just sleepy. But, THIS is an example of how things adapt and grow. They don’t stop, They shift. Sometimes, I worry that I should worry about this more, but I love that man so much in so many ways that I don’t. His support of my kinky mind, which is about 227% more kinky than his, has been such a blessing that I can honestly never say thank you enough. But, to watch his own kinky mind develop and grow has been nothing but a joy to see and I hope it continues. Adding the slave to the mix, a slave that was intended to just be a play toy for me at first, created this thruple effect of love and support that just kinda sealed all the good things in place.

So, to keep the theme, I am thankful to Axel.

Also, I am thankful for jack.

I have called jack a unicorn so many times that he might think he is one, but it’s true in so many ways. This boy has done so much for me and Axel that I can’t even begin to list the things. Again, even with a slave, the sex is not the dominant factor. He has come into our worlds and integrated himself into our lives in so many more ways than sex. I have said it so many times, but for me, slaves (or ones who think like jack) are equal in some ways, thought vastly unequal in others. When I think of him, I actually have two images in my head that each counter the other. The first is him in his natural naked state, dick locked away, ass plugged, ass bruised, collared, doing anything and everything he can to make us happy. THIS, I so love. However, the other picture of him in my head is him in his scrubs holding my father’s hand the night before he died going over every single medicine and protocol in his chart making sure he had the most pain free, dignified death he could have. I can’t describe what that meant to me, but to him, he was just doing his duty to make me happy. He was no less a slave that night, to me, but his ability to take his gift of service to us and mold it to whatever we need is just something I honestly never thought a BDSM relationship could have. I see it clearly now, and hope those who get to know us through these posts can see it too, but I think this whole notion of submission equals nothingness likely means that so many people may miss meeting the one who can either hold or wear their leash. Does that make any sense at all? As for the unicorn bit, well, he’s smart, he’s more kinky than me, he has a deep voice with a polished southern drawl, he looks good with his cock locked away, and, well, he’s both adorable and hot. So, yes, jack, I am both thankful to and for you.

Going down my kinky thankful list, we have Chris and Mrs. Steelwerks. Yes, these two started as a business relationship and, unlike most of my friends, that have touched my penis, but, somewhere in all of this I fell in love with them as people, kinky as fuck people, but people who whether or not they know it, have helped shape who I have become in the kink world and the muggle world through their friendship, These two people have so much love and acceptance for each other and for those in their immediate circles that they just make me smile when I think about them and don’t we all want friends who make us smile? So, to mr. and Mrs. Steelwerks (see what I did there?), I am, indeed thankful to you too.

My thankful list starts with Thumper who opened all of this to me and, even though he never calls or writes anymore (insert ho hum music here), he’s still one of my favorites who I value and treasure. I am also thankful for my Australian girlfriend, Ferns. I never thought I’d be able to say that phrase generally, but especially knowing that she is a beautiful, Dominant, soul who probably rivals all of the above people in her kinky mind still kinda puts me in awe that we know each other. Though the world hasn’t put me in her hemisphere in awhile, I still treasure every moment when she didn’t feed me.

Finally, to I am thankful to twitter and those of you who put it all out there for the world to see. I am not a face pic posting guy (I just can’t be professionally), but for those of you who are and who are out showing the world everything you are and want to be – thank you.

So, with that, happy thanksgiving 2021 and thanks for reading this year.

DD

A year can bring a lot of changes. Actually, it’s been about 14 months, but it wasn’t as catchy a title. Anyway, those changes, like life, tended to be good, bad, and indifferent. I’ll try to get my sappy part out of the way early. My first year as a locked, collared slave has taught me a lot. Paramount of all is that I’m loved, unconditionally despite maybe not being quite lovable at times and, despite my new status, I am more of a man than I have ever been – now I am just a naked one.

This year has been amazing. I have two men who have shown me what unconditional love is, accepted me for my perversions (and helped add a few more), and shown me just how amazing life can be when you allow it. 

I spent a lot of time under a certain desk and in service of some fashion or another. I have chores, uniforms, protocols. I’ve been to places I’ve never been (physically and mentally), flown first class, and I’ve gained a whole new family in addition to Drew and Axel and our blended family of terriers. 

One thing that continues to amaze me is my Master’s mind. We tend to think a lot alike, but he seems to almost know what I’m thinking at times. Well, a lot of the time. He knows when I’ve had a bad day and am trying to hide it. He knows when I need to be hurt (not harmed). He knows I want to make Him and Axel proud. And He knows just how far to push my limits, even better than I do at times. He pushes me out of my comfort zone and doesn’t allow me to retreat when I’d rather just not deal with adversity and hatred of others. 

My Master and my Daddy care for me in a way that nobody ever has even down to birthday party with my favorite cake and gifts….more than I think I deserve. I’ve learned that others may see ability in me than I ever have myself credit for. I’ve learned what real unconditional love is and I’ve learned more about giving that type of love, too. 

On a kinky side, I’ve experienced things for the first time. I’ve lived out fantasies. I’ve gained a load of new toys, and I’ve had parts of my body stretched and hurt in the most amazing ways. And I have not touched my dick in over a year.

My slave side has grown deeper. I don’t even pick my own clothes, at least without some guidance from my Master. He chose my new car, my computer, what shoes I wear, and, in a case like the car, seeing my Master deal with the salesman made my titanium tube full. It was amazing and I felt protected.

So what I’ve learned in a year has been that I’m worthy of submission to my Master and my Daddy. While we may not follow the path others follow, it works for us. I’ve learned to communicate better, at times. I’ve become a better person because of support from two men who support me like nobody else in my life ever has. I’m proud to be owned. One of my most favorite things in this world is to see the smile on the face of my Master and my Daddy. They make me swoon. They hurt me in just the right ways. Oh yeah, and I have a beautiful titanium cock. That’s pretty amazing, too.  I guess my point is that there is a lot of amazing kinky stuff, but that isn’t even the top of the proverbial iceberg when it comes to what is amazing about Drew and Axel. 

Finally, a note to those who seek this style life, GO FOR IT. I will never regret finally opening up my mind to seek what I wanted and, though I really doubted it would be, it turns out it was out there – literally down the highway. Don’t feel like who and what you find has to look like me and my Master, or the Master on BDSMLR, or the slave on Twitter. Design your path

As you may have already read, I had a shit week this past week. It was one of those weeks that brought back a lot of old feelings that, frankly, I didn’t think I would have to deal with in such a manner. My heart was hurting. I just wanted to retreat from everybody, but I wasn’t given that choice. So instead of telling all about that, I thought I’d share what unconditional love looks like for us. 

Drew was away all week, Daddy (Axel) was busy with a full schedule that was busier than his usual overfilled schedule. I did manage a counseling session of sorts with Axel that was good for me. My chosen Canadian family talked with me, as well. What I wanted more than anything was to touch my Master and to serve the two men who are probably the only two people in the world who have given me such unconditional love. 

You see, service to these two has become a means for helping me center. They both realize that, and are all too eager to oblige at times. Friday’s schedule got screwed up and I was not able to see Drew until Saturday morning. It was beyond my control and I know it sounds unhealthy, but it threw me and I got to the point where mentally, any forward progress I had made during the week was about to all go to shit because Drew was home and a dinner for us had been planned.

My Master has a beautiful mind. He knows what I want and what I need, even before I do at times. I was better by the time I actually got to touch him on Saturday, but he knew his slave just wasn’t right. I arrived at our home (while not a full time resident there, Drew and Axel’s home is also my home) and put on my uniform. I went through the required 15 minutes of greetings the puppies (bio, you perves). Although I was trying to cut it down to 3 minutes or less, they weren’t having it. They are small, beautiful, and so fucking happy that you stop what you are doing right then and there and not even Drew can beat the happy greeting.

Finally, sufficient kissy faces with the newest puppy and a sufficient amount of rubbing the right spot with the other, more reserved, puppy I was allowed access past the front door. My Master sat waiting for me. He asked how I was as I assumed my position in the floor. I muttered something like “I’m fine.” I just wanted to serve him, to get to that centering place. He knew that would require a little more than I realized. He wanted me to talk about it. In fact, he ordered me to talk. I tried. I cried. He held me. His touch, his embrace, his physical presence, his voice, he gave me all he had in that act of holding me. It is no surprise that he owns every part of me, but I don’t think that I have mentally and physically ever given anybody so much of me as I have in that moment. He knew what I needed more than I did, and that was just the beginning of how unconditional love was shown to me this weekend. 

He knew the answer before it was asked, but my Master asked what I needed. Of course my answer was to serve. I spent time locked in my kennel outside. I had the best sleep I’ve had all week in that kennel. I’m sure I was grinning ear to ear as I slept. I was an object in a cage. An object that needed recharging.

You may have seen a recent Twitter post or two about some new cuffs Chris at Steelwerks crafted for me. Well, they were used in a variety of ways this weekend. As I was cuffed hanging on display in the kitchen while Daddy did that magic he does in the kitchen, I was teased a bit by my Master. I strained in my cage as I tried to taste his lips against mine, and he smiled that grin that makes me legs weak. Daddy stole a few kisses from me and the twinkle in his dark brown eyes was bright as these two men made out in front of me. I craved them both more. 

My Master came close to me, as I strained the limits of the chains holding me in place. He grabbed me tongue in his mouth. His teeth held my tongue tightly. It hurt, it felt good. He pulled me tighter in the chains with just his teeth pulling my tongue. I felt pain and pleasure, and unconditional love. My straining cage leaked. Fuck…I am loved. I knew it before, but sometimes a slave needs to be reminded. 

Unconditional love looks like a slave put away in a kennel, an object on display, a leaking titanium cage, sore painful nipples that remind me of this, a plugged hole, and a still red and burning ass. I can weather any storm with the unconditional love of my chosen family. 

To come full circle, the issue from last weekend is something that will be fine with a bit more time. Being a gay, single Dad isn’t easy on a good day. Add in being kinky as fuck plus a dash of in living in one of the least educated, least open, least LGBT supported states it multiplies that from time to time into a concoction nobody would eat. Frankly, I had let my guard down, so the incident we do not speak of anymore knocked me down more than I wanted, but I am a resilient slave and I have a Master to serve and a kid to raise so I will be just fine. Especially as unconditionally supported as I now feel.

Good afternoon from a beautiful autumn day in the South. I am sitting in the back yard writing this, Axel is napping, and Jack is safely stored away in his dog kennel on the other side of the yard where I can see him, but he can’t see me. I let him keep his phone so Twitter might be full of wire bar’d images before I even finish this, but his being there today was an absolute necessity.

See, to phrase it lightly, he’s had a shit week. While I do own “every bit of him”, as he states a lot on Twitter and wears on occasion on a special tag Steelwerks made, I could tell you about his week, but I won’t. If he chooses to write about it he can, but let’s just say that he had the kind of week that reminds you that being gay, especially in the Southern Bible Belt full of God loving Christians who judge in the name of God, is still often tough and still hurts a lot at times. Of course, while we know that the people that spit the vile are a lot of the same people who will tell you about the “sins of gay” before getting a beer to go, picking up their mistress or whatever on the side, and then heading to the casino for the buffet, BBQ and banana pudding, it still just makes you want to scream sometimes as we as a group have come so far until we are reminded that we really haven’t.

This week, I write about this as the bond we have as the household of Daddy, Master and slave withstood it’s first test of anything emotional having to do with a core factor of what makes us, well, us. Of course, if you know my year and Axel’s and about the nine close people we lost, you know we have dealt with things, but this was the first instance where one of us could have said “enough is enough, the outside pressure means we need to pull away, etc” and, when it started, I worried a minute bit about that happening. That said, that worry only lasted minutes before I was assured Jack would be fine and, that, together, we would get through this. For Jack, the child of very religious, Sunday go to church special clothes wearing Bible thumping parents, he has always had to deal with the “we love you but we will miss you in heaven” tractor-set crowd and has done remarkably well, but this week marked the first time he ever had a chosen family – us, our Canadian friends, and a few others who were going to support and love him un-fucking-conditionally and, well, he struggled with that. The week was particularly bad as well because I was far away for work, Dr. Ax had a packed client schedule, and our puppy doesn’t talk yet, so it was a bad week to need someone when he could stop by our house. He did fine and each day was a bit better, but today is our first time together since the incident so it has been phenomenally good to be together and help heal in person.

The best part of this for me; however, is that I could look into his eyes and know that TODAY he needed to be controlled, hence the cage in the yard as I type. I am allowing him very little choice at all today and he could not be happier. After lunch, he asked if he could talk about some of his fears around what had happened and, of course, I let him. However, he maybe got seven words out before he started crying. so he just let me hold him for a while after that. While I knew the answer. I asked him what he needed and he said “to serve, Sir” so I got the cage out while Ax made a chore list.

I wish I could show you how he is smiling in the cage now, but we have that no face thing happening, but through his submission, the boy has found peace and comfort. I am proud to say that we have trained him that way and wish everyone could find inner peace in whatever BDSM role they choose (or biologically have chosen for them) – myself included many times. This storm will pass and those left in the clean air that will follow will be better for it.

Yesterday I posted a picture on Twitter of jack in a singlet that I had gotten him as a new, alternative house uniform, The joke was I got it for when company comes over, but I really got it because I thought he’d look fucking amazing in it and it turns out he did. Another beautiful part of this pic is that it showed off the bruises on his ass that have come from multiple discipline sessions this week. He wears those bruises with such pride that it makes me happy to see them as well.

Anyway, a comment was made about why the boy must always be so bad to need so much punishment. I got a little defensive at first because I took it as a “you better control your boy more” thing and then laughed it off as a general comment which is exactly what it was intended to be. However, it made me start thinking about the distinct difference in my mind, at least, about discipline versus punishment.

For me, it goes back to discipline being a word that actually has three facets, preventative, supportive, and corrective, We spend a lot of time on the first two. Preventative has been what we have worked on since Day One – the establishment of boundaries, the setting of goals, the creation of rules, defining protocols, etc. Jack has done really well with those and, in most ways, I would consider him well disciplined in the context of preventative discipline. The second, supportive, is how I teach, how I reinforce, and how I guide him to always do what is expected of him (with a bit extra too) in order to keep that title of well disciplined. In fact, contrary to what most people think, the supportive discipline category is where I would place the spankings and floggings that the boy often gets. Jack loves the pain and we use that pain, and those times, to remind him what is expected of him and how he needs to behave that particular week. In fact, we have found that the supportive discipline actually centers him and being reminded of his rules and protocols often send him into a comfortable place of peace that, well, centers and grounds him. Because the rules are a bit different for each of us, sometimes Axel recognizes the need for a spanking and will often tell jack he needs to come ask me to beat him. It’s so romantic – ha, though I do find it hot when he volunteers for pain.

Punishment is something entirely different for me and I have designed punishments that will hurt, though not physically since that is enjoyed. That said, jack is a damn good boy and he has not been punished in over a year, a trend I hope to see continue. It may be that he is just well trained and good or fearful of what I will dole out because, to him, it’s apparently a nightmare based on his face when I told him what it would be like if he fucked up one day. See, for me, I will take punishment straight to the brain, but I have to be careful in some ways to not punish myself in the process. Meaning, if I ever really, really wanted to punish him I would ban him from communicating with me for a certain period of time. That would crush him and I know he would never repeat that mistake again, but, you know what, it would also crush me too so I won’t do that (as a for instance, I once gave a no talking rule while he and I were alone in a hotel room. In theory it is hot, but in reality it just felt like he was mad at me and was giving me a cold shoulder, and I felt punished, so that will not be repeated.) So we stick with the idea of educational-ish punishments – for instance, should he ever fuck up and deserve a punishment, I am much more likely to make him watch two episodes of the Real Housewives of Orange County and then write a report about each housewife and their feelings (if he was awful it would be Atlanta). Two hours of that and I am willing to bet the action will never be repeated.

So, to bring this back full circle, if you see my boy and he has a bruised ass, don’t pity him. He’s thrilled. I am thrilled. And, regardless of how you really define it, he is well disciplined.

Welcome to Part Two – the sexy part.

I would like to preface this part of the post. I am owned completely by Drew. We have a trust and a love that is not shared with anyone else. When we were discussing our trip, he asked what I wanted. Of the many things we discussed, I told him that I wanted to be known as belonging to him as his completely owned slave, every part of me, by people he trusted. At some point later he asked if I trusted him completely…which he already knew the answer to. That was months ago, but I can’t help think that it was part of the setup for this trip and the fact that we were going to spend a lot of time with two other people who knew every single thing about our relationship.

Drew already mentioned our arrival at  the House of Werks and you know about Mrs. S meeting a naked me in leather, etc – lol. The reality of that is so far from that point I laugh, but having fallen in love with them the night before, we arrived to the dungeon and spoke with friends about all the things friends talk about, discussed some new project ideas, shined up a few of our pieces, Chris and I talked kink and, I think, Mrs. S and Drew spent an inordinate amount of time talking about appliances. Through this, friendships grew stronger. This was the best part of the day and the highlight of the trip – at that point.

Of course, the playspace is what you all are interested in but, before we go there, I want to reiterate, while I say things about touching, etc – this was not sex. This was me having the privilege to show off myself, my cage and my Master’s training of me while also being a chance for them to have new gear pictures for marketing – or masturbating if they are into that kind of thing. Yes, I got touched, fluffed and bruised, but in my head, at least, that is a random Thursday.

Now, back to the narrative, as Mr. and Mrs. S, along with my Master, restrained me, I felt a sense of calm come over me. Being bound and restrained does that to me. Suspended in leather, hooded, and gagged, every part of me was owned and, at that moment, by three people in a way, but by Drew in all ways. That’s no news, but our friends now saw it first hand. They knew it, too. My master turned me over to the hand of Mrs. S. And, as innocent as she may appear, she is a force to be reckoned with – and that is so fucking sexy. She has this amazing dominant force that enjoys handling a slave like myself. My newly shined cage was installed again by my Master. The touch of him, the feel of him, the smell of him and his voice were all making it very fucking difficult to get the cage installed again. At some point I was released from suspension and flogged and whipped, and I’m pretty sure caned by everyone in the room. Fuck it was nice.

It was time to switch hoods and Drew stopped everything and said, “I want to show off your training, boy.” They looked questionable but I knew what he meant. You see, Drew doesn’t like noise or expression when he is hurting me, so I have trained very hard to keep smiling and not reacting, even when the pain is fucking intense. After he said that, he then bit my nipples hard, and did again, then he asked Mrs. S. to do something with them which he did something to my ass that hurt. But, I made no face and from the look in his blue eyes, his grin he tried to hide, and the fact that I think he was hard – I made him proud and I think impressed them too. 

I was “hurt” in multiple ways again and proved to be as well trained as my Master said I was. What an amazing feeling to know that I lived up to the expectations of my Master and our friends. For the record, I was not actually harmed ( you know my drill here) but damn I was hurt so good to the point that I was reminded that he loves me for days after.

At that moment, there was a wave and, goddamn, it felt so good to be owned. 

Next up: Latex. As I was put into my rubber catsuit and a thick, non eyed hood, the suspended bondage table came out. I was bound, gagged, teased, tortured, and photographed so many times, but do you know what? – I fucking fell asleep it was so peaceful. I only woke up later when my hood was unzipped and Drew and Mrs. S were talking about anxiety and depression, rugs that can be washed, and skincare to stay younger – fuck we are an eclectic group. 

But, these intimate moments shared between a Master and his slave and with friends I’d consider family, were the bomb. I honestly never knew I could be loved and accepted like I had been that day. Sitting there naked, covered in lube and sweat, while Mrs. S sprayed Clorox around me was, well, fucking insane.

I got dressed and as we all shared in aftercare and discussed the normal things such amazing perverts discuss, we cleaned gear, made plans for the next couple of days and, for lack of a better way to describe it, we had the purest form of togetherness I think people are capable of. As expected, I was in a dumbfounded state of bliss for the rest of the day and night. 

That night at the hotel was amazing, for about 45 minutes and then exhaustion set in. However, the next morning is a different story and, we will save that for Part Three.

Finally, a note about the pic – Drew teases me for taking a lot of selfies, so apparently I was set up for this shot while in a blackout hood.

Our trip had been planned for months. Meeting the requirements to get into and out of another country during a pandemic was a checklist that was checked and rechecked prior to our departure. A late night packing, repacking and document uploads were completed. It looked like we were actually going to make it out of the country as planned. As usual, Drew got us the best seats and I chuckled when the lady at the club said, “3 million miles, you are with the Master of travel” as she checked me in- yes I was, but IF she really only knew. The plane lifted off and landed, a quick layover and before we knew it we were in the land of maple syrup, shiny metal cages, poutine, and amazing people. 

Rules for the room were that I be naked, collared, and on all fours within four feet, well, meters here, when inside the hotel room. Luckily for me, my Master had requested a room with floor to ceiling windows so that I could see the city from my place in the floor (fyi, reality check, yes that’s hot but it’s not practical all the time – we are real you know). Without fail, my cage strained at the thought and remained that way almost constantly the entire trip. We met Mr. and Mrs. Steelwerks for dinner that night and a bit of a surprise that I had been planning for months. 

I should start with the fact that Drew absolutely hates surprises…this was quite tricky. After months of deciding how to surprise him, we took a last minute let’s just see what happens kind of approach. We arrived for dinner almost late. It seems that our Uber driver was stuck in traffic on the way to pick us up (Uber is so not the same these days). Drinks, dinner, and the friendships were amazing. After more than a year of semi-isolation, I think we all needed it. It’s funny, I watched Drew relax in a way I had not seen before when he saw his two friends. In the almost two years since he had seen them, he had dealt with so much loss, so much pain, so many health things that, though he swears they didn’t, had to take a toll. I have been with him for some of that, but the “business guy taking care of business no matter how much it hurts” is the Master I am used to, so when he looked at them, he immediately relaxed in the most happy, tidal wave-ish way that I made me almost wanted to cry. He loves those two people as they do in return and, fuck, it was fun to see and just made my world better.

ANYWAY, back to the surprise. We planned to lock the new gift on me under the table, but it didn’t seem to be as viable of an option as we had hoped because the table was wide and Chris and I are both small men with limited arm span. So, being that my Master has a thing for the internet and social media, we decided that I would make a vague post about the surprise with a picture of the cuffs- oh yeah, the surprise was a custom set of Steelwerks cuffs with a specially made engraved plate….and lots of parts that lock or could be used as anchor attachment points. Then, I’d present him with the key to the locks. I posted while we ate. Told Drew to look at the post…”something about dinner with Mr. and Mrs. S always held a surprise“. He read the post. He smiled. He put his phone down and had NO FUCKING REACTION. Later, I found out he didn’t actually look at the picture, he just saw the words, hit like and went back to smiling at Mrs. S.

So, on to plan B.

I handed him a Steelwerks velvet bag (anyone who has bought from them knows this bag as it is fucking special) with a key in it and told him to look inside. He was surprised, as much as he shows surprise. After a discussion of what the key went to, the cuffs were locked onto my wrists at the table there in the restaurant – patrons and wait staff be damned (I felt so owned). That is how I remained for the rest of dessert and I’m quite sure the straining cage in my pants was bordering on the edge of obscene at that point. Dinner was over, and I was secured via the cuffs in the back of Mrs. S’s car for the ride home. Damn that woman has some sway.

That evening, I was allowed to bathe Sir in the tub back at the hotel room and help with his grooming (ie: shaving his head and face), something that I quite enjoy. This was followed by me spending an hour or so in the closet while Drew watched TV. However, as you can see by the picture at the top of the post, I was quite content and, well, it was a really nice closet!

The following morning was filled with anticipation and excitement. We were on our way to do a Steelwerks photo shoot and I was going to be the gimp.

Fuck, what a day it would be.

Part two about THE DAY coming soon…

Bonjour from Montreal. Home of THE Steelwerks (yes yes, the one with the e).

In setting up the trip, we knew we all wanted better pictures and so we blocked a whole day to visit the Steelwerk’s Private Playroom where Mrs. Steelwerks runs the roost. They knew what shots they wanted, so I literally handed the boy over to her while I sat in the corner and watched this magic unfold. That said, as a note, I want to make it clear that this day happened only because we are friends, we knew limits and boundaries without even having to discuss them, and while it was super sexual and sexy it was equally not sexy and sexual as it was just a great day between friends. I actually laughed because if one could have heard the conversations about my dead parents, health woes, and the 10,002 reasons why they should start watching Ted Lasso while she and I each spanked his ass to make it a better shade of red (you know, JUST for the photos), they likely would have turned off the porn immediately. Again, I said it before, but this visit and the photos from it are derived solely from friendship and incredible trust. These are not an added package to our cages and/or because we were customers.

That out of the way, it is good to be back on the other side of the border as it was so past time for this trip. Jack had never been to Canada, I missed my friends terribly, Jack has a custom titanium penis, I wanted to show off my boy, and, most importantly, I had a coupon.

There is so much to say about the day and there are so many pictures that are surely going to infiltrate the Twitter over the next week or two that it’s impossible to say other than something rather trite like “stay tuned fuckers, you are in for a treat” that I almost don’t know what to say. However, I think that since we all know Chris, me and Jack fairly well, it’s time to expose the kinkiest of the kinky, Mrs. Steelwerks. <Da Da DUM.>

What does one say about Mrs. S aside from “fuck she’s hot”?

I think one of my favorite ways to describe her is as a tiny woman who casts a really big shadow. She’s beautiful, she’s caring, and she’s got amazing hair. When we arrived at the play space Jack rang the bell, stripped naked and sat on the front stoop until she opened the door dressed in black leather and wearing some bright red Jimmy Choo stilettos that were so fucking hot. She snapped her whip and Jack melted it was so..okay, okay, anyone really believe that? The truth is that when we got there she did what all Mom’s do, offered us anything in the house (food wise – sad cause I have my eye on some shelving), showed Jack around, and apologized for a scuffed wall and some dog hair on the couch. I had to think hard about whether I wanted to turn my boy over to a lady who would allow a scuff on her wall and threatened to expose her to the world as a scuffed wall, non 24/7 stiletto wearing, flawed human, but, yet again, her charm won me over and I decided against that.

The rest of this post is about her, the human. We met maybe five years ago and I fell in love immediately. She and I each met at a point in our lives where we had both decided to embrace our kink world and were each about to venture on two similar yet very different paths toward it. In many ways one could say she had the advantage living around metal penises and vagina, um things. In other ways one could say I had it easier, constant travel, no children, etc so we set a race without actually racing. In my mind she won, but maybe in hers I did, you know, since I did arrive with an owned slave and stuff – but, NONE of that matters at all, because, fuck, that woman made it. She accepted the challenge to her kink self and she stepped over it like she was five and a half feet tall. It’s been fun to hear about but even more fun to watch and has proven to me that muggle life and kink life can will live together. I say every bit of that with a giant smile as I am just so proud of her, my friend.

I am going to include one of many pics here, but stay tuned. The NSFW ones will be posting soon.

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Disclaimer: No slaves were harmed in the making of this blog post. I hurt a lot and I loved it, but I was not harmed. Consequently, I am closer and more enamored with my Master each day, if that is such a thing.

I’ve posted before about pain. Pain is subjective. What hurts to one pervert may be the most pleasurable experience to the next pervert in line. I guess what I’m getting at is pain isn’t anything special in and of itself, but how that pain is used and interpreted and taken or given can be a beautiful thing. If you have read my pain posts or seen my bright red ass on twitter, then you know I’m a fan, mostly. Well, even when I don’t like it, I like it, if I am being honest.

There are two sides to pain and both sides make the titanium that encases this owned dick attached to me stretch, or at least feel like the titanium is stretching. Part of pain is giving – Part of pain is taking. I like both. (though, admittedly, that part of me about giving it is locked away behind my collar until Sir lets me have my own boy). I like pushing my limits. It is supposed to hurt. Maybe I have a wire crossed or the brain wiring guy was hungover the day my brain was wired. I do know one thing that makes my cage strain is pain. Maybe that was why marathon training was like a drug to me. It hurt, but I fucking loved it.

This weekend, Drew wanted to hurt me (insert disclaimer about the difference between hurt and harm. I may hurt a lot and quite often, but I have never and will never be harmed by my Master). My nipples are quite sensitive, and he knows it. I had been pushed close to my limit and I wanted more. He looks at me and says something I don’t truly remember. The next thing I know, I am offering him my nipple to bite. As my Master’s teeth deliver the pain I had volunteered for, my nipple aches, my teeth clench, my sense receptors are telling my body to pull away from the pain. As he requires, I am silent except for a noticeable change in the force of my breathing.  All that noise people tend to make when they are in pain tends to kind of take away from the shared experience, at least in the world Drew and I share of pain.  That isn’t to say I never make a sound. Attempting to contain that sound just does something for me and it does for my Master, as well (I think the same wiring guy was on duty the day he was wired, as well).  At the same time, my titanium tube is as full as it ever gets and pointing like a street sign indicating there is a sharp left turn ahead.

The pain stops as my Master releases the grip his teeth have on my nipple.  My mind comes back closer to the present time and that fogginess clears some.  As Drew looks at me with those dreamy eyes he nods his head towards my left. Instinctively I offer my left nipple to his beautiful white teeth. GODDAMNIT! I just volunteered twice, basically begged for my Master’s pain. Something about volunteering to take his pain just…I can’t describe it. It brings us closer each time, but I just can’t seem to get close enough to him. Strange as it may be, I want to be closer and closer, but I don’t ever really think I want to be close enough. The truth is, I like trying to get close enough. It is fucking fun. Trying involves things like volunteering to take my Master’s pain and seeing the energy and pride in his demeanor, his eyes, his smile as he hurts me. Also of note, it makes me leak..historically, I have not been much of a leaker, so it excites me.