Have you ever truly CRAVED someone, NEEDED someone so badly that every fiber of your being ached to feel that person with every part of your body, to feel their heat, to smell their smell, to do whatever it might take to be closer to that person in some way or another? Have you ever loved someone so much that you’d do anything for them? Have you ever been loved and accepted, despite all your deviant desires and faults, unconditionally?

Have you ever given your whole physical and mental and emotional self to another man? Have you ever needed to be the taker of his pain or not being able to wait to see the marks he lovingly makes on your skin? Have you ever just swooned at the certain look in a man’s eyes when you make him proud, to see that grin spread across his face because you allowed him to take you past your perceived limits?

Well, I have, and I do. Master has (and had) a very busy travel schedule right now at work. A quick flight back home, a turnover of laundry and suitcases in under 18 hours and then back to the airport by midday. Work is not slowing for any of us right now. As Master’s flight got closer to home, we texted back and forth all morning. He was able to catch an earlier flight, which meant he’d be home before I got off of work. As I got the notification on my phone that his plane had landed, I could feel my Master was physically closer to me than he had been for the last week or so.

As soon as I could, I was leaving work in a frenzy. I got to Master’s house as fast as I could and as I waited for his driveway gate to open, I could not wait to park my car behind his so the chain collar could lock around my neck and the day’s clothes could come off as I transitioned to my house uniform. From the driveway I saw Master through the window in his office working, so I knew I had a bit and stopped at the mirror to quickly to admire the shine of a titanium work of art covering a dick that no longer belongs to this slave. I grinned as the light reflected off the chain and lock around my neck. (I may have taken mental note of the results of the workout plan Master has put me on as well).

I went up to the office and Master turned to look at me and I melted. “Come here, boy,” he said in his sexy drawl. The cage immediately filled as I kneeled in front of my Master. I took in his face, his eyes, his smell as I nuzzled my head between his legs and squeezed my arms around his body. I felt electricity as his hands grabbed me. We talked about the day. We talked about our upcoming busy schedules. We just “were” with each other for just a bit. He told me to take my place as he had a few more work emails to write and, since he had started the laundry, I was still free for a bit.

Under the desk, I removed his shoes, socks, and pants. I rubbed his tight (fucking sexy) muscles. I heard him breathe heavily as I worked away the stress from his day of travel. I licked every fucking inch of him that I could reach from my post there under the desk. Master, finished with work, sat in the floor and I sat on his lap with my legs wrapped around him. In our place we talked for a bit. I asked if I could take his pain, as I had missed him on his trip and the soreness and marks were beginning to fade.

“How much pain and how many hits?” He asked. It would be four days until I’d get to see him again, 100 hard hits for each day seemed reasonable. He agreed. For each hundred, I’d earn a kiss. We both beamed at this proposition, but he looked tired. He asked if my feelings would be hurt if we took a nap first. Not that it really mattered and not that he had to ask, but I sometimes find Master can’t put aside his Southern charm and grace his Mamma taught him, so he just works it into his orders. I will admit, I was thrilled to be able to rest with him for a bit. We went upstairs. I undressed my Master and turned down the bed. He patted the bed beside him and said, “Come here, slave.” I readily jumped on the bed.

Master pulled me close into his chest. We wrapped our arms around each other. We both prop do this quirky leg to the side thing when we sleep (it’s a ginger thing), so it conveniently, perfectly entwines our legs. Literally wrapped in my Masters body, we rested, we slept. My head rested against his broad chest and his rhythmic breathing and rhythm of his heartbeat had me drifting off to sleep.

Master woke me with his hand deep in my mouth. What an amazing fucking way to wake up. He held up the blanket which I know is my signal to start at his feet and work my way up his body. And that, I did. I massaged stiff muscles, I licked him with my tongue. My mind transitioning to a place of service to MY Master. I mapped every square inch of his body with my hands and tongue…every fucking inch, back to front, bottom to top, starting as his feet. I took in all of my Master with all of my senses. Fuck! My balls ached and pulsed into a nice purple color as my brain slipped even further into my Master’s pleasure, combining with a feeling of wanting to please him, love him, and bring both of your levels of horniness to somewhere around 7,000+.

I’d like to think I was successful in my task. His thick, leaking cock bounced with his heartbeat, as did my own cage. I looked him in the eyes, maintaining contact as I massaged his head. I get to see his face and mind relax at times like this. A treat reserved for very few others. Goddamnit, if that doesn’t make me hotter than most any other thing in this world. As I sat rubbing my plugged hole against his leaking dick, I was in ecstasy. He told me how proud I make him, how impressed he is that I carry his plug basically 24/7. He told me how proud he would be when I went past limits today with the 400 hits we had decided on.

I assumed the position as instructed. There was no choice of implements this time. Only the pain stick. As master administered the spanking, the rubber stick left amazing stinging marks across the slave’s ass, his legs, his chest, his back, his shoulders. My body was covered in the beautifully painful, aching, burning red marks as proof that my Master loved me. I wanted to ask him to stop several times before the pain session was complete, but I know he watches me closely. He knows when I’m pushing limits, and he knows when I am in such a place that I can’t make a rational decision to tell him to stop. I wasn’t there yet, and we both knew I could take more. The 50 extra hard hits were scattered throughout the session. As the hits landed on my body, I heard the Steelwerks plug rattle, I heard my Master grunt in approval. He told me I could take more, and I knew that he wouldn’t take me to a place that would cause harm. I leaned into the pain. I pushed past limits. I got that sweaty, horny, sappy feeling that I get when I’m blowing past my perceived limits.

When he finished, I felt the warm red marks, and this titanium dick leaked, as did my Master’s. He admired the marks on my body. He touched them, he licked them. He was proud of our work. He sat in the floor and we went to our place. I earned four kisses that afternoon, and goddamnit, they were amazing. We held each other. We rested into each other. At this point we were laying on the floor. I wanted to be closer to my Master. I couldn’t help but grind against him. Master turned me on my side, and I felt his fingers slide inside of my. Filling my hole, Making the plug go deeper, and I swear the plug grew in size, as well. We discussed the fact that he owns every fucking part of me, and I loved him more, wanted to be closer to him, wanted him inside me more. The energy between us what hot, sweaty, and tow leaking dicks were making quite a stringy, lovely mess, bonding us together.

Throughout the whole afternoon, I had several near orgasms, mental ones. They make me shake, they make me have that “afterglow” feeling, and they just make me fall more in love and want to do all kinds of new dirty things with this man that absolutely makes me and my life better. Though it’s always only one real orgasm for two people, we both get what is appropriate for our roles in our relationship and this afternoon was just absolute proof.

“Where is your wedding ring, Drew? You have posted pictures of you and the boy and, in some, you don’t have your wedding ring on and you don’t talk about Axel. Is everything okay?”

That is what greeted me in my direct messages one morning a week or so ago. It’s a valid question, I guess, but I find it funny that someone would pay close enough attention to notice if I had my wedding ring on or not (though Steelwerks did make our rings so they should get attention from this crowd I suspect) But, I guess some do and I also guess some have wondered why jack and I don’t talk as much about Axel, my husband, also known as “Daddy” to jack.

So, let’s remedy that and talk about my husband…

First, all is fine. He’s good. We are good. The three are good. I work from home and, for whatever reason, I have never worn my wedding ring at home. It goes on the table by the door with my wallet and keys – when I had keys. If it helps, I almost always have a cockring on that Axel gave me, so he’s represented even on me if my left hand is naked. If he wanted me to wear that ring or even if he wanted my cock to be locked, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but he’s the guy who in our 24 years has only worn his ring when he feels we are at something fancy, which is a rarity in our world these days, and my locked cock only makes him want to see me ejaculate which somewhat defeats the purpose. But, to be fair, it is true that I don’t talk about him much and that is by design because of how he has chosen to participate in our online versions of our kinky life and I respect the fuck out of that.

For those new, or who don’t remember when I introduced him here nine years ago (fuck, Thumper, nine years?), Axel is an incredible man. He’s tall, quiet, and could be described as a “watcher” as he takes in everything he sees and might not mention it until months later. We are the same age and met in our late 20’s when we both had full heads of hair, 30″ waists, and dicks that would never betray us when needed (or often when not needed). He has four or five degrees – which mean we should say Dr. Ax, but we won’t – and is a therapist to some very high risk, low profile, highly troubled younger people – a position that offers few mental, monetary, or emotional highs. He is still an athlete at heart, but a big injury15 or so years ago slowed him down and an added autoimmune disease has added to the issue. Life has thrown him a few more challenges to him than we expected, but it’s just something we get through together so we adjusted our dream retirement a bit and it no longer includes a six story beach house, though I guess we could get an elevator – hmmmm. Meeting jack also adjusted the dream retirement, but more on that later.

I know that most could care less about the previous paragraph and are more interested in the how we found ourselves with chastity obsessions and in possession of a slave, but I felt like I needed to paint the picture. Ax may argue this, but while he has many things he is into, kink, or my version of it, is just not something he feels or naturally has in his soul like I do. While he might tell you he’s kinky, in theory, his kinks are, shall we say without the intention of kink shaming, more mild, and could come with a side of vanilla pudding compared to things we see here and on Twitter (again, no shaming). Had he met someone who also had those same kinks, they might have had an amazing pudding filled sex life, but he didn’t, because he met me – the fucking pervert who can still shock him with some of the things I can conjure up in my fantasy world (I kinda love that) though he still swears he is not really shocked – but the immediate pale face and grimace usually gives it away. I find that cute. But, after about 15 years of trying my hardest to suppress my pervert side, we had a talk one day and I spilled the all the contents of my locked leather and titanium Pandora’s box. And he was AMAZING.

At first, he and I tried to kink him up and I tried to embrace my sub side with him, but it wasn’t natural, then the switch days with Thumper came in, and then, fast forward a bit more, we met jack.

Yes, I did just gloss over what could probably fill 19 separate blog posts about how we came to agreements, how we came to be open-ish, how it felt to watch him go on a date for the first time or what he felt like the first time I told him I had done F with T, but this isn’t about that. This is about the now and all of those things can be answered in many of the hundreds of previous posts on this blog. Why I write this now is to answer that question and to say that we are good, he is good, and he does not star in the online part of this drama because it is 100% his choice to not be a featured player in these or the twitter pics and posts. I used to try to make him change his mind or show him this or that and that and this, but at some point I realized that he is an adult with his own twitter account and if he wanted to partake he would. I also realize that, for me, who works alone, travels alone, and could actually go a day without talking to someone not on a screen, I enjoy sharing, learning and and just being a pervert with (mostly) complete strangers who enlighten my day almost every day. For Ax and what his day to day is like, the clutter of Twitter and the back and forth do not go hand in hand and it causes more stress than it’s worth. I will say that he enjoys the fact that I enjoy the blog and Twitter and it’s not uncommon at all when he does something he doesn’t like or thinks I might not like (like have to go to bed at 7:45 on horribly stressful/painful days) he will usually start his sentence with something like “go on and post to your peeps about my lazy ass doing….” or something similar and I say something back like “you know I never would” and then we chuckle like it’s not the 7,000th time we have had that conversation while I roll my eyes until he’s out of sight before secretly swooning a bit making the dogs swear they will not tell on me. You know, those things.

Now, the other obvious question is does jack distract from my marriage or add to it? And, for me and Ax, jack has been a godsend in so many ways. We are not a thruple officially, though maybe we are. There are lines that are drawn in what and where we do things and who is at the table or the cage though these lines were less discussed and more just evolved. This is just mostly because Ax is 100% supportive and endorses whatever it is we want to do, but it’s just not his thing to the extent it is ours, so we have found a system in place that works. In many ways, it boils down to I provide the pain and he provides the aftercare. It’s not uncommon for me to provide jack with a very red ass and then go downstairs where he will cuddle on the couch with Ax while I do some work or something on the other side of the room. When I travel, the two of them have each other on days when jack can come by and I absolutely love it and have no idea what they do together, nor do I care. I don’t ask because it’s their time and they deserve that (you know, as long as jack has done his chores). All that said, I need to say it wasn’t just simple to find this spot nor has maintaining it been automatic. I have made Ax mad, jealous or hurt his feelings and he has done the same to me, but we talk, figure out what caused what and don’t do it again until, you know, we do do it again. For jack, this is one of those situations where he is like a child and Mom and Dad want more time with him or less time or whatever. He waits until we work it out and, like a good slave, just does what we need. With that, he always does what we need. That boy has such a knack for knowing that it is scary at times, though I know it is also an indication of good training!

And, with that, I should wrap up as I have talked far more about Axel than he will be comfortable with reading. The bottom line is we are great and this little threesome, whatever we call it and whoever locks who, makes me smile about 2,717 times a day. So, please ignore my ringless finger in future naked hand pics, all is good in this kinky place.

Staring into my Master’s blue eyes, feeling the glow of that swoon inducing grin is my happy place as our bodies both breathe heavily as we relax into one another. The heat between us grows and my cage strains as I feel him leaking against me. He’s on his knees and I’m in his fucking lap, and I still cannot get close enough to him. I have never been so hungry for the feeling of another person and, to be honest, I historically have never liked being super physically close to people, but I can’t get close enough to my Master.

We are sitting there in the floor. My legs wrapped around Master and my hands are locked behind me as he holds me up. This is our place where we come to talk. Our place where we come to rest and relax. It is our place technically, but it is my spaced when I need to feel closer or need to be better either physically, mentally, or emotionally. This is the place of after care – where we come to after many things….after I take his pain, after one of us has had a long day, after sex, after, well after anything that needs discussing or just a little bit of being closer.

A few days ago, we sat there after a lot of those things happened. I had the increasingly rare day off of work and I got to spend it with Master as he had the increasingly rare day not traveling and working in his home office. I was in full service mode and, the night before, he gave me a full list of things that I would be doing to serve my Master. He blended the list with times for spankings or hits and increased those numbers if I didn’t do something right. I was going to be there about 8 hours, so the initial goal was 100 per hour, or 800 that day (though it increased 1200 by day’s end). He sent a schedule, which I need more so than Master does since his day already has a schedule that makes me wonder how he changes modes so fast. But, he knows I need order and do better with a plan since it calms me and makes my service to him shine. The plan was laid out so that my day was full of chores around the house during meetings that he did not think I needed to hear from under the desk and time directly serving Master. Also, each hour, I got 100 hits with an implement, plus any other that I had earned during the past hour. 

One of the beauties of starting my work say at 4:30am is that I am up early and was able to be at Master and Daddy’s house super early. Daddy was up as he had early clients, but Master was in bed and Daddy let me go crawl in with him and sleep with him just a bit before it was time to get the day going. For me, that meant  I started by rubbing my Master’s body, closing my eyes and following the mental map of him in my mind. I went right to my sub space here as I felt every inch of him. As he wakes up I can almost feel his grin as he says, “Good morning slave.” I swoon, climb on top of him and rub his shoulders and neck and face. There is something about those quiet times in the morning that I absolutely adore and the thoughts of those rare mornings are sometimes how I make myself go to my happy place at night when I try to sleep.

I felt Master’s cock against me, leaking. What an honor to know that I had some part in that. We talked about the schedule for the day as I licked the head of his dick. Fuck he tastes amazing. We got up and had breakfast that Daddy made before he left. Of course, I had mine in the floor while he sorted through his morning email at the small desk in the back of the house before his shower time and “commute” to work to the office he has in the front of the house.

After breakfast, I received my first 100 hits with an acrylic paddle which is probably one of my least favorites, but that doesn’t really matter. Today, though, I loved it. It stings. It makes my ass red. It makes Master smile and when done, it was now time for our shower. I prepped the bathroom, shaved Masters face and trimmed his hair. The shower was warm and ready. I cleaned his body in the shower. There is something so personal, so intimate about providing such care to my Master. As he leans agains the wall, I scrub his back and admire the wet soapy broad, muscled man before me. “Damnit, if I only had a dick,” I thought. But I grinned because technically, there is one attached to me, but it isn’t mine. This made the titanium tube fill and my balls turn a beautiful purple/blue shade. I dried my Master’s body with a towel. I got on the floor and dried his feet with my tongue, the Steelwerks plug rattling in my ass as I moved back and forth doing so. I had already gotten the clothes for Master’s work day ready. As I dressed him, I couldn’t help but put my tongue on his beautiful veiny cock. Since I did not ask permission, more hits were added to this hour’s upcoming hundred. Maybe I wanted a few more. Maybe I was supercharged by being around my Master. Maybe I just really wanted to push limits today. So, I did it again.

It was time for the next spanking round. This time, it was the pain stick. Fuck, it hurt. It burned. It makes an electrical charge go down my legs when it hits just the right spot. My titanium was full and leaking. Masters dick was as hard and veiny as ever. I looked back over my shoulder and could see the look in his eyes and the grin on his face. I knew that the rest of the day would only get more intense. 

After we finished, we went to his office and I spent time under the desk. My cuffs and collar were on, as usual. However, today I was fixed in place by a short, thick cable from my collar to the anchor point on the wall by his desk. Just a slave, a footrest, a tongue, a throat, maybe even just an object of art with a metal dick (depending on your taste in art, I suppose). I do know that his zoom meetings sound so much more productive when I am down there. 

The morning continued in a likewise fashion and, even though I am just a slave and have no idea who is on the screen, there are some meetings he doesn’t want me listening to so he sent me out to get my chores do. As usual, I was  chained to my kettle bell as I worked around the house as Master worked. Each hour, he’d come out and  I’d get more hits with a different implement. My ass was getting white hot each time and that fucking heat radiated off of me all day.

After Master’s last meeting that morning, we had lunch that Master had delivered. Of course, I was allowed to have mine on the floor near him as he ate and, luckily, I stayed under the desk for most of the rest of the day. Once the last meeting was over, we reviewed my list of services that we had made the day before. As I had done a good job, Master took me by the collar and led me upstairs. He allowed this slave on the bed as I massaged his body. I licked every square inch of him as he relaxed. We counted up the tally for the number of times I had been hit. Between the various paddles and the flogger I was still short about 200 or so. My ass was sore and red. He wanted to know if I could handle the rest of them. Short of begging for it, I said I needed it. I think he needed it too. Perched on the side of the bed, Master whispered in my ear again, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Master. I need it. I think we both need it. I want to feel the pain you share with me. I want to see the marks you give to me. I want to feel the heat coming off of us both. I want to see your grin. I want to make you proud because you make me so proud,” I answered. (Well, something very similar, but you get the gist). 

My Master and I set a new record. That fucking grin, his eyes, his hard leaking dick let me know how proud he was of his slave. He asked if I needed more. I did. I craved it. I asked him to push my limits. He gave it to me. He warned me that they would not be easy and, fuck, they were not. He elicited a few rare grunts and gasps from me (he has trained me to be silent and internalize the pain). While I wanted more, he stopped. He said I had reached a limit for the day and apparently the glow of my ass showed that fact.

As always, we went to our place. There in his lap, we took each other in. We talked. We grew even closer. Our world got even better. I even earned a kiss, well several. Everything grew deeper. Goddamnit, that man owns every fucking part of me.

To say I have an active imagination is probably a bit of an understatement. Mix that with a locked cock, a plugged hole, a Master and Daddy who (among many other things) make me just fucking swoon, and you’ve got a recipe for something out of this world. Something a little kinky, a little perverse, and….well fuck, a little bit almost sacred. Sacred is maybe not the right word, but maybe it is. We share things that nobody else knows about, explore lots of things that others likely don’t know, and share a vulnerability that only serves as a means of growing us closer and arguments about who loves who more on which day of the week.

Back to my active imagination. I’m not a huge consumer of video porn, but I love reading erotic stories. It gives my brain a little room for my own creativity. Master and I both have interests in hypnosis. While we wouldn’t call it hypnosis, we’ve developed a (quite extensive and ever growing) list of trigger words. If you follow my twitter, you’ve probably seen a few posts about Master’s amazing legs. Having them wrapped around me, rubbing them, licking them, or resting my head on them makes me feel amazing, and there aren’t any other places in the world I’d rather be. Well, when Master says, “xxxxx,” I think about those legs of his. I want to feel them, lick them, touch them, tell others about them. If I can get to them, that’s what you will find me doing, basically worshiping the legs that hold the man who means so much to me. The only way to turn this off is to worship those legs. If he isn’t where I can get to him, the urge to tell someone about them and how amazing they are grows in my brain. Hence, a few of those amazing leg posts are fueled by the trigger. We’ve even programmed a few of the words in a manner that Daddy can use a few select ones on me as well.

If you ever see me standing in the middle of the aisle at the hardware store, just staring into space with a raging, titanium bending tent in my pants, it is likely a result of one of these triggers. Master has whispered it into my ear, right there in the store, and I become nothing more than a frozen object, one that cannot be moved unless my Master moves it, or the words are turned off by him saying xxxx into the correct ear.

Have you ever felt your Master’s dick grow inside of you? Wider, deeper, longer, melding  with you with his growing cock. So big you are about to be split open as the throbbing, pulsing, veiny member can be seen leaking in the back of your open mouth? There’s a trigger for that sensation, too. Holy fuck, it feels amazing to be so close to my Master. While physically it is unlikely, I fucking feel it. I feel it with every part of my body and mind. There is even one that makes me mentally think my plug is inflating, bigger, and bigger and when this happens, I fucking think I might explode but since there is safety in it not really happening, he just keeps inflating it more and more and, well, let’s just say I like it.

Of course, when Master travels, he can’t provide the physical touch (read pain) that he and I both love. As a slave who is made better and a Master who is made better through our exchange of pain, we needed some way to share that when distance was part of the equation. Well, there is a word for that, too. When the text comes across the screen, I feel every bit of pain he has ever given to me. I swear I can feel my ass start to glow with that white hot feeling just before the skin is about to break. My nipples throb with burning pain. My back feels the sting of the flogger. My Master feels the energy, too. You’d probably witness two leaking throbbing cocks (one caged, one more than likely not caged). The ability to share this with each other, while sounding very unlikely to some, is possible, if you can let yourself be trusting another with the other and relax your mind enough to feel those feelings. If you can do that, your physical body will follow.

Another example is when he whispers “XX#$!” In my ear. I am overwhelmingly compelled to lick my Master. All of him. Every square inch that his slave’s tongue can reach. It was all I could do not to lick myself or the rather handsome fellow standing next to me when the word came across the screen of my phone a few days ago. I have to fight it at times and he knows that and, of course, I think he likes it.

At times, the words are used to make me an animalistic being or to stop my ability to use words. Fueled by desire, love, lust, and admiration for my Master. These words have served as a way to grow our trust and relationship in many ways. These words are not just used for kinky reasons. For example, Master and I talk before bed every night. When he knows I have had a particularly stressful day for whatever reason, he worries about his slave getting enough rest. Well, all he has to do is say one or a combination of some of our words. I can relax. I can feel him wrap around me and hold me, or I can feel myself holding him (depends on how you view the holding, I suppose). Either way, these words are not only a good tool for slave training, but they do have a place in everyday life. I am more than amazed at the man MY Master is, and how he cares for his slave in such a way.

When we first started trying some of these trigger words or whatever you want to call it, we were both skeptical. I’ll be damned, it really works on some level. It’s even funny because we watch my heart rate on my watch and it increases more and more with some of them and, with the frozen ones, it actually decreases. Real, no real, I don’t care because my place is constantly enforced. Who knows, maybe it just gives me permission to embrace doing the perverted things I’m thinking about. Maybe it allows us to access our active imaginations. Maybe he does really control my mind. I mean every bit of me is owned by him, why would one assume this mind isn’t his property, too? He’s shown me unconditional love, trained me to continually be a better slave, and so many other things. If love looks like trigger words being used to make me feel him, taste him, be closer to him, then I’m a huge fan of it. I hope this is an encouragement to others to be the pervert you are, and I hope it encourages you to find your person who gets you, loves you, encourages you, hurts you a little (the good kind), and helps you grow. We aren’t perfect, but goddamn it, he sure feels like it.

I’ve been meaning to write a post for awhile in response to a comment on Twitter, but I waited so long that I now can’t find the comment, so I will just have to paraphrase. It was basically in response to someone who wanted to come back at me and my boy when I had him (the boy) show a pic of his unlocked dick – which is quite impressive. He was either unlocked to clean or wait for a sore spot to heal or something similar, both of which happen when someone constantly wears any device such as a cage.

The commenter was basically saying what a turn off it was to see him unlocked and to realize that “we didn’t really mean it when we said he is permanently locked.” I realized at that stage that we had crushed his fantasy or something when he saw that the practicalities of life play in and then I reminded him that we use the word “indefinite” versus “permanent” because, by definition, the former suggest an undisclosed or an unknown timeline but does assume there will be an end, while permanent is final, done, absolute. For us, the boy is chaste indefinitely and locked, as part of that chaste state, indefinitely as well but both will one day end. That said, the chaste aspect is the most important aspect of this to me and I know that if I took Jack’s cage off and threw it away that he would still be indefinitely chaste because that is how he his trained and, that training, is something he excels in which makes me very proud.

For the guy whose fantasy we ruined, I apologize, but when I think about this, I think one of the whole points about this blog is to ruin fantasies about Dom/sub relationships that look like porn and to replace them with some that look like a “normal” life. I was thinking about this more as well in response to one of the questions to Jack that he answered. The question was something like, “how can you be a Dad and a slave?” I think it’s actually a very valid question but one I just don’t think about anymore but when I do, I tend to laugh thinking back to my own childhood, or just thinking about other couples with kids you know, etc. The quick answer to this is that “Jack is a Dad and a slave.” Period. I see that as no different than “Jack is a Dad, a fireman and a nurse.” The fact is we all compartmentalize our lives and in all those things, he doesn’t mix his two lives. I mean, while it would be easier to explain,I guess, he doesn’t wear fire gear or scrubs at home any more so than he would wear a harness and leather posture collar either. But, what made me laugh in thinking about this is something that happens all the time, but, let’s use last night as an example. 

I have given Jack some bondage type positions that he is to engage in and hold himself in position until a timer I set for him goes off. I find that him doing this always clears his mind to help with sleep, but also trains his body to accept it when I use chains or rope and leave him in a similar position for hours. But last night, I gave the order for 15 minutes and listened as he went in to check on the kid, make sure homework was going okay and would be done and just said “I have some work to do in my room and I will check on you in a bit.” All seemed very much like an episode of the Waltons assuming they had TV, lots of electronics and private rooms with whips and bondage gear. But, as his kid did their work and went about the night, they had no idea that their Dad was in his room, naked on the floor, holding a hog tie position until he was allowed to free himself. The door was locked and there was no chance of being walked in on, but it just made me snicker thinking about all those times my parent’s door was shut and how I blindly just walked by there on the way to my room having no clue what might really have been happening. Of course, knowing what I found in the house after my parents died, they may have been doing the exact same thing, but I use this as an example of how he can mix his life and be both a Dad and a slave, and about 200 other things given the day. Of course, now, every time I see a hot guy bound on Twitter, I can just imagine his kid in the kitchen doing algebra while he lays there and tries to get out. It’s just part of the real lives of every day Masters and slaves I suppose, but, in my mind, it does nothing more than validate and normalize our desires and I love every single thing about that.

A bit of a Q&A from some questions that have come to Master’s inbox recently.

  1. Jack, what advice, if any, would you give to men (like myself) in my 30’s hoping to one day be an owned sub/slave?

Advice? I’m not so sure I am qualified to give advice. I could give you a list of reasons why, but I’ll spare you that. Honestly, I am not sure that I ever had the desire to be owned. I only had a few friends in my kink world and, through them, explored Dom, sub, and my Switchy parts (all to varying degrees) but never thought I would be a slave. I had an idea of what I thought I wanted, but it never really included total, or really even partial, ownership of me. I really only thought I might have some hot scenes now and again and that was about all I ever imagined it would be, especially as a single parent. 

Then, somehow, I met two men that ultimately love me for who I am, what I am, and make me proud to be those things all while encouraging me to grow in all parts of my world. As they encouraged me, my slave side came out and, truth be told, I am the one who told Drew I wanted to be his slave and be owned. I was as surprised as he was. This new world and those feelings gave me a world which is now better than I’ve ever had before. There is unconditional love that is given and received in three different directions (or some mathematical degree thereof). Trust is a big aspect of it. None of this works without trust and communication (I am still learning to be a better communicator). It isn’t perfect at all times, but we work.

I guess my advice would be to be open minded. Look for trust and go from there. Again, I didn’t go about with intentions of being owned, but here I am, owned and proud of it. My Master and Daddy are worthy of my submission, and I’d like to think I am worthy of them, as well. In a sense, I am owned, but they belong to me as much as I belong to them, it’s just different types of belonging.

2. For Jack, in a recent tweet you mentioned all the ways your Master “transforms you” – what did you mean by that?

My Master knows my mind. We are very much alike in many ways, and different enough in others. He reads me, my body language, my tone, my demeanor, even my mind at times, it might appear. So, after a stressful day, he can read than I need his pain, time under the desk, or a list of other things. I can feel my mindset change with him. My mind switches on or off depending on the situation at hand. My senses heighten. My chemistry changes. I can be his object, his slave, his animalistic beast, his maid, his desk, his chair, his fleshlight, or I can be his best friend, his boyfriend, his other partner in life. I play many roles as does he. I guess what I am trying to say is that it isn’t only one sided, for us. We both benefit from my service and his ownership of his slave in lots of ways.

3. What is different about how you are treated by your Daddy and Master?

Well, Daddy is definitely the caregiver. My service to him looks quite different than my service to Master. Sometimes serving Daddy looks like me laying across his lap while he rubs out the knots in my neck or back and we both just switch off the brain. Part of me thinks I’d starve to death if it were Master who had to do the cooking. Daddy loves to cook and is a damn fine one, at that. He gets joy from taking care of me, in a sense. He gets needs met differently than Master. However, Daddy does oversee Master and I. He gets to have the final say in things that Master can and cannot do to or with me at times. Goddamn, that fucking makes me swoon.

That is not to say that Master doesn’t care for me and show me affection. In fact, it is quite the opposite. That care is just delivered in a manner than tends to leave marks more often than Daddy’s care does.

4. Any advice on how to stay plugged 24/7?

Practice makes perfect. Listen to your body, and always have a plan in the event you can’t carry the plug. A good diet, fiber, water, etc. help with the biological aspects. I promise you that once you start, the emptiness of not being plugged is far more to get used to than being filled.

5. Does your Master loan you out? If so, can I borrow you from your Master?

Well, it isn’t off the table, but the short answer is you have to ask Master. Because I know and trust him, and I know he truly wants me safe and protected, what he decides is the answer. But he hasn’t yet. So, given no other information, the answer is probably not unless you happen to be part of the inner circle. He is very type-A. You’d have to pass his requirements and those would likely be pretty steep.

6. How is being a real slave different than porn?

There is more of a relationship than you’d ever see in porn. Some of the hottest most amazing parts of being a slave are the boring, daily things. When we know what the other is thinking. When we are just quiet and close to each other. Those are probably the most swoon-inducing times when power is taken and given in such a way that it is just us being.

I don’t eat out of a bowl on the floor at every meal. I ask for permission for most things, but the list of things I am allowed to choose on my own is growing smaller. Our version of life includes jobs and friends and family of all sorts. As much as being chained to my Master 24/7 is an idea that fills a certain titanium tube more than you could possibly imagine, I still have responsibilities to others. He absolutely loves that I am well trained that I can interact with the muggle world and still be owned in such a way that others see it, but they just have no clue.

7. What do you miss about being un-owned?

Now that is a hard question. I like to think I’d say I miss what most would consider a traditional orgasm. To be honest, the “orgasms” I have now are much more intense than any I’ve ever had before. The connection I have now is unlike anything ever before. So, I guess the answer is that I don’t really miss anything from my un-owned life. There is just nothing that was so amazing about it that I’d want it back.

8. I know you mention having a child and never mention details so I am trying to respect that, but how can you be a slave and be a Dad?

It is just who I am. It is me. There is life outside of my collar that continues. 

9. What’s Drew like in real life that is not shown on the blog?

He’s the most amazing man you’d ever meet. He’s taller than you’d expect, thick, and strong. He is a ginger with the most fascinated blue/green eyes that light up when he spanks me. He has a huge heart and a smile that makes me melt. He’s a type-A driven personality and a pretty bad ass executive as I often hear while under his desk. But, he may literally be the most tender hearted man I know. Just don’t tell him I realize it.

10. What’s next for you?

Big plans, as always. No ejaculation, well, until or if Master decides. Some health and fitness goals for the year. Some kinky goals for the year. Possibly a beta slave to help with my duties and as an outlet for some of my more dominant tendencies. Regardless, growing closer and closer to Master and Daddy and being used as a tool to support and care for these two is my goal, always and (sappy alert) until forever. 

Fuck, did I mention how much serving them makes me better ?

One of my favorite places in the world is my Master’s quads, I mean sitting on his lap, with my legs wrapped around a body that feels like electricity pulsing through us when I touch him. It’s not a place that is earned without an appropriate admission fee. That takes service. 

My days of switchy fantasies actually being a reality have changed over the last few years. While there are times I just want to dominate some hottie I saw a picture of or had a chat with, or crossed his profile somewhere, I’m taken back to those times I’ve done that before, and in comparison to now, they seem quite shallow. Not that they had no meaning or there was no friendship there, but there wasn’t a connection like i have found with Master and Daddy. There is love, there is friendship, there is a real, intense and also very very “normal” relationship there. That’s what makes the kinky stuff everybody wants to hear about AND the “normal” stuff nobody really wants to hear about so fucking amazing!  It is, well, it is REAL. 

So on to the kinky stuff everybody wants to hear about. I have had a rough few weeks at work, we all have, I think. I NEEDED and CRAVED being closer to my Master. I all but begged him to give me his pain. I was doing a poor job of trying to hide the hunger in my eyes and the leaking titanium tube as I asked him to hurt me, to mark me, to leave a visual reminder and a soreness with me that would last all week long while he traveled for work. But those things keep me feeling closer when we geographically can’t be close. And well, I’m a pervert that happens to drive some of his inner pervert. We play this game of are you sure and yes Master, I think so. That may be due to our seemingly innate craving for denial and the energy it produces in the air and the heightened mental and physical reactions to it. 

I took my Master’s pain. As the pain and burning inflicted on my nipples left a throbbing soreness that has lasted for at least 3 days now.

I smiled, because I could see his sadistic (swoon inducing AF, I might add) grin spread across his face. I went upstairs and  looked over at the impact implements chosen for me earlier the day- The rubber pain stick, a studded “tenderizer” wooden paddle, a steel paddle, and Master’s favorite leather paddle. I waited on my knees, hands behind my back, head down. I heard Master coming up the stairs and I pulsed with each step he took. 

Over the side of the tub, is where I was ordered to assume my position. Ass up, legs spread like Master likes them. Hands flat on the floor of the tub. He asked if I was sure I wanted it, that I was sure I needed it.

We know I gave a hearty yes Master, in response. We discussed what taking his pain means to us both. We discussed pushing limits. I knew this was going to hurt. As the implements cycled through rotation, my body was tense, warm, sweaty, burning, tingling, and the filled titanium tube bounced with my heartbeat. The tube leaked as I felt my master working over his slave’s body. Sharing His pain with me. Allowing me the privilege to make him proud to be the receiver of the gift of his pain. That makes me proud, too. 

I wasn’t sure if I could take more. Then I caught a glimpse of the pure joy in Master’s eyes and the grin— swoon. Goddamnit, I know he knows how much I can’t resist him, but part of me still wants to believe my eager giddy-ness isn’t so blatantly fucking obvious. My body betrays me, as I shake in the pure pleasure of taking Masters pain. 

When I can take no more, Master takes me to the bedroom. Still reeling from the pain and the pleasure, he tells me how proud I make him taking his pain. I grin. I want to cry, not because it hurts, but because he sees me for me in that instant. And his eyes sparkle and his grin melts my heart. He sits in the floor motions for me to give him one leg and then the other. I’m a spent mess of so much good right then and there. I straddle my Master’s lap. I feel his wet leaking cock against my body. I lean into him. I let every part of my being rest on my Master (and Maybe grind my still plugged ass against him). He holds me. He rubs my body. He bites me, leaving a bruise because he knows I love seeing it in the mirror in the mornings. We talk about how the marks will look, evolve and change that we put on his slave’s body that day. We discuss how they will look when he comes back from work travel in a week. We discuss life, love, us. My world in a nutshell is completely held by MY Master, all of me, there on his fucking beautiful sexy quads, I mean sitting there in his lap. That’s beautiful. The relationship, the pain, the totality of encompassing, unconditional pervert man love. He makes me happy. 

I sit here tonight, waiting for our usual call. I admire the marks that are evolving on my thighs, my ass, my hips, my arms, and other places. I feel closer to my Master. I know he feels closer to me, too. I’m thankful for him in so many ways, but I’m thankful that pain plays a part in bringing us closer and closer. I hope it is never close enough because the process of trying for enough is amazing.

Happy MAL weekend. No, we are not there because, well, we just didn’t schedule right and the older I get the less I like crowds, so for those of you there, we are with you in spirit and hope you have an amazing time.

I think you all know that Jack decided to forego his 2022 orgasm and now has something like 350 days before he will even have to worry about that again. By that point he will be well over 1,000 days locked which is damn impressive and also scary to think about how fast it goes. As I said in the post about it and he said in his, I wanted this decision to be 100% his as I either pretended so well that I fooled myself or I truly didn’t care. His devotion to his service is already so strong that I knew one orgasm would not change that. But, I also get the need for a personal goal and to go as far as one can. Jack is competitive as fuck and a bit of a perfectionist, so I know what is driving him with that too. And, with his decision to not have one and the resolution I saw in his eyes when he made that call just made me both respect him even more and I had a feeling of pride so deep inside that it made me swoon a bit more than I already do when I think about him and his dedication to service.

All of this, and a few other events of late, have made me think a lot about subs and slaves and how much admiration I have for them in so many ways. As I write this, Jack is chained under my desk treating my legs to a delightful massage and, from the look on his face when I look down, he is having such a good time. I admire him for that because he is just home from the hospital and has put everything “away” so that he can focus on his slave self, a task of compartmentalization that I am rarely, if at all, ever able to do. I am so proud for and of him that it just makes me smile.

Additionally, over the last few weeks I have had the pleasure of having coffee or dining with four other men who are in relationships where they are the submissive of the house, the slave of a Mistress, the slave of a Master, or the sub boy training to be a slave under their husband/Master. In all cases, these men are skilled and powerful when they are allowed clothes. In the bunch there is a surgeon, a lawyer, an electrician, and a C-suite executive who uses a lot of big words (when he’s not gagged) with the word “acquisition” being used frequently. In all of these cases, these guys are self assured men who run the show yet they go to work locked in a chastity cage with a plug in their ass “carrying” their Master or Mistress with them wherever they go. To them, it’s normal day to day operations when outside their houses yet all strip down and collar up at home where they are able to step into the world that brings them joy, peace, and disciplined pleasure. One day I hope to officially interview them all and write a book about them that will be designed to show, teach, and train other men (or women) that submission equals pride, peace and power in ways that those of us who are not wired that way would likely not ever understand. These men have found and, most importantly, accepted themselves as a submissive partner in a relationship and though some like to be called less than or reminded of what they can’t do, they all deep down know that submission is strength and I find their acceptance of themselves and the need within them so fucking sexy that I also have to add that submission is sexy too.

I know that I don’t represent most of what we see on Twitter and the like and I am sure there are many subs and Doms that thrive on those type relationships, but for those that think like me, give your sub a hug today and thank them for their service. Then, immediately thereafter, of course, make their ass glow to show them how proud you are.

Like each year before, I have had the opportunity to choose whether I wanted my previously agreed to annual orgasm. See, years ago when I gave my penis to my Master, he told me that I could have one orgasm a year on either Christmas or New Year’s Eve and I agreed to that whole heartedly. That was as scary to me as it was hot and never did I even think, at that time, that Master would ask me each year whether I wanted the orgasm or whether I wanted to forego it as a testament to my service. And, if I had thought about it, I cannot imagine I would ever say no.

Fast forward, a third holiday season has passed with my Master’s slave locked in a cage, free of the burdens of worrying about a typical orgasm. Apparently, a locked cock is a happy cock, just like my grandma used to say.

The last two years I chose to forego it and, this year, when Master reminded me it was time to make the choice, I truly thought about it and took each of the comments made on the post to heart. Master promised me he had no say in this and that he would be happy for my decision either way – after reminding me that the orgasm would not be from my hand and that I would be relocked immediately, of course.

I had a choice. A choice that he would be proud of regardless. A choice that not just any old slave would be allowed. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment in time that I made it, but I made the decision rather quickly. I have had a few conversations about the choice, the gift of choice. the burden of choice for a slave and the burden of a making that choice for my Master. These were all done while balancing the ideas surrounding how a chaste slave should be treated and/or what actually defined a chaste slave.

The overwhelming factor in this decision is the fact, as I have said 2,000 times, is that I have found that I tend to thrive through denial – mentally, physically, and emotionally. I am a better man, dad, boyfriend, slave, boy, best friend, pet, nurse, and fireman than I ever imagined I could be three years ago – or ever really. These things all drove my decision.

In the end, as no surprise, I decided to forego the 2022 orgasm again and will not have to worry about this decision for at least 363 more days. What clinched it? Well, that was a conversation with my Master yesterday when we were out running errands, that I found sums it up quite nicely. I mentioned to him that my ass is sore and legs are still sore from the other day when he stretched me to get inside quite deeply and that those two things had made my tube full each and every time I thought about those moments. The thought of this soreness was making my slave dick leak and that every time I squeeze the plug I constantly carry, I hope that squeeze finds its way to Master to help make his dick rock hard too, wherever he is. I do anything I can to make him happy and, when allowed, my biggest priority is helping him have the most amazing orgasm he can have due to my service to him.

These things all added u and, in the end, I realized that I love when he shares his orgasm with me and I am always so proud I helped make it special for him. So, with that, why would I need my own orgasm when his is so amazing for both of us?

Happy Boxing Day, all. While it’s a not a holiday we celebrate in the US and has become more akin to Black Friday elsewhere, it is still a named day and it sure as fuck sounds better than a regular “happy Monday” that we have a chance of hearing 52 times more after today before starting another year. Axel and I are back from a week in the desert with friends which was an amazing time, but we both missed the boy and we also missed what would have been our first white Christmas at home. Until his kid grows up a bit more we want him to never miss a holiday where they can be together, so separate trips will have to suffice until then. But, for now, we are back and the world is right as he is under my desk as I type this happy as he can be (as am I too.)

Anyway, if you are a long time follower you will know that once a year I give Jack the option of whether he wants to ejaculate on New Year’s Day, which will serve as his orgasm for the year, or decline his chance as a tribute to the training he has and continues to receive. There is no wrong answer as this annual choice is his and almost the only one he will ever get when it comes to his penis and ass, aside from those rare days I let him choose whichever plug he wants to carry that day though I sometimes make him double the size if he picks too small. On January 1, 2021, he decided against coming, though that was only about his third month in chastity and I am not sure he thought I was as serious as I turned out to be. On January 1, 2022, he also chose to not partake in the pleasure as he decided that another year locked would only help him grow in his slave role and I can honestly attest that it has. He was very aware that he was giving up an entire year to the titanium in his pants, but he owned that and, from what I have gathered, does not regret it, though I will admit to not having ever asked him if how he feels about it one way or another now, as it doesn’t matter to me anymore honestly as the decision was made. Also, I am a bit worried that if he did regret it, I’d probably like it so much that I might not be so kind now to remember his 2023 choice but I digress.

The 2023 choice will be presented to him today and he has until 6pm on New Year’s Eve to tell me his decision. As I mentioned, I will not feel like I failed if he says he wants it or not, as he has exceeded all wishes in the chastity area that I had specified for him. And, just to be clear, if he did chose to come, this would not be ruined or through the cage or anything of the sort as he has earned it. We would do our best to make it as sexy, hot, romantic and down right dirty as he would want it as that time, unlike everything else with us, is for him (and a bit Axel who really wants to see him come).

So, the next post will be Jack having decided, explaining why he agreed to another full year locked in my cage or why he wanted to reset the clock with the one, amazing, orgasm he has earned.

Curiously, what would you do in this situation? What advice would you give Jack?

He will see you Sunday with a full report of his 30 minutes of pleasure or sooner with this denial of his right.

Again, Happy Boxing Day.