I realized this morning that it has been over a month since me or Jack has updated this blog. I could list 30 reasons as to why, but I am not sure anyone would care. I am finding that even owning the most amazing boy in the world doesn’t stop the year end work travel, the tendons I keep tearing – or the joints I keep breaking, and the still newly minted Dead Parents Club orphan gold – club level status grief that somewhat just hangs over your head like a cloud that no longer rains or casts gloom goes away. But I learned that it’s just a cloud that is omnipresent and one that thins out just as fast as it can grow dark. I spent so much time trying to make it blow away before realizing that it doesn’t and it shouldn’t, but one just has to learn how to ignore it when not needed and celebrate it when it is. But, enough about the muggle world.

While things have been busy, never fear, Jack’s ass has stayed a nice shade of red, his nipples are constantly sore, his dick is locked and his ass is plugged. We have a level of consistency and perfection always on display, and I love that. Something that hit me over the last few weeks could apply to the muggle world too, but specifically in a power based situation, I realized that the boy is my weakness, yet I am his strength. That weakness I have for him is one reason I suspect power based relationships may suffer because, while I am dominant and love to give an order, I am also practical and take into account his feelings on the task or his current state sometimes more than I think I should. This is more outside of sex than in it, but a specific example that comes to mind was one night, a few weeks ago, it was really cold and really wet and I remembered I had forgotten to plug the charger into my car. So as I was getting up, I looked over and the boy was in the floor in a blanket and my first thought was “fuck Drew, you have a Jack, this is one of the things he is here for, so why are you going to get cold and wet??” That was followed by “but look how comfortable he looks and he’s naked and warm and it’s my car, etc etc” so as I continued to get up I debated it. In reality, he saw what I was doing, asked what I was doing, and had his shoes on and was out the door before I could get my fat ass into sweatpants. He did that because THAT is what and who he is now and if I had given into my weakness, I would have denied him the joy of service, so to speak. Versions of that scenario happen over and over again and most of the time they end of just like they did then. Sometimes, when he is busy and I do something like that or carry something heavy in from the garage, he will look at me like I crushed him which further fuels my weakness (we don’t show the puppy dog eyes that are always exacerbated by the collar) and I find myself apologizing, or wanting to, for doing a task for myself. I forget he fuels his strength in service like this and I will remind myself that from time to time.

Where my other weakness comes to play is probably not the place you guys would think, but it’s in his orgasm denial. There are so many times during sex when he has done such amazing things to me that I think “fuck that boy needs a reward” or “God damn, that will be fun to watch” and more. In those moments I want nothing more than to let him have what he wants, but then I always remember that it’s not what he wants AND because what he wants doesn’t matter here. What I want does and I want a boy and love a boy who serves, now, on two plus year denial energy and that turns me on so much that it would not be fair to either of us. I love this part so much that I wonder how good it will feel at 5 years or at 10 years? Surely I will love it even more and, by then, I wonder if he would have given up the idea? It’s an interesting conundrum and one that, as long as I don’t give into my weakness, we will all just have to wait and see, right Jack?

And, for what it’s worth, please don’t worry, I am pretty strong.

Another locktober is coming to an end. I’m thrilled for everyone who tried chastity for the first time, for people who broke records, for people who are comfortable trying something new and exciting. Part of me expects there to be some sort of shift in the earth’s axis as the loctober fanboys are let out of their cages and allowed to have an orgasm. There may be a small part of this slave that is a bit envious. It is only a small part, assuming that pervert still exists anywhere within me. You will probably never hear me say I never want to have an orgasm, that would, in fact, be a lie. However, I’ve got a damn good reason, well more than one, to know that a traditional orgasm is something I don’t need. Wanting it on occasion, however, is what makes giving all of me, including the now elusive orgasm, to my Master the best thing that I have ever had happen to me. I’ll explain…

After a long week of travel for Drew, random stressors including work, playing landlord to less than trustworthy tenants, and dad duty, I wanted nothing more than to be the biggest pervert of a slave for my Master and to serve him better than ever. As we talked throughout the week, I shared my thoughts and ever increasing horniness with him in his absence. As he pulled into the garage, I sat near the door with the bio dogs waiting for Master to get in. If I had a tail, I think it would wag faster than the tails of the two actual dogs combined. My leather collar and harness felt good, snugly cinched against my body. I. Was. Ready.

Master entered the back door, he greeted the bio dogs, gave me a “hey boy,” walked right by me and kissed Daddy. My heart was full, as was my cage. I waited patiently. My tube filled and gave away my excitement as I pressed my head against my Master’s thigh as he and Daddy talked. We all rested that night. As I massaged Master’s tight muscles from a long week of plane rides and boardrooms. We all needed it.

The next morning, I worked on my chores. The obligatory trip to the hardware store and Costco out of the way, a bit of work completing a few projects around the house and Master told me to go shower and have the shower ready for him. One of my favorite things lately has been the new Steelwerks plug. Quite possibly the most comfortable plug ever. It has a HEAVY carry. The balls inside rattle around as I go about my work. In the hardware store, costco, target, the restaurant for lunch, and even up the stairs at home. I love that others can hear it. Although very few people would correctly identify the jingle. In my mind, it announces to the world that I’m owned by the most amazing Master in the world. Basically, when I carry it, that jingle and that thought multiply my usual level or horny ten fold.

Back on track, I jingled my plug filled ass up the stairs and showered. I dried myself and told my Master the shower was ready for him. I undressed him, and he showered while I gathered a change of clothes for him. One of my favorite things in the world is to dry him as when he gets out of the shower. I used the towel to feel every square inch of my Master as I dried his body. God.Damn. He is fucking beautiful. I worked my way down his body, feeling his muscles through the towel. I got on my knees as I dried his legs, his mass cock in my face and I opened my mouth and tried to put his dick in my mouth, but it was just out of reach. My cage filled showing my excitement. Working harder and harder to get something just out of reach, and a full cage gives away my continually rising level of horniness and the craving of having my Master fill me.

Master directed me to get the chain and locks from the dresser. My hands cuffed and locked to the chain locked to my collar, Master ordered me on the bed as he lay there naked. I rubbed his body, I licked every square inch of him, I got as close as I possibly could to my Master. I worked my tongue between his legs, making him moan a bit, I took his balls in my mouth and I was in my happy place. His massive dick leaked warmth onto the back of my head. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue to taste my Master and take him inside of my mouth. Thrusting his dick deeper and deeper into my throat I could hear the Steelwerks plug rattle as my body moved in response to Master’s thrusting.

Master turned me over stood up and pulled me closer to the edge of the bed. He bent over me. I could feel the heat of his body against mine. I know I was sweating from the pure desire that was thick in the air. I wanted my Master to fill me, to be closer, to be inside me. He leaned in for a kiss, but stopped so fucking close to my face. I strained and tried to taste his mouth. I wrapped my legs around him and tried to pull him closer. I could feel his PA hitting the plug in my ass. Straining to make contact with his mouth, I was grinding my body against him. I was shaking. I wanted my Master to have an orgasm. It brings me such joy to share that with him. As I tried to get closer, there was a stream of sticky, warm fluid streaming from my cage. I was on the edge of an orgasm and all I wanted was to be closer to my Master.

He leaned down and breathed a breath into my mouth, reminding me that he controls even my air. My god! I was on the verge of a full blown orgasm and wanted it so badly. Almost as badly as I wanted my Master to fuck the living daylights out of me and share his orgasm with me. He new I wanted to explode. 

“Do you want to cum, slave?” He asked. I was so wrapped up in feeling his body and the edge of pleasure my body was experiencing that I couldn’t answer. A breathless, animalistic grunt was the only sound I could manage to make. He grabbed my throbbing cage and encouraged me to cum. So.Fucking.Close.

“Come on slave, you can cum as long as you are caged. You know that.” I tried. With every bit of my body, every muscle in me was tight with an impending orgasm. I was sure there would be a huge mess to clean up any second now. I felt it. I was about to explode. My body shook. I was sweating. So close. I wanted to make my Master proud. I tried. I tried until I was physically spent. On the verge of orgasm, I was physically spent. I was exhausted. I couldn’t try anymore.

Master leaned over me once more. He was enjoying this. His grin made me grin. Fuck, I was so close, but not close enough. He lived me off the bed, my legs wrapped around him. He supported me. I rested in his arms. I squeezed him closer to me. I asked him to share his orgasm with me. He put me on the bed and laid down beside me. His throbbing dick became my sole focus. With every bit of strength I could muster, I proceeded to give him the best blow job he had ever gotten. As his dick slid deeper into my throat, I tasted him. I felt his breathing get deeper, quicker. I felt his muscles tighten. His body shook. As my Master’s body gave the signs he was closer to orgasm, I had that on the edge feeling again. I worked harder and harder to give him the best my slave throat had. My Master shared his orgasm with me. It felt so fucking good. From the sheer volume, sounds he made, and the heat given off, It was an amazing orgasm for him too. We were just a little closer. Despite having him literally inside me, it was not close enough.

Despite being closer to a physical orgasm than I’ve been in two years. That was one of the very best non-orgasm orgasms I’ve had. It was better than any actual physical orgasm I’ve ever had. I like to think the orgasm my Master shared with me today was one of the very best he’s ever had. As he held me afterwards, we talked. I’m not entirely sure what all was said- I was mostly staring at his beautiful eyes, his grin, and feeling his body next to mine. I do know there was discussion about my yearly opportunity to have a “regular” orgasm. To be honest, I think it would be a bit of a let down. So to those of you who participated in locktober, I leave you this question…what if every day were a locktober day? For the past two years, it has been for this slave. By far, the best two years of my life in more ways than I can count. I’d like to think it has been pretty amazing for Master and Daddy, as well. I know for sure that denial has been physically amazing. I know that it has improved my life for the better and made me closer than I’ve ever been to anyone before.

Hello from the left coast. I was sitting in traffic today and just thinking and I realized that I was smiling. Like big smiling and there was no real reason. Weirdly, that made me smile more.

For those of you who “knew” me prior to January 2020, when I took an intentional break from international travel due to my parent’s health and then, two months later, when I took an unintentional break from all travel due to global health, you know that my world is now very, very different. My travel is picking up again, but the international part is done and the domestic part is about a third of what it was and that, actually, is really okay with me even despite losing some elite airline and hotel status levels that somewhat does pierce my soul at some level. But, now I have jack AND Axel, two amazing pandemic puppies, and have acquired this new title of Master along the way, and all those things, I suspect, are why I was just the weird smiling man in the black Tesla on the 405 earlier today.

What I realized as the afternoon continued is that I have not told my side of the “being better” story. By that I mean that there have been multiple posts about how jack is a better man, dad, employee, son, and just all around man due to his slave status, but I do not think I have ever told you how or what his slave status and, thus my subsequent Master status, have done for me as a person, a husband, an employee, and as a friend.

In short, it’s made me better too.

In long form, it’s given me a confidence and a freedom about life that I actually didn’t realize I needed. I am a big guy thanks to some strong genetics and my size is something that even when I look in a mirror I mentally often do not see. Now, I see fat in places I don’t want it and way more than I want, but physical size is something I kinda know, but often don’t feel. I am only 6’1, but have a 21.5″ neck, a 46″ chest, shoulders that do not fit places comfortably, and a 34-35″ waist. With a bald head and sunglasses, I either look like I know way more about football than I do or that I am protecting some government official somewhere. I get that, but it’s weird to me too. My internal confidence often did not match the outer shell so many times in life because of shame around my kinks, insecurity at work, or just general things in life. Being a switch did not help that at all because I often felt that I would not be good at being in either role since I didn’t feel it 100%.

However, this owner thing, I have to say I have really taken to and I feel like I am pretty damn good at it as well.

In no way do I mean to discount Ax in any of this and the benefits of who he has made me could not even fit on this page, but that’s been nearly 25 years and being his husband has brought me so much joy through the years in so many ways except that absolute fulfillment of my perversions. It’s not that he didn’t try, but until I met the man who is wired to be just as kinky as me, I really didn’t know what I needed at all. Being jack’s owner, trainer, Sir, best friend, and, well, Master, tapped something in me that has given me so much, some of which I didn’t know I needed.

Personally, to know that this man who I lead, who is so smart, so talented, and, well, so adorable yet hot structures his life to my orders arouses my brain even more than my dick. The fact that I have this power over him, which happened so fast in some ways, sometimes scares me because I know how careful I need to be with that power. I will never harm him intentionally, but in the past in some scenes when I got carried away, I realized he was not going to stop me because he wanted to please me, and I cannot ever let myself cross that line. This power, though, I have found I now carry outside of times with jack and it’s given me a new confidence that just shows itself in places in life that likely nobody else would ever know, but I do, and I love that.

If you have stuck around for awhile as well, you know I have had what some might call an unfair share of grief over the same time period and I00% credit jack as the object (he likes it when I say that) that helped me channel anger and sadness in some ways that just made me wonder if the universe sent him to me just for that purpose. Axel and I have emotionally dealt with all of these things in very different ways and I, at least in my opinion, have gotten through the worst of it much more rapidly than Ax and with a better outlook about the future too. It’s like the healing power of kink, and it’s something that I have found to be extremely true in my case.

As the travel increases, our little thruple is learning to adjust with it and that will shape the next few years as well.

So, I have a plane to catch and not much else to say on this aside from just this glimpse of the other side of the duo. In just a few hours I will walk in the door and jack will be there naked on his knees waiting for me. As I walk by him to greet Ax and the bio-dogs, my dick will rise and the weekend will start. Damn, I hope we have something fun to write about Sunday.

Until then…

Master and I got away for a few days of pushing the limits of a particular Bavarian motorcar on the racetrack, and some time for just the two of us. Although I generally enjoy flying, this trip was a little different. I was given a popular plastic cage before leaving to go to the airport. It fit as expected. Choose the base ring you think you need and go one size smaller… perfect base ring fitting guidelines. The tube, if you will, required some shoving of flesh that I often find fun, even in my usual steelwerks pieces of art, but by the time we reached our destination, it was miserable. This is not a cage review, but a reminder that even if it looks cool, it is nothing like the custom fit and feel of my usual titanium dick. In retrospect, I’d have just preferred to potentially have to show off my titanium cage the the TSA agent rather than end up having a cock I don’t need just flopping around. They promise me it will go through security and I am willing, but Master has so many security clearances and airline status things that I know he doesn’t want to do anything to call attention in sensitive areas.

At home, as well as when traveling, I am to be in uniform once past a defined area, usually the equivalent of the amount of space required to step just inside the door and be able to close it behind me. Once inside the suite, I closed the door and stripped. I gathered the posture collar, leather cuffs, and the carabiners, locks, etc from the luggage and presented them to my Master. He said we would need to go get dinner before I could be truly in service as his slave for the rest of the time that night.Kneeling before him, we reviewed the ground rules for the weekend. I already knew them, but there is something about being reminded of what is expected of a quality slave. I was signaled to sit in his lap to face him, so I could hear the important parts of the conversation. 

I gazed into his beautiful eyes, never looking away. “Yes Master,” I answered, as my still uncaged cock gave away my excitement. I felt my Master’s hard dick pressing against me and hoped I’d me allowed the chance to taste it as I could feel the wet spot forming as he leaked. I felt very close to him, but only wanted to be closer. 

“Do we have to eat tonight, Master? I can’t be nearly as close to you if we leave to eat,” I said.

Fast forward a few minutes and I had an answer. He was dressed for dinner, and as my Master locked the posture collar around my neck and the cuffs around my ankles and feet, I thought about our words, triggers, if you will. I think both of us quite enjoy the fantasy of hypnosis, and I have quite an active imagination, as does my Master. We have developed a language between the two of us that would mean nothing to anyone else, and part of that language is certain trigger words that are associated with certain times and feelings. The use of those words are important to the night.

As Master finished securely putting me away in the closet and attaching his hotel trick of the coat hanger with pants hangers to my nipples (fyi – he only uses lighter zip ties to attach me in situations like this as we both know I could break them in an emergency, but also both know I’d be in heaps of trouble if I did), he gave me a few trigger words just before he left to go get dinner. I was on the verge of a mental orgasm before I heard the door close behind him. My mind filled with thoughts of taking my Master’s pain as he tortured my nipples, the clamps from the hanger easily processed taking Master’s pain into pleasure. The plug in this slave’s hole felt like it was growing bigger and pushing so deeply that I was certain you would have seen the end of it in the back of my throat, had it not been tightly gagged. I could hear the noises one hears in a hotel room, but it was drowned by the feelings the triggers gave me. I fucking craved Master more and more with each passing second.

Finally, Master returned. But he didn’t come to the closet. Was that him? A housekeeper? Maintenance? A robber? I should not have been turned on by the possibility of all three, but I was in different ways- especially having seen the hot maintenance man in the lobby, but I then heard the shower and knew it was Master. A bit after that, he opened the closet and I saw the lights from the room and…. goddamn, his smile and that look in his eyes. I’m proud to be owned. The door closed. Master spoke to me as he milled around the room. Questions were answered with the best grunts and groans, and animalistic sounds I was able to make at the time, and yet he understood perfectly that what I wanted most in the world at that moment was to get close to him, to taste him, to take his pain, to feel him inside me, his slave, his hole, his property.

While I wasn’t hungry for food, Master insisted that I eat some of the food he had put out for me in the bowl on the floor. He said I would need the energy. I ate enough to give me energy to worship my Master. As as side note, Diet Coke is just as amazing as ever, if not better, in a bowl on the floor, but that’s another story for later.

After this, I was bound. Posture collar to wrists to ankles. Displayed on the bench in the room, an object for my Master’s use. As he spoke to me, using our language, our trigger words, horny, owned, vibrating almost begin to describe the sexual energy filling the room. The closeness and connection was more than I can describe, as I wanted nothing more than to worship Master. And that, his slave did. 

Master opened my hole wider and deeper than ever before. As his hands entered inside of me the feeling of serving him was almost overwhelming. MY Master using his slave. The pride on his face as he gave me the trigger that made me feel full, deeper, more open than before….fuck it made me want him and love him more….that’s a fucking lot. 

As he gave me the words that make my nipples extremely sensitive like volts of electricity igniting pure sex inside of me, I began to shake. As he owned me, I felt him against me. His massive, dripping, concrete  hardened cock rubbed against me. I felt his breath and I vibrated more. Tunnel vision made Master’s pleasure my sole purpose. I wanted him closer. 

The pride on his face as he brought me close to orgasm and then stopped, made me crave serving him more. I wanted his pleasure to overwhelm him through my service.

Master repositioned me so that he could fuck me as hard and deep as he pleased. As he did, he opened my throat with his fingers. Fuck, what a feeling! My Master inside me as much as physically possible, and I wanted him more, closer, deeper. I’ve never been more proud to be HIS slave. 

Mentally, I had “orgasms” a dozen times over as I served Master. Physically, I was as close to an orgasm as I have come in the last two years. Knowing I wouldn’t be allowed one was a safe feeling for me. I knew he would get off on my denial. It also meant that I could enjoy serving as I should without fear of an actual orgasm for his slave.  

Master gave me his orgasm that night. I’ll admit it was better than any physical one I ever had. That’s a special thing. His orgasms  fill my sexual needs as well as his. As we were both physically exhausted from such an amazing night, I was allowed to massage him. I rubbed and licked every square inch of my Master as he started to fall asleep.

I was allowed on the bed that night. As Master held me, I had an inner peace, a feeling of belonging, a feeling of unconditional love, and a hope that every person finds a man like him. 

That was just the first of three nights and, while the other two are similar versions of this, space and time will not allow me to write those now. But, the picture attached above will show you how I spent five hours the next night, so I think you can get the whole picture.

Master, you have given me true unconditional love and made me better. I only hope that my service provides the same fulfillment that you have allowed me.  

NOTE FROM DREW – they ALWAYS do, my jack.

I thought I would do a little post to talk about one of my favorite things: men who identify as slaves. And, this isn’t really about my slave, but two others who I know that I want to talk about for various reasons.

I think some of it comes with my now, almost senior status in life, the gray beard, and the eight years of blogging is that I have found I enjoy watching people grow in their understanding and acceptance of themselves and their kinks while seeing how they progress in doing so. This is true with random twitter people I watch as well as with a few friends and even goes back to Thumper and his talented ass as I enjoy knowing I helped train it to be ready for his adventures with Frodo now.

Anyway, I want to talk about two slaves in particular. One I know well, though never in person, and the other I know in person and only now getting to know well.

The first we will call Brit. I’d like to say there is deep meaning in this, but he’s British and I am lazy today. Brit and I have known each other online for maybe 10 years, moved from a sex and kink based pen-pal-ship to an actual muggle friendly Facebook friendship and have remained on and off tight through many of our mutual life adventures – good and bad. When I met him, he identified openly as a submissive and a few times privately as a slave and while he had had some amazing training experiences, they were simply that, experiences. At that point I wanted to enslave him and to this day wonder what would have happened if I did, but he was there and I was in Australia, New Zealand, China and everywhere else and just simply was not ready to attach this type of relationship to myself and Axel’s at that time either. But, that was that and I watched and tried to support him as he then entered into a new relationship with, from what I can tell, a nice boy who was just tragically muggle and, while he fed a lot of Brit’s needs, he didn’t fill his kink soul and that, my friends, is where this gets interesting, as he was suddenly free to be himself and to, well, find himself. And in finding himself, he is now seeing himself in a whole new leather and latex covered light.

I haven’t really talked about this here because it’s complicated and delicate because throughout this process, House of Drew (said that way only because I am currently loving House of Dragons), kinda fell for Brit. Specifically, my slave, Jack, and Brit immediately found a connection that in a muggle world would be featured on some Discovery Channel documentary about attraction. However, if life were exactly like the fairy tales we all read as kids, it would be the typical story of Master meets slave, slave meets English slave, Master and slave enslave English slave to the first slave, English slave is lowered in the org chart level to beta or pet or something, You know, just like your Mom read to you to go to sleep every night as a child. But thousands of miles distance complicates that already complicated dynamic, so we have had to be creative and try to help Brit find himself and, hopefully, a Master, while not completely keeping him for ourselves either. Anyone really follow that? I think I will just start a new paragraph here to separate it.

As it stands now, Jack (and I by extension) have been supervising Brit in his day to day acceptance of himself as a slave. We have invited him into the family too, though that caused some confusion, hurt feelings, and sadness because it happened without discussion and the end result was Brit found himself locked, plugged, naked and alone on his continent way over there with really nothing to show for that investment. When you are helping someone find that it’s okay to be dependent on another, it’s a bad thing to bark orders and run, and that is exactly what Jack and I were doing. Nothing was ever intentional, but Brit was just getting the protocol without the play and that was not fair to him in any way and Jack and I fully own that. In addition, words like owned and the like were used on Twitter causing their own issues, so we just needed to talk. I think where we stand now is good. We still supervise Brit, he is locked, plugged and part of his realization of his slave self has been that he likes less and less freedom, so now when he comes home he locks his ankle to a chain mounted centrally in the house where he can get to most needs but feels the pull. What he doesn’t know is we are soon replacing those locks with wifi ones, so when he does lock, we will control when he leaves. But, now, we highly encourage him to date as a locked, submissive man knowing the key will be given to his date when needed via Jack. Brit will always be in the family and will always be close to us, but he deserves his own boyfriend, Master, Handler, Sadist, who can benefit from his pre-training immensely and I do hope he will find it.

To help with that, let me just quickly write his personal ad for him and I will even include his pic:

Professional, handsome, 5’10, 43, shaved smooth, HOT, SGWS seeking his kinky knight in shining armor who will use and ride him as his horse and/or be willing to be locked in the armor. Athletic, fit, educated, seeking the often rumored, rarely seen, Dominant/submissive relationship based on friendship, trust and respect and, dare I say, one day love. Limits are few, but respect for me as a slave is required. I come complete with a dowry full of leather, gear, and latex and am pre-trained for indefinite chastity, 24/7 plugging, and I do windows! I come with little baggage, but what I have is a US based “family” who help hold my leash until they can hand it to you, my potential owner. They require pre-screening of applicants and will connect us if they feel we would match. I will be an excellent slave for the right owner and if space is an issue, I really love fitting into tight places. I have seen into my soul and know this is my place, so if you think you are the right owner, please contact Drew for more information.

So, with that, I should be talking about slave number two, but I think I will save that for the next post as this is too long as it is and he deserves his own story too.

Stay tuned, part two soon…

I was thinking about a post to write while locked under Master’s desk yesterday just as he, the voice from above, asked me what my favorite things about being a slave are. I told him a few and thought I would write it out as well. So, here we go.

I’ll start with the obvious. I don’t own my dick anymore, but the cage attached to it, around it, through it, encasing it. That part belongs to me. It is a daily reminder that I’m owned, loved, hurt (not harmed), part of a family, and truly fucking cared for- all unconditionally. Try finding that in a “ normal” relationship and see if you’d smile like I do. I doubt you’d find one growing stronger and deeper every day despite knowing how much of an actual pervert (again I use that term with nothing but love) and sexual deviants (again, said with love and no judgement) all three members of the relationship truly are.

I find pure joy in the fact that my Master (Drew) owns me, every fucking part of me, mentally and physically. He knows my mood, what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling. He reads it on my face, my body language, the tone of my voice (when I am allowed to speak). He uses those things to help me deal with things that are within my control and even things that I seemingly don’t truly have much control over. It is fucking amazing to be known so well by someone, well two someones. Daddy (Axel) picks up on these things as well. Quite often the solution each offers is quite different than from the other. My Master seems to be able to use my kinks and his ownership of every bit of me to adjust his slave or my mind set, depending on the particular situation. Daddy, being in the field of work he is in, often has some sort of psychiatric insight, exercise, coping mechanism, or just being the best fucking listener a slave could have. I guess what I’m saying is that our kinks give me the benefit of support in ways I’ve never gotten it. In turn, we all seem to grow. Fuck…I’m cared for, but I am cared for in a way that all of my needs (well except an orgasm) are met in the most amazing ways.

I get to be a pervert. I real fucking service slave, a bound piece of art on display, a hole for various uses, an outlet for receiving my Master’s pain, even an outlet for Daddy’s pain and control on occasion. I get to lick, worship, massage the most amazing legs I’ve ever seen on a man. The don’t belong to me, but they’re mine…well MY Master’s. I’ve been allowed to safely explore and push limits that I would have never ever allowed to happen. The best part is, I don’t have that choice to make. My Master owns that, too

Something I think everyone needs to understand is that slavery, like mine, is not like in porn and takes all shapes, sizes, and structures. I used to think a slave should not love his Master or that a Master should never say thank you, but I was wrong in the way we define it at least. I get to be a best friend, a boyfriend, a slave, a beast, an animal. I get to be every part of a very complex pervert. I get to be used for whatever my Master and Daddy need me for. Sometimes that involves building a deck outside with Master and some questionable electrician work by me (man, I will feel bad if the house burns down – especially since I am a fireman). Sometimes it involves me wrapping a bandage, getting them a drink, or cleaning my Master’s office (something I love doing). It evolves and I love that.

I get to be the person I am, the slave my Master trains me to be. I get to share love with two amazing men and see how our differences and similarities meld us together and make us better.

And I love all the pervert stuff, too. I love the smell of the leather harness, the collar that is chosen for me to wear at home, the daily wear collar that is passable in a muggle world and allows me to continue to perform my job without any hinderances, and the plug I carry every single day to always know my Master is inside of me (more subs should do this). I like be used to bring Master and Daddy a sexual gratification, that gives me that same gratification, sans orgasm. I love the feel of my Master, the look of him, the smell of him, how he taste, how he relaxes when I do things that I KNOW relax him (not many people get the privilege of seeing him truly relaxed). I guess what I’m saying is that I get to share parts of me that are meant only for them. In turn, I get to see parts of them that are only allowed to be experienced by an owned slave like myself.

This sounds kind of rambling and a bit less kinky that you may have expected. I love that my dick is pierced and locked in titanium. I love that my Master allows me to take his pain. I love how he has an orgasm and somehow you’d think I’d had one, too. The lack of an ejaculation can be just as intense and I might argue better than an orgasm of the regular variety.

So my most favorite things about being enslaved is that the man that owns me loves me, cares for me, hurts me, is one of the best people you would ever have the privilege to meet. Daddy is the same way, minus the giving me pain quite as much, but he knows me well enough to know that I NEED it from time to time. One last try, my favorite thing about being an owned slave is the unconditional love that we share and the growth it brings to us all in the muggle world and the fuck me senseless and use me like the slave that is no longer capable of making such choices as which huge plug to carry each day under the uniform he no longer need to bother with choosing for himself that day. One day, maybe I’ll write a book called “The Perverts Guide to the Muggle World” that outlines all the day to day things that those around us see but can’t comprehend these things show I’m my Master’s slave and my Daddy’s beast. Maybe a few real life stories where I’ve given just a little more of a hint than usual to one of the muggles hoping they will pick up on it. One day, I hope to be able to board the plane harnessed and attached to my Master via my shackles and chain, walk across the hotel lobby as he leads me on all fours by my harness and leash. Until then, I’ll think about all the favorite things that go along with being enslaved by the most amazing Master a man could have the privilege to serve, to love, and to be a part of a kinky, loving, sappy, perverted family.

Biological denial isn’t nearly as sexy as it sounds

You know I am a bit of pervert. Denial, whether it be a 2 inch rule in effect, a shiny titanium Steelwerks piece of art encasing an owned dick, or just being restrained, is sexy. Craving something you can’t have. Wanting something that is so close but just out of reach…. Damn, it turns me on.

So earlier this week, I woke up feeling bad before work. Master had been traveling for a while and had a cold when he got back. I thought nothing of it. Needless to say, the social distancing involved after his return was less than six feet. He mentioned taking a covid test to be sure (it was negative). Being the good nurse that I am, I didn’t have a working thermometer and the only covid test I had was expired. Remembering that Master had been traveling, I thought it prudent to test, just to be sure. Of the two tests, one was negative and one was positive. I was out of tests. I needed to be sure it wasn’t covid before going to work and potentially exposing the surgery patients to covid.

I went to Master and Daddy’s house because they had some tests and it’s on my way to work. It was about 4:30am and I let myself in and found the tests As soon as I swabbed and dropped the mixture onto the testing cassette, two lines showed up almost immediately. Fuck! I’ll do another test, just to be sure. Same results. I was just pondering what the latest protocols for quarantine were, thinking about maintaining distances from Daddy and Master as I left the house. About that time, my Master appeared in the doorway (he looked super hot standing in the doorway in his glasses first thing in the morning) Damnit, I didn’t want to wake him. I saw him standing there and my heart melted. I wanted to wrap myself around him, get close to him, feel him, lick him, just all the things a slave wants to do in general for his Master, but I couldn’t.

Goddamnit! I can’t do that. It isn’t safe. I felt my heart sink more. The more I realized how potentially serious it could be for me to do all those things to him, the more I wanted it….and the less I wanted to want it. No part of me wanted to risk giving covid to Master or Daddy. We talked from across the room. Daddy came through and I wanted to get close to him, too. My heart continued to sink as we talked.

Well, I needed to go isolate and let work know I wouldn’t be coming in and try to figure out what the latest guidelines are for healthcare workers. I told them both I loved them and got my keys and left. I have never been at that home and not touched either of them, kissed them, held them, or just even laid my head in my Master’s lap. I probably told them I loved them a million more times on my way out the door. I got in my car, and as I watched the garage door close my heart broke. I hoped that I hadn’t exposed them. It would kill me to know I had brought any harm to them. I cried (just a little) because even though denial is a central theme in our relationship, we didn’t control this. The worst possible punishment scenario I could ever think of would be total isolation from these two, and here I was living it out. It wasn’t because I needed a severe punishment. It wasn’t because I had been stored away. It was fucking biology. As I sit in quarantine still, I have talked and face timed with my Master daily. Zoom is a wonderful thing, but it does not compare to actual physical touch. Physical denial, giving over control and ownership of every part of my to a Master I couldn’t adore more is something that is beautiful and grows our love and relationship stronger. Physical separation because of some virus is hard. I feel so alone and so far away from my Master, it hurts (not the good kind, you perverts). I’m happy to quarantine to keep Master and Daddy from getting sick, but fuck you covid! Biological denial is the absolute worst.

I am thankful that we have all three managed to stay relatively unscathed by this pandemic, compared to others. I’m thankful that we’re not required to have the longer periods of quarantine we once were. The isolation has given me some time to remember just how truly amazing my Master and Daddy are to me, how good they are for a slave like me, and that my Master truly owns every fucking part of me, His slave. Master, I can’t wait to touch you and all kinds of other things as soon as it is safe to do so. Daddy, you should be forewarned, as well. I’ve got some lost time to make up for soon. Ya’ll make me better, and my world is better with you two in it rather than out of it. I’ll be there to serve as you see fit in a few more days. The house will shine, and I plan on getting as close as possible to you. I just don’t think I will be close enough.

Two years ago today I met the short, muscle bound, hairy, sweeping ginger topped man with a deeeeeeeep Southern drawl I now call my slave for the first time in person. As most of you know, we had talked a bit and when we met, we met as friends as he was a “dominant top” himself and had a few boys whose asses he liked to blister every so often when time allowed.

We went to lunch at one of those local restaurants every city has where it’s a dive with inside and outside seating and the trendy staff with lots of tats and piercings who like to pretend that they don’t give a fuck you are there and we had a great time. I can actually put my finger on the precise moment I knew he would be my slave and it was within the first 3 minutes of sitting at the table. There was a vibe, and a moment, and I knew. I think he knew too, though I am not sure he realized that two years later he would be sitting in the same place having lunch with me with not a hair on his body, a titanium penis he doesn’t own anymore, and steel up his ass that very rarely leaves all while dressed in clothes I picked out for him.

I think one of the ways I know was that I had a broken foot when we met and was in a cast and his service side immediately kicked in It wasn’t just a Southern boy with a good manners, it was a submissive boy who aimed to please. A week later I had surgery and he was glued to me like a perfect service animal would be and we both just knew, that boy would be collared soon. Ironically, two years later, I type this while also in a cast for the same foot as surgery number five happened last week and, once again, the boy was and is here. And, as an aside, a pro-tip for the youngsters, don’t break a bone after 50 – especially one that carries your weight – one fix creates new issues and that fix creates others. That said, my whole foot should be titanium soon so maybe I can get some super powers or something.

Anyway, back to jack. I cannot tell you how proud I am of him and how he found something inside himself that not only had been awakened, but something that he let bloom and grow. Every. Single, Day. While some like to think slaves are not men or less than men, you all know I do not, and being a slave has MADE him a man. His confidence, his demeanor, his parenting skills, and his ability to deal with the uber religious world he grew up in are all 100 times stronger than they were two years ago. Yes, we have a hierarchy, and he’s at the bottom, but I fully believe that is just who he is and how he gains his strength for the real world.

This is my anniversary letter to him, MY boy who I own every fucking part of. I love you jack, and Axel and I can’t wait to grow old with you in our service.

Finally, just a note to remind readers that it’s not all sunshine every day. I had a message on twitter that said “you have the perfect life” and that bothered me. Yes, I have a pretty great one that is based on hard work, good genes, good education, good healthcare and a LOT of fucking luck. BUT, it’s not perfect, nor is anyone else’s life. Just a reminder, we talk about the perfect parts here, we tweet pictures with good lighting, we tell you about the good and I do that because there is too much bad in the world. None of it is false or embellished (aside from names) but I just want to say there are damn, dark and scary days too. There are days when I think jack would rather be a boyfriend than a slave and I have to remind him. There are days I’d rather him be a boyfriend than a slave and then I have to remind myself. There are days I want him, but his child comes first and there are days I think he’d sell his child to gypsies just to come get fucked, BUT, real life ALWAYS steps in and applies before anything. We do not share about those days because, why? Our aim is to show you that a Master/slave relationship can be fulfilling in so many ways and not abusive or degrading, unless both parties want and consent to that, so please do not compare most of what we say 1:1 because it fits us and your perfect will likely be different. Be you and find what fits YOU.

Master was out of town this week. Work kept us all quite busy. I miss him when he is out of town because of all the normal sappy reasons you miss someone you love when they are away. I miss him because of other things, too. I’d be willing to bet he misses me for some of the same reasons. Maybe.

My job is busy, my mind is running from the time I walk through the door until I leave. Stressful at times, often due to reasons I can’t control (and yes, I generally am a bit of a control freak when it comes to certain things). All of this to say that I miss my Master when he travels because time spent under the desk not only allows me to serve him and submit to him and help him relax. It also helps me to turn off the day and focus on making him proud. 

But, he always comes back.

After work yesterday, I greeted Master and Daddy as I changed into my uniform. I held my Master. I felt the stress of the week leaving my mind and the tension in my body ease. I held my Master tighter, closer. I rubbed my scruff against his. I felt his breath on me. No words were exchanged as our bodies communicated. I got under the desk and rested my head in his lap. I felt his tight muscles and knew exactly where to massage to relieve his work week’s tension. As his breathing communicates when I get just the right spot. I heard a heavy breath as tension started to leave his body. My cage strained. 

Master motioned for me to stand up. I stood. He inspected his property with his hands. He turned me around and bent me over. He delivered a few slaps to his slave’s ass that left a little redness and a sting but only made his slave crave more. The Njoy plug I was carrying has a handle on the base. I know he likes it because it is easy to grab, twist, and makes ease of using a hole I no longer own. 

“How does that make you feel?” We’re the first words spoken between the two of us since I got home, as the plug was being twisted and worked in and out of his property’s hole. A switch flipped on inside of me. As I leaned into the plug entering this body. I was horny the moment I touched him, but it just doubled.

It felt good. I enjoyed being his property. I enjoyed knowing his dick was hard. I was proud. “Hopeful that it makes you proud,” was my answer. 

“You always make me proud,” he replied. That level of horny multiplied by ten this time. “Always?” I thought to myself, but apparently it came out loud. He shoved the Njoy back inside and turned me around. 

“Always, boy.”

I melted. He asked if my nipples were sore still as he pinched and twisted them. I shook my head no as I offered him the right nipple. As he bit down and twisted, it hurt. I squeezed the plug inside me as I held onto my Master. By this point I was sitting in his lap facing him and holding onto him again. My head rested against his as he allowed me to take his pain. I’m sure my cage bounced with my heartbeat   He released the nipple and I offered the other one. “Does it make you proud to give me your pain Master,” I asked.  

“Always slave,” he said through his teeth as he bit down hard on my nipple. I knew they’d be sore later, and I was proud. I held him, rubbed him, kissed his body, licked him as I breathed deeply processing his pain. I could feel the wet spot saturating his shorts as I took in and processed his pain. I held him closer. 

I felt a wave of pure lust, love, horniness, pride, submission, and sappiness all at once. He sensed it. He stopped, well because we’re perverts and the whole denial thing. 

He turned me around, sat me in his lap and held me closely and tightly. I may have been grinding the plug against him. I just wanted to feel close enough to him, which I am convinced is not possible but a task worth trying to accomplish, regardless. 

We talked about growth and progress in general and In the relationship. I felt his face against my head and I melted again. His body feels so amazing, every bit of it. 

I felt his dick pressed hard against me I reached for it because I love how his girth feels. I could feel the wetness of his leaking and my pride grew stronger as skin protruded from the vents on the head of my cage. 

We discussed the fact that I voluntarily gave up my chance to have an orgasm for 2022. He doesn’t see a true need for me to have one again, but says we will discuss 2023 in 2023. He knows I’ve already been thinking about it. I told him so. He wouldn’t let me give him my answer, but I told him I already made my decision. Waiting, thinking on it. The denial runs deep in our relationship on many levels and only grows us closer and stronger. 

I had a realization that I love for my Master to cum, to orgasm. Through my denial his orgasm is in a way mine, too. I bring him that amazing feeling. I bring him that release. I take that inside of my body. I feel the energy as he climaxes and I feel an amazing feeling. I get that same post orgasm high that I vaguely remember at this point. That makes me proud. It makes my Master proud. It makes us closer. It builds us stronger, and it only makes me all the more his, every fucking part of me. It just makes me more determined hear those words “You make me proud,” even more. 

The making of this alpha slave.

I met a man in a bar a few years ago. Really, it was a deli/dive kind of joint (but that doesn’t fit with the tune of the country song playing in my head right now). We had been talking online for a while and decided to meet for lunch. As a proclaimed dom-top with a switchy side, our conversations had been filled with details of what I was going to do with him and vice versa. There were also conversations about how I would be sub to him at times. I had no idea that I would be absolutely in love with this man and his husband and about to start a third year together with them. Most importantly, I had no idea that from that lunch forward, I was destined to be owned, every fucking part of me.

We had lunch. I wanted to be closer to him. We finished lunch and we went for a drive. He drove and we went east without a real destination in mind before winding up at a park. Now, I see this as the show of his dominance it truly was meant to be and I willingly got in. He says he knew I would be his slave the minute I asked what was good on the menu and what type of fries I should get. He said he saw in in my eyes that I needed him to choose without knowing it. He chose sweet potato, They were amazing. 

Back to the ride to the park part. He drove and I first saw his amazing titanium encased dick in the sexy as fuck black on black on black German SUV that had an engine sound that was even dominant in tone as it purred my submission to me in some sense. I mentioned the leather smell was enticing and for some reason I asked to see his steelwerks cage that he has worn since we were both, of course, kinky switches at that point and I had actually never seen an encased dick in real life before. He teased me with it and put it away, and that was the first time I saw that sadistic grin he has when he is denying me something. Fuck, something was switching in my head. Fuck it was, well, nice. A few minutes later, I first kissed the man I would come to proudly call Master. I felt his hand touch my leg the first time that day. We enjoyed each other like we had known each other forever. We talked about family and relationships and kink family and about some of the life issues that were changing everything. That one day in the SUV (he recently traded it to go electric and I think both of us cried a little bit seeing that car go away). Now, even though our family doesn’t look like what I pictured it would look like now, I would have it no other way. This once supposed dom-top is now, and I guess always ways, a full and proud slave who serves his Master in any way I can and at any whim he has.

A few weeks later, after some metal had been added to my dick and the titanium cage he designed for me was installed, I still had the Dom thoughts in my head, but never in front of my Master. He knew this, of course, and his idea was that, once I was trained, I could have my own slave or submissive, a beta slave, if you will. He encouraged me to seek out a slave of my own, with stipulations of course. I had to earn it through my training and then I had to tell him I was ready. It was very similar to a kid asking for a puppy. I know that if I had a slave it needs to be watered, fed, taken outside to use the bathroom, and properly trained, as well. To even consider this, Master had to know that I am responsible enough. Likewise, it had to be an ownership approved by my Master. Ultimately, my beta slave will be of service to me and will be my responsibility to grown him like my Master has grown me. That said, Master always will dictate over both and my slave and his rule will always stand above mine. My beta will likely never see me orgasm, which will be fine, mostly his days doing that would be over too, likely for years at a minimum.

After some discussion and a few chance, well maybe not, encounters. I have found said puppy and, ironically it is someone Master already knew. He fits the bill and we have invited him into the family – whatever that will mean, we will see.

This is that part where I usually tell you just how fucking amazing my Master is, but it goes without saying.  He is my number two, as you know (number one at times – you know, when the kid is with his Mom), and I absolutely fucking adore him. If it can get better than that, he wants me to be completely me and every part of me. That includes a new beta slave to train for myself and ultimately service to my Master even more completely. He owns me, every part. That makes me proud to call him My Master, my boyfriend, my best friend. It makes me swoon, it makes me hurt (the good kind). It makes me proud to say he owns this slave. I hope that my Master is proud of the training he has given me. In turn, I hope he is proud to see how is training is guiding me to train another slave for service.