Caging the Whale

Today’s post is brought to you by a giant penis. A giant penis that, this week, perilously tried to escape its steel through extra blood flow, pure resistance, and an affinity for cold. However, through a bit of magic and bit of politics, I was able to render control and said penis is currently locked away where it belongs.

While I would be stretching the truth if I didn’t say I wish my own penis was that size, this particular one belongs to my friend, alco, and I was entrusted by him, his husband, and Chris from Steelwerks to deliver and install his new Tiffany cage. While I loved this thought and knew it was an honor, there was a part of me that was a bit nervous as well because it’s an expensive piece of metal to just go gallivanting about the country with and, two, installing on someone else is not anything I have done before as I often have enough issues on just myself.

So, a bit on alco, one, he’s a gorgeous guy mentally and physically. He has been with his husband over 20 years and, while they are open to him exploring his submissive side by playing with guys in bondage, etc, they are not sexually open as far as overt acts, though there is understanding about the touching when needed as that just has to happen if one is to engage even in the fringe kink. Alco has been self locked for years and was most recently in a Steelheart, like Thumper’s – his chastity hero – for the last few years. His husband is open to chastity, but just doesn’t enforce it, so alco relies on friends like me and a few others to remind him of his place from time to time. He had always had a fantasy about having a cage locked on him without his choice, so when his cage was ready, we concocted this plan where the finished cage would be shipped to me and we would meet in New York (he lives close and I was working there) for his installation. He did not want to see the finished product beforehand, so we agreed that I would not show him and Chris would not tweet the picture of it as he often does when finishing a piece. Finally, I had been thinking about the best way to do this and decided he would not get to touch or see it during the installation process, so I stopped at Lowes and got some heavy duty zip ties and he was instructed to bring the thickest hood he had (and a pair of scissors).

(note: I am unable to post the pics that go with this post on WordPress, so please click this link to see. Warning: very NSFW)

So, fast forward a few weeks and the day arrived. I had some work plans in NYC so I was able to get there and get a nice room but, when I walked in, I realized it was tiny and there were not a lot of bondage options, so I decided that when he arrived I would lock him in the large shower and then be all set for icing him down if needed or more. When he arrived, he came in, stripped as instructed and waited for me to decide where to put him. He was plugged as also instructed (no real reason aside that I like it) and locked in his Steelheart. Now, alco is a tiny man, maybe 5’8 and maybe 140 pounds, so I tower over him in height, width and strength. I loved that fact and quickly enveloped him from behind and walked him into the shower where I backed him up against the stability bar and proceeded to use the ties to secure his hands behind his back and to the bar. He was now locked in place and mine, though I needed to first go install my own Steelwerks cage (I’m not wearing it as much these days) and I wanted him to stew a little bit.

So, after a bit, I walked into the shower, used his Steelheart key and popped the cage off of him as well as his ring and PA. What greeted me was a monster of a penis that was rather shocking but very visually appealing and, I have to say, it was happy to see me. I had suspected that we would have trouble getting him flaccid enough to be able to install the cage, but this was going to be real work and, apparently, he was also enjoying himself even though he could not move or see. So, I iced. I used so much ice I had so I had to go out of the room and get another bucket full (though it was right across the hall and I didn’t shut the door) while dumping the remainder in the floor for him to stand on. He hated the ice. HATED it, but apparently, that hate also fueled a fantasy because the boy was harder than ever. I decided to heat him up and turned on the water as hot as it could be (big shower, it didn’t touch him), shut the door and let him heat for awhile. When done, that helped and he was soft enough that I could install the ring and the cuff, though it was now 200 degrees in there and I was a mess. All was looking good until I grabbed his dick and, well, my damn magic touch worked again, and, in the words of Ashford and Simpson, he was solid as a rock.

So, then:

We talked about vaginas. Nope.

We talked about women having babies. Nah.

We talked about dead puppies. Nada.

We talked about naked old women. More (I think he has a secret fetish).

We talked about something I can’t share that is disgusting. Nope.

And, then, FINALLY, after what seemed like hours, I found the absolute magic phrase that I am sure has caused many an erection to wither and die:

“What do you think about Donald Trump’s presidency?”

I kid you not, that boy’s erection died within seconds and I was able to swoop in and put the cage on and lock it before he even had realized what I had done.

I cut him off the bar and walked him, still hooded and hands behind his back, to the office chair where we video’d his reactions. I first cut his hands loose and let him feel his new penis. He was giggling he loved it so much. I let him explore a bit and then, also filmed me saying “take your hood off” and I had the pleasure of watching his reaction to what is still encasing him days later without a single removal. It was a weird combination of hot and sweet that makes it hard to describe.

For me, this was not a sex event and, even though I did take my pants off to take a few pics with him ( I mean, when in Rome) it was a very Daddy like feeling for me as I got great pleasure in helping him get a new dick and then in installing it on him.

It’s one of those things I doubt I will get to repeat in life, but my open to kink streak now has one more check mark.

Kink and the Career Ladder

So, here we are, winding down the year and I just finished my second to last work trip of the year (Axel and I are spending NYE in Montreal with Mr. and Mrs. Steelwerks, but that doesn’t count). Luckily I like where I am going next week and will end it with a fun encounter with my friend alco where I will have the pleasure of delivering, and perhaps installing, his new Steelwerk’s cage – which was sent to me specifically for this purpose.

Anyway, as I often do, I am making this post about the muggle side of myself as, right now, this side is suddenly at odds with the kinky side. I say this like it’s a bad thing, but, in reality, the battle that is raging is, well, pretty groovy because both sides are positive.

To get more specific, I think that most have come to realize that I am pretty competitive, especially when it comes to my crazy career. Admitting this is a new thing for me because I used to like to tell people I wasn’t competitive at all but that argument generally failed because I would have to stop the conversation in mid sentence so that I could race to beat the old lady to be first to board the plane (example only, peeps). But, professionally, I am driven and many years ago I designed a career path that would take me to the exact place I am now. Even though I really didn’t know what “now” would look like, I knew I would be just where I am, if this makes any sense. I planned this knowing I had a husband, since he’s been along for the ride the whole time, had aging family, and would not have kids. It was all in the design and I was going to rise from the bottom and go all the way to the top of the scale.

Using the scale as a reference, my goal was to be about 60-70% toward the top of my field by my mid 40’s and I reached 60% at age 44 and now, at 46, I am at about 65%. My plan was to go all the way, or as close to it as I could be in my 50’s and just do my thing until retirement. I was going to be the greatest and set the world on fire as I went. But, around 60%, I met Thumper who helped me start verbalizing and acting on my kinks, then, on the path to 65%, I started really “feeling” a lot of what my kink side wanted and started moving Axel toward that, and, now at 65%, my best friend makes chastity devices for a living and every day when we talk we discuss things that were never in my world prior to reaching this range. I never fathomed that my sexual self, especially my kink self, would  have such an impact on “me” which now leaves me wondering where the balance should be as it’s begun extremely clear that I do not want to lose what I have gained and only want more and more thoughtful exposure to these areas.

What has brought all of this on is the fact that I am on a cliff, of sorts, as I have a significant opportunity to grow to about 80-85% within the next few months (about 10 years ahead of my goals) and, for the absolute first time since grad school, I am not sure I want to take the next step because, damn it, I think I have realized that I am happy at 65%. I am finding a balance that is working and this balance seems to be getting better with each passing month.

For the record, I know this is a very nice conundrum to be in. If I stayed at the level I am professionally now, I make a nice wage that will slowly creep up but never jump, have reached a nice balance with my dick and it’s metal parts, have a nice semi-public position which affords me some anonymity, and travel four or so days a week which is grating but manageable. If I were to move up, the money  would be good, but the travel would be even more intense meaning weekends might be included, stress levels higher, and I would have a much more public role within the U.S. I know myself and how I am am one or two of those thing will fuck up the deal I have with my penis and likely limit new kink adventures because of the lack of time and focus.

When I weigh these things, like in many other areas, the penis wins every time which tells me my answer is a given and that I should stay where I am, which, again, is not a bad place. It’s the knowing I am going to be settled and may wind up at 65% close to retirement that is baffling me because it feels odd to put myself first in some ways like this (though, yes, I am very comfortable doing that in other areas). The funny thing is that I am already finding myself transferring that energy and, in my head, I am going to be at 47% kinky by April and 52.5% by June 2017, etc, etc. I have even drawn a flowchart about who to be around, questions to ask, and potential ways these people could network me within the community. But, the balance question is there too as those things can’t fuck up the other either which could create some fucked up hybrid of a suit, tie and latex hood in non complementary colors.

So, decisions are to be made which, you know, always helps the festive season.Oh, as for Axel, either is fine with him. Travel and career stress have been what we have built 18 years around and we will be absolutely fine whichever way I would go and, if I chose the u’ber kink route, he’ll be right there holding the leash right along with me.

Anyone have any tips on how you balance career and kink?

 

 

 

 

Sex on the side is…

When I have told a few friends about the fact that I have an open marriage and/or the fact that I have/had/have/had/____ a boyfriend on the side who is also in an open marriage, be it one of those odd male/female ones, the initial reaction I always, always get, is a comment, smirk, or something similar indicating jealousy about the amount, type, and frequency of the sex in which I must be participating (keep in mind those I would tell are already in a place with me where I know they would not judge).

However, they none of them are right.

See, sex on the side is sticky.

It’s hard.

It’s messy.

It’s complicated.

It’s all those things you want in great sex, really, except it’s not any of them at all.

Don’t get me wrong, when it’s hot it is fucking amazing and when the stars line up I can actually see them from the high it gives me. But, just like in any relationship, it’s a matter of perfect timing to make those things happen and, when those starts simply refuse to align, there is guilt, perceived anger, and, in my case, Mexican food and shopping.

Admittedly, the kind of sex on the side I want is what leads to this because I want feeling, emotion, and history. I am sure if I wanted anonymous encounters or the pretty “talk stupid to me” boys, it might be easier because it’s an on demand type of deal versus the plan in advance, buy an airline ticket, get a room, and cross your fingers way we need to do it while also keeping on with our muggle lives. I mean, it’s not like either of us can call our offices and say “please don’t email, call, or send vibrations of any kind because I will be naked for the next four hours”. Life happens.

Now, all of this is a huge lead up to the fact that I am sitting in the airport waiting on my flight after spending the day with Thumper. A month ago when the calendars were blocked and tickets purchased, it was going to be a day resembling pure, hard core pornography. Two weeks ago, the plan had shifted to more of a soft core pornography,you know, still naked and sticky, but with some reserve. Then, a week ago it was more like a Cosmopolitan magazine type of pornography as my cold and his work started making guest appearances. Then, at lunch yesterday, we discussed the fact that maybe we should go PG rated and be happy, though the hard core version was still in our back pockets.

So today happened. We had the best of intentions but as he walked into the room his son called with a crisis, then my boss emailed with a passive aggressive note that took my mind, and then we started talking about Trump and, with that, I lost my erection and it he had a dick he would have too. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t me. It was life and the guilt on his behalf of me paying to visit was compounded by the fact that I had said something in a tone that sounded like he should feel bad which made us both feel bad and, well, we sat in that amazing suite I had and talked about it even though we didn’t really have to. We each understood that it wasn’t a lack of interest in the other party, it was just a lack of timing and, when you only have one shot, there are not really many do over options. However, we luckily always have the friendship base to fall back on.

For Thump, as anyone who follows him knows, he ebbs and flows in his horniness having really high highs and some really low vanilla points. And, if you know me, you know I am pretty much always at a take it or leave it horny level myself, so this just makes timing a bit like playing the lottery and today our sexual numbers didn’t match those balls in that big cage thing they spin.

However, also like playing the lottery, we got one of those free card scratch off things and, despite the full lack of nakedness, we had a damn good day eating, people watching, and walking the Mall of America just talking like friends who care for each other, whether or not sex is involved. I never fail to learn something fun from him and he never fails to point that out to me.

So, for those hoping for a salacious story, sorry, but sex or no sex, my day was still better because of the fact we are both willing to play this complicated game.

However, as revised game play and since I usually have some wide options for last minute flights, we are going to wait until that high high starts next time and I am going to get on a plane and fly in just for a fuck. Or food.

No expectations.

Hello from the Land of Thumper. It’s cold. It’s snowy. And, for me, it’s cozy. I was upgraded to a nice suite at a nice hotel where I took yesterday afternoon off and just “was” – it was a put the feet up, wear sweatpants, take a bath AND a shower, room service kind of day and I could not have been happier with that. I was a day earlier than he and I planned, as that is just how my travel landed me, so Thump had to work but he and I were able to get away for lunch and a drink and just generally enjoy catching up because it’s been a really long time since we were able to do this face to face.

Today we are spending most of the day together and, for the record, there are no expectations of either of us as to what the day’s activities will be. We might fuck like rabbits, I might hurt every part of his body just cause I can, or, just as likely, we might go troll the mall and see a movie or shop for a new coat he said he needed. I don’t care and neither does he as it’s really nice to be at that place of no expectations which is a statement I cannot tell you I really would have thought I would say a year ago or so.

This is not really a revelation of sorts, but I was thinking about this last night as I was messaging with a “friend”, said in quotes because he has followed this blog and Thump’s for years but we have never actually met, talked voice to voice, etc, and I made a reference to Thump and I becoming boring, somewhat jokingly. He jumped all over me because he said that one of the draws to reading about us and/or caring about what happens with us is that we have portrayed a side of D/s that rarely is seen because, as much as having it might have fucked he and I up at times along the way, we have shown actual friendship throughout the lusty and the not so lusty moments, and that had given him great insight into the fact that D/s doesn’t always have to mean collared forever or just a blow and go. We discussed that we are likely very similar to many other people who play with the type toys we do while naked, but that is something not seen too often publicly, so we should remember that. He’s right, and it just made me look more forward to today, regardless, just simply because (on a side note, I did warn Thump that if we did play, he will remember it today because I am so in need of hurting someone I care about. But not harm. Never harm).

On a calendar note, Thump joked yesterday that he and I are nothing if we are not consistent because two years ago today we had a nice day together (nice as in he might still be sore) and two years ago tomorrow he took me to have a hole punched in my dick and I have pissed sideways ever since. Ah, the memories, I tell you. But, two years later I am happy to tell you that it’s about healed and the pain has almost gone away!  HEH, just trying to scare the boys who haven’t done it yet (read that twice Porsche), but, in reality, I am still so mother fucking proud of the fact I did it and the feeling it brings still makes me happy every day. Part of that is the sensual side of when an arousal happens, but the other is that mental thing we have talked about before of me just thinking that I am a bad ass mother with steel in my dick at those times when I just need a bit of internal encouragement when I am about to do something professionally or personally that intimidates me. The reality is the PA never hurt despite the vein it apparently hit and it healed in two weeks, but I build that in my head each one of those times when I need that “you can do it Drew” voice of reassurance.

So, happy anniversary Prince A. Here’s to more fun times ahead.

Fifth.


Friday morning I woke up, looked at the Twitter and saw that Molly’s Daily Kiss had just released the 2016 Top 100 Sex Blogger list. Being number 18 last year thrilled me and when I looked to open the list to see if I had made any place in the top 100, I then got a tweet from Molly herself telling me that I was number five! (and, fyi, my Australian girlfriend Ferns is number 1. Va Va Va Voom for her. I am sure it was the post where she kissed me that took her to the top spot)

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Number fucking five. I was thrilled and immediately started channeling Sally Field in my head with the “they like me, they really, really like me” moments which was then followed by the urge to call my mother just like in high school when I snagged that nifty top beta club award (don’t be jealous, peeps – #BETACLUBNERDSFOREVER). This thought made me laugh because, can you just imagine calling your parents to tell them you had just won an honor as a sex blogger? It was an “awwwwww” moment in my head because I did realize, yet again, I am a true Momma’s boy through and through and then laughed because, since my Mom has Alzheimer’s (yeah, we haven’t talked about that here since the diagnosis), I MIGHT have been able to tell her depending on the med cycle, but anyhoo, what a thrill that was and is. I am actually going to see her in a bit and who knows, I might actually tell her.

The number five spot preoccupied my mind Friday morning which was a morning where I had to terminate a millennial who “didn’t agree that there should be start times at work” which was then followed by a presentation to 45 people about something stupid. While doing that I smiled in my head and laughed because of all the things I consider myself to be, a sex blogger is not one of them even despite the fact there are picture of my penis on here and all over Twitter and my exploits with my husband and kinda sorta boyfriend/fuck buddy/kinky friend/anal slut friend (damn, it was easier when we just said bf). However, that is what I am and, fuck, does that make me feel good!!

So, to Molly, my official thanks again and to all of you, thank you for the kind words and for following my ramblings about life, love and work that sometimes get mixed with sex, chastity, and my forever quest to one day be comfortable naked.

And, finally, cheers to Ferns, Thumper, Mrs. Fever and all the others who work so hard at their incredible blogs!