I am in Australia with my friend Mack and this morning, over our what felt like 12th coffee, we started talking about his quest to find a Dom and some of the struggles he faces. What we fixated on can be about kinky and vanilla hookups, but it’s all about the presentation. For him, he was discussing a recent opportunity he had where there was this Dom that said all the right things to him, pushed his buttons in many ways that he wanted them to be pushed, but what he could not get over is that every picture the guy sent was from his home that was either filled with trash in the background, or had things like broken window blinds displayed that showed just years of neglect.

This guy was not looking for a slave for such things either, but in Mack’s case, he said he was completely turned off by this and that he knew, even if blindfolded, he would not be able to focus on the Sir knowing what was around him. Now, in full disclosure, Mack is a bit anal and every time I stay with him I try to only sit in one chair without anything breakable, scratch-able, dent-able near me, and he always seems to be cleaning something, but I think he was completely right in this situation because, in my mind, if a Sir can’t take care of what’s around him and/or doesn’t respect his actual property enough to treat a sub as such, then why would one want to submit to that?

In the reverse, on recon, I have watched a formerly owned slave whose Master died a few years back begin his search for a new Master. This slave is hot. He’s built. He’s pretty. And he’s been owned for about 20 years so his entire adult life has been in service, BUT, almost all of his pics from the last five years show him in a house that looks like a hoarder lives there. Now, that may have been his late Master’s choice or maybe the slave is a hoarder, but in his text he prizes himself of being an excellent “domestic servant”, then I would think he should clean a small corner of the room to take his naked, chained pictures, wouldn’t you?

But, maybe I put too much weight on the presentation but I feel that even the best looking human can be ruined by a bad background, but is that just me?

Back to Mack, he ultimately didn’t meet the dirty Dom and decided that his head would not allow him to do so, and I can’t blame him, but can you? (He’s still single, Sirs!! – message me for pics).

On another note, tomorrow Mack is joining the PA club and I get to escort him to do it. If he let’s me take pictures then I will document it here.

Welcome to the Southern Hemisphere. I have one hour and forty-two minutes before I land in Australia where I have a four-hour layover before heading to a four hour flight to New Zealand. This flight left from Dallas and is a bit over 17 and a half hours long. I do okay on them, but the last two hours on the plane drive me insane and makes me miss WIFI terribly.

There have been some significant movement on the kinky home front but, like usual, just as Ax and I get going, lightning strikes and things get wonky. When last we left off, Ax and I had just returned from Hawaii having really connected but ending our trip with what turned out to be e-coli that we suspect came from tainted water on the zip line tour. That trip was amazing, but I have to tell you that when you share one hotel bathroom with someone equally as food poisoned, we saw and did things in front of each other that in twenty years we had not done together. Oddly, that forced closeness, as disgusting as it was, opened up some blocks we had let be right in the middle of us, which cannot work in a bdsm relationship (even a light one) so maybe that is a good thing.

And then, eight days ago, lightning actually did strike at 7:33pm on a Sunday night hitting our house squarely on the top end of the back gable causing a small fire that only burned about three feet before the rain apparently put it out. However, before or during that, as we stood there petrified with the hair on our arms standing up straight, sparks randomly burned places down the length of the entire upstairs ceilings, all the light fixtures exploded, the thermostats shot off the wall, and our new HVAC systems burned up. Basically, if it was plugged in, it died. So, after getting power and air back, the past week has been like Christmas getting everything ordered, delivered and now Ax is left to have to deal with the installs and the house repairs. I feel terribly guilty, but work is work. Now, the best part of all of this that the longtime readers will note is that THE DISHWASHER DIED. Yes, the expensive German machine that we could not justify replacing just because of the terrible beeping, beeped its last beep on Sunday at 7:33pm.

But, now to the good stuff, over the last few months, I have been fighting with the duality of my kinkiness way more than I have ever cared to admit. It’s funny to think about because these fights and struggles have not been when I am naked or even sexual, but more when I am driving down the street, sitting in a meeting, or just doing me things. I am mad at that dual side because it would just be so much easier to just be a sub or a Dom and own it, but it’s not who I am. In my mind, I think that because of the Dom side being present, I thought I could never fully embrace my subiness. This, in the past, was further exacerbated by the fact that when I was playing with Thumper, he couldn’t hear about my sub-side so I packed it away and never wrote in the blog world about this. Now, he and I are still close, especially when he is horny, but I don’t think he’s read one of my posts in a year (exaggeration), so I figured that rule will be ending.

While this has been happening with me, Ax seems to have finally found his dominant voice and has been more forceful. He has been setting and enforcing some basic rules (though those go away when you have a house full of work people) and we are getting past some of his issues that kept him from taking that control he really wants. This has been a good thing in so many ways, but even though it may mean my dick is locked up more or that my ass is red, I am really happy that he is finding comfort in this.

As an example, one of the things that he gets tired of with me is that I never stop working. It’s not that the work piles up more and more on the times at home, though it could, but my focus is really bad when I am home because there are so many things I want and need to do in my real non-work life. On Sunday, Ax asked if I had done my expense reports and other weekly things I hate and, when I said I had not, I soon found myself naked at the desk with my ankle locked to the leg until my work was done.  When I finished, he led me upstairs to our smoke-stained rooms where he decided I needed to be groomed a bit before my trip and hooded me, tied me, and got the clippers. These are the new Axel moments and, since I helped build them, I am going to celebrate them with him.

Now as for the chastity, we are going to try something new where I have committed to stay locked (aside from a few special circumstances) for a minimum of six months. Now that doesn’t mean I will be orgasm free since he really likes it when I do that, but it will be an interesting measure of control that I am looking forward to. He bought me a Holy Trainer V3 for “those days when I don’t deserve a Steelwerks” so his mind is racing in many good ways, though now I have to wonder what will cause me to not deserve the Steelwerks!

Anyone want to stay locked with me till January?

Hello from the last stop on mine and Axel’s vacation as we have one more flight and then we will be home. The trip has been probably one of my favorites ever because we were both relaxed, we both put out of office messages on our work emails, and we had made a pact to each other before going that this would be a trip of firsts and that we would do whatever we could to challenge our existing mindsets on various things from heights to sex to whatever else hit our radar.

First, we wanted to challenge ourselves mentally and physically. Mentally, I have a ridiculous fear of heights and physically, he has never been the same since the accident and the hip replacements. So, since we were in this amazing Hawaiian jungle, he decided that we should try zip lining as a way for us to use one activity to meet both goals. Now, Ax being Ax, I am not sure if he read all the options or just chose the first one, but he picked this amazing course that was nine zip lines that stretched over eight miles and included, what we didn’t know, several places where you had to clip yourself into harness and literally hoist yourself up to the platform. My triceps are STILL angry with me. But for him he realized he could do some of these things again and the smile on his face was infectious. For me, I realized that I was still terrified of heights but that I knew I was protected and by the seventh of the eight lines I could feel myself start to relax and enjoy it (that’s not true, by the third one I was allegedly smiling as I hurled myself down a steel cable thousands of feet above a jungle) original-22But, we did it, bought the T shirts, and went immediately back to the hotel for a very long shower and then nap.

The second thing was Ax’s desire to get me to settle and relax for one whole day without working while also stepping outside my normal. This was accomplished by a rented villa by a hotel pool where he made sure I had plenty of shade and that the Diet Coke was flowing, the chastity cage locked on tight with him having the only key this trip, and a large world’s most comfortable plug up my ass for the duration of the day.  If you know me, you know that I am a ginger and my people tend to catch on fire in direct sun, so I was shaded and happy as he went in and out of the pool coming back to tease me about my current state over and over again.

The third thing was something that even surprised me as he had been talking to a pro Dom in Honolulu and he set up a 120 minute session for me to have with him so that I could have whatever experience I wanted to have with him.  At first, I was not happy about this at all, but he let me message him and we talked and liked him, but it turned out he was less a Pro Dom and more a kinky massage guy that liked to do bondage massages, so I thought that could be fun and to see how it progressed (plus, my triceps were still killing me). The appointment was made for the next day and all was good.

Dude was coming to us and Axel was going to stay downstairs at the pool because he wanted me to have the fun and the experience. However, when dude got there, he was this highly intelligent, polished middle eastern man (ironically with a tiny penis) who started acting like a couples therapist. He asked why Ax wasn’t there and I told him, but he said to text and invite him up. I was not wanting sex with this guy as that whole stranger danger thing can never leave my mind, so he gave me this amazing massage and tied me up as he did it. By this point Axel was upstairs and naked and happened to mention to him that we had never done a threesome, something that apparently bothered him more than me as I have never cared about one, so dude went all dom on Axel and demanded that he remove my chastity cage. I was actually quite happy about the state of my locked self so I was hoping Ax would say no, but he didn’t, and as we have covered many times that is my the locked guy’s choice to make, so he decided he would. Now, if you have been around a Steelwerks device and the tiny locking S screws, you will know that the unlocking is not this dreamy sequence where the key is popped out, the lock turned and, with a thunderous sound the mighty penis is released because in reality it is this naked man trying to find his glasses and maybe a flashlight to line up the little bitty S on the little bitty screw head while also holding the PA bar to try not to pinch the locked man. Axel has always been squeamish around installing/uninstalling my PA or so this just adds to the scene that was going on all around me. I thought about screaming and jumping hard just for kicks, but I knew Ax would lose and likely never find his erection again, so I decided to enjoy my bonds and just wait. However, waiting was what I did because the scene somehow turned I was cuckolded because the two of them started going after each other and left me there to watch.  I was invited in later, but not being able to move made that choice a bit hard, but I was enjoying the voyeur role and decided to shut my mouth and stay there. All in all, it was an experience and, while interesting, likely not one I will do again as my stranger danger warning system is just too deeply installed in me.

So, in keeping with our thing of trying new things, for the last three days we were ditching the resort and had air bnb’d a treehouse high up in the jungle on the North Shore of the island. Now we are not campers and have no outside adventure spirit in us, but it was a fully contained and we thought would be fun. In reality the views were beautiful and the cabin was okay, though it lacked a TV, more than two lights, had a twin size bed instead of the king advertised, and if you were more than 6′ tall, which both of us are, you had to walk around stooped over. The minute I walked in I thought “um, what have we done” and that statement turned into the “what THE FUCK have we done” at 2am when we woke up with a lizard in the bed which was then followed by a giant roach falling onto Axel’s chest. So, the next morning, well, as soon as the sun shone and we could make it down the hill, we threw caution into the wind and used membership reward points to book this amazing resort we could never have afforded for more than a night for two if we had our rational minds.

Excited about our decision and the daybed package by the pool we pre-purchased, we found a lovely food truck area and decided to have breakfast before heading to a few beaches and then making our way around back to Honolulu for the resort. The food was so so and not anything you’d really remember except for the fact that about three hours later I started to feel really queasy but Ax was fine. I had this horrible headache suddenly and felt like I wanted to throw up, but I did my best to hide it from him so we proceeded to the new hotel. We checked in, he went to the pool, I showered, he swam, ad I then began a frenzy of vomiting and worse that would continue for at least 20 of the next 24 hours.  I didn’t text Ax cause I just wanted to go to bed, but he came up to the room and laid down beside me before he suddenly turned green and “had that look” himself.

Now, something to know about me and him, but mostly me, I hate talking about anything bathroom related. I never liked poop jokes, I shut the door (and often lock it) even when I am home alone or in a hotel room. We don’t talk about such things and I blame my WASPY mom. But, this room we had was one of those trendy bathrooms that are usually beautiful and made for people who love each other as they are all glass and have shutters instead of doors, etc. They are not made for two people who are ill and Ax and I broke new ground around 2 in the morning when I graciously moved from the toilet to the shower to vomit so that he could have the toilet. It was so disgusting and we both just “wanted a mom”, so I texted Mrs Steelwerks who, while younger than both of us, has such a caring way about her that I knew she’d make us feel better. Morning came and we were dead and had 10 hours to feel better to get our flight. I was feeling better since I started earlier, but poor Ax just wanted to sleep and had the chills and shakes so bad I felt horrible making him load into the rented Volvo to head home, but we had no other flight options and it would have cost a fortune, plus really fucked with my job, if we had stayed.

The first flight was nine hours and since I used points we had the flat bed seats where I think I slept 90% of it like I never had. Ax was behind me and I think he did the same. We were lucky that there was this amazing attendant on board who said “food poisoning?” and she brought us crackers and Sprite and scraped all the “stuff” off the meal to get me just a chicken breast too (that experiment did not go well, fyi).

We are on the second flight now which is a tiny plane, but he’s still behind me and I am waking up, but he’s still really green, so I am hoping a nap at home will be very much the trick. I have to be on the west coast for a lunch tomorrow, so I hope so too (though I can cancel if needed).

So, here’s to a great trip full of the one of a kinds.


It’s been about three months since I wrote about the Crucible 2.0 and what a wonderful device that it had been in my six or so weeks of ownership. However, at that point I was still struggling for words on how to describe it as it was just the “perfect chastity device”. It’s been about four months since then and I have spent a considerable amount of time locked in it, so I feel like it’s the time to write a follow up, long term review.

Have my feelings changed about it? Yes, but in the unexpected way of going up, because, THIS IS THE PERFECT CHASTITY DEVICE, but only for those who are ready for this. Axel and I are on vacation in Hawaii and I have worn the cage the entire time but, unlike any other cage I have ever worn, including the Schandmaske, I honestly do not even realize it is there until I have to piss or when a troop of hot lifeguards walk as it does it’s job by significantly restricting erections. In fact, over the last few days I have been wearing board shorts and/or running shorts exclusively and, as the rule with both, they are designed to be worn without underwear or a jock (fun fact, locals mock those with a visible underwear band beneath their board shorts). The shape of the Crucible allows it to look like my dick should an outline be seen, so when leaving the pool or the ocean, I just look like a very endowed kind of guy and I really have no issue with that. It’s just becoming part of me, what I suspect is the job of some of the best devices out there.

My question to all though is that if you don’t feel it are you still being controlled? Yes, I know the literal answer is yes for when it is on there are no orgasms, are weirdly shaped erections, and a painful restrictions, but I mean when life is just happening. As I walk down the street without thinking a thing in the world about my penis, is that chastity? Is the fact that this fits in my pants without looking obvious also chastity? Yes, yes, I know the answers to this are yes and, in fact. the answer is that it’s likely the best chastity because a man could be locked forever in this without having to really ever think about it, but the lack of thought, the lack of worry, and the realization that it just is what it is is indeed a bit unsettling. But, I mean this in comparison to the traditional devices that, even when comfortable, you still pretty much know with every movement that it is down there and that someone might hear you rattle a bit. I mean, in that situation, the one with the metal or plastic dick always knows their place, always knows why they are locked, and always knows that they have no choice. This usually means that they will be aroused more often than not, which also increases the awareness of the device encasing their genitals. It’s a double edge sword. But a nice sword as well.

At one level, when one has been locked to the point that it is just part of life, do they still need the above feelings to know their place and/or why they are locked? I contend they don’t and, by that time are ready for a device such as the Crucible 2.0. These are my thoughts based on Thumper, Porsche, and various other people in my life who have metal penises too and who don’t need a great deal of discipline in their life to be submissive to their key holder, so are there more points of view on this? I would suspect that most dominants would have an alternate cage for those times when the discomfort matters (as an fyi, I have asked to have a scrotal cuff designed to lock to my PA for those days when I don’t/Axel doesn’t want that not so free feeling) so that frees up this Crucible for most other times I guess.

So, back to the Crucible 2.0. This cage is awesome in so many ways. It’s shaped just like my own dick, weighs absolutely nothing, and looks really great sticking out of a zipper while standing up to piss at a urinal. Yes, it’s an investment, but when I talk to most of my friends about what they paid for their spouse’s wedding bands, this is generally less than half of that (unless you go for the diamond encrusted Crucible 2.0 – coming soon) and I guarantee you it would get you more attention than a silly ring at any bridal shower anywhere! Steelwerks is now also making this one with a locking cock ring base as well for those of you who are not pierced or who will miss that particular attachment point.


I have said it before, but it’s worth repeating, that the Crucible 2.0 is as close as you can get to your own dick, but without all that personal control so many of us have fucked up at through the years.



Hi from the sky, like usual. The unusual is Axel is sitting beside me as we are off on a nine day vacation to the islands in the Pacific where we hope to do nothing but reconnect and relax and just be. The miles and points are a perk of my work travel, so it’s always fun to take him on an adventure and treat him like a rock star every now and then for putting up with my weird life. We packed what seemed like the whole toy chest with us too, which usually means one of will get sick, sunburned, or pissy in that “we jinxed it” sort of way, but we do have the best laid plans to get laid many times.

Anyway, the gist of this one is another parent story. If you have been reading me through the years you will know that I have one of the most sex positive, amazing mothers who never failed to say the right thing when I needed it. Unfortunately, through this blog, you have also seen the decline as she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s about three years ago and the disease is now rapidly taking her amazing brain away from us. That’s tough because I miss those incredible talks we would have and I tend to grieve every now and then on Sundays when I get in my “brand new car” (I got it in November but every week she thinks it’s new) on the way home from my weekly, when in town, visits. But yesterday I didn’t grieve at all because I was laughing too hard. If you remember, my mother has said many things over the last few years that have led me to believe that I come from a kinky, somewhat polyamorous couple (the “your Dad always loved a good threeway” Christmas conversation comes to mind) and the disease keeps letting her reveal just a bit too much which makes me laugh yet cringe but always sends my 81 year old father down a path of something that makes him turn white, red, and a bit purple all at the same time.

So yesterday morning when I visited I was met by both of the parents in the driveway as they were just sitting pretending it wasn’t 180 degrees outside. As my Mom marveled over my new car and wondered why the dealership would have delivered it so dirty, my Dad, wearing the famous Nasty Pig hat that he borrowed from my house when I went home and immediately fell in love with the fit  (he still has no clue what the NP and pig tail on it means), ushered me into one of this three lawn-care garages to look at his new lawnmower. What I should say is my Dad lives for grass and always has to the point that every other year he gets a new lawnmower that, at points in our lives, was more expensive than the car he was driving. It’s his thing and I love it for him especially because I was never asked to mow the grass when I was a kid as it was 3 acres and he wanted all the fun. It’s like me and German cars. I get it.

So, as he showed off this prize the first thing that hit me is the series or the name of it as my Dad, the Nasty pig wearing elderly apparent kinkster, is now cutting his grass and all the other elderly ladies grasses on his street on a bright orange machine called “The Bad Boy 747cc” with a cut out for the muffler right below the logo saying “HOT”. Now, this is just funny to me in that now every time I see someone cutting grass I will have to wonder if they are a bad boy like my dad,  but it didn’t stop there. My mother, who had been somewhere else, wandered in when I was teasing my Dad about his bad boy status and, no longer really aware of many current vibes, heard me call him by that name. I thought we would all laugh, but somewhere deep inside she had a memory or something and looked him square in the eyes and said “you know what we do with bad boys in this house, don’t you _______”. While she could have been meaning he didn’t get his morning cookie, I was wanting to die a bit but, luckily, no more so than he was. Of course, the way the disease works is that she was completely past that moment in an instant and the now awkward conversation quickly changed into how much food to give Stella while we are gone and which plumber he thought we should call for a leak we have.

Never having two sexual bombshells in the same week I think Dad and I (and now my sister who I IMMEDIATELY text when something like this happens as pay back for being mean to me as a child) felt we were safe and just went about doing things in the yard and the garage. He had the new Bad Boy out and wanted to show me something about how it pulled and sent me to the garage to get a length of chain, he was sure was hanging on the wall. I didn’t find it and was about to give up when Mom walked in and asked what I was looking for. I said exactly what I was searching for and without missing a beat she said “Oh, go look under your father’s side of the bed, he used to keep some there”.

That was it. It was all I could stand and after quickly texting my sister again, you know, cause I could, I retreated to the safety of my new car and tried to block my mind of the images, the bold and bright and horrible images, that were swimming in my head.

Later in the day, though, I started smiling about it, as I still am, because regardless of whether these things are true or just something she is making up in her head (like telling me my Dad is making her ride in the very back seat of their van), I do sense that they had a good sexual life together for the last 60 years whether always together or with the occasional guest stars. That makes me proud in many ways, but also I hate they had to hide it, assuming they did.

The funnier thing is wondering how much of who I am now is genetic or environment (the kink, not the gay) or if it’s just happenstance? The Duality part of me I have no doubt was a learned behavior as if they were doing any of what we have mentioned, they did it around the Country Club world we lived in most of the time (unless THAT is where they had their fun….hmmm. All those years I was left in the pool for hours now makes me wonder) and they each had very successful careers that also apparently didn’t interfere.

So, maybe I did learn from them, but do we think kinky genetics are a thing?