It’s a rainy Sunday in the South and I am sitting on my front porch thinking about yesterday. And smiling. Grinning actually.
See, yesterday was just a Saturday like any other Saturday. We had chores to do and I had some errands to run – with closing up the estate of my parents it seems I always have errands to run – but the boy’s number one (his kid) had a camp, so he was able to spend the day with us. While this happens a lot, it still always feels like a special day when he is here. We spent the early part of the morning all over the city and the second half digging about the backyard before just being wiped out. The day was thick and with rain looming, it was one of those four shower days that If you have ever lived or visited down here, you’d understand why we say that as any movement outside makes you feel just gross.
After lunch, Ax was off doing his thing and I needed to so some work, so I decided it was time to store the boy away for a bit so I could work on some writing I was doing. I was feeling it was a hog tie day, so I had him get the massage table out so he would have a cradle for his face and then proceeded to use just very simple leather restraints to hog tie him while still being able to put him down for his “nap”. I went downstairs to get the laptop so I could just sit on the couch in the bedroom and work while being able to always keep an eye on him. Of course, deciding that I didn’t want him to have an eye on anything, I blindfolded him and, also realizing I enjoyed the quiet, I picked out a rather large leather O ring gag to keep him quiet while still allowing me to stick things in his mouth from under the table should I think I needed a place for my fingers or, if the two yoga classes I once took suddenly kicked in, my dick. Since I had to work, the gag also solved one of the cutest things my boy does – talk. I am not sure I have ever shared this, but jack is as country as a biscuit and nary a day goes by when a story doesn’t start with something akin to “when I was 8, my granddaddy put me on the tractor and said “boy, you need to go tend to those beans and feed the cows.” It’s adorably cute and one of the things that makes him who is he is, but it is not conducive to me writing, so the gag worked just perfectly. Of course, the other beauty of the county biscuit thing is you should hear the way his voice says “hey Daddy” when he sees Axel. Fuck. That is sexy. (I may have to record that).
Anyway, as I watched him relax, I started thinking about the week and the last post I had posted about how we had simply just “installed” him into our lives (and vice versa). Overall, the feedback was great and there were some very interesting comments, but there were three that stuck with me and made me do some thinking which has led me to discuss it more. I should specify that none were negative, per se, but they were certainly not positive either. So, selecting one out of the three, the following stands for all of them..
“I think it’s great what you have, but I feel sorry for the slave, though I understand this is something he enjoys so I am not judging. I just could never do what he is doing in serving a married couple because, in the end he loses”
Now, I know the guy who sent this and I know he didn’t mean it as negative as it sounded, but I thought I should say something again to clarify. We have never made any secrets about the fact that the slave is my number two and always will be. As of now, I am his number two as his child will forever be number one – but what I am not sure I have ever said here is that I hope to one day be number three – IF that is what the slave wants. See, I know I have the comfort and the security of marriage and all the acceptance and financial and social safety nets that brings, and I would like nothing more than for the slave to have that too. If he meets the right person along the way and IF and only IF he wants that then I want him to have it. I don’t worry that the right man for him would have to understand his desires and place in this current triad, but we will cross that St. Andrew’s Cross when we get there. As the slave installation was starting to take place, we talked about this a lot and, at that time, he did not want anyone else and didn’t expect to ever want it, so we went forward. As for the protections and the like, we are still a bit early for everything to fall into place, but he will always be protected in the future should something happen to me and Axel, and he is already included in my ADT Alarm Family Emergency Call List (if you are reading this, jack, and finding this out now, don’t be getting all big headed). So, while my friend “could never serve someone married” I get it, but I also want him to know that the things that cause his concern have been addressed and not taken lightly.
So, after thinking about all of that, and then seeing a bottle of Mr S silicone lube in the bathroom, I decided that I was done with the serious side of the day and had a little fun, followed by Axel having a bit of fun, followed by me allowing the slave to either spend another hour as he was before being untied OR giving him an hour to play with my dick however he wanted in and out of wherever he wanted (my actual dick, not his that I own. It’s not Christmas) in exchange for having to carry the largest plug we have for 24 hours, something that still pushes his limits.
He smiled, knowing the choice he had to make was hard, but as my dick waved in his now un-blindfolded, yet still gagged face, he looked at me and chose…