Note from Drew: Another post by boy Jack. Stay tuned for some design changes which should eliminate the need for this note.
Who’s a Good Boy? Spoiler alert – it’s me.
I’m sitting here during my supervised (via text, pictures and FaceTime) deep clean and soak of my titanium dick…. I mean, it has to be done for hygienic purposes, unfortunately… my mind wanders a bit. I forget how how sensitive this flesh dick attached to my body actually is, and I wonder if it always felt this way or not. Anyway, that is another topic that might require revisiting around Christmas some year.
Back to the supervision during my cleaning. Is it the supervision really necessary? Yes and no is the complicated answer to that. The supervision itself isn’t necessary. As much as I’d love to have an orgasm that I’m actually conscious of, it isn’t allowed without permission. That is permission that I have not been granted. You see there is something you might not know about me, but I am a good boy. My Master tells me that on a regular basis, so I know it to be true. Regardless of my status of being good or not, the supervision is required because the dick attached to me doesn’t really belong to me. I mean you wouldn’t let somebody else just do what they pleased with your exotic, one of a kind, sports car would you? Of course not. This other person just couldn’t possibly treat it the way you would treat it because it doesn’t belong to them. You might let them take if for a test drive, but I know damn well that you’d be in the passenger seat supervising said test drive, even if you know them to be a “good” person.
There is a connection to being a Good Boy in there somewhere. Just go with it. That term, Good Boy, carries a lot of meaning behind it. I hear that term often when my Master is pleased with me. I am sure that is no different from any other dom/sub or other such type of arrangement elsewhere. It is not anything that is necessarily extremely unique or new. All three of us have a mutual friend who is a slave and he hears that term from me when he deserves it, and I am sure he hears it from Axel and Drew, too. It is a common term, but when my Master says it to me, it means so much more. When you are owned by someone like I am, it isn’t just a term of endearment.
You’re thinking, “Okay, you’re a good boy…..get to the fucking point.” When he tells me I’m a good boy (in addition to the swooning and attempted titanium stretching) I know several things to be true. In no particular order, I know that he is happy with me. I know he loves me. Inside the lock that he had made for my collar is an inscription that only one other person has seen besides Drew, Axel, and myself (and he made it). When he calls me good boy, he may as well be calling me by that name. It makes my knees a little weak, to be quite honest.
So here I am, with a Master who is happy with me and loves me, swooning, attempting to stretch titanium, and weak kneed, and I know just what I mean to him when he tells me again that I am a Good Boy and rubs my head. If I were a dog, you would hear my tail thumping the ground at that very moment (and maybe a bark of excitement. Given the timing of the term’s use, it ALWAYS helps to flip that submissive switch just a little bit more. It never fails to help get me in that headspace. In some way, it lets me be the owned pervert that I am and be accepting of myself, truly me- maybe for the first time ever. It also means that I am unconditionally accepted by him. Drew knows me unlike any other person on this planet. There is a lot to be unpackaged here, and yet he still unconditionally accepts ALL of me <insert swoons, titanium stretching, etc, etc).
The point of all of this? I am a Good Boy. I love it when he tells me so. It means so much more than I did a good job. I means that I am cherished by my owner. It means that am free to be truly myself. It means that I am unconditionally loved , cared for, and accepted. It means that I unconditionally love, care for, and accept my Master and my Daddy. It reminds me of the bond Drew, Axel, and I have. It means, well, it means the fucking world to me.