As much as I’d like to say I’m perfectly adjusted and am the poster slave for easy going, low stress, no anxiety serviced focused living, you’d laugh if you knew me.
My Master travels a lot for work, sometimes more than others. The upside is he’s been on all seven continents and has worked all over the world. That is something that fascinates me about who he is and and part of what draws me to him because it makes him so happy. Going into this, I knew he’d be gone some (though not at all in the pre-pandemic level) so, the downside is, I miss him like hell when he’s gone. It’s not a bad thing, it just is. While he is out of town for work, we have a few things that keep us close together no matter how much distance is between us at times. Last Sunday was a day before he left, one I usually try to pay a bit more attention to him, but that day, a bit of a last minute family stressor put me in a foul mood.
Drew knew that, though.
As I walked in the door, he looked at me as said what’s wrong. As I changed into my uniform, I said nothing, “I’m fine”. He called to Daddy in the kitchen saying the slave is in a funk. “He’s all funked up”. As much as I tried to hide my foul mood, my Master saw it. I was ordered upstairs to get the spreader bars, the leather cuffs, and the ball gag. He said I needed “service therapy” and, as it turns out, I really did.
While I was bound, we discussed the reason for my funk, I massaged my Master. I I looked at his beautiful body and listened intently to him as we talked. I realized a few things that I already knew, but I think they’re worth repeating. I’m a a better man, dad, brother, son, boyfriend, slave, and best friend because of him. I’m a better pervert because of him. I’m better equipped to handle life’s stressors because of him.
As we continued talking, I continued trying to get closer to him. He tortured my nipples as we talked as he laid out a plan to help me cope with the afternoon’s muggle family gathering. Of course he will be with me. I carry my large plug when he is out of town or when I am at places he cannot physically be with me at. I do it, because it was ordered, but mostly because it acts as an extension of his control over me, he is essentially inside me. I can squeeze him to try to get closer to him. He’s huge and fills me full. It helps to relax me and remind me how loved and owned I am. When I do this, I know he will be with me, close to me, inside of me. In essence, having him inside me and trying to squeeze him closer to me, calms me and keeps me incredibly turned on at the same time. I’ll carry the large plug from then until he gets back from his work trip in several days.
I offer my nipples to him. He bites them, and it hurts. I am quiet, taking all of his pain. He looks up and grins at me. Grabbing the filled titanium tube, the contents completely owned by him. As he squeezes my tits harder and harder, he grins as I take all of his pain. He tells me how proud he is of me. How happy he is to see me take all of his pain. By this point, I’m lost in his beautiful eyes. I tell him how proud he makes me. How proud I am to be owned by a man like him, how proud it makes me to call him my Master. I tell him, “I love you Master, every fucking bit of you. You own every fucking part of me, inside and out.” I thank him for allowing me to take his pain. It reminds me that I am loved when I’m still sore the following days. To be clear, this is not abuse in the domestic violence way, but in a consensual “do it harder” kind of way.
This bond, this trust, this unconditional love makes us whole. I’ll be sore for the next few days as a reminder of this. I’ll carry the large plug to remind me until he returns from his work travels. I will squeeze him tightly inside me when I need a little extra reminder that I am never without him. Fuck, I know just how indeed lucky I am.
One last thought, as weird as it sounds, I’m glad I miss him. I have thought about the why is this and, I believe the missing part is an indication of things to come. I miss his presence, but I know he is coming back. What’s the point in missing someone who isn’t coming back? The missing part is good on some other weird level. It reminds me I’m owned by an amazing man who makes me a better man. My Master makes my knees weak, my titanium cage full, and all sorts of other things. He’s worth missing, he’s worth carrying inside of me when he’s gone, and he’s worth being greeted by a well trained slave ready to take his pain when he gets back home.
I had a conversation about dom/sub relationships with someone the other day. I’m no advice columnist, but I’m as much my Master’s slave as he is my Master. Are we equal? No. Are we unequal? Well, no. While I may be his chattel, I’m a man, made better by my Master. I’m proud to be made better by him, and in turn I think we make each other better men and better humans.