Yesterday was a holiday in the US and, unlike most similar days, we didn’t do anything – which was amazing. Yesterday was also a year since I met and collared the boy, so it was a nice day of sorts. Ax grilled and I did things around the yard while Jack spent most of the day attached to the deck and/or locked into steel spreader bars from Mr. S that I absolutely adore. One of my favorite pictures was taken by Axel yesterday of me rocking Jack on his knees while I literally held his head keeping him from crashing face first down. I thought it was a cool picture, but when I stopped to think a bit more about that, the trust that is shown I that one image, the strength he had, it blew me away. I knew the boy trusted me, I knew that I could be trusted, I knew he’d do anything for me, but it did’t really occur to me that I was saying “fall into me” and that he was doing it without a micro-second of doubt. It was everything I think about all just within one shot and, I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you I swooned a bit.

So, bondage trust games aside, I also had a conversation with the boy about what he has learned in a year, what he likes, doesn’t like, regrets, etc. I am big believer in questions like “now remind me again, why I am I giving you this spanking?” and the like to help engrain a message and to, well, make me harder.

His answered surprised me because, out of all of the questions, none of the answers really had anything to do with sex or BDSM, they had to do with life, with him, with his growth, with his future. When I asked him to tell me things about how being trained as a slave has changed him and what he’s most proud of, he said he was proud of his comfort with himself, his ability to find self worth in his fetishes, his ability to please others, his ability to be more focused, and, his ability to be a better dad. He said all of those things were things that he never thought about when he used to fantasize about being a slave, but that they were absolutely some of the best side effects he could think about having been a result. The fact that he said them while being bolted to a deck and unable to move at all was just gravy on top of the biscuit.

I could list paragraph after paragraph about the practical things he has learned is serving, in training, and in submission. Things like how he takes more and more pain every single session. How he can endure tighter, stronger, more severe bondage at my whim. How he knows when to strip, when to plug, where to shave, and where to touch me for the best result. All those things could be a rather long list, but I don’t see them as having as much importance as what he did list.

So, I think I will just leave it at that.

So I have said that I would write about the adding a third in a bit more detail, so here we go.

In Jack’s last post he described it as “perfectly imperfect” and, that pretty much sums it up. Jack was brought into this as my sub, my one day slave, and in doing that I had the support of my husband, Axel. This was something that had been talked about for years and even tried with Thumper, so we were good with this idea. Somewhere in our fantasy world I think we had always thought that if would be “cool” if the potential sub were to like Axel and if they could figure out a way to be around each other, but we never expected it. Also, with the way my travel used to be and the fact that we are in a small Southern city (that luckily still has power and is not drenched), we just always also assumed that said sub would be somewhere far, far away and only connected to me digitally while at home.

Then, we met the unicorn and encased his horn.

I am not going to go into the ways he fits and the math problems with who is two and three and one at times and what happens when one is subtracted from two and when he returns does that actually equal three as we have talked about that 103 times before. He imperfectly fit perfectly.

Axel and I have been together 23 years. A third just does not drop in and set up house without any issue. I was talking to a friend about this a few weeks ago and she was surprised when I told her that when we have issues that the issue rarely has anything to do with the Dom/sub or kink aspects of things but more the FOMO type things and the fact that even after a year we sometimes still feel we need to “entertain him” when he is in the house as if he were a guest rather than the naked worker or piece of art that he is.

I had always thought that a third would come in and they would be like candy to the primary couple. You know, something sweet, sometimes sour, but ultimately satisfying (and sticky) in the end. I always thought the primary two would have the “set” feelings and that the third would just be there for the ride and enjoying his time time before heading home to go about whatever the third would do when not with the two. I did realize that existing thruples had worked this out somehow, especially since they all shared a room, but I also always worried about the legal, financial and emotional sides of that and always worried that someone would not be represented. Of course, I really did’t give a fuck as much as the fact I was curious and I know that when the time comes to do the practical measures of protection we will just hire an attorney and get it done.

What we don’t talk about, even among ourselves, are the connections to each other and how surprising they are. Axel is the absolute love of my life and, at first, I thought sharing him or sharing myself would lessen that. It has not. He connects with Jack, but in a very different way than Jack and I connect. It shows and, while not a problem it’s also a problem. See ?The thing is, after 23 years together, that love gets comfortable, that love gets busy and that love generally goes to a deep place that is sometimes just so comfortable that it can be easily taken for granted. We had room to love a third one without changing that and, through a lot of fucking communication and some actual fucking, we did and still do.

THAT is the perfect part.

The imperfect part is that sometimes we act like 12 year old girls and get our feelings hurt when they don’t have to be. It’s never a big deal and it’s always unexpected, but I will fully admit that it happens to the both of us, even though I do like to think it happens to Axel more. An example I think I have used before is once he came home when I was fucking Jack. He trotted up the stairs, we saw him, and we immediately retreated and acted like we were in some 80’s movie covering our private parts and trying to get dressed. Anyone on the outside would have seen that and thought it was BECAUSE we were fucking and we were ashamed, worried we had broken a vow, etc. We have and had permission to do that but when I saw Axel’s face drop I wanted to run away in shame. See, it wasn’t the fucking, but it was the timing. He had had a shit day working with his suicidal teenage patients/clients and there we were, having fun. We could have been playing Monopoly in six layers of clothing while reading the Bible and would have felt the same, because it felt unbalanced. The reverse has happened when I am running through some airport devouring a bag of cheez-its and call to find out they are eating dinner and cuddling. The feelings don’t last more than 45 seconds before turning into a “awww, glad they are having fun” thought, but I will fully admit they are there. I think they will always be there, but it’s how we react to them that sets the tone.

I started thinking about it this way, when Jack is here, at our house, he is 100 percent here. WE are his focus. The thing is, he can never be 100% of our focus because of where he is and I don’t mean as a number three. I mean that when I am at home, the bills I have to pay are on the desk, the leaking pipe I promised to take care of but didn’t is dripping with my guilt, the neighbors come to talk, the dogs need my attention, etc. It’s the same for Axel and I am sure that sometimes when he sees me rock hard and smiling as I torment the boy, he can’t stop thinking about all that laundry to he has do while I play, or even worse, thinking that I would never just be sitting in the floor anymore dripping hard with him and that stings. The funniest part is that is 100% true, but not because of a lack of attraction in any way, but 100% because it is 4:55 on a Tuesday afternoon and we have 23 years worth of shit to do. Shit that we don’t put aside for each other anymore, yet we do for the boy. It’s not intentional in any way. It’s just fact. I absolutely do not want to change that time with the boy, and he is serving as an excellent catalyst for Ax and I to do better. To stop and enjoy each other more. But, to let each other enjoy the boy when we have the chance as well. Again, it’s the imperfect part of perfect.

When we tweet, we don’t show the imperfect parts.

When we write, we do.

In this space, I feel I have to share that if you ever think you want to add a third, real feelings are involved and real feelings have to dealt with at all times. I know some think we just dropped him in and the world was perfect. But we want to make sure we convey it is not, though some days it feels damn close. I still worry we are not enough for the boy and that he deserves a number one, but as we grow, I see he is getting exactly what he needs from us right now and that makes me harder than any porn would ever do.

In the end, it is three way growth for three people and time, patience, and a good paddle will make it all better as we continue to evolve.


Today is one of those days where I am just somewhat winging what I am writing. I have about seven things in my head I want to talk about but none of the seven have made me get up and go write specifically for that topic, so this may just be a Peter Griffin “What Grinds my Gears” type of post – except that none of the things actually make me angry. So, we will see.

Earlier this week I asked people on Twitter to direct message me any questions they may have for the boy, as people tend to have a lot of questions. He will do those early this coming week while he is somewhere waiting on his child to do something so he can then take said child somewhere else to do something else before finally taking said child home to get ready to do the next scheduled something. When I was a kid I resented those once a month etiquette classes I had to do, but aside from that my calendar was always pretty open. Anyway, the questions were good, mostly, a few were a bit too personal to respond to and some were just downright lazy. My favorite lazy one was “Read the blog constantly, now, jack, are you not the same guy as Thumper?” – I hope jack leads the next post with that one because I have never once thought they may be, but….

Two of the seven things in my head are about the connection to the boy and real life versus fantasy, as we have often discussed. I realize that we are writing about something very unchartered in many ways and that we can’t cover it all, but the intent has never been to make the integration of a slave into a good marriage look simple and breezy, as it is anything but that. So many people have said “thank you for showing us it’s both possible and easy” and while I respond with either a simple “thank you” or a famous, southern “well, bless your heart and thank you for commenting” I worry that I have painted the wrong picture. Sometimes. In reality, I am finding, is that polyamory is not for the weak, nor is it for the stupid. This is BEFORE adding in any level of power exchange. There are no rules and, once again, we wing it. Ax and I are planning a really nice trip to be away over Christmas this year. I was really excited until one of my actual muggle friends said, “what about Jack? how can you leave him home? or, are you and Axel allowed to do things without him?” I didn’t get into the fact that not only am I allowed, I am also allowed to make him stay home and do a list of whatever I wanted him to do all while sending in amazing pictures of sand, sunshine and sex, BUT, since I did not enslave Cinderella, I would never do that. However, it did make me have a talk with both of them about this, about being number two and about understanding the structure. Ax had never thought twice about it and, if jack had, he didn’t show it – nor would he want to be away from his family at a holiday (at least sub-consciously). It’s just one of the ways things are, how things will be, and, in my mind, if we all continue to discuss openly it’s the only way we can be.

On that same note, the sex and cuddle side and the like, as I have said, Ax is a comfort type of Daddy in this triad while I am the kinky sadist who you all adore. Even though there have been 1,786 talks about this stuff, when you come around the corner in the house to have your naked slave in the lap of your husband while he strokes his red ass and massages the slave’s shoulders, it’s just weird. It’s even more weird if they are both naked and touching. I will fully admit, what I thought was my jealousy side revs up quickly, though I have learned it’s more about my FOMO side and, even that, subsides within seconds and is never thought about it again. Of course, I know that is more than mutual as the look on Ax’s face tells a very similar story when he walks in on my on a zoom call with a naked slave tied under my desk or with him encased in something while enveloping my dick. I say that though, but the same look is there sometimes when we are on the couch having pizza watching Ted Lasso (oh, if you don’t watch Ted Lasso, you are so missing out). He’s always invited to join, but, sometimes the moment isn’t right. Now, as I type this, I think about how jack may feel being the passed around object, but that thought has quickly left me because, well, this is what he signed up for, his titanium penis is always hard, and it’s really not his choice anymore anyway, is it?

Number three is my head about fantasy versus reality is time. Now, this series applies to both muggle and slave life, but where, in the fantasy, do people actually find the time to do what they do. As a for instance, if the boy had a random day off (as he happens to have tomorrow), I fucking LOVE the idea of putting the boy in the cage for 8 hours and making him just wait there and reflect, but, I also fucking LOVE the fact that I own a slave who wants to make my life easier which means that, in between the times I have him under the desk, I am going to hand him a list of things that need to be done that he can do which, in turn, makes my life so much better. And, while I may not get the same sexual joy from it, tomorrow I have seven zoom meetings and two presentations to draft, so my sexual joy will pretty much be stymied when I wake up tomorrow. However, my mental joy will be huge knowing that, just an example, my luggage has been unpacked, washed, and repacked all before I leave my home office for the day. THAT is an understated joy of ownership, my friends.

Oh, and as I mention this applying to muggle lives as well. It is currently early afternoon on a Sunday as I am writing this. In about two hours I will start seeing Facebook or other posts titled “SUNDAY FUNDAY” from people I am friends with. This is not a one and done thing, but it’s every week after a week of “Taco Tuesdays” and “Wings Wednesdays”. I always give them that little heart thing, but when do they do their laundry? when do they write about their slaves and sexual cravings online? wash cars? watch Ted Lasso? when? It’s apparently something I am not meant to know, but if there are secret fairies running around doing these things for people, I wish I would know so I could put a collar on one and send them our way too. My non-fairy collared one could use the help!

This is getting lengthy and that list above reminded me I have work to do. More rants soon.

Also, if you have a specific question for jack, please DM on twitter, reply here, or add to comments.

Drew’s Note: Another jack post.

This morning, I had an orgasm…..or at least, in theory, I had one. Maybe.

The wet spot in the sheets and the white substance coming out of the hollow barbell of my titanium penis would suggest that I had one.  As the fogginess of waking up and that post orgasm haze mixed in my head, I was excited and confused.  Did this really happen? Oh shit, I had an orgasm!  Or did I? I felt disappointed, not because go what my Mamma always said about the fact that I’d go blind and always have misguided religious beliefs, but it was more.  It was my Master hadn’t given me permission to orgasm and did I just fuck up?

In the mind of a pervert of the locked, owned variety, this situation was quite a paradox.  I processed a few of these things in my mind because, well…because I had such mixed emotions over it.  I was disappointed, as it was not authorized.  However, it wasn’t intentional.  But as a locked slave, it made me fucking excited, maybe a little overly excited. Excited for two particular reasons.  I was excited that I had it.  This meant that I can have an orgasm without  my dick being touched.  For a person who gets super excited to see titanium encasing a dick he doesn’t own but is attached to every day, this is a breakthrough.  I CAN physically have an orgasm without physical stimulation of this dick I have.  Ultimately, that means there isn’t really ever a good reason that the Steelwerks has to be removed….I love that thought, and I don’t. It would be like having Christmas all year long, and who would want that?

Chastity can be a fickle bitch at times.  But damn, the thought that it doesn’t need to come off well, it excites me.

My submissive brain was highly disappointed.  I had an unauthorized orgasm.  I’m owned, every part of me, even my orgasms.  This meant that I had used something, stolen if you will, something that belongs to my Master.  It may be hard to fathom, but I felt bad about it.  So my next point of excitement was that although I had an orgasm that hadn’t been expressly permitted, I didn’t actually experience it.  So, I had an orgasm that I didn’t even feel or consciously experience, and THAT is what excites me?!  I guess that makes me a sort of  pervert of contradictions?

The first thing I did was message Drew to tell him about this event. After I sent the text, I thought he might have deliberately made me wait on an answer because I heard nothing. Not even a read receipt. I really thought I had fucked up. But rational me realized that not everyone goes to work at 4am and that if he did respond then we’d have bigger issues. So, I went to work and waited which brings up another point – I bet none of you have ever thought that the nurse in your operating room was preoccupied about whether or not they actually had an orgasm and, if they did, was it authorized or not. Just a guess, but next time, be warned – and waited. When Drew got up his response text to me was “good for you. you must have needed release” in that slave affirming tone he always has. He said I did not break a rule and that he is still planning on teaching me to come just by him blowing in my ear, so that is that. Damn, all that worry down the drain.

Now, should I tell him I got pulled over for speeding this morning?

Drew’s note: A boy Jack production below:

Drew and I had a conversation earlier about some of the responses we have gotten regarding recent posts. He’s addressed some of them perfectly, and we decided it was time for me to weigh in on my side of things.

Saturday was an amazing day. My Master recounts it quite well in his earlier post, and the physical marks and soreness remind me that I am owned (and loved). It is not uncommon for me to look back on these things and put myself into a super submissive place.  (I am sitting in the floor, naked, collared, and plugged with the largest plug we have for the next 18 hours and 12 minutes). That place often ends up with me telling both Drew and Axel just how amazing they are for me and all that they have done for me, probably to the point of sounding annoying. I read once before that slave’s have a need to fixate on projects. Looking back over my life, I do have a tendency to focus intently on a project for periods of time.  Maybe that statement is true.  Regardless, today I am focusing my energy on a little insight into my side of our relationship.  

Recently, someone randomly started talking to me about being owned.  The conversation was a little odd, considering I don’t really know them at all….literally nothing other than their screen name, and the guy was talking to me like he thought I was his slave.  I quickly shut it down.  I’ll show appropriate respect to anybody, but I have a Master and a Daddy that I belong to already.  The next question was, “Can we at least talk a little?” I may be owned, but I have been trained to have respect for myself, confidence in myself, and my Master likes me like that.  So, of course, I continued talking now that the tone had changed in this “dom.”

Basically, he wanted to know what I liked most about being owned, what the favorite thing was that my Master does for me, etc…  It was an easy answer, but requires more space and time than most would be willing to sit down and read.  My short simple answer was that my Master makes me better.  Although there are a lot of single things that he does that make my body vibrate all over and my eyes roll back in my head.  I know it breaks somebody’s heart that there aren’t any stories of how he treats me so horribly and degrades me.  I know someone’s eyes are rolling about our version of a Master and slave relationship.  However, it is just that, ours.  There are definitely times where I’m put in my place, times when I’m reminded that I’m owned, every bit of me, and times when I take his pain because we both need that.  My limits are pushed, and I know that he is proud, that fucking beautiful, titanium-stretch-inducing grin of his tells me so.

However, this is much more than the kinky fun stuff that is posted all over our twitter feeds.  That is a part of it too. The part most don’t see, is the part that makes this work for the long term.  It is the part where my service to him supports him and encourages him.  In turn, I get to sit on the furniture or in the front seat of the car on occasion.  Better yet, I get encouragement from him and support from him.  He builds me up to better handle the stresses of a sometimes crazy and stressful job.  Mentally, I’m in a better place than I have been in quite some time.  I’d love to give you some amazing “I’m a badass” and just know how to handle my shit story, but that would be misleading.  Truthfully, it is because I’ve got a Master who knows me better than probably anybody on this planet.  My submission to him with everything I have has truly made me better. The honest answer to the question about the one thing he does that I like to most is that he makes me better.  He does that in multiple ways and over time and day by day, but he makes me better. 


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…

Someone, in fact, three someones asked me about how I met my slave and how we seemed to have just “dropped him into our lives” the other day. While I did answer them, I also detected a sense of something I didn’t like about the way they were asking me, so I didn’t go into much detail. That made me start thinking and I thought I would share a more genuine update on the state of the state of the DD household based on the following general questions mixed inside a longer post:

What does summer look like in your house this year and how has enslaving the boy helped or hurt?

This week, I am supposed to be relaxing. I am supposed to be resting. I am supposed to be playing. But, in truth, I am having a hard week because those things don’t come easily to me. Never did. I think I was a six year old with a briefcase for my Legos.

Anyway, I am on a three week “forced vacation” because I have enough saved time and my company is making me use it. Well, they are not really making me and I need the time to get organized and refocused after the last year, but I still feel forced to relax. For those who don’t know, my husband and I each lost our parents during the last 13 months and lost our dog, Stella, a few weeks ago, so life is ever-evolving. By the way, this isn’t a pity post, I have had far enough of that, but this is just simply setting the scene about where I am in life and the fact I now have time to help merge three extra households (one set of parents were divorced) into one. The beauty of clutter, for me, is the fact that it actually makes me less sentimental and it’s super easy to toss Axel’s Dad’s things without nary a care – kidding, but seriously, things I cared so much for that I had to box and cart them to my home actually do feel out of place here and it’s a great way to purge and start fresh in some cases.

I am not sure why I said all of that except to give more of a peek into where things stand and how things evolve. The last 12 months have sucked in so many ways, but meeting and enslaving the boy has been one of the biggest blessings to help counter all the bad. In a weird, kinky, beyond life way, I think my Mother, who you might remember was quite the character herself in her quest to see if I was fucking Thumper, sent him to me and Axel in some weird way because, as we have noted, he is exactly what we needed and he showed up exactly when we needed him. Yes, I know it’s odd to think one’s dead mother sent them a slave as a parting gift (though she did always love beautiful ginger men) so, for the record, I don’t really think he was just vaporized here out of the blue, but I do think we sometimes put out an energy, of sorts, that, if received by the right person at the right time, can help bring people into our lives. The fact that mine ticked so many muggle and fetish boxes is a coincidence. However, the fact he is a former fireman and a nurse which did help a ton in taking care of Dad was just icing on cage.

Did you know you would own jack as soon as you met him? And, did you give him any choice? Did he fight slavery?

As I read the above I am already making fun of myself as it sounds like I need to go bury some crystals under the house for good things, but I said it as a way of helping understand how this man just dropped into mine and Axel’s life and how, within a matter of days, we had this sexual top, single parent, fireman, nurse, deep voiced Southern gentleman naked, collared, and bolted to our wall while I locked away his penis away. It was fast. It was right. And, it was amazing.

It was also disappointing because it was NOTHING like all of the porn I had read about how Masters and slaves come together and live their lives. I so want to tell you a story about leaving a trail of cock rings in the hospital parking lot, him following and then me locking him away for days, welding a collar on him, forcing him to be fucked by everyone who rang the doorbell – especially UPS men – it seems they are very popular in porn – but I am coming to the realization that it may never happen like that to me. THAT is why I am asking the boy to post more about what it is like for him and I plan to do the same on my side of the puzzle.

Now I know I may have a lot of people screaming at me about how a slave is property, has no rights, should not be loved, etc – I have Master friends who feel this way and that is okay (for them), but I could not own a man that way. I love my slave and, in fact. We have been through this and while it’s different than how I love Axel, it’s still love. That said, that love and my ownership doesn’t mean that he gets to keep all his rights because, I mean, he is a slave after all. When he walks in the door here, he strips, he brings me his wallet, his keys, his phone, and his inside collar and I put three of those things away in a place he doesn’t have access to and lock one on him. As much as possible, I strip him from his outside world and take away his rights when he is here, though he knows he can always ask for them back, with good reason – something he never has done. In fact, I think he would actually like me to take away more of them. He thrives like this and I found I do too. As the years ahead move forward we will grow this more and more.

Your boy often mentions a collar but it can’t be seen?

Oh yeah, he wears a collar that has not come off of his body since September but it’s not typical and there is a good reason you don’t see it. If you look closely at his right wrist you will see it, but it’s an ID typically used by runners and bikers as a way of identifying themselves and who to call for help should they have a crash. In this case, I do have it registered to me as emergency contact, but you don’t see it because the plate contains all of his private information and those are things we don’t share. The metal clasp was superglued shut and now it’s just part of him (it’s a latex band; however, and can easily be cut off it needed).

So, with that, it’s almost time for him to stop by on his way home from work and take his place under my desk. More soon.


Another post by boy Jack.

Today was a great Sunday. We spent the day at home – well, at Drew and Axel’s home, but they have told me to think of it as mine too. The three of us had breakfast together and worked on a few chores around the house. Then, at Drew’s whim, I spent some time tightly bound to a perfectly sized chair from IKEA bought specifically for this purpose (it’s spins, it has rails, it’s not very comfortable, you know, IKEA). Admittedly, my Master prefers faster methods of securing me, but circumstances of the day allowed the time for ropes and knots.  Also, he knows my particular affinity for ropes and indulges this slave from time to time. I like the slower pace of the ropes at times. It is as if I slowly give up control. I enjoy seeing the look on my Master‘a face as he takes more and more of that control from me. He has a look in his eye and a change in his demeanor as he contemplates where each rope should go and how it should be placed. As it happens, my titanium dick nearly explodes at times. Did I mention his grin?  Goddamn, it is beautiful. I enjoy seeing this until the blindfold covers my eyes, at least. After a few hours spent stored as an object on display in the front office and actually in the front window, we had lunch and finished a few more chores to clean up from last nights rainstorms. 

My ass returned to white a few days ago and none of us like that, so I needed a little touching up because, well, we all  needed it for multiple reasons. Honestly, I enjoy the pain, to a degree. Other times, I crave it. Today was one of those days that I craved it. I got every bit that I could handle. Spent physically with my senses heightened, I could feel my straining titanium still pulsing with each rapid beat of my heart. I had a familiar tingling of an orgasm in parts of me that haven’t experienced that in quite some time now.  If I could have willed an orgasm without any direct stimulation in my Steelwerks, today would have been that day. A full body shaking explosion of an orgasm…at least that what I feel like would have happened, if it had happened. But, it didn’t. Today is not Christmas.

Something about being an owned slave with a dick that doesn’t belong to me anymore is that the orgasms of my Master are that much more important to me. I, in a sense, feel his orgasms as an extension of my own, in some amazing yet denied way. I know the feel of his body, the pace of his breathing, the increase in his body’s heat production, the difference in his rhythm, and change in his smell and taste as he nears closer to climax. My brain always enjoys this. My body always enjoys it as well. It is as if I’m nearing my own orgasm, except not, as he nears HIS orgasm.  I love it. Today was that multiplied a hundred times. As he orgasmed and I tasted the familiar taste of my Master’s satisfaction, I was as close to an orgasm as I’ve ever been from his orgasm. He knew it, too. Goddamn, it is good to be owned. I’ve never been a big leaker, but I leaked today. I still have that on edge feeling contained inside my titanium cage. Although I had a bit of him inside me as I went back to my regularly scheduled duties, I still can’t manage to get physically close enough to him. This is a discussion we have had continually since we met. He lets me close to him. I get to touch him more than all but one other person in this world, but it never seems to be close enough. I’m thankful he lets me try, though. I’m thankful for the best orgasm I never had today, too. It’s good to be owned by him. Thank you, Sir. 

Drew’s note: Another post from boy Jack.

This isn’t a post about where in the house the slave resides, it is about finding home with those who love you, grow you, protect you, care for you, and yes even do all kinds of kinky BDSM and sex things to you, for you and with you. In my day to day role of keeping up with an athletic preteen and ALL the practices, games, and parental activities that go with that makes making time for my kink family difficult at times, to say the least. My job in trauma surgery on paper sounds amazing. In reality it takes a fine balance of focus, a clean diet, cinnamon rolls, lots of water, a bit of correctly timed coffee, and an even more importantly timed diet cherry coke in between patients, dad duties, family duties, and Sir duties on a daily basis.  Those are real world things that have to be balanced. But I also have to be able to sleep at some point. 

Tonight was nothing less than an average weeknight.  Well, except that my time with my Master and Daddy are still rarely typical or average. I had some time because the babysitter was with my kid, so we had the usual what do you want for dinner conversation and finally settling on a new pizza place to be delivered. At some point, we picked the next episode of a marvel saga to watch while we ate. Typical. Average. Whatever.

I was allowed on the couch for dinner by Axel and, while Drew would have me naked eating from a bowl chained to the deck, Axel prefers that I am dressed and sitting with the family. We ate dinner. We talked. Average. I gathered everyone’s dishes, helped clean up and I sat back down on the couch. Before I knew it, I was out. Sound asleep out. As much as I adore Drew and Axel, I couldn’t help but feel like I had wasted precious time just being with them. That being said, I do sleep much better with them , either between them in the bed, in the sleep sack, or even in the cage. I’m just that comfortable with these two to trust them so much. It’s funny, I never thought in slavery I would find unconditional acceptance and love, but I have and it still amazes me at times. These two feel like home to me in a way my actual homes have never felt. That feeling is in the the acceptance of me and my perverted dog/slave/boy/object/friend/worker, well, all of me, which, of course, includes my professional and real life duties, my overworked (at times) self.

It was amazing sleep. It was probably no more than 20 minutes, but it was the best sleep I’ve had in the past few weeks. It was the sleep of being at home and comfortable and safe in knowing I’m owned and that these two take care of me like I take care of them (even if I just wear less clothing). It just so happens the care I needed right then was a little bit of much needed sleep and they let it happen even though I so didn’t want to waste that time. My initial thoughts were that I felt guilty for not using every precious moment to spend with my Sir and my Daddy. To which each of them responded that they are excited that I feel such a part of them that snoring on the couch during a movie was acceptable. (Maybe not those exact words)(Drew’s exact words were something like “I should spank you for saying that”). I smiled.

On the drive home I was thinking more about this and every inner thought just told me that they are my home – at least in mental form. Regardless of my current situation, kinky looking or not, those two are home to me. Simply put, wherever they are is home for an owned slave like me. That is the biggest compliment I can think of for the amazing rest and renewal I get from them…my Master and my Daddy.

Who knew slavery could be so fulfilling just by a nap?


As I sit here cramped into an airport gate, I am smiling because it’s like old times and I am so happy.

Anyway, a few days ago when I was sitting at home with my dick once again encased in titanium I got a few questions from the Twitter about “how can you be locked and have a locked boy? that can’t work”. I usually smirk and move on, but thought I would address it a bit more formally now.

For me, It feels right, though my “right” is admittedly significantly different from men like Thumper, Doc, Andy, etc. I have always represented the other side of Chastity – the locked top version and, as it has turned out, often, the locked dom. What does that mean? Well, simply put, my own sex drive is increased when I am locked. So much so that my husband likes me locked and often insists that I stay that way. I like that too because at my age and stress level, whatever sex drive boost I can get is very needed.

However, the other side of chastity I am talking about now is the denial of others aspect. Something I am not sure I have seen discussed.

In our situation, my boy, like countless others (HA!), likes my dick. It’s not that special of a penis in reality, but he likes the look and, like that glass shoe in Cinderella, the size just fits him perfectly. I see him multiple times a week and when he is under my desk he generally has full owner access, but sometimes I surprise him. When that happens, the look on his face when his nose hits metal is always fun. It’s like I took away his candy and tripled his own sexual frustration AT THE SAME TIME.

His eyes.

His muscles.

His breathing.

His intensity.

All of them suddenly focus and suddenly increase as he knows that that day will not be his day to touch, feel, envelope or mount. I take away his toy to train him, make him stronger, increase his service and, well, just cause it’s fun for me. THAT is the other side of chastity as I see it.

Also, few know this, but two locked dicks, especially in beautiful cages like Steelwerks, are amazing to look at. As a benefit, it makes Axel quite happy too and, for all the same reasons, then we all benefit.

Changing topics, I hope you are enjoying his posts. They will continue and possibly increase as well because, I know the boy inside and out, but every single time he writes it makes me better, stronger, and more connected to him. That inside baseball knowledge is so incredibly, well, incredible.

I admit, I do like to hurt him and every single time we walk/crawl away stronger.

Thanks for reading.