Hello from the left coast. I was sitting in traffic today and just thinking and I realized that I was smiling. Like big smiling and there was no real reason. Weirdly, that made me smile more.

For those of you who “knew” me prior to January 2020, when I took an intentional break from international travel due to my parent’s health and then, two months later, when I took an unintentional break from all travel due to global health, you know that my world is now very, very different. My travel is picking up again, but the international part is done and the domestic part is about a third of what it was and that, actually, is really okay with me even despite losing some elite airline and hotel status levels that somewhat does pierce my soul at some level. But, now I have jack AND Axel, two amazing pandemic puppies, and have acquired this new title of Master along the way, and all those things, I suspect, are why I was just the weird smiling man in the black Tesla on the 405 earlier today.

What I realized as the afternoon continued is that I have not told my side of the “being better” story. By that I mean that there have been multiple posts about how jack is a better man, dad, employee, son, and just all around man due to his slave status, but I do not think I have ever told you how or what his slave status and, thus my subsequent Master status, have done for me as a person, a husband, an employee, and as a friend.

In short, it’s made me better too.

In long form, it’s given me a confidence and a freedom about life that I actually didn’t realize I needed. I am a big guy thanks to some strong genetics and my size is something that even when I look in a mirror I mentally often do not see. Now, I see fat in places I don’t want it and way more than I want, but physical size is something I kinda know, but often don’t feel. I am only 6’1, but have a 21.5″ neck, a 46″ chest, shoulders that do not fit places comfortably, and a 34-35″ waist. With a bald head and sunglasses, I either look like I know way more about football than I do or that I am protecting some government official somewhere. I get that, but it’s weird to me too. My internal confidence often did not match the outer shell so many times in life because of shame around my kinks, insecurity at work, or just general things in life. Being a switch did not help that at all because I often felt that I would not be good at being in either role since I didn’t feel it 100%.

However, this owner thing, I have to say I have really taken to and I feel like I am pretty damn good at it as well.

In no way do I mean to discount Ax in any of this and the benefits of who he has made me could not even fit on this page, but that’s been nearly 25 years and being his husband has brought me so much joy through the years in so many ways except that absolute fulfillment of my perversions. It’s not that he didn’t try, but until I met the man who is wired to be just as kinky as me, I really didn’t know what I needed at all. Being jack’s owner, trainer, Sir, best friend, and, well, Master, tapped something in me that has given me so much, some of which I didn’t know I needed.

Personally, to know that this man who I lead, who is so smart, so talented, and, well, so adorable yet hot structures his life to my orders arouses my brain even more than my dick. The fact that I have this power over him, which happened so fast in some ways, sometimes scares me because I know how careful I need to be with that power. I will never harm him intentionally, but in the past in some scenes when I got carried away, I realized he was not going to stop me because he wanted to please me, and I cannot ever let myself cross that line. This power, though, I have found I now carry outside of times with jack and it’s given me a new confidence that just shows itself in places in life that likely nobody else would ever know, but I do, and I love that.

If you have stuck around for awhile as well, you know I have had what some might call an unfair share of grief over the same time period and I00% credit jack as the object (he likes it when I say that) that helped me channel anger and sadness in some ways that just made me wonder if the universe sent him to me just for that purpose. Axel and I have emotionally dealt with all of these things in very different ways and I, at least in my opinion, have gotten through the worst of it much more rapidly than Ax and with a better outlook about the future too. It’s like the healing power of kink, and it’s something that I have found to be extremely true in my case.

As the travel increases, our little thruple is learning to adjust with it and that will shape the next few years as well.

So, I have a plane to catch and not much else to say on this aside from just this glimpse of the other side of the duo. In just a few hours I will walk in the door and jack will be there naked on his knees waiting for me. As I walk by him to greet Ax and the bio-dogs, my dick will rise and the weekend will start. Damn, I hope we have something fun to write about Sunday.

Until then…

Master and I got away for a few days of pushing the limits of a particular Bavarian motorcar on the racetrack, and some time for just the two of us. Although I generally enjoy flying, this trip was a little different. I was given a popular plastic cage before leaving to go to the airport. It fit as expected. Choose the base ring you think you need and go one size smaller… perfect base ring fitting guidelines. The tube, if you will, required some shoving of flesh that I often find fun, even in my usual steelwerks pieces of art, but by the time we reached our destination, it was miserable. This is not a cage review, but a reminder that even if it looks cool, it is nothing like the custom fit and feel of my usual titanium dick. In retrospect, I’d have just preferred to potentially have to show off my titanium cage the the TSA agent rather than end up having a cock I don’t need just flopping around. They promise me it will go through security and I am willing, but Master has so many security clearances and airline status things that I know he doesn’t want to do anything to call attention in sensitive areas.

At home, as well as when traveling, I am to be in uniform once past a defined area, usually the equivalent of the amount of space required to step just inside the door and be able to close it behind me. Once inside the suite, I closed the door and stripped. I gathered the posture collar, leather cuffs, and the carabiners, locks, etc from the luggage and presented them to my Master. He said we would need to go get dinner before I could be truly in service as his slave for the rest of the time that night.Kneeling before him, we reviewed the ground rules for the weekend. I already knew them, but there is something about being reminded of what is expected of a quality slave. I was signaled to sit in his lap to face him, so I could hear the important parts of the conversation. 

I gazed into his beautiful eyes, never looking away. “Yes Master,” I answered, as my still uncaged cock gave away my excitement. I felt my Master’s hard dick pressing against me and hoped I’d me allowed the chance to taste it as I could feel the wet spot forming as he leaked. I felt very close to him, but only wanted to be closer. 

“Do we have to eat tonight, Master? I can’t be nearly as close to you if we leave to eat,” I said.

Fast forward a few minutes and I had an answer. He was dressed for dinner, and as my Master locked the posture collar around my neck and the cuffs around my ankles and feet, I thought about our words, triggers, if you will. I think both of us quite enjoy the fantasy of hypnosis, and I have quite an active imagination, as does my Master. We have developed a language between the two of us that would mean nothing to anyone else, and part of that language is certain trigger words that are associated with certain times and feelings. The use of those words are important to the night.

As Master finished securely putting me away in the closet and attaching his hotel trick of the coat hanger with pants hangers to my nipples (fyi – he only uses lighter zip ties to attach me in situations like this as we both know I could break them in an emergency, but also both know I’d be in heaps of trouble if I did), he gave me a few trigger words just before he left to go get dinner. I was on the verge of a mental orgasm before I heard the door close behind him. My mind filled with thoughts of taking my Master’s pain as he tortured my nipples, the clamps from the hanger easily processed taking Master’s pain into pleasure. The plug in this slave’s hole felt like it was growing bigger and pushing so deeply that I was certain you would have seen the end of it in the back of my throat, had it not been tightly gagged. I could hear the noises one hears in a hotel room, but it was drowned by the feelings the triggers gave me. I fucking craved Master more and more with each passing second.

Finally, Master returned. But he didn’t come to the closet. Was that him? A housekeeper? Maintenance? A robber? I should not have been turned on by the possibility of all three, but I was in different ways- especially having seen the hot maintenance man in the lobby, but I then heard the shower and knew it was Master. A bit after that, he opened the closet and I saw the lights from the room and…. goddamn, his smile and that look in his eyes. I’m proud to be owned. The door closed. Master spoke to me as he milled around the room. Questions were answered with the best grunts and groans, and animalistic sounds I was able to make at the time, and yet he understood perfectly that what I wanted most in the world at that moment was to get close to him, to taste him, to take his pain, to feel him inside me, his slave, his hole, his property.

While I wasn’t hungry for food, Master insisted that I eat some of the food he had put out for me in the bowl on the floor. He said I would need the energy. I ate enough to give me energy to worship my Master. As as side note, Diet Coke is just as amazing as ever, if not better, in a bowl on the floor, but that’s another story for later.

After this, I was bound. Posture collar to wrists to ankles. Displayed on the bench in the room, an object for my Master’s use. As he spoke to me, using our language, our trigger words, horny, owned, vibrating almost begin to describe the sexual energy filling the room. The closeness and connection was more than I can describe, as I wanted nothing more than to worship Master. And that, his slave did. 

Master opened my hole wider and deeper than ever before. As his hands entered inside of me the feeling of serving him was almost overwhelming. MY Master using his slave. The pride on his face as he gave me the trigger that made me feel full, deeper, more open than before….fuck it made me want him and love him more….that’s a fucking lot. 

As he gave me the words that make my nipples extremely sensitive like volts of electricity igniting pure sex inside of me, I began to shake. As he owned me, I felt him against me. His massive, dripping, concrete  hardened cock rubbed against me. I felt his breath and I vibrated more. Tunnel vision made Master’s pleasure my sole purpose. I wanted him closer. 

The pride on his face as he brought me close to orgasm and then stopped, made me crave serving him more. I wanted his pleasure to overwhelm him through my service.

Master repositioned me so that he could fuck me as hard and deep as he pleased. As he did, he opened my throat with his fingers. Fuck, what a feeling! My Master inside me as much as physically possible, and I wanted him more, closer, deeper. I’ve never been more proud to be HIS slave. 

Mentally, I had “orgasms” a dozen times over as I served Master. Physically, I was as close to an orgasm as I have come in the last two years. Knowing I wouldn’t be allowed one was a safe feeling for me. I knew he would get off on my denial. It also meant that I could enjoy serving as I should without fear of an actual orgasm for his slave.  

Master gave me his orgasm that night. I’ll admit it was better than any physical one I ever had. That’s a special thing. His orgasms  fill my sexual needs as well as his. As we were both physically exhausted from such an amazing night, I was allowed to massage him. I rubbed and licked every square inch of my Master as he started to fall asleep.

I was allowed on the bed that night. As Master held me, I had an inner peace, a feeling of belonging, a feeling of unconditional love, and a hope that every person finds a man like him. 

That was just the first of three nights and, while the other two are similar versions of this, space and time will not allow me to write those now. But, the picture attached above will show you how I spent five hours the next night, so I think you can get the whole picture.

Master, you have given me true unconditional love and made me better. I only hope that my service provides the same fulfillment that you have allowed me.  

NOTE FROM DREW – they ALWAYS do, my jack.

I thought I would do a little post to talk about one of my favorite things: men who identify as slaves. And, this isn’t really about my slave, but two others who I know that I want to talk about for various reasons.

I think some of it comes with my now, almost senior status in life, the gray beard, and the eight years of blogging is that I have found I enjoy watching people grow in their understanding and acceptance of themselves and their kinks while seeing how they progress in doing so. This is true with random twitter people I watch as well as with a few friends and even goes back to Thumper and his talented ass as I enjoy knowing I helped train it to be ready for his adventures with Frodo now.

Anyway, I want to talk about two slaves in particular. One I know well, though never in person, and the other I know in person and only now getting to know well.

The first we will call Brit. I’d like to say there is deep meaning in this, but he’s British and I am lazy today. Brit and I have known each other online for maybe 10 years, moved from a sex and kink based pen-pal-ship to an actual muggle friendly Facebook friendship and have remained on and off tight through many of our mutual life adventures – good and bad. When I met him, he identified openly as a submissive and a few times privately as a slave and while he had had some amazing training experiences, they were simply that, experiences. At that point I wanted to enslave him and to this day wonder what would have happened if I did, but he was there and I was in Australia, New Zealand, China and everywhere else and just simply was not ready to attach this type of relationship to myself and Axel’s at that time either. But, that was that and I watched and tried to support him as he then entered into a new relationship with, from what I can tell, a nice boy who was just tragically muggle and, while he fed a lot of Brit’s needs, he didn’t fill his kink soul and that, my friends, is where this gets interesting, as he was suddenly free to be himself and to, well, find himself. And in finding himself, he is now seeing himself in a whole new leather and latex covered light.

I haven’t really talked about this here because it’s complicated and delicate because throughout this process, House of Drew (said that way only because I am currently loving House of Dragons), kinda fell for Brit. Specifically, my slave, Jack, and Brit immediately found a connection that in a muggle world would be featured on some Discovery Channel documentary about attraction. However, if life were exactly like the fairy tales we all read as kids, it would be the typical story of Master meets slave, slave meets English slave, Master and slave enslave English slave to the first slave, English slave is lowered in the org chart level to beta or pet or something, You know, just like your Mom read to you to go to sleep every night as a child. But thousands of miles distance complicates that already complicated dynamic, so we have had to be creative and try to help Brit find himself and, hopefully, a Master, while not completely keeping him for ourselves either. Anyone really follow that? I think I will just start a new paragraph here to separate it.

As it stands now, Jack (and I by extension) have been supervising Brit in his day to day acceptance of himself as a slave. We have invited him into the family too, though that caused some confusion, hurt feelings, and sadness because it happened without discussion and the end result was Brit found himself locked, plugged, naked and alone on his continent way over there with really nothing to show for that investment. When you are helping someone find that it’s okay to be dependent on another, it’s a bad thing to bark orders and run, and that is exactly what Jack and I were doing. Nothing was ever intentional, but Brit was just getting the protocol without the play and that was not fair to him in any way and Jack and I fully own that. In addition, words like owned and the like were used on Twitter causing their own issues, so we just needed to talk. I think where we stand now is good. We still supervise Brit, he is locked, plugged and part of his realization of his slave self has been that he likes less and less freedom, so now when he comes home he locks his ankle to a chain mounted centrally in the house where he can get to most needs but feels the pull. What he doesn’t know is we are soon replacing those locks with wifi ones, so when he does lock, we will control when he leaves. But, now, we highly encourage him to date as a locked, submissive man knowing the key will be given to his date when needed via Jack. Brit will always be in the family and will always be close to us, but he deserves his own boyfriend, Master, Handler, Sadist, who can benefit from his pre-training immensely and I do hope he will find it.

To help with that, let me just quickly write his personal ad for him and I will even include his pic:

Professional, handsome, 5’10, 43, shaved smooth, HOT, SGWS seeking his kinky knight in shining armor who will use and ride him as his horse and/or be willing to be locked in the armor. Athletic, fit, educated, seeking the often rumored, rarely seen, Dominant/submissive relationship based on friendship, trust and respect and, dare I say, one day love. Limits are few, but respect for me as a slave is required. I come complete with a dowry full of leather, gear, and latex and am pre-trained for indefinite chastity, 24/7 plugging, and I do windows! I come with little baggage, but what I have is a US based “family” who help hold my leash until they can hand it to you, my potential owner. They require pre-screening of applicants and will connect us if they feel we would match. I will be an excellent slave for the right owner and if space is an issue, I really love fitting into tight places. I have seen into my soul and know this is my place, so if you think you are the right owner, please contact Drew for more information.

So, with that, I should be talking about slave number two, but I think I will save that for the next post as this is too long as it is and he deserves his own story too.

Stay tuned, part two soon…

I was thinking about a post to write while locked under Master’s desk yesterday just as he, the voice from above, asked me what my favorite things about being a slave are. I told him a few and thought I would write it out as well. So, here we go.

I’ll start with the obvious. I don’t own my dick anymore, but the cage attached to it, around it, through it, encasing it. That part belongs to me. It is a daily reminder that I’m owned, loved, hurt (not harmed), part of a family, and truly fucking cared for- all unconditionally. Try finding that in a “ normal” relationship and see if you’d smile like I do. I doubt you’d find one growing stronger and deeper every day despite knowing how much of an actual pervert (again I use that term with nothing but love) and sexual deviants (again, said with love and no judgement) all three members of the relationship truly are.

I find pure joy in the fact that my Master (Drew) owns me, every fucking part of me, mentally and physically. He knows my mood, what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling. He reads it on my face, my body language, the tone of my voice (when I am allowed to speak). He uses those things to help me deal with things that are within my control and even things that I seemingly don’t truly have much control over. It is fucking amazing to be known so well by someone, well two someones. Daddy (Axel) picks up on these things as well. Quite often the solution each offers is quite different than from the other. My Master seems to be able to use my kinks and his ownership of every bit of me to adjust his slave or my mind set, depending on the particular situation. Daddy, being in the field of work he is in, often has some sort of psychiatric insight, exercise, coping mechanism, or just being the best fucking listener a slave could have. I guess what I’m saying is that our kinks give me the benefit of support in ways I’ve never gotten it. In turn, we all seem to grow. Fuck…I’m cared for, but I am cared for in a way that all of my needs (well except an orgasm) are met in the most amazing ways.

I get to be a pervert. I real fucking service slave, a bound piece of art on display, a hole for various uses, an outlet for receiving my Master’s pain, even an outlet for Daddy’s pain and control on occasion. I get to lick, worship, massage the most amazing legs I’ve ever seen on a man. The don’t belong to me, but they’re mine…well MY Master’s. I’ve been allowed to safely explore and push limits that I would have never ever allowed to happen. The best part is, I don’t have that choice to make. My Master owns that, too

Something I think everyone needs to understand is that slavery, like mine, is not like in porn and takes all shapes, sizes, and structures. I used to think a slave should not love his Master or that a Master should never say thank you, but I was wrong in the way we define it at least. I get to be a best friend, a boyfriend, a slave, a beast, an animal. I get to be every part of a very complex pervert. I get to be used for whatever my Master and Daddy need me for. Sometimes that involves building a deck outside with Master and some questionable electrician work by me (man, I will feel bad if the house burns down – especially since I am a fireman). Sometimes it involves me wrapping a bandage, getting them a drink, or cleaning my Master’s office (something I love doing). It evolves and I love that.

I get to be the person I am, the slave my Master trains me to be. I get to share love with two amazing men and see how our differences and similarities meld us together and make us better.

And I love all the pervert stuff, too. I love the smell of the leather harness, the collar that is chosen for me to wear at home, the daily wear collar that is passable in a muggle world and allows me to continue to perform my job without any hinderances, and the plug I carry every single day to always know my Master is inside of me (more subs should do this). I like be used to bring Master and Daddy a sexual gratification, that gives me that same gratification, sans orgasm. I love the feel of my Master, the look of him, the smell of him, how he taste, how he relaxes when I do things that I KNOW relax him (not many people get the privilege of seeing him truly relaxed). I guess what I’m saying is that I get to share parts of me that are meant only for them. In turn, I get to see parts of them that are only allowed to be experienced by an owned slave like myself.

This sounds kind of rambling and a bit less kinky that you may have expected. I love that my dick is pierced and locked in titanium. I love that my Master allows me to take his pain. I love how he has an orgasm and somehow you’d think I’d had one, too. The lack of an ejaculation can be just as intense and I might argue better than an orgasm of the regular variety.

So my most favorite things about being enslaved is that the man that owns me loves me, cares for me, hurts me, is one of the best people you would ever have the privilege to meet. Daddy is the same way, minus the giving me pain quite as much, but he knows me well enough to know that I NEED it from time to time. One last try, my favorite thing about being an owned slave is the unconditional love that we share and the growth it brings to us all in the muggle world and the fuck me senseless and use me like the slave that is no longer capable of making such choices as which huge plug to carry each day under the uniform he no longer need to bother with choosing for himself that day. One day, maybe I’ll write a book called “The Perverts Guide to the Muggle World” that outlines all the day to day things that those around us see but can’t comprehend these things show I’m my Master’s slave and my Daddy’s beast. Maybe a few real life stories where I’ve given just a little more of a hint than usual to one of the muggles hoping they will pick up on it. One day, I hope to be able to board the plane harnessed and attached to my Master via my shackles and chain, walk across the hotel lobby as he leads me on all fours by my harness and leash. Until then, I’ll think about all the favorite things that go along with being enslaved by the most amazing Master a man could have the privilege to serve, to love, and to be a part of a kinky, loving, sappy, perverted family.

Two years ago today I met the short, muscle bound, hairy, sweeping ginger topped man with a deeeeeeeep Southern drawl I now call my slave for the first time in person. As most of you know, we had talked a bit and when we met, we met as friends as he was a “dominant top” himself and had a few boys whose asses he liked to blister every so often when time allowed.

We went to lunch at one of those local restaurants every city has where it’s a dive with inside and outside seating and the trendy staff with lots of tats and piercings who like to pretend that they don’t give a fuck you are there and we had a great time. I can actually put my finger on the precise moment I knew he would be my slave and it was within the first 3 minutes of sitting at the table. There was a vibe, and a moment, and I knew. I think he knew too, though I am not sure he realized that two years later he would be sitting in the same place having lunch with me with not a hair on his body, a titanium penis he doesn’t own anymore, and steel up his ass that very rarely leaves all while dressed in clothes I picked out for him.

I think one of the ways I know was that I had a broken foot when we met and was in a cast and his service side immediately kicked in It wasn’t just a Southern boy with a good manners, it was a submissive boy who aimed to please. A week later I had surgery and he was glued to me like a perfect service animal would be and we both just knew, that boy would be collared soon. Ironically, two years later, I type this while also in a cast for the same foot as surgery number five happened last week and, once again, the boy was and is here. And, as an aside, a pro-tip for the youngsters, don’t break a bone after 50 – especially one that carries your weight – one fix creates new issues and that fix creates others. That said, my whole foot should be titanium soon so maybe I can get some super powers or something.

Anyway, back to jack. I cannot tell you how proud I am of him and how he found something inside himself that not only had been awakened, but something that he let bloom and grow. Every. Single, Day. While some like to think slaves are not men or less than men, you all know I do not, and being a slave has MADE him a man. His confidence, his demeanor, his parenting skills, and his ability to deal with the uber religious world he grew up in are all 100 times stronger than they were two years ago. Yes, we have a hierarchy, and he’s at the bottom, but I fully believe that is just who he is and how he gains his strength for the real world.

This is my anniversary letter to him, MY boy who I own every fucking part of. I love you jack, and Axel and I can’t wait to grow old with you in our service.

Finally, just a note to remind readers that it’s not all sunshine every day. I had a message on twitter that said “you have the perfect life” and that bothered me. Yes, I have a pretty great one that is based on hard work, good genes, good education, good healthcare and a LOT of fucking luck. BUT, it’s not perfect, nor is anyone else’s life. Just a reminder, we talk about the perfect parts here, we tweet pictures with good lighting, we tell you about the good and I do that because there is too much bad in the world. None of it is false or embellished (aside from names) but I just want to say there are damn, dark and scary days too. There are days when I think jack would rather be a boyfriend than a slave and I have to remind him. There are days I’d rather him be a boyfriend than a slave and then I have to remind myself. There are days I want him, but his child comes first and there are days I think he’d sell his child to gypsies just to come get fucked, BUT, real life ALWAYS steps in and applies before anything. We do not share about those days because, why? Our aim is to show you that a Master/slave relationship can be fulfilling in so many ways and not abusive or degrading, unless both parties want and consent to that, so please do not compare most of what we say 1:1 because it fits us and your perfect will likely be different. Be you and find what fits YOU.

Master was out of town this week. Work kept us all quite busy. I miss him when he is out of town because of all the normal sappy reasons you miss someone you love when they are away. I miss him because of other things, too. I’d be willing to bet he misses me for some of the same reasons. Maybe.

My job is busy, my mind is running from the time I walk through the door until I leave. Stressful at times, often due to reasons I can’t control (and yes, I generally am a bit of a control freak when it comes to certain things). All of this to say that I miss my Master when he travels because time spent under the desk not only allows me to serve him and submit to him and help him relax. It also helps me to turn off the day and focus on making him proud. 

But, he always comes back.

After work yesterday, I greeted Master and Daddy as I changed into my uniform. I held my Master. I felt the stress of the week leaving my mind and the tension in my body ease. I held my Master tighter, closer. I rubbed my scruff against his. I felt his breath on me. No words were exchanged as our bodies communicated. I got under the desk and rested my head in his lap. I felt his tight muscles and knew exactly where to massage to relieve his work week’s tension. As his breathing communicates when I get just the right spot. I heard a heavy breath as tension started to leave his body. My cage strained. 

Master motioned for me to stand up. I stood. He inspected his property with his hands. He turned me around and bent me over. He delivered a few slaps to his slave’s ass that left a little redness and a sting but only made his slave crave more. The Njoy plug I was carrying has a handle on the base. I know he likes it because it is easy to grab, twist, and makes ease of using a hole I no longer own. 

“How does that make you feel?” We’re the first words spoken between the two of us since I got home, as the plug was being twisted and worked in and out of his property’s hole. A switch flipped on inside of me. As I leaned into the plug entering this body. I was horny the moment I touched him, but it just doubled.

It felt good. I enjoyed being his property. I enjoyed knowing his dick was hard. I was proud. “Hopeful that it makes you proud,” was my answer. 

“You always make me proud,” he replied. That level of horny multiplied by ten this time. “Always?” I thought to myself, but apparently it came out loud. He shoved the Njoy back inside and turned me around. 

“Always, boy.”

I melted. He asked if my nipples were sore still as he pinched and twisted them. I shook my head no as I offered him the right nipple. As he bit down and twisted, it hurt. I squeezed the plug inside me as I held onto my Master. By this point I was sitting in his lap facing him and holding onto him again. My head rested against his as he allowed me to take his pain. I’m sure my cage bounced with my heartbeat   He released the nipple and I offered the other one. “Does it make you proud to give me your pain Master,” I asked.  

“Always slave,” he said through his teeth as he bit down hard on my nipple. I knew they’d be sore later, and I was proud. I held him, rubbed him, kissed his body, licked him as I breathed deeply processing his pain. I could feel the wet spot saturating his shorts as I took in and processed his pain. I held him closer. 

I felt a wave of pure lust, love, horniness, pride, submission, and sappiness all at once. He sensed it. He stopped, well because we’re perverts and the whole denial thing. 

He turned me around, sat me in his lap and held me closely and tightly. I may have been grinding the plug against him. I just wanted to feel close enough to him, which I am convinced is not possible but a task worth trying to accomplish, regardless. 

We talked about growth and progress in general and In the relationship. I felt his face against my head and I melted again. His body feels so amazing, every bit of it. 

I felt his dick pressed hard against me I reached for it because I love how his girth feels. I could feel the wetness of his leaking and my pride grew stronger as skin protruded from the vents on the head of my cage. 

We discussed the fact that I voluntarily gave up my chance to have an orgasm for 2022. He doesn’t see a true need for me to have one again, but says we will discuss 2023 in 2023. He knows I’ve already been thinking about it. I told him so. He wouldn’t let me give him my answer, but I told him I already made my decision. Waiting, thinking on it. The denial runs deep in our relationship on many levels and only grows us closer and stronger. 

I had a realization that I love for my Master to cum, to orgasm. Through my denial his orgasm is in a way mine, too. I bring him that amazing feeling. I bring him that release. I take that inside of my body. I feel the energy as he climaxes and I feel an amazing feeling. I get that same post orgasm high that I vaguely remember at this point. That makes me proud. It makes my Master proud. It makes us closer. It builds us stronger, and it only makes me all the more his, every fucking part of me. It just makes me more determined hear those words “You make me proud,” even more. 

Last week’s post from the boy about double denial was fun to read. While it was more fun to do, he wrote this amazingly hot piece about how I pushed him through his limits for pain while still denying him his dick, and for most of the session, mine too. As you all know from years of these posts, orgasm to me is a hit or miss thing as I am just not one who is drawn by the need to ejaculate (even in my 20’s.) Since I own a slave who really wants me, his master, to replace all of his denied orgasms with mine, I mentally thrive on the fact that I am double denying him access to either one of the cocks I own. Sucks for him, but thus is the life of a slave.

Post that post, someone asked me how I knew that, on that day, I could take him past his limits and why I did not ask him first. Well, first, I do not have to ask, he has given me every permission that I need to do whatever I want to his body as that is part of our agreement. Now, that came with trust and the kind of trust that is built from years of service, not just answering an ad. This is something I think more and more submissive’s need to think about when they are out there stating what they will and will not do. In order for me to know that the day had come, it wasn’t just a decision driven by my dick, but was the fact that it was a Friday and any lingering soreness I caused had time to go away before work, it was a day when he did not have immediate childcare duties, and, most importantly, it was a day that I really wanted to do it. But, how did I know that despite all of the above that he was ready? Well, he told me without even knowing he did so,

By that I mean that, when you own a slave or are in charge of a submissive, one of your duties is to learn how to read their body often better than they can. At the time I didn’t realize it, but I learned it from a bisexual bunny boyfriend eight years ago (fuck, eight years?) as he helped me learn how to not be afraid of his pain as he wanted more and more. I realize now that I was the one with limits then as I was not ready to take him to the place he really needed to be, nor did I have the skill to get him there without marking him up in some way, something that was not allowed in my sublease agreement with his wife. I look back at it now and, at times, think “Fuck, I want to hurt Thumper” and then smile and go about my day (or text him to make sure he knows and hope that it makes him twitch a bit.) It’s not a “I miss him” thing as much as a “look at me now” thing where I can show him how I took the submissiveness he gave me, and turned it into something far greater for my future by using it to learn, to grow, and to know when “ouch” or “fuck that hurts” is not a safe word. He mentored me from the bottom as much as I did him from the top. The beauty of this is that I can and will show off this skill to him soon, as we never closed that door, and I cannot wait to hurt him badly in all those good ways again and even have this fantasy of a reality show type thing where the rabbit is pitted against the slave to see who can make me most proud, though logistics and waiver forms will be troublesome for that.

However, back to the day, the day that jack went almost double past his limits. His ass was full, as it always is and always should be. His dick was locked, as it also always is and always should be. And, his mouth was full of a locking 5″ penis gag that I wish it often was and one day might be, and he was mine for the taking. I did not intend to take him to that place, but when he brought me the paddles he chose, I knew he was craving more than just a red ass so I locked his hands behind him, locked his ankles to a nice, discrete anchor point I had added to the floor to keep the giant and very heavy mirror from sliding, and then placed him facing himself in the aforementioned giant mirror. When I did that, his cage jumped. That fucker was turned on by the vision of himself so helpless and that fueled me like seven red bulls mixed with Cialis. So, I started spanking him hard. I am usually very much about a heavy impact anyway and he can take it better than anyone I have ever seen (especially having zero fat on his ass) but on that day I was overly heavy handed. Usually I will take one paddle and go cheek to cheek giving one a break, but this day I focused on the impact place and went 30 times in a row on the exact same place I had been before. I did this on both sides, switched to a heavy leather paddle that will cover his whole ass in one hit and think I went about 100 times that way, to the point that my arm was sore. Also, with that paddle I make sure I strike the base of his plug, so that it will send the vibration all the way through him over and over again. He had not had a break and I asked him, as I always do, “do you need more, boy?” and without thinking he nodded yes. I told him “you are going to get more than what you have had, do you realize that?” and his eyes got big, but I knew from reading his body that he wanted it, so I repeated the exact same paddling and then followed it all up with about 100 slices of a riding crop, my particular favorite. I know when his skin is getting too much in one place (the ginger reading the ginger) so I always make sure to not push past that as I feel no need to make him bleed to prove anything to me or anyone else. At that point, I released his ankles, sat on the edge of the bed and put him over my knee. I told him how proud of him I was, how taking my pain makes him the best slave and that is because he is a strong, strong man, and that allowing me to take him there was such a great honor. As I said this, he started shaking, like a shivering. He does that when his emotions reach the same adrenaline level of his body and it’s like an orgasm but not. My words triggered him which was made worse by my constant “I bet you wish you could come, huh?” questioning which was always followed by “but you gave up that right when you agreed be owned as your dick has no use in this relationship. What a pity.” – he shivered more.

I left him there to bask in the moment a bit and went and retrieved this 10′ plastic coated cable that is THICK and heavy and I have no idea how, when or why it wound up in my house years ago (I think it was left by a contractor during some renovations). I rolled him over so he could see me attach one end to the floor mount and then he held up his ankle, the normal attachment point, and looked a bit confused as I went past it and straight to his mouth. I was able to run it through the buckle on the gag effectively locking him to the floor by his tongue, which is incredibly hot. I gave him some time to adjust and to move around as much as he could, and then I said, “it’s time to break even more records. You ready?” and, with that, I started a full on absolute assault on his nipples. I would squeeze and hold them as say “bark through your gag what number the pain scale this is” he’d respond with seven garbled barks and I would say “Seven?” to which he’d nod his head while squirming a bit with the pain. I’d say “okay, that’s seven now, but, fucker, seven is the new two – got that? THIS is almost your baseline pain now, boy, do you trust me, are you ready to show me?” to which I would get a “yes Master, it’s a two” garbled through the penis locked in his mouth. We did this for about an hour until he was spent and I was tired, but we got to the “new nine” which the day before would have likely been a 27 or 28.”

I was so fucking proud of him. I unlocked his mouth, moved his hands back to the front, sat him on the couch while I sat on the floor between his legs telling him all those things from above and more. I listed off personal things that, when he is in doubt. he should channel this moment, this time, and this fact that he was over and above his threshold to prove to himself he can do anything, ANYTHING he sets his mind to and can get through those mundane chores of life and ex-spouses. This boy amazed me that day and I meant every word I said.

However, I started with the “go ahead and come, you can do it” – as he has permission to come in his cage hands free if ever possible and then taunted him so more while he shook and cried a bit. Knowing that was the end, I just held him for who knows how long before it was “hit the shower, boy, oh, and clean it while you are in there” followed by “then meet us downstairs so Daddy (aka Axel) can comfort you”

It was a good day. He is a good slave. He is also an amazing MAN.

I have often stated that the organization of many gay bdsm families required the kink equivalent of a corporate org chart. I say this because it’s not that uncommon to have a conversation with a new friend that goes something like, “hi, my name is Josh, but my Sir, Joshua, calls me j, I am submissive to him, but we are both submissive to Daddy Chris who is owned by Master Chris who is married to another dominant named Sir Josh who has three boys, alpha Josh, beta Chris and gimp Bob. Alpha Chris owns two pups, mike and mike, not including beta jay who has one dominant brother, Bobby. All of us are submissive to Super Master B, who himself, and by extension the rest of us, submit to Super Duper Master Chris. It’s all very simple.” Yes, I have exaggerated a bit, but come on, we all have had similar conversations.

Currently, my definition of our family is only three people, but, as I have said many times, I always hope that the boy, who I call slave, boy, jack, boyfriend, and sometimes, dog, interchangeably, will have his own slave but for now, unless I use the myriad of names for the same person, we are generally pretty easy to define. Now.

But, back to my corporate analogy for two reasons. This week, at work, I had an employee who, at the ripe old age of 25, zoom with me to demand more money. Now, being that times are different, she at 25 makes now what I made at 40, told me that she had been doing some research (we have open salary ranges) and that there are some people with a “similar” title making six figures and that she felt she deserved that. I have to say that I admired her moxy to come to me like that, but my admiration quickly went away as she continued to talk because she clearly didn’t do her research, her math, or even look at Glassdoor, because the people she was referring to were ten or more years older than her and that “similar” title, for them, included words like “senior” or “director” or other key signifiers to prove that they had done their time, done their work, and deserved the pay they were making. I was very kind and, while pointing out that she had clearly not made any of her KPI’s or metrics last year and was really behind this year, that I would in no way consider this and that, if she was unhappy, that the job market is quite healthy for a young double degreed elite university graduate and that I’d certainly understand if she needed to go elsewhere. That did not go the way she thought it would and she, on the edge of tears, decided that we should finish our call later (by the way, if you ever work for me, please don’t cry. I try, really hard, to be empathetic but something about that makes me giggle and, though I try, again, really hard, to not show it, I can’t stop giggling. I do that at funerals too. I am not a bastard but…).

Fast forward about four hours and we had another call. This time, she seemed to have done some soul searching and she started talking about how she just wanted to not be at the new kid and be at the level of her more senior peers because “they seem to always have an answer, have respect from colleagues, and they make a lot of money and I am ready to have things they have in life and, I deserve it.” I remember feeling that way too. Fuck, I am the senior peer now and I still feel like that at times and, I told her that. We talked for over an hour about paying her dues and putting in the time (and, fwiw, I did not shatter her dream about the definition of “a lot of money” is) and I explained to her that she is not looking at all the work THEY put in, and that she deserves nothing at this point because she hasn’t proven anything, that she doesn’t see all the struggles they had at her age and the even more struggles they have now because they don’t talk about such things with those young enough to still have a dream. I also added that, if they are anything like me, the more money they make the less they enjoy their job because money and titles come with expectations and expectations come with stress. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’d not change a single thing (well, a few) but she.has to just have her eyes open now and be willing to adjust, be molded, and grow (with me or elsewhere.)

Now, what the fuck does this have to do with kinky families? A lot in my mind, especially after I had that conversation, Where I am going with this is I have a pretty damn good thing going with my little triad, especially the Master/slave duo within it. However, that did not happen overnight and many of the above things on growing in your career come close to matching this. I was thinking about this because at least three or four times a week I get a request to “join us/join the family/step in to come play/use the slave, etc” (this does not count friends who seemingly joke, okay friends?). These are absolute strangers who, in the above situation, would be currently making $20K a year and expecting me to hire them at $100K because “those guys doing the job I want free about my age, have the same interest career wise, and it would be cool.” In all honesty, I don’t know if I ever want to add to our family in the way we are now but, if I did, the corporate rules of earning their place would apply. Anybody we might invite in has a lot of tests to pass, work to do, and trust to build. Right now, I have no interest in going through all of that, but I have also learned to never say never. I could and would love to one day have an extended family, like great friends treated as brothers, cousins, etc for the bonding and awkward Thanksgiving dinners, but who knows what reality will bring on such things, but even those guys would have a probation period.

Speaking of that probation, it’s an absolute. The idea of someone just dropping in to join us at a level we are now is indeed impossible because they have not gone through the hiring process, orientation, probation, and it will be years until they are fully vested. And, even though I did have a full strategic plan in place, what we have now doesn’t match it because the parties involved are much different than who I intended to hire. We have worked hard to make the plan flexible and put a lot of time to make it work and I do not think anyone could, despite their impressive resume, just drop in. They might intern, but that’s a whole other ballgame.

I am not meaning this to come away as cold as I welcome anyone and everyone to have a conversation with us, but, to those guys, please just don’t assume that returning a text is the same as an invitation. I am more writing this to the, in theory, young kinksters who want it all to tell them that they can have it all, but it will take work, it will take time, and it will take some heartbreak at times too. As Walt Disney once said, “All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them.” So, “kids,” have courage and pursue away but be realistic. Remember, just like ANY job description you may get in the muggle world, the real work in a kink relationship will often be glaringly different than described and those guaranteed benefits often change. That’s okay. You can get to a place of happiness in time.

I promise.

As I sit in a hot bath filled with foaming Epsom salts, I’m forced to face a fact about aging that I’m not quite sure I’m ready to accept. My mind does find some ease as I watch my full titanium tube bob in the water like some beautifully perverse fishing tackle because with each bob, I ponder the realization why my muscles ache. Mostly, it’s because this body isn’t nearly as flexible as it once was back in my days at the Fire Academy. However, the best reason why is because I had the best day with my Master.

The past week was long, but the long weeks make the time spent with the Master I adore even more exceptional (if more exceptionally exceptional is even really a thing). This time of year is one I enjoy. Coming out from under the cold grip of winter, the yard starts to come to life. My Master’s legs are now visible more often than not in shorts as the temperatures warm (they are fucking amazing legs). Quite honestly, I’m cold natured and I’m glad that the weather is now warmer. The three of us enjoy working in the backyard together, and it just gives me a feeling of family that I can’t exactly describe.

Back to the hurting part…. 

After completing my chores in the yard and taking a shower, Master sent me to the gear closet for a list of items as he showered. After drying my Master, he came in and put me in a very tight hog tie on the bed. Earlier, I took Master’s pain. And, while I was bound on the bed I could see into a mirror and loved that my ass bears the marks of several implements that allowed me the honor of taking said pain. My nipples still burned, too. Master left me there for what seemed like hours just to contemplate about myself, my role, and on how to take what we did and will do this weekend and use it in my muggle life this week to be better, be stronger, and to make him proud.

Out of nowhere, he appeared and held me, flipped my on my back and redid the cuffs on the wrist and ankles and then, also out of the blue, another lock was connected to the posture collar restricting my movement even more as he hooked my ankles and wrists to my neck, thus effectively turning me into ball.  I’m convinced one day I’ll be writing about how an owned dick really can bend titanium as I swear I think I was so excited and so turned on that heat would have radiated from my body.

Then, we played a game. He knows I like to be close to him and, as I tried my best to get close to my Master, he gave me the word that triggers me to get even closer to him as he moved his naked body around and on the bed, JUST out of my tongue’s reach. I struggled like a turtle flipped on his back on a thick memory foam bed. I think I used every muscle but I just couldn’t get close enough.

I tried with my arms, my legs, my feet, my face, my tongue, my mouth. I struggled until I was exhausted. My neck hurt from the posture collar. I was a sweaty mess. My body was exhausted and yet I still wanted nothing more than to get every part of this body in contact with every part of his. He gave me the word to get closer to him again. A struggle between my body and mind ensued and my aching body was close to winning. My Master sensed this, I am certain and he settled me and held me while I calmed down.

While I was still bound (though ankles were removed from my neck), my Master asked what I wanted most at that moment, at that time, and then pointed out he was feeling generous as, at this stage, it is never about my needs (nor should it be). Of course the answer was to get closer to him but I also really needed to sit up to be able to breathe, the second part of my answer. Spring time in the southern U.S. is basically breathing air yellowed by the pollen of the blooming plants and trees which leads to a less than perfect BDSM experience at times.

Of course, I was repositioned again and now being able to breathe, I got closer to my Master. 

Finally.

As he worked his way closer to climax, I felt his body, his breath, his being, his vibrations. I was able to talk in his ear as this was the first time that was allowed. I told him how proud I am to be owned by him, how proud I am to call him MY Master. I also told him how he makes me better. I told him how he feels to touch, how he makes me feel when touched, how physically and mentally he makes me a better man and a most gracious trained slave.

Soon after, he was done hearing me and literally just pushed my head down to where it belongs at times like that. I tasted him and ultimately swallowed him. I wished I was allowed an orgasm too, but I know that’s my my place. However, in moments like this of pure truth, unconditional love, pure being, I know that is far better than one meager orgasm.

Tomorrow I will ache. Tomorrow I will smile.

I have been thinking about the dichotomy between our kinky selves and our muggle selves and how, sometimes, it’s true that the separate lives most of us lead actually, often, make us better in both worlds.

It’s no secret that I limit the amount of muggle me that I let into this blog or Twitter because my professional and family worlds are not two worlds that can ever FULLY mix. However, I made myself a vow years ago that when I could mix elements of them I would and, as a for instance, sometimes I channel my Dom energy to work with a client, though I often have to channel my inner masochist to sit through a meeting for just an hour. In my head I find this entertaining because I have labeled it, but everyone likely does it without thinking.

I find myself fascinated by this and love watching it in the people I have gotten the pleasure to know on both sides of the collar, so to speak. This is not a post about shaming myself or others about keeping these lines separate, because there is a need. I had email from a 22 year old “pup” who bought his mask, named himself, and is 100% out and about being a pup at home, at work, and with friends. He was attempting to shame me for not showing up at a meeting in a harness or being more open so I pushed him. He’s 22, he works in a leather bar, and he lives with six friends he met at IML. He scripted his kink world, but is it real? He said if his world was able to accept his kinks than all worlds should. Isn’t that cute? I hope he’s right and I hope, for him, that he continues to live in that if it is what he wanted. This is different than being yourself and being out and gay, because kink is such a private thing different to all that do we really want to live in a society where mixing the worlds is just a given? Now, do NOT get me wrong, I wish we lived in a more accepting society about kink and a more understanding one at that, but I do think there always needs to be a line, at least professionally. As a for instance, do you really want to be treated by a naked doctor who is locked in a hood because that is “just who he is and this is what his Dominant wanted” or be in a plane where the pilot toddles in in diapers sucking on a pacifier? I mean, I know most of us are are never going to be “who we are” and, for me, that’s okay. For the record, if the doctor or the pilot told me that they were a slave or an infant at home, I’d be very cool with that, but I don’t need to see it in action (unless both were really hot but that is so another story).

Where my fascination really is in watching how the two sides of the people I know diverge and then come together all at the same time. I was thinking this a few weeks ago when my slave and I were sitting and talking and he was asking me for permission to take a shower and then for me to give him his list that showed what scrubs, underwear and plug he was to be in each work day. He was genuinely waiting on this and would be really out of sorts in the morning if he had to pick out his own clothes because that is just not a decision he has to make anymore. However, once those scrubs are on, this man with a locked dick and metal up his ass who was not even allowed to choose his outfit might be standing next to your hospital bed giving you meds, he chose, that might save your life. While he has no ability to control his own penis, he has full ability to save a life or guard a life all at the same time. When we have discussed it, he says that the mind space that he now has free and the peace he now has in not worrying actually makes him be a better at work, makes him more free because he knows that he has me for the small things if that makes sense and can focus on care and safety while at work.

Another time was actually a few days ago when I was talking to a very good, very in the know, friend and he was complaining about customer service and cleanliness at a national retailer he was doing business with. He didn’t know this, but I happen to know the exec vp of customer service for the chain and I happen to also know that he is owned by his husband and would be locked chastity sitting on a giant plug while running this extremely large part of the company. I told him I knew someone and could let him know about the experience, but knowing this couple, I knew the appropriate path would be that I told the exec vp’s Master that a friend had had this experience under his slave’s watch so that he would “be aware”. The next day there was a full letter of apology sent to my friend on behalf of his team and his Master told me that he would now be conducting an audit of how the situation happened and that, while that audit was taking place, he doubted he would be able to sit down at any point along the way. Now, I know this is just a one off situation and just HAPPENS to be how this couple operates, but I do love the fact that a spanked slave might mean that they rest of us no longer have to jump through two hoops and give a drop of blood just to pick up a package.

In this situation, my friend’s Master, who, for the record is a meek elementary school teacher, thanked me for taking that path as he found some self confidence in the power of being able to discipline for a third party infractions and, you know that stirred all sorts of thoughts in my head in good ways.

But, in all of this, there are likely hundreds more stories of how Doms and subs take their private kink to be better in public and I just absolutely love this. I do hope they recognize this as well.

Finally, to my 22 year old friend, I think the whole point of me writing this is to tell you that, yes, as you grow up you are likely going to have to lose the pup mask and work, but you don’t have to ever lose the pup in you. You will learn to channel that energy, obedience, or whatever it is that drives you to make you a better person, employee, parent, whatever. Please don’t think that if you move forward in life you will become boring and slow because you can’t be a 24/7 pup – trust me, you will become boring and slow anyway so enjoy it where and when you can.