Good afternoon from a beautiful autumn day in the South. I am sitting in the back yard writing this, Axel is napping, and Jack is safely stored away in his dog kennel on the other side of the yard where I can see him, but he can’t see me. I let him keep his phone so Twitter might be full of wire bar’d images before I even finish this, but his being there today was an absolute necessity.
See, to phrase it lightly, he’s had a shit week. While I do own “every bit of him”, as he states a lot on Twitter and wears on occasion on a special tag Steelwerks made, I could tell you about his week, but I won’t. If he chooses to write about it he can, but let’s just say that he had the kind of week that reminds you that being gay, especially in the Southern Bible Belt full of God loving Christians who judge in the name of God, is still often tough and still hurts a lot at times. Of course, while we know that the people that spit the vile are a lot of the same people who will tell you about the “sins of gay” before getting a beer to go, picking up their mistress or whatever on the side, and then heading to the casino for the buffet, BBQ and banana pudding, it still just makes you want to scream sometimes as we as a group have come so far until we are reminded that we really haven’t.
This week, I write about this as the bond we have as the household of Daddy, Master and slave withstood it’s first test of anything emotional having to do with a core factor of what makes us, well, us. Of course, if you know my year and Axel’s and about the nine close people we lost, you know we have dealt with things, but this was the first instance where one of us could have said “enough is enough, the outside pressure means we need to pull away, etc” and, when it started, I worried a minute bit about that happening. That said, that worry only lasted minutes before I was assured Jack would be fine and, that, together, we would get through this. For Jack, the child of very religious, Sunday go to church special clothes wearing Bible thumping parents, he has always had to deal with the “we love you but we will miss you in heaven” tractor-set crowd and has done remarkably well, but this week marked the first time he ever had a chosen family – us, our Canadian friends, and a few others who were going to support and love him un-fucking-conditionally and, well, he struggled with that. The week was particularly bad as well because I was far away for work, Dr. Ax had a packed client schedule, and our puppy doesn’t talk yet, so it was a bad week to need someone when he could stop by our house. He did fine and each day was a bit better, but today is our first time together since the incident so it has been phenomenally good to be together and help heal in person.
The best part of this for me; however, is that I could look into his eyes and know that TODAY he needed to be controlled, hence the cage in the yard as I type. I am allowing him very little choice at all today and he could not be happier. After lunch, he asked if he could talk about some of his fears around what had happened and, of course, I let him. However, he maybe got seven words out before he started crying. so he just let me hold him for a while after that. While I knew the answer. I asked him what he needed and he said “to serve, Sir” so I got the cage out while Ax made a chore list.
I wish I could show you how he is smiling in the cage now, but we have that no face thing happening, but through his submission, the boy has found peace and comfort. I am proud to say that we have trained him that way and wish everyone could find inner peace in whatever BDSM role they choose (or biologically have chosen for them) – myself included many times. This storm will pass and those left in the clean air that will follow will be better for it.