Happy MAL weekend. No, we are not there because, well, we just didn’t schedule right and the older I get the less I like crowds, so for those of you there, we are with you in spirit and hope you have an amazing time.
I think you all know that Jack decided to forego his 2022 orgasm and now has something like 350 days before he will even have to worry about that again. By that point he will be well over 1,000 days locked which is damn impressive and also scary to think about how fast it goes. As I said in the post about it and he said in his, I wanted this decision to be 100% his as I either pretended so well that I fooled myself or I truly didn’t care. His devotion to his service is already so strong that I knew one orgasm would not change that. But, I also get the need for a personal goal and to go as far as one can. Jack is competitive as fuck and a bit of a perfectionist, so I know what is driving him with that too. And, with his decision to not have one and the resolution I saw in his eyes when he made that call just made me both respect him even more and I had a feeling of pride so deep inside that it made me swoon a bit more than I already do when I think about him and his dedication to service.
All of this, and a few other events of late, have made me think a lot about subs and slaves and how much admiration I have for them in so many ways. As I write this, Jack is chained under my desk treating my legs to a delightful massage and, from the look on his face when I look down, he is having such a good time. I admire him for that because he is just home from the hospital and has put everything “away” so that he can focus on his slave self, a task of compartmentalization that I am rarely, if at all, ever able to do. I am so proud for and of him that it just makes me smile.
Additionally, over the last few weeks I have had the pleasure of having coffee or dining with four other men who are in relationships where they are the submissive of the house, the slave of a Mistress, the slave of a Master, or the sub boy training to be a slave under their husband/Master. In all cases, these men are skilled and powerful when they are allowed clothes. In the bunch there is a surgeon, a lawyer, an electrician, and a C-suite executive who uses a lot of big words (when he’s not gagged) with the word “acquisition” being used frequently. In all of these cases, these guys are self assured men who run the show yet they go to work locked in a chastity cage with a plug in their ass “carrying” their Master or Mistress with them wherever they go. To them, it’s normal day to day operations when outside their houses yet all strip down and collar up at home where they are able to step into the world that brings them joy, peace, and disciplined pleasure. One day I hope to officially interview them all and write a book about them that will be designed to show, teach, and train other men (or women) that submission equals pride, peace and power in ways that those of us who are not wired that way would likely not ever understand. These men have found and, most importantly, accepted themselves as a submissive partner in a relationship and though some like to be called less than or reminded of what they can’t do, they all deep down know that submission is strength and I find their acceptance of themselves and the need within them so fucking sexy that I also have to add that submission is sexy too.
I know that I don’t represent most of what we see on Twitter and the like and I am sure there are many subs and Doms that thrive on those type relationships, but for those that think like me, give your sub a hug today and thank them for their service. Then, immediately thereafter, of course, make their ass glow to show them how proud you are.
Happy Boxing Day, all. While it’s a not a holiday we celebrate in the US and has become more akin to Black Friday elsewhere, it is still a named day and it sure as fuck sounds better than a regular “happy Monday” that we have a chance of hearing 52 times more after today before starting another year. Axel and I are back from a week in the desert with friends which was an amazing time, but we both missed the boy and we also missed what would have been our first white Christmas at home. Until his kid grows up a bit more we want him to never miss a holiday where they can be together, so separate trips will have to suffice until then. But, for now, we are back and the world is right as he is under my desk as I type this happy as he can be (as am I too.)
Anyway, if you are a long time follower you will know that once a year I give Jack the option of whether he wants to ejaculate on New Year’s Day, which will serve as his orgasm for the year, or decline his chance as a tribute to the training he has and continues to receive. There is no wrong answer as this annual choice is his and almost the only one he will ever get when it comes to his penis and ass, aside from those rare days I let him choose whichever plug he wants to carry that day though I sometimes make him double the size if he picks too small. On January 1, 2021, he decided against coming, though that was only about his third month in chastity and I am not sure he thought I was as serious as I turned out to be. On January 1, 2022, he also chose to not partake in the pleasure as he decided that another year locked would only help him grow in his slave role and I can honestly attest that it has. He was very aware that he was giving up an entire year to the titanium in his pants, but he owned that and, from what I have gathered, does not regret it, though I will admit to not having ever asked him if how he feels about it one way or another now, as it doesn’t matter to me anymore honestly as the decision was made. Also, I am a bit worried that if he did regret it, I’d probably like it so much that I might not be so kind now to remember his 2023 choice but I digress.
The 2023 choice will be presented to him today and he has until 6pm on New Year’s Eve to tell me his decision. As I mentioned, I will not feel like I failed if he says he wants it or not, as he has exceeded all wishes in the chastity area that I had specified for him. And, just to be clear, if he did chose to come, this would not be ruined or through the cage or anything of the sort as he has earned it. We would do our best to make it as sexy, hot, romantic and down right dirty as he would want it as that time, unlike everything else with us, is for him (and a bit Axel who really wants to see him come).
So, the next post will be Jack having decided, explaining why he agreed to another full year locked in my cage or why he wanted to reset the clock with the one, amazing, orgasm he has earned.
Curiously, what would you do in this situation? What advice would you give Jack?
He will see you Sunday with a full report of his 30 minutes of pleasure or sooner with this denial of his right.
One of the things that fuels my Master’s slave is service. At home, we have protocols. That is service. Service takes on many forms for many different people for many different things. I think one of the most amazing things that a master can do is show off the training to others indicating that the the master is proud of the training he has given the slave. Additionally, the slave is proud to show his skill to others, not because he was able to learn from training, but because it is a skill his master has trained him to perform. In essence, it is a showing of the master’s skill, the skill to train a slave. It is so amazing for the slave because it is in reality a showing off of the masters ability. My slave brain says my Master has chosen to train this slave, lock away his dick, and lots of other things. I’m just serving him. Maybe that was convoluted, but the short of it is that the slave does not view this as showing himself off, but he is showing off his Master skills as well.
Anyway, if you are still following me after that cold intro, let me share from where that came.
Last week, Master and I arrived in the land of all things Maple. We met up with Mr. and Mrs. Steelwerks for dinner and a new client of theirs whom we had not met yet. Dinner, drinks, and new friends were had. As we problem solved the latest crisis in the world, conversation moved toward the place where awesome kink people often go; perversion but in only the best sense of the word. For us that sounded something like leather, restraints, beautiful titanium cock cages, DIY dungeon upgrades, and the best place to get some high quality special order sleep sacks. We talked about family dynamics in our relationship versus other more “traditional” kink relationships work. We talked about jobs, family, pets, friends. It was normal, but also perverse. At some point, an arrangement was made with short but mighty Mrs. S in which my Master would turn the reigns over to her the following day to take the slave for a spin, so to speak.
My cage filled, and I hit a sub space there in the restaurant. It was all I could do not to take off these fucking itchy clothes and sit under the table at my Master’s feet. He is just going to turn over his slave, his property to another person. He knows I have worked hard at training, and the fact that he is using me to show himself off too. Of course, I should state this was all non sexual service and I was being “given” to someone he has known for years who he trusts explicitly. For that reason, I never blinked at the thought of being sent away to train.
Later that night, I tried to get close enough to my Master as I served him. I slept soundly touching my Master and being excited about my upcoming day as a loaned object. When we arrived at the dungeon of our kink family, we chatted about life as we discussed the day’s plans, talked about food, discussed which cage needed polishing and stared at lots of little s screws. As we were talking about some new pieces of gear to try, Master finally said, “I need to go get one email sent, tugged on my invisible leash, and handed me to Mrs. S. Minutes later, as the hood covering my eyes was tightened, I saw the last sight I saw my Master step away to go put out whatever work fire there was that hour, but I knew he’d be back to help and, even if he didn’t get back, I basked in the comfort, safety and sexiness that is Mrs. S.
Almost immediately, I felt the leather restraints tighten against my body. Mrs. S methodically restricted this slave’s movement more and more. I relaxed in the trust my Master had given to her and easily slipped into that space of darkness, restriction and hypnotic recreation. It wasn’t long before I could hear Master’s voice in the room as I was pulled up to my knees. I felt the tit toys apply pressure. I could hear them discussing how the slave was being used, as if I were an inanimate object in the center of the room. I felt the sting of the leather slapper make contact and, oddly, it gave a soothing, aching sting. Over and over, I could tell that I would continue to feel this for some time. I could sense my Master close to me, whispering in my ear, telling me how proud I made him. There was a pause in the spanking and the pressure on my tits was released. A moment of pain, a moment of pleasure. I felt the first swift impact of the cane across my chest. I groaned a bit with the bite of the cane. My nipples burned. I felt it again, and again. I took the pain. It hurt. This was going to remain with me for a while long after this moment and, I could not help but feel my face grin inside the leather hood.
My tits took a pounding. They throbbed. Mrs. S checked in with me. Knowing that I was okay, she told Master there was something new she wanted to try. I felt the pricking sting of the spikes around my nipples. My Master pushed them deeper into my skin and I know he was proud of the pain I took for him. I was spanked again. As the leather paddle and canes met my burning red cheeks, I grinned in my mask again, feeling the familiar feeling that told me I would have bruises for days to come. In fact, I wondered if I was actually stretching the leather smiling and then tried more so they’d see, but the giant gag limited me. All of this were small reminders of my service to my Master. Then, as my Master and Mrs. S took turns spanking and flogging me, my Master asked if I needed more. It was hard to talk, but we developed a system of hand signals for yes and no questions. As I signaled yes, my ass and legs soaked up the pain. As we collectively pushed limits, I asked for more and more pain, until I was physically spent. I think at that moment I both impressed and and empowered Mrs. S, something I know that led all three of us to be proud.
My Master and Mrs. S allowed the slave to have a break. As I was inspected and allowed to come down to a place I could more easily communicate, the gag was changed. I crawled to my Master as best as I could in my blinded state but I followed his voice and the heat his body produced. From out of blue, he grabbed my collar and pulled me up into his lap where I sat facing him. I felt his face with my hands. Although I couldn’t see him, I felt his body. I felt his face. I could see his beautiful eyes. I could feel the handsomeness of his face, the soothing feeling of his scruff, and I could feel the muscles of his face move, shaping his lips into a smile of approval. Although I couldn’t see him with my eyes, I could feel the look he was giving me with my hands. I could essentially see him by just feeling him. If ever a titanium cage was full, it was at this moment. I told my Master how much he meant to me through my gag and how amazing it was to have him show my training to others outside of our own home. I told him some other super sappy things that I’m sure had him rock hard and hopefully leaking. I relaxed into him and he relaxed into me. Of course, all he likely heard was “mmmph, grrr, lvvvvvv” since the gag was tight, but I knew that he knew what I was saying. This was one of the truest displays of love and bond in our relationship that anyone outside of the Axel, Drew, and I had probably ever seen, and luckily Mrs. S took some amazing photos that we will likely only ever share with the truest of friends (though I will post an edited one with this post).
Then, Mrs. S had a surprise in store. Daddy had gotten me some suspension boots, as he knows I has a huge fantasy for being suspended upside down, and those boots happened to have had been packed for the trip and delivered to the dungeon. Master and the Lady Werks secured me into the boots and Mr. Steelwerks himself joined us to assist in working the hoists as I heard the clicking sound as my body lifted from the floor. The pain ensued for a bit longer. Mrs. S talked to me as she pushed my pain thresholds with the encouragement of my Master. At some point, after my hanging, she asked if it was okay if some two of their closest friends from out of town stopped by to meet us just for a few minutes. Now, a slave doesn’t really have a choice in such things, if my Master approves, but he did, so it didn’t matter what I thought really, but I did appreciate her asking. I trusted him. I was laid onto the floor, still hooded and gagged and, although I couldn’t see the two people who eventually met me naked clad in leather restraints, I could hear a distinctive regional accent that reminded me of how those of us from the southern US tend to talk a bit slower and suddenly compared my drawl to Drew’s and how we grew up 40 miles from each other but sound so different. It’s funny where one’s mind goes to as a gimp in the floor during a meeting.
However, the important part is that I met two people and talked with them for a second as just an owned piece of property belonging to my Master. I know this slave’s cock throbbed. While I didn’t see these two people until we all went out for dinner that night, I was seen for the first time in real life outside a very small circle, as my Master’s property, slave, object, as my Daddy’s beast. Sappy, horny, so fucking proud to be displayed as such, were the feelings I was experiencing and I honestly wished they would have come back to see more of me, though that would have been hard to do since there was little they had not already seen.
As we finished the session Master was the first one I saw when the hood came off. That face I felt was now looking at me. It looked just like it felt. Those beautiful eyes, that grin, that handsome face….I swooned a bit I am sure. Mrs. S thanked my Master for allowing her to use his property while I glowed with the pride of an owned, loved, slave. As a returned to a more normal head space, the S’s, my Master, and I discussed the day. What we all liked most and the least, and about what bruises would continue to show up where for the week to come. I continued internally swooning.
Mrs. S and I talked about life, HGTV, and my time at the Fire Academy learning to be a fireman on top of my other career while we put the gear away in a special area to be cleaned and sanitized. Then, she hugged me. This small lady with a giant heart mixed with fiery red sadism showed that there is a love, care and an acceptance between people that exists in pure kink and pure friendship made even more amazing because we also share a great friendship outside of kink too. Sexuality due damned.
Then, I immediately needed a nap. So, to the hotel we went.
For dinner that night, the four of us met the anonymous couple that had seen me naked earlier that day. It was nice to put faces with the voices and I found myself slightly surprised that not a single bit of embarrassment crossed my mind. Dinner conversation was great. We talked about chastity, plugs, toys, and the mental side of what fuels our kinks, which is way more than a physical thing on so many levels. They were a straight femdom couple, something I am not around a lot (that I know about, of course) but who we fucked didn’t matter at all as I knew that the man and I both sat there encased in titanium and, by the end of the night, we were sharing pictures of our encased dicks and talking about the plugs we enjoy best….turns out we both quite enjoy the limited run SWerks plugs and the jingle that both his and mine make among other things, of course. Master told me later that in a more quiet room he might have made us try to clang out a Christmas Carole or two, so, I then found myself loving the noisy space.
The next day, I spent with my Master serving him. We had time together to just relax into one another and we talked about our favorite things in life, about fantasies we have been having lately, and how much our lives are better with each other in them. And there was a lot of hot sexy stuff that makes a slave want to cum. The rules state that I can cum, if I can manage it in my cage. I was so fucking close. My Master could feel it. I could feel it. Mentally, my body felt it. Physically, I did not come. Despite Master’s fervent encouragement, I came so fucking close, but not physical ejaculation. I had all the other parts of the physical orgasm. It nearly brought me to my knees. I was spent. We showered, we rested. We had out check in talks that we have every so often and then, we shopped. I needed a coat and he needed to hobble around in his cast, so off we went.
Later, we were picked up by our new friends from the previous day and met the muggled up, fancied up Steelwerks’ couple at dinner. Dinner was amazing. On the ride in the car to and from dinner, we discussed our thruple, if you will. We gave a quick verbal rundown of the organizational flow chart. Who is number one and number two to who and Daddy’s (Axel) umbrella ownership of both my Master and his slave. I told them more about Daddy and how amazing he is. I talked about how he loved both of us. How he cares for me in ways that differ from my Master. Being Daddy’s beast and my Master’s slave…fuck I don’t deserve their love. I could feel my eyes get watery as I smiled that stupid grin I have and told our new pervert friends just how amazing the two men in my life are to me. I thanked them for allowing me a place to be seen as my Master’s slave. What a privilege to
You know, straight people are not so bad. Not at all.
I mean, sure they have that cool ability to procreate, show affection in public, and never have to think twice about what word to use to describe their spouse to a stranger, but they generally get such a bad rep about driving minivans to soccer practices, worrying about tax rates, PTA’s, and what’s on sale at the market. Of course, the same sources would let you believe that most gay men just pity them for not being able to talk about sex at the table and what is put in where when allowed. It’s so, so, sad but I guess Ward and June will rule forever and that we homosexuals will just have to try harder to not shame them or look down upon their fashion mistakes. I mean, they can’t help it, they were also just born that way too.
While I am obviously kidding because, yes, of course, while we will continue to shame on the fashion mistakes, I think there is a weird misconception that the kinky gays and the kinky straights don’t play well together when in reality, that’s rather stupid. Further, go out to dinner with me and my crew. After 40 the conversations started to slip to pure domesticity and now, after 50, we find ourselves comparing blood pressure medicines and bragging about who can stay up to 10. We are all the same, proven yet again.
However, to explain where I am going here…
As I write this, I am sitting in a hotel room in Montreal where Jack is under my desk rubbing my legs. It’s one of his favorite places to be and one of my favorite places for him to be as well. We are here to see our friends at Steelwerks and have celebrated our friendship with food, drink, laughter, intense and not so intense conversation and, well, more drink. I love these people and my work calendar is even blocked off with the phrase “Christmas with Canadian Family” which, I am sure, has my assistant curious as rarely does Mississippi meet Montreal.
As as part of this trip, I also had the opportunity to hand the boy’s leash over to Mrs. Steelwerks yesterday for her to work her magic on him. I told her to do whatever she wanted to do to him as a way of letting him experience the gear and for her to continue growing her expertise levels so she can keep her own boy in line – as if there is any danger of him not ever being compliant. I was there and helped, but she’s a tiny woman that casts a big shadow and she was clearly in charge, which was absolutely fine by me. She taught me some tricks, too, but those are for some posts in the future as I am not revealing any new information to the boy until he’s in the proper form, the proper place, and with the proper amount of restraint applied. It was an amazing afternoon and there will be plenty of pics to share, trust me.
What made me laugh was about five minutes after the first pic went on Twitter, I got a message saying, “I thought you boy was gay. Is he bi now?” Well, since there is no sex and he was the only one naked, I don’t think sexuality factors into that nor do I think it’s a deciding factor in how kink should work. In this case there is consent, explicit trust, mutual interests and knowledge resource exchange. How could one even question this? Yes, if you are into women and junk, Mrs S is hot and if I didn’t think of her like a sister I could have gone down that path of being all hot and bothered by watching her do some amazing work with Jack, but for those of you who do walk that path, enjoy the vision.
This trip also brought about even more heterosexuals.
On our first night, we met a man (@gimpypup on Twitter) who flew by on his way home to England to pick up his cage. He joined us for dinner and the conversation never stopped, much to the chagrin of the cute little couple on their first date next to us. We talked about dicks, cages, restraints, plugs and more and had the best time doing so. He told me that one of the reasons he was into some of this is from this blog and while swooned silently, he didn’t know that he had just made a friend for life at that moment. Our time together was short that night, pup, but I took away so much.
Last night, two MORE straight people joined us for dinner who are friends of the Werks. They are a husband and wife (@lovedenied on the twitter) who have been together almost a quarter of a century and a few years back switched up their marriage to that of a female led relationship. It was officially sealed with a S screw and a plug and from the looks and sounds of it, they have never been happier. I greatly enjoyed meeting these two because they were exactly what I love about so many kinksters who don’t live their life in leather and lace. They have careers, kids, and other hobbies, but, the man is this attractive Dad type who nobody would ever guess has a locked dick and a jingling ass at the Home Depot and the ruler of the relationship, is a sexy, pretty executive type who is buttoned up on the outside while her husband’s key gently rests between her breasts attached to a lovely chain. They ARE kinky America and I loved that. As he asked the boy if he knew what pegging was, I knew we were going to be fast friends as well. He also said he started this world when he saw a pic of me locked and then the blogs that followed led him to Steelwerks. And, like pup above, he also found himself tagged as a friend for life and/or gained a new stalker.
The thing I loved most about all of this is that sexuality did not matter one fucking bit to anyone at either table. We started with a shared bond of kink and found other connections along the way. I spent today smiling as I just enjoyed that fact. And these days, it’s just one more notch on my evolution as a proud kinky professional. Now, stay tuned for more pics
I realized this morning that it has been over a month since me or Jack has updated this blog. I could list 30 reasons as to why, but I am not sure anyone would care. I am finding that even owning the most amazing boy in the world doesn’t stop the year end work travel, the tendons I keep tearing – or the joints I keep breaking, and the still newly minted Dead Parents Club orphan gold – club level status grief that somewhat just hangs over your head like a cloud that no longer rains or casts gloom goes away. But I learned that it’s just a cloud that is omnipresent and one that thins out just as fast as it can grow dark. I spent so much time trying to make it blow away before realizing that it doesn’t and it shouldn’t, but one just has to learn how to ignore it when not needed and celebrate it when it is. But, enough about the muggle world.
While things have been busy, never fear, Jack’s ass has stayed a nice shade of red, his nipples are constantly sore, his dick is locked and his ass is plugged. We have a level of consistency and perfection always on display, and I love that. Something that hit me over the last few weeks could apply to the muggle world too, but specifically in a power based situation, I realized that the boy is my weakness, yet I am his strength. That weakness I have for him is one reason I suspect power based relationships may suffer because, while I am dominant and love to give an order, I am also practical and take into account his feelings on the task or his current state sometimes more than I think I should. This is more outside of sex than in it, but a specific example that comes to mind was one night, a few weeks ago, it was really cold and really wet and I remembered I had forgotten to plug the charger into my car. So as I was getting up, I looked over and the boy was in the floor in a blanket and my first thought was “fuck Drew, you have a Jack, this is one of the things he is here for, so why are you going to get cold and wet??” That was followed by “but look how comfortable he looks and he’s naked and warm and it’s my car, etc etc” so as I continued to get up I debated it. In reality, he saw what I was doing, asked what I was doing, and had his shoes on and was out the door before I could get my fat ass into sweatpants. He did that because THAT is what and who he is now and if I had given into my weakness, I would have denied him the joy of service, so to speak. Versions of that scenario happen over and over again and most of the time they end of just like they did then. Sometimes, when he is busy and I do something like that or carry something heavy in from the garage, he will look at me like I crushed him which further fuels my weakness (we don’t show the puppy dog eyes that are always exacerbated by the collar) and I find myself apologizing, or wanting to, for doing a task for myself. I forget he fuels his strength in service like this and I will remind myself that from time to time.
Where my other weakness comes to play is probably not the place you guys would think, but it’s in his orgasm denial. There are so many times during sex when he has done such amazing things to me that I think “fuck that boy needs a reward” or “God damn, that will be fun to watch” and more. In those moments I want nothing more than to let him have what he wants, but then I always remember that it’s not what he wants AND because what he wants doesn’t matter here. What I want does and I want a boy and love a boy who serves, now, on two plus year denial energy and that turns me on so much that it would not be fair to either of us. I love this part so much that I wonder how good it will feel at 5 years or at 10 years? Surely I will love it even more and, by then, I wonder if he would have given up the idea? It’s an interesting conundrum and one that, as long as I don’t give into my weakness, we will all just have to wait and see, right Jack?
And, for what it’s worth, please don’t worry, I am pretty strong.
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.
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.
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.
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.