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.

Yesterday I posted a picture on Twitter of jack in a singlet that I had gotten him as a new, alternative house uniform, The joke was I got it for when company comes over, but I really got it because I thought he’d look fucking amazing in it and it turns out he did. Another beautiful part of this pic is that it showed off the bruises on his ass that have come from multiple discipline sessions this week. He wears those bruises with such pride that it makes me happy to see them as well.

Anyway, a comment was made about why the boy must always be so bad to need so much punishment. I got a little defensive at first because I took it as a “you better control your boy more” thing and then laughed it off as a general comment which is exactly what it was intended to be. However, it made me start thinking about the distinct difference in my mind, at least, about discipline versus punishment.

For me, it goes back to discipline being a word that actually has three facets, preventative, supportive, and corrective, We spend a lot of time on the first two. Preventative has been what we have worked on since Day One – the establishment of boundaries, the setting of goals, the creation of rules, defining protocols, etc. Jack has done really well with those and, in most ways, I would consider him well disciplined in the context of preventative discipline. The second, supportive, is how I teach, how I reinforce, and how I guide him to always do what is expected of him (with a bit extra too) in order to keep that title of well disciplined. In fact, contrary to what most people think, the supportive discipline category is where I would place the spankings and floggings that the boy often gets. Jack loves the pain and we use that pain, and those times, to remind him what is expected of him and how he needs to behave that particular week. In fact, we have found that the supportive discipline actually centers him and being reminded of his rules and protocols often send him into a comfortable place of peace that, well, centers and grounds him. Because the rules are a bit different for each of us, sometimes Axel recognizes the need for a spanking and will often tell jack he needs to come ask me to beat him. It’s so romantic – ha, though I do find it hot when he volunteers for pain.

Punishment is something entirely different for me and I have designed punishments that will hurt, though not physically since that is enjoyed. That said, jack is a damn good boy and he has not been punished in over a year, a trend I hope to see continue. It may be that he is just well trained and good or fearful of what I will dole out because, to him, it’s apparently a nightmare based on his face when I told him what it would be like if he fucked up one day. See, for me, I will take punishment straight to the brain, but I have to be careful in some ways to not punish myself in the process. Meaning, if I ever really, really wanted to punish him I would ban him from communicating with me for a certain period of time. That would crush him and I know he would never repeat that mistake again, but, you know what, it would also crush me too so I won’t do that (as a for instance, I once gave a no talking rule while he and I were alone in a hotel room. In theory it is hot, but in reality it just felt like he was mad at me and was giving me a cold shoulder, and I felt punished, so that will not be repeated.) So we stick with the idea of educational-ish punishments – for instance, should he ever fuck up and deserve a punishment, I am much more likely to make him watch two episodes of the Real Housewives of Orange County and then write a report about each housewife and their feelings (if he was awful it would be Atlanta). Two hours of that and I am willing to bet the action will never be repeated.

So, to bring this back full circle, if you see my boy and he has a bruised ass, don’t pity him. He’s thrilled. I am thrilled. And, regardless of how you really define it, he is well disciplined.

Our trip had been planned for months. Meeting the requirements to get into and out of another country during a pandemic was a checklist that was checked and rechecked prior to our departure. A late night packing, repacking and document uploads were completed. It looked like we were actually going to make it out of the country as planned. As usual, Drew got us the best seats and I chuckled when the lady at the club said, “3 million miles, you are with the Master of travel” as she checked me in- yes I was, but IF she really only knew. The plane lifted off and landed, a quick layover and before we knew it we were in the land of maple syrup, shiny metal cages, poutine, and amazing people. 

Rules for the room were that I be naked, collared, and on all fours within four feet, well, meters here, when inside the hotel room. Luckily for me, my Master had requested a room with floor to ceiling windows so that I could see the city from my place in the floor (fyi, reality check, yes that’s hot but it’s not practical all the time – we are real you know). Without fail, my cage strained at the thought and remained that way almost constantly the entire trip. We met Mr. and Mrs. Steelwerks for dinner that night and a bit of a surprise that I had been planning for months. 

I should start with the fact that Drew absolutely hates surprises…this was quite tricky. After months of deciding how to surprise him, we took a last minute let’s just see what happens kind of approach. We arrived for dinner almost late. It seems that our Uber driver was stuck in traffic on the way to pick us up (Uber is so not the same these days). Drinks, dinner, and the friendships were amazing. After more than a year of semi-isolation, I think we all needed it. It’s funny, I watched Drew relax in a way I had not seen before when he saw his two friends. In the almost two years since he had seen them, he had dealt with so much loss, so much pain, so many health things that, though he swears they didn’t, had to take a toll. I have been with him for some of that, but the “business guy taking care of business no matter how much it hurts” is the Master I am used to, so when he looked at them, he immediately relaxed in the most happy, tidal wave-ish way that I made me almost wanted to cry. He loves those two people as they do in return and, fuck, it was fun to see and just made my world better.

ANYWAY, back to the surprise. We planned to lock the new gift on me under the table, but it didn’t seem to be as viable of an option as we had hoped because the table was wide and Chris and I are both small men with limited arm span. So, being that my Master has a thing for the internet and social media, we decided that I would make a vague post about the surprise with a picture of the cuffs- oh yeah, the surprise was a custom set of Steelwerks cuffs with a specially made engraved plate….and lots of parts that lock or could be used as anchor attachment points. Then, I’d present him with the key to the locks. I posted while we ate. Told Drew to look at the post…”something about dinner with Mr. and Mrs. S always held a surprise“. He read the post. He smiled. He put his phone down and had NO FUCKING REACTION. Later, I found out he didn’t actually look at the picture, he just saw the words, hit like and went back to smiling at Mrs. S.

So, on to plan B.

I handed him a Steelwerks velvet bag (anyone who has bought from them knows this bag as it is fucking special) with a key in it and told him to look inside. He was surprised, as much as he shows surprise. After a discussion of what the key went to, the cuffs were locked onto my wrists at the table there in the restaurant – patrons and wait staff be damned (I felt so owned). That is how I remained for the rest of dessert and I’m quite sure the straining cage in my pants was bordering on the edge of obscene at that point. Dinner was over, and I was secured via the cuffs in the back of Mrs. S’s car for the ride home. Damn that woman has some sway.

That evening, I was allowed to bathe Sir in the tub back at the hotel room and help with his grooming (ie: shaving his head and face), something that I quite enjoy. This was followed by me spending an hour or so in the closet while Drew watched TV. However, as you can see by the picture at the top of the post, I was quite content and, well, it was a really nice closet!

The following morning was filled with anticipation and excitement. We were on our way to do a Steelwerks photo shoot and I was going to be the gimp.

Fuck, what a day it would be.

Part two about THE DAY coming soon…

Bonjour from Montreal. Home of THE Steelwerks (yes yes, the one with the e).

In setting up the trip, we knew we all wanted better pictures and so we blocked a whole day to visit the Steelwerk’s Private Playroom where Mrs. Steelwerks runs the roost. They knew what shots they wanted, so I literally handed the boy over to her while I sat in the corner and watched this magic unfold. That said, as a note, I want to make it clear that this day happened only because we are friends, we knew limits and boundaries without even having to discuss them, and while it was super sexual and sexy it was equally not sexy and sexual as it was just a great day between friends. I actually laughed because if one could have heard the conversations about my dead parents, health woes, and the 10,002 reasons why they should start watching Ted Lasso while she and I each spanked his ass to make it a better shade of red (you know, JUST for the photos), they likely would have turned off the porn immediately. Again, I said it before, but this visit and the photos from it are derived solely from friendship and incredible trust. These are not an added package to our cages and/or because we were customers.

That out of the way, it is good to be back on the other side of the border as it was so past time for this trip. Jack had never been to Canada, I missed my friends terribly, Jack has a custom titanium penis, I wanted to show off my boy, and, most importantly, I had a coupon.

There is so much to say about the day and there are so many pictures that are surely going to infiltrate the Twitter over the next week or two that it’s impossible to say other than something rather trite like “stay tuned fuckers, you are in for a treat” that I almost don’t know what to say. However, I think that since we all know Chris, me and Jack fairly well, it’s time to expose the kinkiest of the kinky, Mrs. Steelwerks. <Da Da DUM.>

What does one say about Mrs. S aside from “fuck she’s hot”?

I think one of my favorite ways to describe her is as a tiny woman who casts a really big shadow. She’s beautiful, she’s caring, and she’s got amazing hair. When we arrived at the play space Jack rang the bell, stripped naked and sat on the front stoop until she opened the door dressed in black leather and wearing some bright red Jimmy Choo stilettos that were so fucking hot. She snapped her whip and Jack melted it was so..okay, okay, anyone really believe that? The truth is that when we got there she did what all Mom’s do, offered us anything in the house (food wise – sad cause I have my eye on some shelving), showed Jack around, and apologized for a scuffed wall and some dog hair on the couch. I had to think hard about whether I wanted to turn my boy over to a lady who would allow a scuff on her wall and threatened to expose her to the world as a scuffed wall, non 24/7 stiletto wearing, flawed human, but, yet again, her charm won me over and I decided against that.

The rest of this post is about her, the human. We met maybe five years ago and I fell in love immediately. She and I each met at a point in our lives where we had both decided to embrace our kink world and were each about to venture on two similar yet very different paths toward it. In many ways one could say she had the advantage living around metal penises and vagina, um things. In other ways one could say I had it easier, constant travel, no children, etc so we set a race without actually racing. In my mind she won, but maybe in hers I did, you know, since I did arrive with an owned slave and stuff – but, NONE of that matters at all, because, fuck, that woman made it. She accepted the challenge to her kink self and she stepped over it like she was five and a half feet tall. It’s been fun to hear about but even more fun to watch and has proven to me that muggle life and kink life can will live together. I say every bit of that with a giant smile as I am just so proud of her, my friend.

I am going to include one of many pics here, but stay tuned. The NSFW ones will be posting soon.

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Here’s the thing, I don’t think I meant to be a Master. Yes, I am super kinky and, yes, I have some amazingly devious thoughts on how to train a slave, but that was just that. I was and still am, a switch. The sub or slave role is something my fantasies always said I needed to play, but time and time again, my body and brain would tell me otherwise. It would tell me it was okay to be dominant and to enjoy the experience, but don’t get too used to it – or something similar. It happened with strangers years and years ago, it happened when I met Thumper six years ago (fyi, can anyone believe it was six years ago?) and with a few friends after that – which were almost always just a play or adventure. But, when I met Jack, it fucking slammed me and as he has fallen more and more into his submissive state, my desire to dominate, protect, and nurture him has been through the roof. I will admit to fighting it at first, but giving in and allowing myself to own that Master side, has been incredibly good for all three of us here.

As you likely know too, I like to keep this kinky side in a little box on the side of my other life. Now the walls of that box have been deteriorating through the years and the paint has gone from the dark black of “you can’t see in here” to a mostly clear glass, though some is still rather frosted too. This box is just there and, even if some can see in, I am and will not be comfortable with breaking down those walls any time soon. If you were to walk into our house, you would know I own Jack. Easy. No guessing even needed. But if you were to see us out in the world, while you might think couple, or even triad if Axel is with us, you do not see power lines, structure, or anything else. Jack is short and ten years younger so at a distance you might think son, but nobody would think slave or power exchange.

So we thought.

Last week, I went with Jack to buy a new car – one of my favorite things to do. Jack doesn’t really need a new car as his is only two years old, but with the market being what it is for trades and with him having unexpected equity, it made sense. Plus, I wanted him to have a new one as the one he has is lacking some of the passive safety systems and creature comforts that he avoided on the options list when he apparently went to the dealership in 2020 and said “show me something in blue.” Well, that day didn’t really work out because we didn’t like the car (and there are so few on the lots) so I have since found him one out of town we will go get this weekend. However, the funny thing about that is that the salesman, who Jack had made contact with, talked to, made appointment with, etc was THE guy, but, what was funny is that when we got there he wasn’t. I was. It was odd in a sense because this guy assumed he and I were a couple and didn’t blink about it at all, something that used to terrify me. In this case, he could have cared less and that spoke wonders about people of now. We did not correct him on the couple thing as it was easier to do that than try to explain the thruple, gay, dominant, married, submissive, locked, shaved and plugged thing to a complete stranger, you know. But, apparently the salesman had an intuition or something because he spoke to me about the car and, pretty much, only me. Having come from work, Jack was still wearing surgical scrubs, had already shown his firefighter ID for the BMW discount, and was strutting around talking in his deep drawl. By all accounts, he is more masculine than me, but the salesman just knew I was the one in charge. In fact, I got swept up into it and started doing the dealing, the dealing of Jack’s money, negotiating his trade, his credit and even what he would put down money wise. I was just doing what I do and then, about halfway in, I realized that this is not a part of him I would consider “mine” as he has his own life, bank accounts, etc and those are not my business (maybe later in our D/s life, but not yet). He’s not my object at times like this.

So, I asked the sales guy to step out and I asked him Jack if he was okay that I was doing this and even pseudo apologized for just jumping in. His response to me was not anything I expected. He said “Sir, I don’t know if I have ever been so aroused with clothes on.”

I was thrilled and, from that moment on, I took it over. In fact, that deal didn’t work, but we did better on a car we will go get this weekend while having a fun round trip road trip and a night of slave service in a cheap hotel.

Back to the not meant to be a Master thing. Maybe not. But I am enjoying trying even when it doesn’t show.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, we met the unicorn and encased his horn.

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

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

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

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

THAT is the perfect part.

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

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

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

When we write, we do.

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

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

Warning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drew’s Note: Another jack post.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drew’s note: A boy Jack production below:

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

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

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

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

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

jack