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

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

Back to the hurting part…. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally.

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

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

Tomorrow I will ache. Tomorrow I will smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s been awhile since I really wrote about me. Me. Me. And more, Me.

I stopped writing a great deal when it got too personal, when life got in the way of my kink. I felt I was in danger of turning a kink outlet into a personal diary and, since this ain’t fucking Facebook, I just withdrew a bit. Lately, it has really felt like outside forces had formed to try their best to throw me off my game that I have been in a constant fight to keep winning. During all of this, I met the boy and that boy is who I give a lot of credit for helping me stay in the game and keep things moving forward in kink and muggle life in many ways without a hitch, at least on the surface. Yes, I give Axel credit too and he’s been absolutely amazing, but he is right in the middle of most of the mud with me, so he needed his own propping up as well. The good Dr. Ax is amazing with solving other people’s problems, but that super power is often diluted when closer to home and I also know that it’s not fair for me to expect him to solve my issues either.

I have written about it some on here and it’s been no secret that we have had some personal losses which total 12 people very close to us who left this life for the next, but within that 12, last week we lost the fifth, and final, parent (four parents and one step parent total) all within 22 months, something that broke me a lot more than I admitted at the time. Losing a parent is hard enough, but losing a parent who did not remember you even being born when they died can sometimes be haunting.

And, as the icing on that funeral cake is another life fun that has not been discussed. Three days ago I had my 13th surgery in 15 months for a weird breathing issue I have that is caused by the biology of my neck (9 of 13) that I did not and will not discuss in detail here. Also, the broken foot I had discussed (4 of 13) previously, as I had to show those sexy wearing a jock with a casted/booted leg pics plagued me.  I THINK last week was the final, literal, cut and that the issues have now been resolved through some implanted jumper cords/stimulators in my throat, breathing sensors in my ribs, and batteries inside a tiny computer living just beneath the surface of my chest, but we will see how this plays out in time. As these happened, I didn’t mention these things because they are not relevant to the kink world and, well, fuck, I was afraid Lifetime would call and want to do a weird kink based movie about grief as seen through titanium dicks, bone plates and joints and/or that I would turn on all the drone/robot fetishists out there as I am now closer to that in reality than they are. We do not want a jealous robot uprising this year, friends. I simply do not have the energy for that at the moment.

Oddly, I feel like the people who read this blog are my friends and I felt I owed an explanation of my absence and, perhaps, my change in tone.  We all have flaws but I wanted to hide the fact that I know have new scars, both physical and mental. They had to heal awhile before I was ready to discuss my thoughts on teaching, training and growing a man into a slave while also trying to figure out who the fuck oneself is when he now finds himself in a newly decorated body, in a changed world, with a changed career, without a family while at a very small Easter brunch where there is a slave leashed to the table. It’s all so different and as someone who doesn’t like risk in life and who is worried about what color rental car I will get Tuesday afternoon in New York, change like all this shit is, well, to put it bluntly, hard.

However, not a fucking day goes by that don’t think about ALL of the above without telling myself I am better because of it in some many ways. The self reflection has been huge and good, and over the next few posts about just ME we will go through some of them with the biggest being an upcoming announcement, spoiler alert, that my switchy scale has radically shifted to the right (fyi, that’s okay, but should you ever hear me describe myself with that phrase not directly related to kink- something is wrong, send help)

As for the scars, I will take a step with this post, but actual scars are quite sexy and, when healed, I will show them off with pride. Emotional scars are not as sexy and sweet little silicone patches do not cover them quite as easily, but when they are healed, I will fucking show those off too. It’s just a matter of time for both and as much as I have recently honed my dominant skills, I know my own strength and cannot demand that that go faster.

Finally, this really long post has not been written in any way as a ploy to play a sympathy card as I don’t need that nor do I want that (and, honestly, please don’t). As I said at the start, this was all about me and the simple act of sitting down and writing this out has started something inside of me that feels a bit like healing, a bit like momentum, and a bit like normalcy. 

So, that said, let’s talk about my slave’s titanium dick and the plug he carries for me every day…

Last night was a rare night in that the boy was unlocked the whole time he was with me. It started as a need to deep clean and soak the cage and, in the process, a small red spot was discovered so for safety’s sake, I told him to stay unlocked for a day or two until it could get better.

Now, while it is always covered in titanium, his dick is truly something to behold. I mean, I know it’s not the right tool for a sub to have and we have taken measures to mitigate that, but while he’s a small statured man, his dick is built for someone two to three times his size. It has a left facing curve that I suspect was created by the sheer fact that when growing up it had to evolve itself to fit into his pants.

That dick aside, it’s not something I generally play with or even see. I like him denied and in being denied he doesn’t get to be touched or ogled at either. That said I often tease him about things with “let’s go get a pizza and when we get home, would you like to ejaculate?” or “If you do x I might let you come” but, deep down, he knows I am not serious because we all know he gave up the right to have a (traditional) orgasm in 2022 (as well as in 2021) and he knows I will not allow him to go back on that decision. We are working on the left ear orgasm I have been training him to have, but that will take some time.

But, last night, last night was different.

There was a sexual tension that was strong and, for me and him, I have the ability to talk directly into his ear and, in doing so, he fires up and in some ways almost becomes robotic. We were sitting in the floor together, he was naked and collared, and I starting pinching his ass which had just received about 500 licks an hour before. They were hard licks too as, after we finish, I always give him the choice for more. Last night’s choice was he could kiss me, but each kiss would cost him an additional 10 hard licks with the heavy leather paddle. He kissed me, and again, and on his third attempt I said, “are you sure, boy, this is a heavy price” to which he said “yes Master, it is worth to me.” So, since he was paying, he got a kiss worthy of the impending pain and, when we were done, I even gave him a free one as I am indeed a generous guy.

That is where the tension had come from and, last night, I really did think that I wanted him to come. I made him be still, gave him the no talking command, and then I pinned him back and started playing with that curved, massive member. I fondled, I licked, I even sucked a bit too and the boy was vibrating, He knew better than to come, but I think he was mighty close and I had to try to think about what a punishment would be if he did and realized that we have never set one because I am that sure in his ability to stay chaste for me.

I felt him pulse, I felt it coming, so I stopped. I repositioned him so that he was effectively sitting in my lap with his back to my chest which gave me perfect access to speak directly into his ear while I rolled my Southern drawl in a more than whispered effect while also stroking his dick in a beautifully choreographed rhythm to my voice. And, of course, I was continually pushing his almost permanently installed plug up and down inside of him.

I said, “what would you do to come boy?”

He said, “umm mph

I said, “before you come, I am going to do x and x and x to you so that you will have so much of me inside you that you will have no choice. Do you want that boy”

He said, “god damn, Sir”

I said, “but to be a good slave you will have to do x and x and x and it’s gonna fucking hurt”

He said, “Fuck Sir, anything, ANYTHING for you Sir”

I said, “anything, slave?”

He said, “EVERYTHING SIR. YOU FUCKING OWN ME SIR” (his whole body was vibrating)

I said, “Do you want to come boy, just tell me, just tell me”

He said, “It’s not my choice to make Sir, but mmmmmm, mmmmm, FUCK”

I said, “picture yourself coming with me doing x and x and x while you simply have no choice to take it and any pain

He said, “Fuck, Sir, FUCK, Sir, that is so fucking” (and then his voice started cracking)

I said, “Okay, slave, you are ready, are you ready, fuck I bet you are ready

He said, “tell me Sir, fucking tell me Sir

I said, “Okay, boy, you earned this, picture your Mother naked boy, picture her absolutely naked

He said, “mmmmmmmm, mmmmmm, no Sir, that’s terrible, and oh fuck Sir:

And, as I absolutely stopped all physical contact with him, I said, “Lock up and bring me the key, You have 10 minutes. Oh the plug stays in until tomorrow

I have to wonder, did he really think I was going to allow such behavior? And, yes, I know I used X in place of the actions, but use your imagination, we can’t tell all our secrets.

The boy and I were having a talk yesterday afternoon while he sat on the floor between my legs. I had him turn around and face me so we could have a heart to heart and I essentially held him in place between my legs (I have kinda strong legs) so that he could be trapped in the discussion the likes of which we do have from time to time.

I needed to check in to make sure he was still feeling emotionally and physically fed from being trained and, if so, tell him that we were going to step up a few things over the next (traditional) orgasm free year. This was also a time for me to tell him how incredibly proud Axel and I are of him and how thankful we are that he gave himself to us and allowed us (me mostly) to take away so much of his freedom. While we have been very clear that these removals are all about shaping him to be better, there are times that he needs to be reminded of such and to look back at how far he has come in the 17-18 months he has been owned and orgasm free.

A sideline here for newer readers, but I feel like this is where I need to remind you that jack is not a typical, porn style slave or twitter based “degrade me, Sir” slave (not that there is anything wrong with those) and that we are not Masters that have ANY interest in ever making him feel he his less worthy of happiness or progress than we are. We have learned and watched that as his slave side has continued to grow that he, as a man and a slave, has flourished and, in turn, we know we need to take him “down” even more as we continue to grow him into what he is meant to be as it’s just natural progression for him. Now the flip of this is there are MANY ways he is a traditional slave such as with rules, protocols, service – both domestic and sexual, but those are the areas where the strictness associated with slavery are helping him grow.

In this discussion, I asked him how he was better and to list a few ways, if he missed his hair, and what, if anything, he would change. He gave me almost thirty minutes worth of answers and instead of me saying more here, he will be writing a follow up post to this within the next 24 hours that answers those questions and talks about the one way I want him to work toward a caged orgasm this year, which will take a lot of mental training. I like to challenge him and this is one way though I often have plenty. For instance, as I write this he is under my desk with my dick in his mouth. His rule is that he must keep it in there for as long as it takes me to write, edit and post this or face punishment. He is struggling and, although I didn’t tell him what the punishment would be, it doesn’t matter because his desire to please me by completing the task and not failing will drive him and ANY punishment I give him will pale to the fact he will know he didn’t abide by my wishes. So, stay tuned for the post and I hope he will mention how today’s challenge ended and how he felt (since it hasn’t ended, now going on about 30 minutes, I can’t give you a spoiler).

Self reflection goes both ways and I started thinking about how I am also much better since I became an owner.

So, here are a few ways.

I am a better man myself. I am more relaxed, more focused, and generally about 20x happier than I ever thought I could be. Some of the daily tasks he does for me take some of that away, having someone to spank just because, or someone who worships me really has just put my mind in a happy place. These things have led to so much acceptance of myself as a kinky man, a sadist, a mentor, and a stern disciplinarian that I have used that to channel in other places. In fact, since I have met the boy, I have had the most professional success I have had in a 30 year career. The two facts absolutely have to be correlated.

Finally, I think the biggest takeaway is that I/we want all those guys out there who are like jack to see that they can have a life of respect and balance while still becoming the submissive that they were destined to be IF that is what they want. Our relationship has proven that kink can be any way you shape it as long as it’s communicated and continuously evaluated.

It hasn’t been that long since my Dad moved away to his next phase of life, whatever that may be. Now that the business of death is done, I miss him more than I ever thought possible. This is not a thirsty call for comments, but just a simple fact that any of you who have lost a parent, or like me, parents, just learn to accept, use as growth, and do everything you can do to continue to make them proud despite the fact it no longer affects your allowance.

Anyway, as a tribute to my Dad, this week I bought these two new Nasty Pig caps and gave him a bit of a shout/snout out, While this may seem incredibly strange to most of you, tenured readers of this blog will remember me writing about the day I was traveling that my elderly father had come to my house to do something and called me to say he forgot his hat and was going to borrow one of mine. I thought nothing of it as I usually have somewhere between 77- 203 ball caps within arms reach of the door and went on about my life.

A week or so later was the next time I saw my Dad and as he rounded the corner of Cracker Barrel where I was meeting him and my Mom for breakfast. I noticed the gray and bright red Nasty Pig on his head and immediately laughed as THAT was the cap he had borrowed, out of all those hats. I had no idea how to bring up the fact I wanted it back as I was not going to tell him what it was, but he pre-empted that by THANKING me for the hat and telling me that it was the best he’d ever worn. Then, my Mom said it was “stylish” and he swooned. It was never coming off of his head whether deep down he was a nasty pig or not.

From that day forward the Nasty Pig went with him to the barber shop, country club, grocery store, and anywhere else he would go. In fact, I believe I remember a conversation Axel had with him about that he could not wear it to my Mom’s funeral and he agreed that he would save it for his one day, a sly suggestion Ax had to win the argument.

Turns out, it was only a few months later when he would have had the chance at his funeral, but in the time in between he had a series of minor falls that, to an old man on blood thinners, looked like the aftermath of the Red Wedding each and every time, Ultimately, there was not enough Tide or Woolite in the world to save that pig and, at the end of the day, it became yet another casualty of 2021. I actually think he forgot about it rather quickly, but I didn’t as it still makes me smirk when I think about it every single time.

So, Dad, while you may never have known the background of that cap, know that I will never be without one (though, unlike you, only in the proper venues).

Here’s to you, Dad, from your pervert son who you made so proud with your acceptance, love, and apparently inner pig.

I was given some options and a choice to make. This isn’t something most owned slaves are allowed, but I’d go as far to say that I’m not most owned slaves and that my owners are definitely not average by any stretch of the imagination. I went a full year without an actual orgasm. Christmas 2021 was supposed to be the big day for my 2021 orgasmic release. However, Drew and Axel were traveling, so we moved my scheduled orgasm day to New Year’s Eve/Day far in advance so I knew the days would be shifted and, at that point, one extra week would not kill me. However, as a result of the latest craze in games of chance, a turn on “Is it Cold, Flu, or Covid: The Third Edition” put a less than fun kink in our planned ringing in of the New Year (and, fyi, it was not Covid).

We had an impromptu celebration of New Years the day after where I was given the option to orgasm, but I just wasn’t mentally prepared for it. I’m sure that it would have been amazing, and I’m sure it would have registered on the Richter scale. But, there’s a lot of emotion tied to giving control of your orgasms to someone else, well two someone else’s, that I am absolutely unconditionally in love with. The holidays had been increasingly difficult for me mentally the last several years, and this year was no exception. As odd as it sounds to 99.9% of males out there, I just wasn’t mentally prepared for an orgasm. So, I chose to forgo it that day. However, I did get flogged, paddled with my Master’s favorite (read pain inflicting) leather paddle, and the heavy steel paddle. I was happy, and it was probably one of my more intense impact sessions to date. That was followed by being shared by my Master and Daddy. I think all three of us got just exactly what we needed. 

After some discussion, I was given the option to choose to cum any day until January 31st as long as they were each present or wait until New Years Day 2023. The choice was mine and mine alone. I can be quite an objective slave at times, so I made a list of pros and cons. Depending on the day, my mood and the volume of girth in my tube, each list carried more weight than the other at any given time. It isn’t even half way through January, and, today, I made my decision. 

Today, I had the day off of work, so I spent it with my Daddy and Master. I’m an early riser, so I was up at my usual time (around 3:30am). I made it home to find Daddy already up and about. I greeted him and the pups. He was busy getting ready for work as he had a full schedule with patients already on the books. He felt me and I felt him. We loved each other and I went upstairs to nap with my Master until his alarm went off. I asked permission to get on the bed, and it was granted. I’m not particularly good at sleeping, but I rest truly soundly and deeply in that particular bed. I slept in the deepest part of my sleep so close but I never truly feel like I can get close enough to my Master. As we woke, I massaged my Master’s body as my cage strained as hard as it ever does. I truly worshipped my Master’s body as his owned slave. As he had meetings starting, I was given orders for the day, a list of tasks, and a different uniform from my daily uniform protocols. As he showered, I put on the day’s uniform. A heavy chain padlocked around my neck, leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles, and my new leather harness. 

I met my Master with a towel as he exited the shower. I dried his body. Today, I was to be below the level of his waist in the room with him. I could not speak without permission or being directly spoken to. I was to be within three feet of him at all times except for the scheduled times to complete my daily chores. His slave was in slave Heaven. 

Daddy left breakfast for us in the oven before leaving for the office. Master fed me mine as I sat on the kitchen floor kneeling with my hands behind my back. I am the best treated slave I know. My shiny titanium still trying to stretch. At some point during the day I was trying to remember how long an erection should last before it becomes an emergency, despite not having taken any of  the medications that carry such a warning. 

As my Master started his meetings, I served under the desk until it was time for my chores to be done. After they were complete and Master’s morning meetings were done he had our lunch delivered. Of course, mine was ordered for me. After lunch I completed my chores for the day. I showered off the day’s dirt and my Master and I spent time together as I massaged his body. We discussed the upcoming year as I tried to get close enough to him. Despite every part of my body that I could possibly get to make contact with his close enough continued to elude. We discussed physical goals for the year, as we as a family have individual health goals. I am growing my muscles to better please him this year. We discussed my progress there. We discussed our relationship with a depth and candor most vanilla relationships probably only dream of. Two is company and three is a family with unconditional love, right?

As the conversation continued, I made a decision. I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Master, I have made my decision not to cum. I don’t need to wait until the 31st.”  He smiled his beautiful smile that makes my knees weak. He asked if I was sure, but he knew that I was. If my full cage and purple balls weren’t a dead give away, I answered a confident, “I am, Master.” I like to think this made him swoon a little bit, but his Mind knows me quite well. More than likely, he knew it already. 

So why delay my orgasm another year? Well, bragging rights are always nice. The pride of my Master. My pride in being owned. Honestly, I like my titanium dick better than the one I was born with. Neither are anything to be ashamed of. My titanium cage represents more to me than I could possibly list. The short version is that it is a constant reminder of unconditional love given by two men to me. It reminds me that I am worthy of being owned by them. It reminds me that the three of us always have support in an unusually fucked-up-at-times world. It is real fucking love, or at minimum a tangible representation of that. They would love me the same if it weren’t there. 

Finally, I’m spending another year locked in a cage because I’m a pervert and a sexual being. We visited friends that were consider family not too long ago. We had an amazing time. I loved being shown off by my Master and making him proud. That night after some time in their dungeon, my Master and I spent time together. That night I experienced something that I had never had before. The best way I can describe it is a physical and mental orgasm without any actual ejaculation. Fuck! It was amazing. I’ve never had such an amazing no orgasm orgasm. I want that again and again. 

Some may not get our dynamics, and that’s okay. I’m still going another year with a locked dick as an unconditionally loved slave in search of another amazing year with  more no orgasm, orgasms to be had. 

Over the last few weeks I have been asked why I, Jack, and various others use the #lockedinwerks hashtag when we tweet pictures of our Steelwerks cages. The implication of the questions were more judgmental than informative and one went as far as stated that labeling the pics made the person who posted look like an “elitist jackass” because of a type cage that is locked on his dick or even that we were promoting a secret brotherhood of locked fellows. The second part is rather funny because it is a brotherhood in many ways, but if it were truly secret, would we have a hashtag? And, as far as the bragging, I would think a screenful of a beautifully crafted titanium cage would brag a bit more than a few letters and a numbers sign, don’t you?

I think I was the one who started that hashtag years ago and, for me, it was and it is a way of showing pride. It’s a product a I proud to own, proud to wear, and proud to lock my boy in. It’s a product that brings me happiness, peace, and joy. And, it’s a product that is made by kinksters for kinksters and giving money to a fellow pervert for something they make that I benefit from brings me great satisfaction. On the same front, I have recently noticed a #lockedinbarz hashtag for the Behind Barz products made in the U.K. I am thrilled to see their customers stand behind them and show off their amazing products the same way. In full transparency, I know nothing about Behind Barz but I get the impression they are also kinksters for kinksters and, for that, they should be supported as well.

I think the reason this hit me in such a negative way was having just seen a hollow PA barbell on Twitter that is the EXACT replica of my original hollow PA barbell that Steelwerks made for me years ago. It was a forward and I don’t know the guy but he was really proud that he had bought it as a knockoff made in China and paid almost nothing for it. He thought that, since it looked as good as the original, it had to be as good. Right? From the posts, he really was enjoying that barbell and was trying to get it to fit in a Holy Trainer or, well, in something that looked like a Holy Trainer, I suspect. He’s happy with his bargain and, I guess, good for him, but at what cost did he get it? Will it be a bargain if it slices his dick or his penis falls off? That will be an interesting tweet.

See, the reason he got his bargain is that years ago Steelwerks did the work. They put in the time, the energy, and the craftsmanship while, for this particular design, I put in the money. In the consumer world, nothing is sacred, I know, and designs and ideas are copied all the time. Even more often, companies blatantly aspire to be as good as the best – I mean, anyone who drives a C Class knows it will never be a 3 Series, but I digress…

All that said to go backwards a bit and say that if there wasn’t a demand, they wouldn’t be made. There are probably 1,007 reasons why cheap devices need to exist and why men need to buy them, but I just wish it would not be celebrated as a win over the small business who created it – regardless of who they are.

How does this all swing back to the hashtag? I guess it is about penile pride at a base, but it’s about small businesses at the core, ownership of design, and recognition for those who created something great enough someone else wants to copy. That’s a lot of shit for one hashtag, but I think it’s also why we don’t see #lockedinDHgate or #lockedbyebay. So, for now, #lockedinwerks and quite proud.

Growing up my family’s tradition, like most families, was to go around the room at Thanksgiving and say what we thankful for. It was the anti-festivus which, you know, is for the rest of us. In my family, we wrote our lists (did I ever mention my mother was an English professor?) and would read them at the appropriate time to those in the room, As we kids became adults, that tradition stopped and I started writing somewhat of a self assessment that was meant only for my eyes which did expand a bit as social media grew. However, for the last few years I have not done anything as, in my mind, life was testing me in ways that I never expected and I wasn’t sure how to be thankful for anything, or if I was. I am not going to go into the story because I vowed to not take this blog that direction, but let’s just say I went to a lot of funerals, have about six new scars on my body, pandemic-ally changed just about every aspect of my career by force, gained weight, lost weight, lost friends, gained friends, but I have lived to tell about it.

However, reading the above paragraph actually just makes me smile because, frankly, despite those things, I couldn’t be more happy. I met my slave/boy during this time too and he continues to make me swoon. In addition to all of the validation he has given me in owning more and more kinks, he honestly has helped me build an even stronger bond with my husband in ways I never expected. Axel and I used to talk about growing old together and, looking at a recent picture of us together, we both kinda laughed and said “fuck, dammit we HAVE grown old together”. We were in our late 20’s with sweeping hair and 32″ waists when we met and now, in our early 50’s, the skinny pants went away right after the hair did. There are so many factors in being middle aged that we didn’t plan on, but, again, we ARE doing okay, but damn I wasn’t prepared. In a marriage like ours, things change but, if you work hard, both of you can change with it. Physically and mentally we are so different, but we keep going. Things that once drove us, like sex, friends, careers, have all changed. As an example, for us, sex is important, but luckily it is not THE driving bond between us because when you add one stressful career (me) to one, often incredibly dark, mentally taxing, stressful career (him) add in health, money, and retirement one day, you get a pair that no longer get the instant erections of yesteryear because there is always something that either mentally or physically competes. Or we are just sleepy. But, THIS is an example of how things adapt and grow. They don’t stop, They shift. Sometimes, I worry that I should worry about this more, but I love that man so much in so many ways that I don’t. His support of my kinky mind, which is about 227% more kinky than his, has been such a blessing that I can honestly never say thank you enough. But, to watch his own kinky mind develop and grow has been nothing but a joy to see and I hope it continues. Adding the slave to the mix, a slave that was intended to just be a play toy for me at first, created this thruple effect of love and support that just kinda sealed all the good things in place.

So, to keep the theme, I am thankful to Axel.

Also, I am thankful for jack.

I have called jack a unicorn so many times that he might think he is one, but it’s true in so many ways. This boy has done so much for me and Axel that I can’t even begin to list the things. Again, even with a slave, the sex is not the dominant factor. He has come into our worlds and integrated himself into our lives in so many more ways than sex. I have said it so many times, but for me, slaves (or ones who think like jack) are equal in some ways, thought vastly unequal in others. When I think of him, I actually have two images in my head that each counter the other. The first is him in his natural naked state, dick locked away, ass plugged, ass bruised, collared, doing anything and everything he can to make us happy. THIS, I so love. However, the other picture of him in my head is him in his scrubs holding my father’s hand the night before he died going over every single medicine and protocol in his chart making sure he had the most pain free, dignified death he could have. I can’t describe what that meant to me, but to him, he was just doing his duty to make me happy. He was no less a slave that night, to me, but his ability to take his gift of service to us and mold it to whatever we need is just something I honestly never thought a BDSM relationship could have. I see it clearly now, and hope those who get to know us through these posts can see it too, but I think this whole notion of submission equals nothingness likely means that so many people may miss meeting the one who can either hold or wear their leash. Does that make any sense at all? As for the unicorn bit, well, he’s smart, he’s more kinky than me, he has a deep voice with a polished southern drawl, he looks good with his cock locked away, and, well, he’s both adorable and hot. So, yes, jack, I am both thankful to and for you.

Going down my kinky thankful list, we have Chris and Mrs. Steelwerks. Yes, these two started as a business relationship and, unlike most of my friends, that have touched my penis, but, somewhere in all of this I fell in love with them as people, kinky as fuck people, but people who whether or not they know it, have helped shape who I have become in the kink world and the muggle world through their friendship, These two people have so much love and acceptance for each other and for those in their immediate circles that they just make me smile when I think about them and don’t we all want friends who make us smile? So, to mr. and Mrs. Steelwerks (see what I did there?), I am, indeed thankful to you too.

My thankful list starts with Thumper who opened all of this to me and, even though he never calls or writes anymore (insert ho hum music here), he’s still one of my favorites who I value and treasure. I am also thankful for my Australian girlfriend, Ferns. I never thought I’d be able to say that phrase generally, but especially knowing that she is a beautiful, Dominant, soul who probably rivals all of the above people in her kinky mind still kinda puts me in awe that we know each other. Though the world hasn’t put me in her hemisphere in awhile, I still treasure every moment when she didn’t feed me.

Finally, to I am thankful to twitter and those of you who put it all out there for the world to see. I am not a face pic posting guy (I just can’t be professionally), but for those of you who are and who are out showing the world everything you are and want to be – thank you.

So, with that, happy thanksgiving 2021 and thanks for reading this year.

DD

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.