Another locktober is coming to an end. I’m thrilled for everyone who tried chastity for the first time, for people who broke records, for people who are comfortable trying something new and exciting. Part of me expects there to be some sort of shift in the earth’s axis as the loctober fanboys are let out of their cages and allowed to have an orgasm. There may be a small part of this slave that is a bit envious. It is only a small part, assuming that pervert still exists anywhere within me. You will probably never hear me say I never want to have an orgasm, that would, in fact, be a lie. However, I’ve got a damn good reason, well more than one, to know that a traditional orgasm is something I don’t need. Wanting it on occasion, however, is what makes giving all of me, including the now elusive orgasm, to my Master the best thing that I have ever had happen to me. I’ll explain…

After a long week of travel for Drew, random stressors including work, playing landlord to less than trustworthy tenants, and dad duty, I wanted nothing more than to be the biggest pervert of a slave for my Master and to serve him better than ever. As we talked throughout the week, I shared my thoughts and ever increasing horniness with him in his absence. As he pulled into the garage, I sat near the door with the bio dogs waiting for Master to get in. If I had a tail, I think it would wag faster than the tails of the two actual dogs combined. My leather collar and harness felt good, snugly cinched against my body. I. Was. Ready.

Master entered the back door, he greeted the bio dogs, gave me a “hey boy,” walked right by me and kissed Daddy. My heart was full, as was my cage. I waited patiently. My tube filled and gave away my excitement as I pressed my head against my Master’s thigh as he and Daddy talked. We all rested that night. As I massaged Master’s tight muscles from a long week of plane rides and boardrooms. We all needed it.

The next morning, I worked on my chores. The obligatory trip to the hardware store and Costco out of the way, a bit of work completing a few projects around the house and Master told me to go shower and have the shower ready for him. One of my favorite things lately has been the new Steelwerks plug. Quite possibly the most comfortable plug ever. It has a HEAVY carry. The balls inside rattle around as I go about my work. In the hardware store, costco, target, the restaurant for lunch, and even up the stairs at home. I love that others can hear it. Although very few people would correctly identify the jingle. In my mind, it announces to the world that I’m owned by the most amazing Master in the world. Basically, when I carry it, that jingle and that thought multiply my usual level or horny ten fold.

Back on track, I jingled my plug filled ass up the stairs and showered. I dried myself and told my Master the shower was ready for him. I undressed him, and he showered while I gathered a change of clothes for him. One of my favorite things in the world is to dry him as when he gets out of the shower. I used the towel to feel every square inch of my Master as I dried his body. God.Damn. He is fucking beautiful. I worked my way down his body, feeling his muscles through the towel. I got on my knees as I dried his legs, his mass cock in my face and I opened my mouth and tried to put his dick in my mouth, but it was just out of reach. My cage filled showing my excitement. Working harder and harder to get something just out of reach, and a full cage gives away my continually rising level of horniness and the craving of having my Master fill me.

Master directed me to get the chain and locks from the dresser. My hands cuffed and locked to the chain locked to my collar, Master ordered me on the bed as he lay there naked. I rubbed his body, I licked every square inch of him, I got as close as I possibly could to my Master. I worked my tongue between his legs, making him moan a bit, I took his balls in my mouth and I was in my happy place. His massive dick leaked warmth onto the back of my head. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue to taste my Master and take him inside of my mouth. Thrusting his dick deeper and deeper into my throat I could hear the Steelwerks plug rattle as my body moved in response to Master’s thrusting.

Master turned me over stood up and pulled me closer to the edge of the bed. He bent over me. I could feel the heat of his body against mine. I know I was sweating from the pure desire that was thick in the air. I wanted my Master to fill me, to be closer, to be inside me. He leaned in for a kiss, but stopped so fucking close to my face. I strained and tried to taste his mouth. I wrapped my legs around him and tried to pull him closer. I could feel his PA hitting the plug in my ass. Straining to make contact with his mouth, I was grinding my body against him. I was shaking. I wanted my Master to have an orgasm. It brings me such joy to share that with him. As I tried to get closer, there was a stream of sticky, warm fluid streaming from my cage. I was on the edge of an orgasm and all I wanted was to be closer to my Master.

He leaned down and breathed a breath into my mouth, reminding me that he controls even my air. My god! I was on the verge of a full blown orgasm and wanted it so badly. Almost as badly as I wanted my Master to fuck the living daylights out of me and share his orgasm with me. He new I wanted to explode. 

“Do you want to cum, slave?” He asked. I was so wrapped up in feeling his body and the edge of pleasure my body was experiencing that I couldn’t answer. A breathless, animalistic grunt was the only sound I could manage to make. He grabbed my throbbing cage and encouraged me to cum. So.Fucking.Close.

“Come on slave, you can cum as long as you are caged. You know that.” I tried. With every bit of my body, every muscle in me was tight with an impending orgasm. I was sure there would be a huge mess to clean up any second now. I felt it. I was about to explode. My body shook. I was sweating. So close. I wanted to make my Master proud. I tried. I tried until I was physically spent. On the verge of orgasm, I was physically spent. I was exhausted. I couldn’t try anymore.

Master leaned over me once more. He was enjoying this. His grin made me grin. Fuck, I was so close, but not close enough. He lived me off the bed, my legs wrapped around him. He supported me. I rested in his arms. I squeezed him closer to me. I asked him to share his orgasm with me. He put me on the bed and laid down beside me. His throbbing dick became my sole focus. With every bit of strength I could muster, I proceeded to give him the best blow job he had ever gotten. As his dick slid deeper into my throat, I tasted him. I felt his breathing get deeper, quicker. I felt his muscles tighten. His body shook. As my Master’s body gave the signs he was closer to orgasm, I had that on the edge feeling again. I worked harder and harder to give him the best my slave throat had. My Master shared his orgasm with me. It felt so fucking good. From the sheer volume, sounds he made, and the heat given off, It was an amazing orgasm for him too. We were just a little closer. Despite having him literally inside me, it was not close enough.

Despite being closer to a physical orgasm than I’ve been in two years. That was one of the very best non-orgasm orgasms I’ve had. It was better than any actual physical orgasm I’ve ever had. I like to think the orgasm my Master shared with me today was one of the very best he’s ever had. As he held me afterwards, we talked. I’m not entirely sure what all was said- I was mostly staring at his beautiful eyes, his grin, and feeling his body next to mine. I do know there was discussion about my yearly opportunity to have a “regular” orgasm. To be honest, I think it would be a bit of a let down. So to those of you who participated in locktober, I leave you this question…what if every day were a locktober day? For the past two years, it has been for this slave. By far, the best two years of my life in more ways than I can count. I’d like to think it has been pretty amazing for Master and Daddy, as well. I know for sure that denial has been physically amazing. I know that it has improved my life for the better and made me closer than I’ve ever been to anyone before.

Biological denial isn’t nearly as sexy as it sounds

You know I am a bit of pervert. Denial, whether it be a 2 inch rule in effect, a shiny titanium Steelwerks piece of art encasing an owned dick, or just being restrained, is sexy. Craving something you can’t have. Wanting something that is so close but just out of reach…. Damn, it turns me on.

So earlier this week, I woke up feeling bad before work. Master had been traveling for a while and had a cold when he got back. I thought nothing of it. Needless to say, the social distancing involved after his return was less than six feet. He mentioned taking a covid test to be sure (it was negative). Being the good nurse that I am, I didn’t have a working thermometer and the only covid test I had was expired. Remembering that Master had been traveling, I thought it prudent to test, just to be sure. Of the two tests, one was negative and one was positive. I was out of tests. I needed to be sure it wasn’t covid before going to work and potentially exposing the surgery patients to covid.

I went to Master and Daddy’s house because they had some tests and it’s on my way to work. It was about 4:30am and I let myself in and found the tests As soon as I swabbed and dropped the mixture onto the testing cassette, two lines showed up almost immediately. Fuck! I’ll do another test, just to be sure. Same results. I was just pondering what the latest protocols for quarantine were, thinking about maintaining distances from Daddy and Master as I left the house. About that time, my Master appeared in the doorway (he looked super hot standing in the doorway in his glasses first thing in the morning) Damnit, I didn’t want to wake him. I saw him standing there and my heart melted. I wanted to wrap myself around him, get close to him, feel him, lick him, just all the things a slave wants to do in general for his Master, but I couldn’t.

Goddamnit! I can’t do that. It isn’t safe. I felt my heart sink more. The more I realized how potentially serious it could be for me to do all those things to him, the more I wanted it….and the less I wanted to want it. No part of me wanted to risk giving covid to Master or Daddy. We talked from across the room. Daddy came through and I wanted to get close to him, too. My heart continued to sink as we talked.

Well, I needed to go isolate and let work know I wouldn’t be coming in and try to figure out what the latest guidelines are for healthcare workers. I told them both I loved them and got my keys and left. I have never been at that home and not touched either of them, kissed them, held them, or just even laid my head in my Master’s lap. I probably told them I loved them a million more times on my way out the door. I got in my car, and as I watched the garage door close my heart broke. I hoped that I hadn’t exposed them. It would kill me to know I had brought any harm to them. I cried (just a little) because even though denial is a central theme in our relationship, we didn’t control this. The worst possible punishment scenario I could ever think of would be total isolation from these two, and here I was living it out. It wasn’t because I needed a severe punishment. It wasn’t because I had been stored away. It was fucking biology. As I sit in quarantine still, I have talked and face timed with my Master daily. Zoom is a wonderful thing, but it does not compare to actual physical touch. Physical denial, giving over control and ownership of every part of my to a Master I couldn’t adore more is something that is beautiful and grows our love and relationship stronger. Physical separation because of some virus is hard. I feel so alone and so far away from my Master, it hurts (not the good kind, you perverts). I’m happy to quarantine to keep Master and Daddy from getting sick, but fuck you covid! Biological denial is the absolute worst.

I am thankful that we have all three managed to stay relatively unscathed by this pandemic, compared to others. I’m thankful that we’re not required to have the longer periods of quarantine we once were. The isolation has given me some time to remember just how truly amazing my Master and Daddy are to me, how good they are for a slave like me, and that my Master truly owns every fucking part of me, His slave. Master, I can’t wait to touch you and all kinds of other things as soon as it is safe to do so. Daddy, you should be forewarned, as well. I’ve got some lost time to make up for soon. Ya’ll make me better, and my world is better with you two in it rather than out of it. I’ll be there to serve as you see fit in a few more days. The house will shine, and I plan on getting as close as possible to you. I just don’t think I will be close enough.

The making of this alpha slave.

I met a man in a bar a few years ago. Really, it was a deli/dive kind of joint (but that doesn’t fit with the tune of the country song playing in my head right now). We had been talking online for a while and decided to meet for lunch. As a proclaimed dom-top with a switchy side, our conversations had been filled with details of what I was going to do with him and vice versa. There were also conversations about how I would be sub to him at times. I had no idea that I would be absolutely in love with this man and his husband and about to start a third year together with them. Most importantly, I had no idea that from that lunch forward, I was destined to be owned, every fucking part of me.

We had lunch. I wanted to be closer to him. We finished lunch and we went for a drive. He drove and we went east without a real destination in mind before winding up at a park. Now, I see this as the show of his dominance it truly was meant to be and I willingly got in. He says he knew I would be his slave the minute I asked what was good on the menu and what type of fries I should get. He said he saw in in my eyes that I needed him to choose without knowing it. He chose sweet potato, They were amazing. 

Back to the ride to the park part. He drove and I first saw his amazing titanium encased dick in the sexy as fuck black on black on black German SUV that had an engine sound that was even dominant in tone as it purred my submission to me in some sense. I mentioned the leather smell was enticing and for some reason I asked to see his steelwerks cage that he has worn since we were both, of course, kinky switches at that point and I had actually never seen an encased dick in real life before. He teased me with it and put it away, and that was the first time I saw that sadistic grin he has when he is denying me something. Fuck, something was switching in my head. Fuck it was, well, nice. A few minutes later, I first kissed the man I would come to proudly call Master. I felt his hand touch my leg the first time that day. We enjoyed each other like we had known each other forever. We talked about family and relationships and kink family and about some of the life issues that were changing everything. That one day in the SUV (he recently traded it to go electric and I think both of us cried a little bit seeing that car go away). Now, even though our family doesn’t look like what I pictured it would look like now, I would have it no other way. This once supposed dom-top is now, and I guess always ways, a full and proud slave who serves his Master in any way I can and at any whim he has.

A few weeks later, after some metal had been added to my dick and the titanium cage he designed for me was installed, I still had the Dom thoughts in my head, but never in front of my Master. He knew this, of course, and his idea was that, once I was trained, I could have my own slave or submissive, a beta slave, if you will. He encouraged me to seek out a slave of my own, with stipulations of course. I had to earn it through my training and then I had to tell him I was ready. It was very similar to a kid asking for a puppy. I know that if I had a slave it needs to be watered, fed, taken outside to use the bathroom, and properly trained, as well. To even consider this, Master had to know that I am responsible enough. Likewise, it had to be an ownership approved by my Master. Ultimately, my beta slave will be of service to me and will be my responsibility to grown him like my Master has grown me. That said, Master always will dictate over both and my slave and his rule will always stand above mine. My beta will likely never see me orgasm, which will be fine, mostly his days doing that would be over too, likely for years at a minimum.

After some discussion and a few chance, well maybe not, encounters. I have found said puppy and, ironically it is someone Master already knew. He fits the bill and we have invited him into the family – whatever that will mean, we will see.

This is that part where I usually tell you just how fucking amazing my Master is, but it goes without saying.  He is my number two, as you know (number one at times – you know, when the kid is with his Mom), and I absolutely fucking adore him. If it can get better than that, he wants me to be completely me and every part of me. That includes a new beta slave to train for myself and ultimately service to my Master even more completely. He owns me, every part. That makes me proud to call him My Master, my boyfriend, my best friend. It makes me swoon, it makes me hurt (the good kind). It makes me proud to say he owns this slave. I hope that my Master is proud of the training he has given me. In turn, I hope he is proud to see how is training is guiding me to train another slave for service.

This week I walked into an empty house. I sat alone at my second home. No Drew. No Axel. No dogs (you know what I mean). Multiple aspects of my personality like structure and control. One side can’t fathom the thought of giving up control. The other thrives on giving it all away. 

Everyone is out of town but me. I’m on my own at this home. I know I have chores that are expected do be done, but this slave was given no other instruction besides “just do whatever needs to be done.” 

When I got home from work, I got the things done first that required actual clothes. However, clothes are quite bothersome and uncomfortable, so I decided only my shorts and shoes would be necessary for the chores that needing doing on the street facing section of the yard. Once out of street view and behind the gates, shoes and my uniform were all that was necessary. I was proud to be in my uniform. Honestly, I’m more comfortable in my uniform than clothes. 

I finished the work needing done in the back yard and went inside. No pets greeted me. No Master working at the desk. No Daddy wrapping up patient files for the day in his usual spot. They’ve been gone less than 24 hours, and I miss them horribly. 

I sat in the floor and texted them to see how they were and make sure they were safely where they were going and send a picture of myself in uniform. I felt sad for a moment. I thought about many ways my Master has trained me and made me better. I grinned and squeezed the plug I was carrying a little tighter because he feels it when I do that, despite any distance. My phone chimes in reply to my text and he told me how good the squeeze felt to him. I swooned. I began to do my regular chores. 

I looked around satisfied with the job I had done with my daily chores and my titanium strained, filling with the dick I no longer own. I know my service in such daily things is kind of boring, but it makes my Master and Daddy happy.

I grabbed the kettlebell that is often shackled to my ankle. I carried it with me, as my Master wasn’t there to lock it around my ankle. I started upstairs, dusting, cleaning bathrooms, doing laundry (and remembering that the custom tailored dress shirts only air dry- I’ll be damned if that didn’t turn me on even more or if I ever make that mistake again). I vacuumed. I made the bed. I washed the dishes. I even cleaned the stainless appliances and the trash cans. 

I loved every fucking minute of this service. It gives me a purpose, a task, something to be proud of. The thought of greeting two of the most amazing men in the world as they returned home to a clean home, a home that smelled like the leather scented room spray we all love, a fully Diet Coke stocked fridge, a clean office, and freshly shaved slave on his knees and in uniform made me grin (and it turns out it did them too). I squeezed the plug and leaked a bit from my titanium tube. The service itself brought me mentally closer to my Master, despite the geographical distance. In retrospect, I could feel his presence as if he were there. 

Service is not a means of degrading me. It is my way of showing love, thanks, growing, learning, and strengthening our family bond and love.

When everyone returned home this weekend, I asked my Master if the clean house made him proud of me. His reply was that “no, it made him happy”. He then said he is ALWAYS proud of me, to own me, and to tell others that I belong to him. As I still feel the lingering pain of the reward he gave me for a job well done, I know that service is a source of pride, belonging, and growing all of us stronger.

Between you and me, it allows me to show them every day how I love them even more than yesterday. 

Love doesn’t have to hurt but it sure is nice when it (consensually) does.

For the past week, my nipples have burned and throbbed each time my scrubs, the bed sheets, or anything else rubbed them.  Hell, they would burn and throb even if nothing at all was touching them. The rest of my body vibrates as I still mentally see my master’s smile, his dreamy eyes filled with pride and excitement, the feel of taking his pain, the denial of many things, and still the feel of his body pressing against mine.  That night he said he was going to push past my limits and I knew he would deliver on his promise. I just had no idea that we would push past those limits quite so easily. We’re on the same mental wavelength, and I trust him with every part of me, as I know he likes to take excellent care of his property. 

Last weekend my Master needed to give me his pain, and I needed it. Hell, I craved it. He instructed me to go upstairs and pick out three implements which is nothing unusual. I chose the leather paddle, the metal paddle, and the spiked paddle…I think. To be honest, the intensity of some of our time together (whether or not kink is involved) causes my brain to not retain some of those smaller details. I find that to be an interesting phenomenon.

So I did as instructed and waited upstairs on all fours. After a short time I heard my Master come up the stairs, causing my already straining titanium dick to pulse with each heartbeat. I heard the lock on the door to the gear room open and the rattling of chains and other gear as he was looking for something. Finally he entered the room with the posture collar, a few locks, a front locking gag, spreader bar, and a thick braided cable. He motioned for me to get on the bed. As I did, he locked the collar around my neck and the gag in my mouth. The spreader bar was locked to the cuffs already locked around my ankles. The cuffs around my wrists were locked together behind my back. I was essentially helpless. I was under complete control of my Master. My mind relaxed. My titanium strained. My body vibrated, and I thought, “Fuck, I didn’t know it was even possible to love my Master more.”

He inspected my body. Noted the results of the training he has me doing and looked for any hair I may have missed when keeping my body hair shaved. He held me and told me how he was going to hurt me tonight, and he promised he would push me past my limits. He asked, “Are you sure you can handle this slave? It will be more than you have had before.”

I mumbled through the gag, “Yes Master. I love to take your pain.” Of course it was muffled, so I nodded yes as I relaxed all of my body weight against my masters chest as a sign of acceptance. He warmed up with a series of paddling my ass, switching implements from time to time. I could feel the red heat radiating from my skin. It hurt, it felt amazing, I squeezed the gag tighter between my teeth, and I became closer to my Master as I take his pain and his pleasure making it my pain and my pleasure. As I begin to feel my skin turning white hot, the paddling stops. I feel a bit of relief and enjoy the momentary pause. He whispers “We’re nowhere near done yet, slave” in my left ear. The warmth of his closeness and the sound of his voice makes me crave him even more. I was beginning to think I couldn’t take much more, but that was all it took to make me certain that I could take ALL of his pain in that moment.

The thick cable had been locked to the anchor point on the floor in front of the mirror.  As he pointed to a spot on the floor next to him, I knelt beside him. He looks me in the eyes and tells me how proud he is of me because he knows that I will take more. The free end of the cable is then locked to the gag and I want nothing more than to feel every bit of my Master in contact with every bit of me. My master stepped just out of reach as I tried to touch him with any part of me. The cable quickly pulled tight, turning my head away from him. FUCK!! I was being denied physical contact with him, being denied his pain, being denied his massive, throbbing, leaking cock. I never knew not getting the physical things I wanted more than anything at that very moment could only make me love him and want him more, love him more. 

He told me I would have to work for it if I really wanted it and there would, of course, be a price to pay. I nodded that I understood as I pulled against the cable, still fighting to reach my Master. He stood me up and positioned me in front of the mirror. I could see my face in the mirror.  I could see him in the mirror.  Even though I saw it coming, the first hit with the metal paddle shocked my brain as the pain stung deeply. I focused on the reflection of my Master and the look on his face only made me proud to take his pain and proud to love his pain and prouder still to want more. It suffices to say that my limits were pushed. The skin on my ass was white hot and at the breaking point yet again.  My Master pulled me closer to him with the cable and wrapped his strong arm around my neck as he pulled me closer to him.

He told me he was proud of the slave that I am, the property that I am, and the man that I am. (He helps make me better at all of those, the best of everything that I am). He told me he was proud that I was about to take so much more. I was all sappy and still not really processing as I felt intense pain shoot through my nipples.  My body tightened as did his pinching grip on my tits. The shock of taking his pain stung for a few minutes as my brain caught up. The pain registered as pleasure from my Master and I would have had an explosive orgasm at that moment, but I am not allowed. My nipples are so sensitive. As I gave into the pain, he turned me to face him (fuck I love to look at him I’m not sure if I actually grinned, but it felt like I did). 

Once again, he promised to give me his pain and that my limits would be surpassed. As he pinched my nipples he pulled me forward to the point that the cable was taught. He asked med to rate the pain on a scale of 1-10. Through some nonverbal communication I gave the pain a 7.  He said we will do better than that. He pinched tighter. I bit down on the gag harder. “A 10 yet?” He asked.

I shook my head, and he pinched and pulled harder. We were at a 10. My limit was reached. He let go, and my nipples burned. He pointed to my right nipple, and I offered it to him. I felt his teeth clamp down and twist. We were way past 10. I felt him breathing, smiling, biting harder. I moaned. It fucking hurt. It felt so fucking good! I leaned into the the pain. He then pointed at the left nipple as he released his teeth.  Of course it was offered to him, too.

We surpassed my perceived pain threshold. I was physically spent and mentally euphoric. As he slowly and methodically brought the pain level back down, I felt every bit of my body ache and throb and crave more. He ordered me to my knees and offered his cock. I wanted it in my mouth so badly.  Despite the gag and cable holding me 2 inches away from his leaking cock, I tried. I pulled.  I strained. As he stood above me, he leaked. I felt its warmth trickle down my face. I tried harder. I begged with my eyes, and every part of my body, but my Master was beyond reach.

He told me to stand and removed the gag. I tried to kiss him and he backed away. I heard him say “two inches slave.” Goddamn! It isn’t a physical restraint, but the command means I have to stay two inches away from him.  At two inches away, it tried to kiss him anyway. He pulled me onto the bed and on top of him. I pressed against him and leaned in to kiss him.  He turned away and reminded me, “two inches.” As he leaned in to kiss me I pulled back.  I hated it and loved it at the same time, but I had to maintain my two inch distance. Fucking two inches is a lot of space.

As the two inch command remained in place a dance of denial between the two of us ensued. I wanted to cum. I wanted him inside me. I wanted contact with every square inch of him. We talked.  We gave each other after care. My Master allowed me a kiss. It was the best kiss ever in every way. He allowed me to have his cock. He allowed me to be me. Our bond is deeper and stronger every day because of a million reasons, but being ourselves with each other and those around us creates a deeper, stronger bond between us.

I took his pain, more than I thought was possible. We passed limits we haven’t passed before. It only makes me crave it and want it more. It makes me proud to take his pain. Fuck, I love the way he hurts me.

I got home from work on Friday and spent time doing my usual chores in the usual “uniform”. I worked up a sweat outside and my Master told me to get a shower and bring down the cuffs and my posture collar. I did as instructed and then I was ordered to put on the cuffs and collar and to go retrieve the largest anal hook and the lube, “if I wasn’t feeling bold and wanted to try it without the lube.”

Then, he told me he had a few calls to make and to stand there and wait (he knows that kills me but I am adjusting.)

I waited as ordered.

As Master approached me from behind, I heard the amazing sound of chain rattling and this slave’s already filled tube pulsed even more. As my Master inspected his property, I enjoyed the feeling of his hands feeling for any hairs that might have been missed when I shaved. A swoon inducing approval from my Master was followed by the feeling of being opened as the anal hook entered my body in one hefty thrust which was followed by my wrists being attached behind my back to the attachment point at the end of the hook, my titanium tube pulsed in rhythm with each beat of my heart, my new tail pulsed every time I moved a finger. The pulse was soon increased to four and only strengthened as two big clamps – made for wood and bought at Home Depot – tightened onto my nipples locking themselves in place for the remainder of my afternoon.

Master positioned me so that the hook pulled deeply inside of me. The chain now attached to the D ring on the front of the posture collar was pulled. This slaved followed. Communication with no spoken word is all that is needed at times. In fact, at times like these I am forbidden to talk unless asked a direct question and, even then, I have developed an almost animal like ability to answer with sounds, gestures, and slight, southern growls.

Master wasn’t done with work for the day, but instead of leaving me standing, he decided to work from the couch in his office. As he sat, he positioned his slave’s head between his thighs and then proceeded to set up the laptop across my shoulders. It turns out I make quite an acceptable desk top for finishing out the day’s work. The chain was attached around my Master’s thigh, ensuring his new desk remained in place. Goddamn. I was attached to one of the most amazing men on the planet, serving as an object. Somehow that centers me, brings us closer, and builds on every bit of trust, affection and service I give to that man. 

After about two hours, work was nearing being finished, Daddy came home from a long day which was caused by what were apparently some pretty rough clients/patients. He made a comment about the new desk, how it would be amazing yet too distracting for him, and molested me for a few minutes before going to the office to finish up his notes/charts for the day (Master did not miss a beat typing).

From between his thighs, I grinned. Now both of the two most amazing men in the world were home. 

Soon after, Daddy started dinner and I was “displayed” in the kitchen for a bit to “enhance the decor” while Daddy worked on the food prep (there is a nice attachment point high in the doorway leftover from something when the house was built 150 years ago). He figured I needed some time upstairs as the last few days of work had me a little stressed, despite orders to have the best work week ever, so Daddy released me and sent me to Master.  

Master led me upstairs by the chain attached to my collar. When we got upstairs, my wrists were released from the anal hook and reattached to the steel bar above the doorway (note: we have sliding barn style doors upstairs – not just random steel bars attached to the walls – YET). I strained to reach my Master, to touch him with every part of my body. He was just out of reach. I tried and tried harder. My still pulsing tube showed just how badly I wanted contact with my Master. Concerned that I wasn’t trying hard enough, he offered encouragement by means of twisting and pulling the big clamps on my nipples. While it drive me wild, I could not reach him. He loves denying me in as many ways possible.

Standing chained just out of reach, I could see his thick cock dripping. I knew he was proud of my effort to reach him and proud of my ability to take his pain, every bit, more and more. 

As I craved my Master more and more, his lips touched mine. As he held my face, he asked what I was thinking, as he often does. My reply was I wanted him closer (and goddamn, his eyes are beautiful and goddamn I love him and goddamn why is he so fucking far away). He told me how proud he was of his slave. How proud he was to see me take his pain, how proud he was of the man I am and continue to become. He reminded me that I am never alone in anything that I do. He even reminded me how he is coming around to the idea that he might like me as much as I really fucking like him a whole lot. He reminded me that love I get is forever and unconditional as is my service to him. I think about this and know that I’ve never loved someone like this. I’ve never trusted someone like this. No need for me to play the lotto at this point in life, he is standing right in front of me while the other one is down cooking in the kitchen (an area Daddy does not let either me or Drew meddle in.)

I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer to me. I try to kiss him. He pulls away. He asked how long I was willing to wear the clamps for? Or what is the price you will pay for this kiss? Some bartering led to a two hour payment and 300 licks with the paddle I will pay for later this week. But, once the price was settled, it was the best, deep kiss and I savored every second of it having achieved that at such a bargain price. 

I don’t talk much about my life prior to this, but I can summarize by saying I was taught love was conditional, God was vengeful, and happiness appeared to just be a concept. When I was left as a single dad with a six week old baby, I saw unconditional love in those tiny eyes, but I didn’t know if it could last or if I would be capable of providing it. Through my Master and my kinks, I now know it is possible and have begun to further grasp the concept that unconditional, forever love is possible for me, his slave, and for anyone I allow myself to love in the future. While in a fully muggle way, I am learning the same when I look at my now nearly driving age kid and I never miss an opportunity to tell him that too. I can see that, just like with my Master, we make each other better too. I never thought by simply spending an afternoon hanging in a doorway I would emerge a better Dad, man and slave, but I did and do. I still grasp for the words to describe it because it seems they are just out of reach most of the time.

Regardless, words aren’t always necessary to show that kind of love and relationship and sometimes too much thinking is too much thinking. Back to the doorway, I was quickly reminded that by a not so subtle jerk of the chain attached to my collar, a pulsing cage, and a tightening of the leather restraints.

It was a good Friday night.

By Jack.

Two inches may not seem like much, but it’s huge. It may as well be the size of the span of the earth when all you want is to touch every part of your body against the man who owns it. You are craving maximum surface area contact, but, per his instruction, you can’t get any closer than two inches from the Master that owns you, the body that physically attracts you like no other, the mind that is just as attractive and knows his slave mentally and physically inside and out. Two inches that buzzes with the electricity and anticipation of an entire universe, close but so fucking far away. Two fucking inches, but I am a good boy and I follow the rules.

As Master gets ready for another work trip, I want to save up enough contact with him, enough pain, enough lingering bruises to last until he gets back home. Plugged and collared, cuffs, and chains keep me displayed as an object for my Master’s service on the bed next to where he is packing. He places his clothes for the coming trip on me, stacking them as if I was just a warm table there to use. As he comes near me, I smell him. I try to rub my scruff against his leg as he stands near me. My tongue reaches out, trying to taste whatever part of his body comes near me. He sees this and immediately gags me with a red rubber ball gag to further frustrate me. Worse, my straining titanium tube gives away how hot I find that. How much I want to be free. But, it’s not my choice and I know that. I

Once I am released he leaves me to finish packing his bag, I make sure everything is properly folded and packed away neatly. I carry the suitcase downstairs and put it in the SUV to make sure it is ready for the airport, almost involuntarily cleaning out any trash I see in the SUV while doing this.

Master said to meet him upstairs when I am finished. 

I finish and go back upstairs and meet my Master. The flogger, pain stick and leather paddle are on the bed, still warm from where I had been bound for hours before that. There are now chains there and I know these are the ones that will be used to attach my cuffs to my collar in a hogtie position when Master orders me on the bed. I hate that position, but I also fucking love it too.

He chains me and I struggle to get on the bed. He inspects me. I feel the weight and warmth of his hands move over every bit of his slave’s hairless body, designed by him. He grabs the dick now filling its titanium casing. Multiple fingers slide inside past the plug in this slave’s ass, further expanding me in ways I didn’t know possible. All this slave can think about is getting closer to Master. I want to be so close. Fucking chains.

“Do you need to take my pain?” He asks. 

“Yes Master. Your slave needs to take your pain. He needs to be hurt.”

As Master gives me every ounce of his pain, I crave nothing more than every fucking bit of him. The pain stick leaves distinct marks on my ass. It burns and stings like hell, and my cage fills full as my balls turn from blue to purple. 

Master asks if I need more. “Please, Master,” I beg. As he reaches to get the leather paddle, I feel his leaking cock press against me, and it sends shivers down my spine. I press against him, but I am pushed back down on the bed. The pain of the leather paddle snaps me back into that headspace that craves Master’s pain. When I think I can’t take more, it stops. 

“You need more, slave?”

“Yes Master. I need more of your pain.”

He instructs me to get closer to the edge of the bed, though he knows I can’t so he pulls me. He then asks, “Are you sure?”  I nod and mouth yes Master. 

He unchains the hogtie and I soon feel the flogger sting across my back, my ass, my thighs, my calf muscles, my sides. I writhe but make no sound. My cage is wet and leaking now. Taking my Master’s pain just drives me to need him and want him more. 

Master lays down next to me on the bed. He asks how I am. He checks in on me. He holds me close and tight to his body. I feel his pride for taking so much of his pain and wanting, needing more. 

He pulls me on top of him and I feel his pulsing cock between our bodies. Both leaking and wanting release, but I remember it is still 2022. I have given up an orgasm for the year. I gave it to my Master. He controls it. He owns it and every fucking part of me, Master’s slave. 

He releases my hands and allows me to touch, rub, and massage his body. I happily do it. I see him relax. I see him smile. I hear him moan and grunt as I loosen tight muscles. I feel him beneath me so very close. I lick his body and grind my plug against his leaking cock. I rub my face against his. He leans in to kiss me but pulls my hands behind my back and positions me two inches from his face, and he gives me the command to hold that pose. My legs wrapped underneath his, all of my weight is being held up with my legs using Master as leverage. I still try to kiss him.

As I try and try to get close to Master, he tells me I may get no closer than two inches. I still try to get closer, but he doesn’t allow it.  He reminds me of the two inches. That two inches of mental bondage is stronger than all of the chains as I just want to please him, NEED to please him. I an filled with so much emotion, feeling, unconditional love…GOD.DAMN! Our bodies vibrate together. Another form of denying his slave, and we’re both on fire. 

Master shoves me down and impales his cock in the back of my throat. He holds his slave’s head there. I struggle to breathe, but I want my Master more than air. He uses his slave’s throat, just an object that brings him pleasure. I feel his body get tense, his breathing change rhythm, his thighs shake like they do. I take my Master in my throat, on my face. His body still tense and shaking and breathing hard…my body shakes, I squeeze the plug deeper and tighter. I feel a sensation I can barely describe flow through my body. I get hot and cold and feel goosebumps on my skin. It’s not an orgasm, but fuck it is so close. 

Master pulls me close. He kisses me. He tells me how proud he is to own me and my orgasm and every fucking bit of me. I thank him. We talk. We rest. We get closer physically, mentally, emotionally. Our bond grows deeper and stronger. I’m ready to miss him after he leaves, just so I can show him how much when he returns. 

Two inches may not seem like much, but it is huge to me. 

A death, whether anticipated or not is an experience unique to a culture, community, family, and individual. The southern part of the U.S. is no exception. I attended the visitation (that’s southern for wake) for someone recently who I felt I needed to pay my respects to, as she was always so good to my number one. Despite working in healthcare, I had a little covid-related anxiety about going. I could see the headlines about a super spreader event traced back to a small town nobody has ever heard of outside of the state. 

I made my way through the receiving line, and have survived the expected incubation period without any symptoms. As I talked with Drew later about the experience, I told my Master about my anxiety and strange feelings I had beyond the covid stuff. He was not surprised. In fact, he hit the nail on the head when he said it was just a reminder of my old life. 

I hadn’t thought of it like that, but it was the truth. Here I was, an owned slave, titanium encased, plugged, and proud of it. The experience was a reminder of a time when that was not the case. It was a reminder of a time that was filled with anxiety, insecurity, and fear at times. I hate those feelings. To say I hated that time in my life would be a lie. Without those experiences, I wouldn’t be who I am today. 

I talked with my Master about this in detail after I thought about it in depth. After listening, he brought tears to my eyes (the pain did that later in the day too, but this was different). He told me that I was worthy of being owned, not owned by just anyone but by him. He is proud of the man (and slave) that I am and have become. A man (and slave) that is confident and strong. A man (and slave) that is loved. A man (and slave) that he owns. I’m my opinion, a man (and slave) that he has helped make proud and confident and strong. Not only does he make me better, but we both see it. Axel, my Daddy, sees it, too.

Imagine this…a love where you can be truly yourself. An unconditional love, even if you happen to be a pervert who craves the feeling of your Master’s pain, his hands inside your (well, technically it is His) ass. That’s what my Master and Daddy give to this slave. I couldn’t be more proud to be owned. I couldn’t be more proud for others to know that Drew is MY Master and Axel is MY Daddy. The next time you see me at a wake, there may just be a grin on my face. It’s a grin because I will be making a list of reasons why I’m glad I have a new perspective on life and reasons why I’m worthy of such a Master and the reason’s I make him proud.

Damn, what an amazing life this slave has!

I think I’m pretty special for a few things. I know that sounds arrogant, so let me explain.

I had a realization today that my Master probably has seen me at my most on edge, mentally, emotionally, kink-ally, than any other being on the planet. The past two years have been stressful for everyone on this big blue ball called earth, to say the least, probably more stressful than we even realize in ways we can’t realize. Even some events we typically categorize in the “good” column of the spreadsheet are physiologically processed as stressors. I don’t think we have fully grasped the potentially long lasting impact covid isolation, deaths, and division amongst people over any number of things like getting the jab (or three or four), wearing a mask, etc..

Covid has been a time of loss, of relief, of stress, job insecurity for our small family of kinksters. Because of covid, I have met Drew and Axel. I have gained a Master and a Daddy who love me for who I am and for what I am and for what I want to be for them. I have found trust in another that I have never experienced before. I have truly felt unconditional love, and I have felt what it feels to grow that love, to trust like I never have before, and to push past limits like never before. I’ve seen that same trust be given to me by them all during a period of time when they have each had tremendous personal losses that forever changed their futures. I guess what I’m saying is that we may be a group of perverts, but I’ve never felt so close to what I’ve always thought “normal” felt like. 

These men have given me permission, in a sense, to be loved and show my true self with a confidence I’ve never had before. Sometimes that love hurts (the good column kind of hurt). Sometimes that love is tired and we just need a nap together. Sometimes that nap looks like me drooling on Drew’s shoulder while we watch whatever bingeworthy show. Other times, it involves locks and chains and leather. The point is still the same. We can take good away from any situation with the people who love us, support us, and get those things in return from us. Do I really think I’m all that special, not really. I do think I have the support of two amazing men, and what we do for each other, that’s fucking special.  

For those who read this, I hope you have something, someone, or just some time to realize your specialness too. If nothing else, I think I say this to just, once again, tell the perverts like me that you can blend kink, life and love and, most of all, you can embrace your inner pervert while doing so. If have learned it doesn’t have to be an either/or type of life and if that’s not special, what is?

As much as I’d like to say I’m perfectly adjusted and am the poster slave for easy going, low stress, no anxiety serviced focused living, you’d laugh if you knew me. 

My Master travels a lot for work, sometimes more than others. The upside is he’s been on all seven continents and has worked all over the world. That is something that fascinates me about who he is and and part of what draws me to him because it makes him so happy. Going into this, I knew he’d be gone some (though not at all in the pre-pandemic level) so, the downside is, I miss him like hell when he’s gone. It’s not a bad thing, it just is. While he is out of town for work, we have a few things that keep us close together no matter how much distance is between us at times. Last Sunday was a day before he left, one I usually try to pay a bit more attention to him, but that day, a bit of a last minute family stressor put me in a foul mood. 

Drew knew that, though.

As I walked in the door, he looked at me as said what’s wrong. As I changed into my uniform, I said nothing, “I’m fine”. He called to Daddy in the kitchen saying the slave is in a funk. “He’s all funked up”. As much as I tried to hide my foul mood, my Master saw it. I was ordered upstairs to get the spreader bars, the leather cuffs, and the ball gag. He said I needed “service therapy” and, as it turns out, I really did.

While I was bound, we discussed the reason for my funk, I massaged my Master. I I looked at his beautiful body and listened intently to him as we talked. I realized a few things that I already knew, but I think they’re worth repeating. I’m a a better man, dad, brother, son, boyfriend, slave, and best friend because of him. I’m a better pervert because of him. I’m better equipped to handle life’s stressors because of him. 

As we continued talking, I continued trying to get closer to him. He tortured my nipples as we talked as he laid out a plan to help me cope with the afternoon’s muggle family gathering. Of course he will be with me. I carry my large plug when he is out of town or when I am at places he cannot physically be with me at. I do it, because it was ordered, but mostly because it acts as an extension of his control over me, he is essentially inside me. I can squeeze him to try to get closer to him. He’s huge and fills me full. It helps to relax me and remind me how loved and owned I am. When I do this, I know he will be with me, close to me, inside of me. In essence, having him inside me and trying to squeeze him closer to me, calms me and keeps me incredibly turned on at the same time. I’ll carry the large plug from then until he gets back from his work trip in several days.  

I offer my nipples to him. He bites them, and it hurts. I am quiet, taking all of his pain. He looks up and grins at me. Grabbing the filled titanium tube, the contents completely owned by him. As he squeezes my tits harder and harder, he grins as I take all of his pain. He tells me how proud he is of me. How happy he is to see me take all of his pain. By this point, I’m lost in his beautiful eyes. I tell him how proud he makes me. How proud I am to be owned by a man like him, how proud it makes me to call him my Master. I tell him, “I love you Master, every fucking bit of you. You own every fucking part of me, inside and out.” I thank him for allowing me to take his pain. It reminds me that I am loved when I’m still sore the following days. To be clear, this is not abuse in the domestic violence way, but in a consensual “do it harder” kind of way.

This bond, this trust, this unconditional love makes us whole. I’ll be sore for the next few days as a reminder of this. I’ll carry the large plug to remind me until he returns from his work travels. I will squeeze him tightly inside me when I need a little extra reminder that I am never without him. Fuck, I know just how indeed lucky I am. 

One last thought, as weird as it sounds, I’m glad I miss him. I have thought about the why is this and, I believe the missing part is an indication of things to come. I miss his presence, but I know he is coming back. What’s the point in missing someone who isn’t coming back? The missing part is good on some other weird level. It reminds me I’m owned by an amazing man who makes me a better man. My Master makes my knees weak, my titanium cage full, and all sorts of other things. He’s worth missing, he’s worth carrying inside of me when he’s gone, and he’s worth being greeted by a well trained slave ready to take his pain when he gets back home. 

I had a conversation about dom/sub relationships with someone the other day. I’m no advice columnist, but I’m as much my Master’s slave as he is my Master. Are we equal? No. Are we unequal? Well, no. While I may be his chattel, I’m a man, made better by my Master. I’m proud to be made better by him, and in turn I think we make each other better men and better humans.