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. 

A great day with Sir

If you have already read my Master’s latest post, you know that we had a talk, as we often do. They almost always catch me by surprise and it’s usually when he has had a good week, but it really is just a check in of sorts, basically culminating in an “is everything ok, because, if so, I am going to hurt you more?” type of regular check in – you know, like a performance review at work. We have them from time to time, it keeps communication open and often ends up with me weak in the knees, swooning, with some new part of me taking his pain while I also try not to tear up – in that good way.

As I sat in the floor between my masters legs (his legs are fucking amazing!). I stared into his equally beautiful eyes as we talked. We discussed how our lives have gotten better as we have embraced our relationship. I’ll come back to that. 

I am owned. I am my Master’s slave and Axel is my Daddy. While there are times that our lives look like some hot porn clip (well, maybe a porn clip on sale), it mostly looks like love, expressed differently than the “norm,” but it is no less love. In my opinion, it is probably a healthier relationship and the benefits are bigger than a lot of vanilla relationships. Though, as my ex-wife would attest, I’m no relationship guru, but this works for us. 

Sir asked me a very specific question as he wanted to know how I was better since being collared, locked and plugged. The biggest change is how I now just feel how my life has gotten better over the last year or so. Since then, I now know 100% that I am unconditionally loved and supported. My confidence and acceptance of myself has grown exponentially. I’m a better and safer driver. I have a better job, a better salary, and more room for growth at work than I previously had. I have expanded my cooking skills, my construction skills, and even my parenting skills. I’m a better dresser. I’m improving my health, and growing my body for my Master and Daddy. I am a better man. Period. 

On the kink side of things, I have grown immensely, as well. I have grown in my submission, no doubt I feel it would not have grown so with anyone else. I don’t need to make decisions on my own anymore and I had no idea before how much the simple things just overwhelmed me. I’m proud to say that because I am owned, I turned that over because he knows what I need more than me in so many ways. My Master picked my new car. He picks my clothes, shoes, socks, and underwear. I fucking love it. But, just so it’s clear, I’m not incapable of making such decisions. My Master makes sure of that, but I  just don’t need to make those decisions anymore and that lets me just be the new me.

My body is hairless now, and I’ve grown to love it. It does feel good, but I love that it makes my Master happy. I carry a plug nearly daily. I can fit larger things in my ass than I have ever been able to fit in there, even things that a little over a year ago I would have said were impossible. Needless to say, the training is working and I crave being filled with my Master’s orders.

Regarding my training and the challenge he mentioned in his update, I wish I could say I did this or did that (insert extremely awe inspiring kinky task here with no problems. The truth is that sometimes I have problems with certain things, but he tells me that is why we practice and I do get that. For instance, as you know, I was under the desk while my Master worked on a blog post. He stuck is amazing dick in my mouth and told me not to let it come out until he said it could come out. Any chance to have my Master inside if me, I absolutely love. However, after 25 minutes on my knees under the desk, my legs were going to sleep and my jaw was sore. Despite the unexpected uncomfortableness, I wasn’t going to let the cock I crave so much out of my mouth until my Master allowed it. I held it until he was finished editing his post. I was proud, and I’m sure my Master was, too. I quess the point here is that he pushes me to be a better pervert as well, and, well, who doesn’t want to be a better pervert?

So, back to the talk, Master asked if I regretted my decision to delay my orgasm for another year – though he did say it wouldn’t matter if I did. For the record, I do not. I’d like to have an orgasm of a different sort. This year I had what I’ll call a full body mental orgasm without an actual ejaculation. It was fucking amazing. I want to have that again. As we talked, my Master reminded me he had promised to teach me to cum just by him blowing in my left ear. We discussed the training and I’ll be trained to cum in my cage when he blows in my left ear wherever I may be (a fun though too). I didn’t think it was possible, but I know him and he knows my mind and, now, I have no doubt I will get there one day. The thought of this made my titanium tube fill fill, and I’m not sure there was anymore space to fill at that moment. We practiced the training, and I’m more than excited about it. I even dreamed about a left ear orgasm that night, and it was truly amazing and fuck, I cannot wait and will do my focus exercises to practice every single day.

My point here is that a real family is possible within a kink or BDSM relationship. Real love is possible there. Anybody can call themselves a Dom, but I’d encourage all you subs out there to keep looking for your unicorn. It is possible to have love and growth in this kind of relationship. You don’t have to settle for the first person who comes along wanting to tell you what to do. I may be my Master’s slave, but he is my Master, too. I may be my Daddy’s boy, but he is my Daddy, too. Those statements make me hard, make me swoon, make me grin, and make me better. I’ve never been happier. 

Happy New Year. I am now proud to say that I did not ejaculate once in 2021. Something I never thought I would never say. What’s more, something I would never have thought anyone would say.

So, I suppose a little reflection about this year is warranted.

In 2020, I met an amazing, sexy, man for lunch. We had an instant connection and somewhere, deep down, I suspected this man would own me one day. He made me melt. I mean, have you seen his eyes? A week or so later I met his husband who is equally as amazing. Then, within a few weeks I had my first chastity cage, and I was head over heels for these two men. A month later, I had my PA installed, a bonafide start to the badass metal dick club. By the time I had healed and gauged up and healed again, I had a shiny new titanium cage. A cage that I had not seen. A cage that I had no input in designing. Little did I know, my Master and the mastermind at Steelwerks had designed a perfect cage for me. The first time I actually saw it, it was already locked on my dick. It was fucking beautiful. 

At some point the rules were decided. I could ask to come twice a year and my request would likely be granted, although for some reason this year I did not ask. I’d be allowed to come at Christmas, just over a year from being locked. Today is one week after Christmas and I still have not cum and my dick is still locked. My Master and Daddy traveled for the holidays, so we knew in advance that it wouldn’t actually be Christmas, but after they returned a series of unfortunate events involving my family and the “is it covid or is it a cold?” factor factored in and it still hasn’t happened. It will happen. Just not today.

That said, to be honest, there is a part of me that isn’t really one hundred percent convinced I want to do the deed although every other part of me says that I want to 120 percent. I’m a little nervous about it as well. I mean, fuck, there’s a lot of pressure to perform, you know? 

For me, in addition to the denial and generally kinkiness, this titanium cage has represented the one true time in my adult life that I have ever had true unconditional love and support. It represents that love and support despite the fact that I’m a kinky pervert, despite the fact that I don’t always feel deserving of it, despite the fact that I’m not always the easiest person to love. But there it is, my dick locked in a titanium cage, my owned dick, a reminder that despite my imperfections, I’m loved without condition. 

I’ve actually woken up in the middle of the night with the most stupid thought of should I just say no and go another year? I mean, as every day that goes by my desire to be indefinitely chaste gets a bit stronger because of the shiny reminder of unconditional love securely locked where it belongs. I guess what I’m saying is that I enjoy the tangible reminder that I’m owned and with that comes unconditional love. I’m excited about “Christmas Orgasm,” but I’m just as happy whether or not Christmas 2021 actually will come this year or whether I will decide, with the guidance of my Master and Daddy, to just call it a year and go for two?

Stay tuned.

My Master and I have discussed hypnosis before, and it is something that stirs both of our cages. While I wouldn’t really say we’ve achieved any sort of level of hypnosis, we’ve definitely developed a system of triggering words to help redirect my focus. There are actually five words, to date, but it started as three. They only work when they come from my Master and there is one word programmed to work from Daddy, as well. I’d love to tell them to you, but I cannot. However I will tell you about their effect on me. As I start thinking about them, my cage starts to strain a bit. In addition, I am not really allowed to show the emotion they cause when I am not right in front of either, so I tend to go a bit blank. So, if run into me and suddenly I go blank, check my cage, it will likely be expanding. Now, back to the words.

The first word triggers a response of pain. When my Master speaks it or sends it via text, all of my pain receptors fire. I feel every bit of pain he has given me. It puts me in that place that I go when I take my Master’s pain. It is a place of disconnected connectedness. I focus on the sensation. I focus on my Master. I focus on making him happy. Inevitably, I think about his amazing eyes, his amazing grin, and a particular look of satisfaction and pride when I’m taking intense pain from him. As the word is repeated, the sensation of pain grows stronger and more intense. 

The second word causes the sensation of being filled with an inflatable plug while taking my Master’s cock down my throat. Every time the word is repeated, the plug grows bigger and his cock goes deeper and deeper down my throat. It is a mental spit roasting of sorts, I suppose. All I know is that it makes me more eager than I already am to have my Master closer to me and deeper inside of me, if wanting, needing, craving that is more possible than the current level of craving. Beyond this increased need to be closer and have him deeper inside of me, I often have that mental feeling of being empty and my hole wrecked, despite no physical penetration having actually occurred. If you have ever been opened up with one of those pig hole toys, it is something akin to the feeling you would have after it comes out. 

The third word is more of a word that turns me into a physical object. When my Master gives me the word, I hold the pose that I am in at the moment. Turns out, I inadvertently have been holding my mindset at that given moment. That’s just an amazing added extra that happened to come along with this particular word. 

The fourth word is a recent addition. In fact, it hasn’t been tested yet. However, when I’m given this word, I am supposed to go into a head space that lets me separate from my self. It lets me enter an almost animalistic slave mindset. It is a space of submission, on all fours. It is a space where I want nothing more than to serve, be near, and just protect my Master. The protection part wasn’t really part of the programming, but it is just there. Think guard dog, and you are somewhere in the ballpark for this word. 

The fifth word was programmed for Daddy. When he gives me this word, all I can think about doing is absolutely with all I have physically show him just how much I fucking want him. Use your imagination, but it is basically my usual lustful thoughts amplified and put into action. 

Sir, as usual, has my safety at the top of his agenda so he promised to never use these when he knows I am driving, with a patient,

There is a list of words we plan to program for this slave. One thing I know, is that each and every time we use them, I’m reminded how much I’m unconditionally loved. I remember that I’ve never allowed anyone inside my mind like this. I’m reminded that the level of trust in our relationship is nothing I ever expected to find. I’d say I probably didn’t really want someone to know me so well at a past point in time. That’s all changed because of Drew and Axel. I’m proud of who and what they have done for me and the person I’ve become because their acceptance of every part of me. I’d venture to say most will never find this on the same level, but I hope that you do. Its worth trying to find. It’s fucking amazing, and I think I’m better because of it. 

This year marked my fortieth trip around the sun. This year has been my best year yet, for numerous reasons. Two of those reasons are at the very top of the list…one named Drew and the other Axel. This post isn’t about that but if you need a list about those two and what they do for my life, just message me. I am the best I’ve ever been because of these two, and it just keeps getting better.

Of course this year’s milestone birthday wouldn’t have been complete without the customary birthday spanking. So, let’s discuss that. 

Somewhere, somehow we (or maybe He) pre-calculated a rate of 10 swats, hits, or whatever word you like to call it per year. I knew that gave me at least 400 – reasonable enough. That made my titanium clad dick strain and I knew my mental limits would be pushed. Of course, that made the titanium strain more. 

At some point that evening I asked my Master to hurt me to tell him I was ready (He loves when I ask for or volunteer for taking his pain). After getting the clearance from Daddy that I was done with whatever chores he had given me, I was instructed to get four things from the gear closet. 

I entered the combination in the lock on the door to the gear room. As the door opened, I remembered what I was instructed to get. A steel paddle, a steel rod(think steel version of a cane), the big, heavy leather paddle, and the paddle I call the tenderizer in my head. It is a small wooden paddle. One side is smooth, and the other side looks like a meat tenderizer. 

I closed and locked the gear room and went to the bedroom as instructed. I placed the four implements on the bed. My straining cage gave away my excitement as I kneeled on the floor waiting for my Master. He likes to make me wait for a bit. During this time my mind does different things. I think about looking into his eyes while he hurts me. I think about the beautiful grin on his face. I think about how I love to make him proud of me and how loved those words “good boy” make me feel. I use this time to clear my mind and go to a space that centers me. Of course, my balls have usually turned a purplish blue color by this point. 

I hear my Master coming up the stairs. As his footsteps steps get closer, my cage pulses with my heartbeat. As he walks through the door, I look up and our eyes meet. There is a glint of something that I don’t know how to describe, but it makes me just want to get closer to him. The trouble is that I can’t ever get close enough. Despite that, I plan on always trying to find close enough, but hoping I never really get enough. 

He asks me if I need this tonight. Of course I do, but he needs my reason. My reason is that I had a hard week with him traveling and let it get to me. I didn’t communicate that well at first, but it had been corrected. 

In my uniform (naked with just my collar), I was ordered to get on the couch on all fours. “Yes Master,” I replied as I assumed the position. As the steel rod made contact with my ass, I felt the thuddy deep burn that let me know I’m going to feel this one for a few days. One hit after another, I entered a space in my mind that allows me to take my Master’s pain. It is good for both of us. I look over my shoulder and see that grin of his and beautiful eyes, a look of pride, a look of determination, a look of kinky unconditional love mixed with a little bit of sadist. Fuck, I’m hurting, swooning, and maybe even leaking. The deep burn of the impact hitting a quite sensitive spot brings my attention back to the spanking. My Master stops to admire the results, the ass he owns is starting to warm and redden a bit. He feels the warmth of this slave’s smooth ass and makes some remark about just getting warmed up. 

He switches to the steel paddle. The first strike hits hard and deep. I feel a burning sensation run down my leg. My teeth grit, but I make no noise. My Master doesn’t like a loud slave. Each impact gets a little harder and more intense than the last. I feel proud. I want to take more of his pain. I want my limits pushed. I want to remember this when I sit for the days to come. I feel my ass start to burn with warmth, and I grin. 

He stops for a minute, admiring his work. He reminds me that I need this and tells me I will take more. The sound of his voice makes my caged cock press against the titanium with even more force I’m in a zone of pure submission at this point. I’m mentally begging for more. My physical senses are heightened and I feel in the feeling of pain, pleasure, and pride that I am taking his pain. 

The tenderizer is my Master’s next choice. The feeling of the spikes on my ass sends a different sensation than the steel implements. It stings with a quick burning, tingling sensation. A rapid succession of hits makes me writhe. My Master grabs the back of my collar, and it helps center me again. I feel the very specific pattern it leaves forming on my almost white hot ass. I know that feeling, and I know I will feel it tomorrow. 

My Master switches to the big leather paddle. It is heavy. The first impact on my ass hits with a combination of a heavy thud with the sting of a lighter paddle. The best of both worlds, maybe? This combination along with the fact that I can be hit harder with this particular paddle makes it the one that hurts the most, in the best possible way. I know it hurts, and he knows it hurts. I feel a sense of pride as I take his pain. I can see his pride in me, too. It is written all over his face. He stops. He feels the heat coming off of my bright red ass. My mind is in a place that is hard to describe. I’m near my limits. He knows it. I want more and he knows it. He also knows me well enough that I will push my limits. I trust my Master with every part of my being. This means that he often can sense my limits before I do.

“Do you need more?” He asks with this swoony southern drawl, already knowing my answer. 

“Yes Master. I need more.”

“How many?”

“Twenty,” I answered. Not totally sure that I could take twenty more at this point, but I also wanted to make him proud. Again, he knows my limits better than I do most times. The other side of that is he knows how far he can push those limits. Damn, it is good to be owned!

“I think you can take forty,” he says as my dick strains in the cage. I’m more than willing to let him push my limits and responded with a strong “Yes Master”. He asked which paddle hurts the worst. Him knowing that it is the leather paddle and me knowing it is his favorite one, this question didn’t really need to be asked. We both knew it would be the leather paddle. 

He instructed me to go into the bathroom and bend over the tub. I did as instructed and waited. My ass burned and I could feel the heat coming from it. I could also feel a stirring in my cage. The first hit with the leather paddle burned deeply. I started to count in my head, and at some point decided that I don’t like the counting, so I quit. It does things with my head and takes me out of the moment. I don’t need anymore numbers beyond 1 and 2 for the most important things important in my world anyway. As I kept taking my Master’s pain, it hurt and I loved every second of it in some perverse mix of pleasure, pain, and pride. It was amazing, and I one we had pushed a new limit. My body was shaking. My breathing was telling I was at a new limit. My cage was giving me away. All exposing my feelings to my Master without speaking a word. He stopped and held me. “You took sixty,” he said with that amazing grin. He held me close. I felt protected, loved, and an amazing bond growing deeper. For the record 400 turned into 700+. 

Following this, and every spanking, he will normally allow me on the bed where he can literally wrap almost all of me in his arms and we just wait there until I settle. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we make out. All times, I feel protected, safe and fucking proud. Then, of course, I am sent to put up my toys.

I feel, my words seem to fail to appropriately express what our spankings mean to me. Even better yet, to us. They are more than just a physical act. As I go throughout the following days and sit or my clothes hit just the right sensitive spot, I grin. These feelings of pain (not harm) remind of that moment of being held, loved unconditionally, bringing pride to my Master, and feeling safe in knowing every fucking part of me is owned. 

A year can bring a lot of changes. Actually, it’s been about 14 months, but it wasn’t as catchy a title. Anyway, those changes, like life, tended to be good, bad, and indifferent. I’ll try to get my sappy part out of the way early. My first year as a locked, collared slave has taught me a lot. Paramount of all is that I’m loved, unconditionally despite maybe not being quite lovable at times and, despite my new status, I am more of a man than I have ever been – now I am just a naked one.

This year has been amazing. I have two men who have shown me what unconditional love is, accepted me for my perversions (and helped add a few more), and shown me just how amazing life can be when you allow it. 

I spent a lot of time under a certain desk and in service of some fashion or another. I have chores, uniforms, protocols. I’ve been to places I’ve never been (physically and mentally), flown first class, and I’ve gained a whole new family in addition to Drew and Axel and our blended family of terriers. 

One thing that continues to amaze me is my Master’s mind. We tend to think a lot alike, but he seems to almost know what I’m thinking at times. Well, a lot of the time. He knows when I’ve had a bad day and am trying to hide it. He knows when I need to be hurt (not harmed). He knows I want to make Him and Axel proud. And He knows just how far to push my limits, even better than I do at times. He pushes me out of my comfort zone and doesn’t allow me to retreat when I’d rather just not deal with adversity and hatred of others. 

My Master and my Daddy care for me in a way that nobody ever has even down to birthday party with my favorite cake and gifts….more than I think I deserve. I’ve learned that others may see ability in me than I ever have myself credit for. I’ve learned what real unconditional love is and I’ve learned more about giving that type of love, too. 

On a kinky side, I’ve experienced things for the first time. I’ve lived out fantasies. I’ve gained a load of new toys, and I’ve had parts of my body stretched and hurt in the most amazing ways. And I have not touched my dick in over a year.

My slave side has grown deeper. I don’t even pick my own clothes, at least without some guidance from my Master. He chose my new car, my computer, what shoes I wear, and, in a case like the car, seeing my Master deal with the salesman made my titanium tube full. It was amazing and I felt protected.

So what I’ve learned in a year has been that I’m worthy of submission to my Master and my Daddy. While we may not follow the path others follow, it works for us. I’ve learned to communicate better, at times. I’ve become a better person because of support from two men who support me like nobody else in my life ever has. I’m proud to be owned. One of my most favorite things in this world is to see the smile on the face of my Master and my Daddy. They make me swoon. They hurt me in just the right ways. Oh yeah, and I have a beautiful titanium cock. That’s pretty amazing, too.  I guess my point is that there is a lot of amazing kinky stuff, but that isn’t even the top of the proverbial iceberg when it comes to what is amazing about Drew and Axel. 

Finally, a note to those who seek this style life, GO FOR IT. I will never regret finally opening up my mind to seek what I wanted and, though I really doubted it would be, it turns out it was out there – literally down the highway. Don’t feel like who and what you find has to look like me and my Master, or the Master on BDSMLR, or the slave on Twitter. Design your path

As you may have already read, I had a shit week this past week. It was one of those weeks that brought back a lot of old feelings that, frankly, I didn’t think I would have to deal with in such a manner. My heart was hurting. I just wanted to retreat from everybody, but I wasn’t given that choice. So instead of telling all about that, I thought I’d share what unconditional love looks like for us. 

Drew was away all week, Daddy (Axel) was busy with a full schedule that was busier than his usual overfilled schedule. I did manage a counseling session of sorts with Axel that was good for me. My chosen Canadian family talked with me, as well. What I wanted more than anything was to touch my Master and to serve the two men who are probably the only two people in the world who have given me such unconditional love. 

You see, service to these two has become a means for helping me center. They both realize that, and are all too eager to oblige at times. Friday’s schedule got screwed up and I was not able to see Drew until Saturday morning. It was beyond my control and I know it sounds unhealthy, but it threw me and I got to the point where mentally, any forward progress I had made during the week was about to all go to shit because Drew was home and a dinner for us had been planned.

My Master has a beautiful mind. He knows what I want and what I need, even before I do at times. I was better by the time I actually got to touch him on Saturday, but he knew his slave just wasn’t right. I arrived at our home (while not a full time resident there, Drew and Axel’s home is also my home) and put on my uniform. I went through the required 15 minutes of greetings the puppies (bio, you perves). Although I was trying to cut it down to 3 minutes or less, they weren’t having it. They are small, beautiful, and so fucking happy that you stop what you are doing right then and there and not even Drew can beat the happy greeting.

Finally, sufficient kissy faces with the newest puppy and a sufficient amount of rubbing the right spot with the other, more reserved, puppy I was allowed access past the front door. My Master sat waiting for me. He asked how I was as I assumed my position in the floor. I muttered something like “I’m fine.” I just wanted to serve him, to get to that centering place. He knew that would require a little more than I realized. He wanted me to talk about it. In fact, he ordered me to talk. I tried. I cried. He held me. His touch, his embrace, his physical presence, his voice, he gave me all he had in that act of holding me. It is no surprise that he owns every part of me, but I don’t think that I have mentally and physically ever given anybody so much of me as I have in that moment. He knew what I needed more than I did, and that was just the beginning of how unconditional love was shown to me this weekend. 

He knew the answer before it was asked, but my Master asked what I needed. Of course my answer was to serve. I spent time locked in my kennel outside. I had the best sleep I’ve had all week in that kennel. I’m sure I was grinning ear to ear as I slept. I was an object in a cage. An object that needed recharging.

You may have seen a recent Twitter post or two about some new cuffs Chris at Steelwerks crafted for me. Well, they were used in a variety of ways this weekend. As I was cuffed hanging on display in the kitchen while Daddy did that magic he does in the kitchen, I was teased a bit by my Master. I strained in my cage as I tried to taste his lips against mine, and he smiled that grin that makes me legs weak. Daddy stole a few kisses from me and the twinkle in his dark brown eyes was bright as these two men made out in front of me. I craved them both more. 

My Master came close to me, as I strained the limits of the chains holding me in place. He grabbed me tongue in his mouth. His teeth held my tongue tightly. It hurt, it felt good. He pulled me tighter in the chains with just his teeth pulling my tongue. I felt pain and pleasure, and unconditional love. My straining cage leaked. Fuck…I am loved. I knew it before, but sometimes a slave needs to be reminded. 

Unconditional love looks like a slave put away in a kennel, an object on display, a leaking titanium cage, sore painful nipples that remind me of this, a plugged hole, and a still red and burning ass. I can weather any storm with the unconditional love of my chosen family. 

To come full circle, the issue from last weekend is something that will be fine with a bit more time. Being a gay, single Dad isn’t easy on a good day. Add in being kinky as fuck plus a dash of in living in one of the least educated, least open, least LGBT supported states it multiplies that from time to time into a concoction nobody would eat. Frankly, I had let my guard down, so the incident we do not speak of anymore knocked me down more than I wanted, but I am a resilient slave and I have a Master to serve and a kid to raise so I will be just fine. Especially as unconditionally supported as I now feel.