Have you ever truly CRAVED someone, NEEDED someone so badly that every fiber of your being ached to feel that person with every part of your body, to feel their heat, to smell their smell, to do whatever it might take to be closer to that person in some way or another? Have you ever loved someone so much that you’d do anything for them? Have you ever been loved and accepted, despite all your deviant desires and faults, unconditionally?

Have you ever given your whole physical and mental and emotional self to another man? Have you ever needed to be the taker of his pain or not being able to wait to see the marks he lovingly makes on your skin? Have you ever just swooned at the certain look in a man’s eyes when you make him proud, to see that grin spread across his face because you allowed him to take you past your perceived limits?

Well, I have, and I do. Master has (and had) a very busy travel schedule right now at work. A quick flight back home, a turnover of laundry and suitcases in under 18 hours and then back to the airport by midday. Work is not slowing for any of us right now. As Master’s flight got closer to home, we texted back and forth all morning. He was able to catch an earlier flight, which meant he’d be home before I got off of work. As I got the notification on my phone that his plane had landed, I could feel my Master was physically closer to me than he had been for the last week or so.

As soon as I could, I was leaving work in a frenzy. I got to Master’s house as fast as I could and as I waited for his driveway gate to open, I could not wait to park my car behind his so the chain collar could lock around my neck and the day’s clothes could come off as I transitioned to my house uniform. From the driveway I saw Master through the window in his office working, so I knew I had a bit and stopped at the mirror to quickly to admire the shine of a titanium work of art covering a dick that no longer belongs to this slave. I grinned as the light reflected off the chain and lock around my neck. (I may have taken mental note of the results of the workout plan Master has put me on as well).

I went up to the office and Master turned to look at me and I melted. “Come here, boy,” he said in his sexy drawl. The cage immediately filled as I kneeled in front of my Master. I took in his face, his eyes, his smell as I nuzzled my head between his legs and squeezed my arms around his body. I felt electricity as his hands grabbed me. We talked about the day. We talked about our upcoming busy schedules. We just “were” with each other for just a bit. He told me to take my place as he had a few more work emails to write and, since he had started the laundry, I was still free for a bit.

Under the desk, I removed his shoes, socks, and pants. I rubbed his tight (fucking sexy) muscles. I heard him breathe heavily as I worked away the stress from his day of travel. I licked every fucking inch of him that I could reach from my post there under the desk. Master, finished with work, sat in the floor and I sat on his lap with my legs wrapped around him. In our place we talked for a bit. I asked if I could take his pain, as I had missed him on his trip and the soreness and marks were beginning to fade.

“How much pain and how many hits?” He asked. It would be four days until I’d get to see him again, 100 hard hits for each day seemed reasonable. He agreed. For each hundred, I’d earn a kiss. We both beamed at this proposition, but he looked tired. He asked if my feelings would be hurt if we took a nap first. Not that it really mattered and not that he had to ask, but I sometimes find Master can’t put aside his Southern charm and grace his Mamma taught him, so he just works it into his orders. I will admit, I was thrilled to be able to rest with him for a bit. We went upstairs. I undressed my Master and turned down the bed. He patted the bed beside him and said, “Come here, slave.” I readily jumped on the bed.

Master pulled me close into his chest. We wrapped our arms around each other. We both prop do this quirky leg to the side thing when we sleep (it’s a ginger thing), so it conveniently, perfectly entwines our legs. Literally wrapped in my Masters body, we rested, we slept. My head rested against his broad chest and his rhythmic breathing and rhythm of his heartbeat had me drifting off to sleep.

Master woke me with his hand deep in my mouth. What an amazing fucking way to wake up. He held up the blanket which I know is my signal to start at his feet and work my way up his body. And that, I did. I massaged stiff muscles, I licked him with my tongue. My mind transitioning to a place of service to MY Master. I mapped every square inch of his body with my hands and tongue…every fucking inch, back to front, bottom to top, starting as his feet. I took in all of my Master with all of my senses. Fuck! My balls ached and pulsed into a nice purple color as my brain slipped even further into my Master’s pleasure, combining with a feeling of wanting to please him, love him, and bring both of your levels of horniness to somewhere around 7,000+.

I’d like to think I was successful in my task. His thick, leaking cock bounced with his heartbeat, as did my own cage. I looked him in the eyes, maintaining contact as I massaged his head. I get to see his face and mind relax at times like this. A treat reserved for very few others. Goddamnit, if that doesn’t make me hotter than most any other thing in this world. As I sat rubbing my plugged hole against his leaking dick, I was in ecstasy. He told me how proud I make him, how impressed he is that I carry his plug basically 24/7. He told me how proud he would be when I went past limits today with the 400 hits we had decided on.

I assumed the position as instructed. There was no choice of implements this time. Only the pain stick. As master administered the spanking, the rubber stick left amazing stinging marks across the slave’s ass, his legs, his chest, his back, his shoulders. My body was covered in the beautifully painful, aching, burning red marks as proof that my Master loved me. I wanted to ask him to stop several times before the pain session was complete, but I know he watches me closely. He knows when I’m pushing limits, and he knows when I am in such a place that I can’t make a rational decision to tell him to stop. I wasn’t there yet, and we both knew I could take more. The 50 extra hard hits were scattered throughout the session. As the hits landed on my body, I heard the Steelwerks plug rattle, I heard my Master grunt in approval. He told me I could take more, and I knew that he wouldn’t take me to a place that would cause harm. I leaned into the pain. I pushed past limits. I got that sweaty, horny, sappy feeling that I get when I’m blowing past my perceived limits.

When he finished, I felt the warm red marks, and this titanium dick leaked, as did my Master’s. He admired the marks on my body. He touched them, he licked them. He was proud of our work. He sat in the floor and we went to our place. I earned four kisses that afternoon, and goddamnit, they were amazing. We held each other. We rested into each other. At this point we were laying on the floor. I wanted to be closer to my Master. I couldn’t help but grind against him. Master turned me on my side, and I felt his fingers slide inside of my. Filling my hole, Making the plug go deeper, and I swear the plug grew in size, as well. We discussed the fact that he owns every fucking part of me, and I loved him more, wanted to be closer to him, wanted him inside me more. The energy between us what hot, sweaty, and tow leaking dicks were making quite a stringy, lovely mess, bonding us together.

Throughout the whole afternoon, I had several near orgasms, mental ones. They make me shake, they make me have that “afterglow” feeling, and they just make me fall more in love and want to do all kinds of new dirty things with this man that absolutely makes me and my life better. Though it’s always only one real orgasm for two people, we both get what is appropriate for our roles in our relationship and this afternoon was just absolute proof.

Staring into my Master’s blue eyes, feeling the glow of that swoon inducing grin is my happy place as our bodies both breathe heavily as we relax into one another. The heat between us grows and my cage strains as I feel him leaking against me. He’s on his knees and I’m in his fucking lap, and I still cannot get close enough to him. I have never been so hungry for the feeling of another person and, to be honest, I historically have never liked being super physically close to people, but I can’t get close enough to my Master.

We are sitting there in the floor. My legs wrapped around Master and my hands are locked behind me as he holds me up. This is our place where we come to talk. Our place where we come to rest and relax. It is our place technically, but it is my spaced when I need to feel closer or need to be better either physically, mentally, or emotionally. This is the place of after care – where we come to after many things….after I take his pain, after one of us has had a long day, after sex, after, well after anything that needs discussing or just a little bit of being closer.

A few days ago, we sat there after a lot of those things happened. I had the increasingly rare day off of work and I got to spend it with Master as he had the increasingly rare day not traveling and working in his home office. I was in full service mode and, the night before, he gave me a full list of things that I would be doing to serve my Master. He blended the list with times for spankings or hits and increased those numbers if I didn’t do something right. I was going to be there about 8 hours, so the initial goal was 100 per hour, or 800 that day (though it increased 1200 by day’s end). He sent a schedule, which I need more so than Master does since his day already has a schedule that makes me wonder how he changes modes so fast. But, he knows I need order and do better with a plan since it calms me and makes my service to him shine. The plan was laid out so that my day was full of chores around the house during meetings that he did not think I needed to hear from under the desk and time directly serving Master. Also, each hour, I got 100 hits with an implement, plus any other that I had earned during the past hour. 

One of the beauties of starting my work say at 4:30am is that I am up early and was able to be at Master and Daddy’s house super early. Daddy was up as he had early clients, but Master was in bed and Daddy let me go crawl in with him and sleep with him just a bit before it was time to get the day going. For me, that meant  I started by rubbing my Master’s body, closing my eyes and following the mental map of him in my mind. I went right to my sub space here as I felt every inch of him. As he wakes up I can almost feel his grin as he says, “Good morning slave.” I swoon, climb on top of him and rub his shoulders and neck and face. There is something about those quiet times in the morning that I absolutely adore and the thoughts of those rare mornings are sometimes how I make myself go to my happy place at night when I try to sleep.

I felt Master’s cock against me, leaking. What an honor to know that I had some part in that. We talked about the schedule for the day as I licked the head of his dick. Fuck he tastes amazing. We got up and had breakfast that Daddy made before he left. Of course, I had mine in the floor while he sorted through his morning email at the small desk in the back of the house before his shower time and “commute” to work to the office he has in the front of the house.

After breakfast, I received my first 100 hits with an acrylic paddle which is probably one of my least favorites, but that doesn’t really matter. Today, though, I loved it. It stings. It makes my ass red. It makes Master smile and when done, it was now time for our shower. I prepped the bathroom, shaved Masters face and trimmed his hair. The shower was warm and ready. I cleaned his body in the shower. There is something so personal, so intimate about providing such care to my Master. As he leans agains the wall, I scrub his back and admire the wet soapy broad, muscled man before me. “Damnit, if I only had a dick,” I thought. But I grinned because technically, there is one attached to me, but it isn’t mine. This made the titanium tube fill and my balls turn a beautiful purple/blue shade. I dried my Master’s body with a towel. I got on the floor and dried his feet with my tongue, the Steelwerks plug rattling in my ass as I moved back and forth doing so. I had already gotten the clothes for Master’s work day ready. As I dressed him, I couldn’t help but put my tongue on his beautiful veiny cock. Since I did not ask permission, more hits were added to this hour’s upcoming hundred. Maybe I wanted a few more. Maybe I was supercharged by being around my Master. Maybe I just really wanted to push limits today. So, I did it again.

It was time for the next spanking round. This time, it was the pain stick. Fuck, it hurt. It burned. It makes an electrical charge go down my legs when it hits just the right spot. My titanium was full and leaking. Masters dick was as hard and veiny as ever. I looked back over my shoulder and could see the look in his eyes and the grin on his face. I knew that the rest of the day would only get more intense. 

After we finished, we went to his office and I spent time under the desk. My cuffs and collar were on, as usual. However, today I was fixed in place by a short, thick cable from my collar to the anchor point on the wall by his desk. Just a slave, a footrest, a tongue, a throat, maybe even just an object of art with a metal dick (depending on your taste in art, I suppose). I do know that his zoom meetings sound so much more productive when I am down there. 

The morning continued in a likewise fashion and, even though I am just a slave and have no idea who is on the screen, there are some meetings he doesn’t want me listening to so he sent me out to get my chores do. As usual, I was  chained to my kettle bell as I worked around the house as Master worked. Each hour, he’d come out and  I’d get more hits with a different implement. My ass was getting white hot each time and that fucking heat radiated off of me all day.

After Master’s last meeting that morning, we had lunch that Master had delivered. Of course, I was allowed to have mine on the floor near him as he ate and, luckily, I stayed under the desk for most of the rest of the day. Once the last meeting was over, we reviewed my list of services that we had made the day before. As I had done a good job, Master took me by the collar and led me upstairs. He allowed this slave on the bed as I massaged his body. I licked every square inch of him as he relaxed. We counted up the tally for the number of times I had been hit. Between the various paddles and the flogger I was still short about 200 or so. My ass was sore and red. He wanted to know if I could handle the rest of them. Short of begging for it, I said I needed it. I think he needed it too. Perched on the side of the bed, Master whispered in my ear again, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Master. I need it. I think we both need it. I want to feel the pain you share with me. I want to see the marks you give to me. I want to feel the heat coming off of us both. I want to see your grin. I want to make you proud because you make me so proud,” I answered. (Well, something very similar, but you get the gist). 

My Master and I set a new record. That fucking grin, his eyes, his hard leaking dick let me know how proud he was of his slave. He asked if I needed more. I did. I craved it. I asked him to push my limits. He gave it to me. He warned me that they would not be easy and, fuck, they were not. He elicited a few rare grunts and gasps from me (he has trained me to be silent and internalize the pain). While I wanted more, he stopped. He said I had reached a limit for the day and apparently the glow of my ass showed that fact.

As always, we went to our place. There in his lap, we took each other in. We talked. We grew even closer. Our world got even better. I even earned a kiss, well several. Everything grew deeper. Goddamnit, that man owns every fucking part of me.

To say I have an active imagination is probably a bit of an understatement. Mix that with a locked cock, a plugged hole, a Master and Daddy who (among many other things) make me just fucking swoon, and you’ve got a recipe for something out of this world. Something a little kinky, a little perverse, and….well fuck, a little bit almost sacred. Sacred is maybe not the right word, but maybe it is. We share things that nobody else knows about, explore lots of things that others likely don’t know, and share a vulnerability that only serves as a means of growing us closer and arguments about who loves who more on which day of the week.

Back to my active imagination. I’m not a huge consumer of video porn, but I love reading erotic stories. It gives my brain a little room for my own creativity. Master and I both have interests in hypnosis. While we wouldn’t call it hypnosis, we’ve developed a (quite extensive and ever growing) list of trigger words. If you follow my twitter, you’ve probably seen a few posts about Master’s amazing legs. Having them wrapped around me, rubbing them, licking them, or resting my head on them makes me feel amazing, and there aren’t any other places in the world I’d rather be. Well, when Master says, “xxxxx,” I think about those legs of his. I want to feel them, lick them, touch them, tell others about them. If I can get to them, that’s what you will find me doing, basically worshiping the legs that hold the man who means so much to me. The only way to turn this off is to worship those legs. If he isn’t where I can get to him, the urge to tell someone about them and how amazing they are grows in my brain. Hence, a few of those amazing leg posts are fueled by the trigger. We’ve even programmed a few of the words in a manner that Daddy can use a few select ones on me as well.

If you ever see me standing in the middle of the aisle at the hardware store, just staring into space with a raging, titanium bending tent in my pants, it is likely a result of one of these triggers. Master has whispered it into my ear, right there in the store, and I become nothing more than a frozen object, one that cannot be moved unless my Master moves it, or the words are turned off by him saying xxxx into the correct ear.

Have you ever felt your Master’s dick grow inside of you? Wider, deeper, longer, melding  with you with his growing cock. So big you are about to be split open as the throbbing, pulsing, veiny member can be seen leaking in the back of your open mouth? There’s a trigger for that sensation, too. Holy fuck, it feels amazing to be so close to my Master. While physically it is unlikely, I fucking feel it. I feel it with every part of my body and mind. There is even one that makes me mentally think my plug is inflating, bigger, and bigger and when this happens, I fucking think I might explode but since there is safety in it not really happening, he just keeps inflating it more and more and, well, let’s just say I like it.

Of course, when Master travels, he can’t provide the physical touch (read pain) that he and I both love. As a slave who is made better and a Master who is made better through our exchange of pain, we needed some way to share that when distance was part of the equation. Well, there is a word for that, too. When the text comes across the screen, I feel every bit of pain he has ever given to me. I swear I can feel my ass start to glow with that white hot feeling just before the skin is about to break. My nipples throb with burning pain. My back feels the sting of the flogger. My Master feels the energy, too. You’d probably witness two leaking throbbing cocks (one caged, one more than likely not caged). The ability to share this with each other, while sounding very unlikely to some, is possible, if you can let yourself be trusting another with the other and relax your mind enough to feel those feelings. If you can do that, your physical body will follow.

Another example is when he whispers “XX#$!” In my ear. I am overwhelmingly compelled to lick my Master. All of him. Every square inch that his slave’s tongue can reach. It was all I could do not to lick myself or the rather handsome fellow standing next to me when the word came across the screen of my phone a few days ago. I have to fight it at times and he knows that and, of course, I think he likes it.

At times, the words are used to make me an animalistic being or to stop my ability to use words. Fueled by desire, love, lust, and admiration for my Master. These words have served as a way to grow our trust and relationship in many ways. These words are not just used for kinky reasons. For example, Master and I talk before bed every night. When he knows I have had a particularly stressful day for whatever reason, he worries about his slave getting enough rest. Well, all he has to do is say one or a combination of some of our words. I can relax. I can feel him wrap around me and hold me, or I can feel myself holding him (depends on how you view the holding, I suppose). Either way, these words are not only a good tool for slave training, but they do have a place in everyday life. I am more than amazed at the man MY Master is, and how he cares for his slave in such a way.

When we first started trying some of these trigger words or whatever you want to call it, we were both skeptical. I’ll be damned, it really works on some level. It’s even funny because we watch my heart rate on my watch and it increases more and more with some of them and, with the frozen ones, it actually decreases. Real, no real, I don’t care because my place is constantly enforced. Who knows, maybe it just gives me permission to embrace doing the perverted things I’m thinking about. Maybe it allows us to access our active imaginations. Maybe he does really control my mind. I mean every bit of me is owned by him, why would one assume this mind isn’t his property, too? He’s shown me unconditional love, trained me to continually be a better slave, and so many other things. If love looks like trigger words being used to make me feel him, taste him, be closer to him, then I’m a huge fan of it. I hope this is an encouragement to others to be the pervert you are, and I hope it encourages you to find your person who gets you, loves you, encourages you, hurts you a little (the good kind), and helps you grow. We aren’t perfect, but goddamn it, he sure feels like it.

A bit of a Q&A from some questions that have come to Master’s inbox recently.

  1. Jack, what advice, if any, would you give to men (like myself) in my 30’s hoping to one day be an owned sub/slave?

Advice? I’m not so sure I am qualified to give advice. I could give you a list of reasons why, but I’ll spare you that. Honestly, I am not sure that I ever had the desire to be owned. I only had a few friends in my kink world and, through them, explored Dom, sub, and my Switchy parts (all to varying degrees) but never thought I would be a slave. I had an idea of what I thought I wanted, but it never really included total, or really even partial, ownership of me. I really only thought I might have some hot scenes now and again and that was about all I ever imagined it would be, especially as a single parent. 

Then, somehow, I met two men that ultimately love me for who I am, what I am, and make me proud to be those things all while encouraging me to grow in all parts of my world. As they encouraged me, my slave side came out and, truth be told, I am the one who told Drew I wanted to be his slave and be owned. I was as surprised as he was. This new world and those feelings gave me a world which is now better than I’ve ever had before. There is unconditional love that is given and received in three different directions (or some mathematical degree thereof). Trust is a big aspect of it. None of this works without trust and communication (I am still learning to be a better communicator). It isn’t perfect at all times, but we work.

I guess my advice would be to be open minded. Look for trust and go from there. Again, I didn’t go about with intentions of being owned, but here I am, owned and proud of it. My Master and Daddy are worthy of my submission, and I’d like to think I am worthy of them, as well. In a sense, I am owned, but they belong to me as much as I belong to them, it’s just different types of belonging.

2. For Jack, in a recent tweet you mentioned all the ways your Master “transforms you” – what did you mean by that?

My Master knows my mind. We are very much alike in many ways, and different enough in others. He reads me, my body language, my tone, my demeanor, even my mind at times, it might appear. So, after a stressful day, he can read than I need his pain, time under the desk, or a list of other things. I can feel my mindset change with him. My mind switches on or off depending on the situation at hand. My senses heighten. My chemistry changes. I can be his object, his slave, his animalistic beast, his maid, his desk, his chair, his fleshlight, or I can be his best friend, his boyfriend, his other partner in life. I play many roles as does he. I guess what I am trying to say is that it isn’t only one sided, for us. We both benefit from my service and his ownership of his slave in lots of ways.

3. What is different about how you are treated by your Daddy and Master?

Well, Daddy is definitely the caregiver. My service to him looks quite different than my service to Master. Sometimes serving Daddy looks like me laying across his lap while he rubs out the knots in my neck or back and we both just switch off the brain. Part of me thinks I’d starve to death if it were Master who had to do the cooking. Daddy loves to cook and is a damn fine one, at that. He gets joy from taking care of me, in a sense. He gets needs met differently than Master. However, Daddy does oversee Master and I. He gets to have the final say in things that Master can and cannot do to or with me at times. Goddamn, that fucking makes me swoon.

That is not to say that Master doesn’t care for me and show me affection. In fact, it is quite the opposite. That care is just delivered in a manner than tends to leave marks more often than Daddy’s care does.

4. Any advice on how to stay plugged 24/7?

Practice makes perfect. Listen to your body, and always have a plan in the event you can’t carry the plug. A good diet, fiber, water, etc. help with the biological aspects. I promise you that once you start, the emptiness of not being plugged is far more to get used to than being filled.

5. Does your Master loan you out? If so, can I borrow you from your Master?

Well, it isn’t off the table, but the short answer is you have to ask Master. Because I know and trust him, and I know he truly wants me safe and protected, what he decides is the answer. But he hasn’t yet. So, given no other information, the answer is probably not unless you happen to be part of the inner circle. He is very type-A. You’d have to pass his requirements and those would likely be pretty steep.

6. How is being a real slave different than porn?

There is more of a relationship than you’d ever see in porn. Some of the hottest most amazing parts of being a slave are the boring, daily things. When we know what the other is thinking. When we are just quiet and close to each other. Those are probably the most swoon-inducing times when power is taken and given in such a way that it is just us being.

I don’t eat out of a bowl on the floor at every meal. I ask for permission for most things, but the list of things I am allowed to choose on my own is growing smaller. Our version of life includes jobs and friends and family of all sorts. As much as being chained to my Master 24/7 is an idea that fills a certain titanium tube more than you could possibly imagine, I still have responsibilities to others. He absolutely loves that I am well trained that I can interact with the muggle world and still be owned in such a way that others see it, but they just have no clue.

7. What do you miss about being un-owned?

Now that is a hard question. I like to think I’d say I miss what most would consider a traditional orgasm. To be honest, the “orgasms” I have now are much more intense than any I’ve ever had before. The connection I have now is unlike anything ever before. So, I guess the answer is that I don’t really miss anything from my un-owned life. There is just nothing that was so amazing about it that I’d want it back.

8. I know you mention having a child and never mention details so I am trying to respect that, but how can you be a slave and be a Dad?

It is just who I am. It is me. There is life outside of my collar that continues. 

9. What’s Drew like in real life that is not shown on the blog?

He’s the most amazing man you’d ever meet. He’s taller than you’d expect, thick, and strong. He is a ginger with the most fascinated blue/green eyes that light up when he spanks me. He has a huge heart and a smile that makes me melt. He’s a type-A driven personality and a pretty bad ass executive as I often hear while under his desk. But, he may literally be the most tender hearted man I know. Just don’t tell him I realize it.

10. What’s next for you?

Big plans, as always. No ejaculation, well, until or if Master decides. Some health and fitness goals for the year. Some kinky goals for the year. Possibly a beta slave to help with my duties and as an outlet for some of my more dominant tendencies. Regardless, growing closer and closer to Master and Daddy and being used as a tool to support and care for these two is my goal, always and (sappy alert) until forever. 

Fuck, did I mention how much serving them makes me better ?

One of my favorite places in the world is my Master’s quads, I mean sitting on his lap, with my legs wrapped around a body that feels like electricity pulsing through us when I touch him. It’s not a place that is earned without an appropriate admission fee. That takes service. 

My days of switchy fantasies actually being a reality have changed over the last few years. While there are times I just want to dominate some hottie I saw a picture of or had a chat with, or crossed his profile somewhere, I’m taken back to those times I’ve done that before, and in comparison to now, they seem quite shallow. Not that they had no meaning or there was no friendship there, but there wasn’t a connection like i have found with Master and Daddy. There is love, there is friendship, there is a real, intense and also very very “normal” relationship there. That’s what makes the kinky stuff everybody wants to hear about AND the “normal” stuff nobody really wants to hear about so fucking amazing!  It is, well, it is REAL. 

So on to the kinky stuff everybody wants to hear about. I have had a rough few weeks at work, we all have, I think. I NEEDED and CRAVED being closer to my Master. I all but begged him to give me his pain. I was doing a poor job of trying to hide the hunger in my eyes and the leaking titanium tube as I asked him to hurt me, to mark me, to leave a visual reminder and a soreness with me that would last all week long while he traveled for work. But those things keep me feeling closer when we geographically can’t be close. And well, I’m a pervert that happens to drive some of his inner pervert. We play this game of are you sure and yes Master, I think so. That may be due to our seemingly innate craving for denial and the energy it produces in the air and the heightened mental and physical reactions to it. 

I took my Master’s pain. As the pain and burning inflicted on my nipples left a throbbing soreness that has lasted for at least 3 days now.

I smiled, because I could see his sadistic (swoon inducing AF, I might add) grin spread across his face. I went upstairs and  looked over at the impact implements chosen for me earlier the day- The rubber pain stick, a studded “tenderizer” wooden paddle, a steel paddle, and Master’s favorite leather paddle. I waited on my knees, hands behind my back, head down. I heard Master coming up the stairs and I pulsed with each step he took. 

Over the side of the tub, is where I was ordered to assume my position. Ass up, legs spread like Master likes them. Hands flat on the floor of the tub. He asked if I was sure I wanted it, that I was sure I needed it.

We know I gave a hearty yes Master, in response. We discussed what taking his pain means to us both. We discussed pushing limits. I knew this was going to hurt. As the implements cycled through rotation, my body was tense, warm, sweaty, burning, tingling, and the filled titanium tube bounced with my heartbeat. The tube leaked as I felt my master working over his slave’s body. Sharing His pain with me. Allowing me the privilege to make him proud to be the receiver of the gift of his pain. That makes me proud, too. 

I wasn’t sure if I could take more. Then I caught a glimpse of the pure joy in Master’s eyes and the grin— swoon. Goddamnit, I know he knows how much I can’t resist him, but part of me still wants to believe my eager giddy-ness isn’t so blatantly fucking obvious. My body betrays me, as I shake in the pure pleasure of taking Masters pain. 

When I can take no more, Master takes me to the bedroom. Still reeling from the pain and the pleasure, he tells me how proud I make him taking his pain. I grin. I want to cry, not because it hurts, but because he sees me for me in that instant. And his eyes sparkle and his grin melts my heart. He sits in the floor motions for me to give him one leg and then the other. I’m a spent mess of so much good right then and there. I straddle my Master’s lap. I feel his wet leaking cock against my body. I lean into him. I let every part of my being rest on my Master (and Maybe grind my still plugged ass against him). He holds me. He rubs my body. He bites me, leaving a bruise because he knows I love seeing it in the mirror in the mornings. We talk about how the marks will look, evolve and change that we put on his slave’s body that day. We discuss how they will look when he comes back from work travel in a week. We discuss life, love, us. My world in a nutshell is completely held by MY Master, all of me, there on his fucking beautiful sexy quads, I mean sitting there in his lap. That’s beautiful. The relationship, the pain, the totality of encompassing, unconditional pervert man love. He makes me happy. 

I sit here tonight, waiting for our usual call. I admire the marks that are evolving on my thighs, my ass, my hips, my arms, and other places. I feel closer to my Master. I know he feels closer to me, too. I’m thankful for him in so many ways, but I’m thankful that pain plays a part in bringing us closer and closer. I hope it is never close enough because the process of trying for enough is amazing.

Like each year before, I have had the opportunity to choose whether I wanted my previously agreed to annual orgasm. See, years ago when I gave my penis to my Master, he told me that I could have one orgasm a year on either Christmas or New Year’s Eve and I agreed to that whole heartedly. That was as scary to me as it was hot and never did I even think, at that time, that Master would ask me each year whether I wanted the orgasm or whether I wanted to forego it as a testament to my service. And, if I had thought about it, I cannot imagine I would ever say no.

Fast forward, a third holiday season has passed with my Master’s slave locked in a cage, free of the burdens of worrying about a typical orgasm. Apparently, a locked cock is a happy cock, just like my grandma used to say.

The last two years I chose to forego it and, this year, when Master reminded me it was time to make the choice, I truly thought about it and took each of the comments made on the post to heart. Master promised me he had no say in this and that he would be happy for my decision either way – after reminding me that the orgasm would not be from my hand and that I would be relocked immediately, of course.

I had a choice. A choice that he would be proud of regardless. A choice that not just any old slave would be allowed. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment in time that I made it, but I made the decision rather quickly. I have had a few conversations about the choice, the gift of choice. the burden of choice for a slave and the burden of a making that choice for my Master. These were all done while balancing the ideas surrounding how a chaste slave should be treated and/or what actually defined a chaste slave.

The overwhelming factor in this decision is the fact, as I have said 2,000 times, is that I have found that I tend to thrive through denial – mentally, physically, and emotionally. I am a better man, dad, boyfriend, slave, boy, best friend, pet, nurse, and fireman than I ever imagined I could be three years ago – or ever really. These things all drove my decision.

In the end, as no surprise, I decided to forego the 2022 orgasm again and will not have to worry about this decision for at least 363 more days. What clinched it? Well, that was a conversation with my Master yesterday when we were out running errands, that I found sums it up quite nicely. I mentioned to him that my ass is sore and legs are still sore from the other day when he stretched me to get inside quite deeply and that those two things had made my tube full each and every time I thought about those moments. The thought of this soreness was making my slave dick leak and that every time I squeeze the plug I constantly carry, I hope that squeeze finds its way to Master to help make his dick rock hard too, wherever he is. I do anything I can to make him happy and, when allowed, my biggest priority is helping him have the most amazing orgasm he can have due to my service to him.

These things all added u and, in the end, I realized that I love when he shares his orgasm with me and I am always so proud I helped make it special for him. So, with that, why would I need my own orgasm when his is so amazing for both of us?

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.