Hello from day one of my self imposed week of me.

I’m tired and, because of that, have found that I have lost interest in all the things that excite me like chastity, cages, collars, cocks and even cars. Work. Travel. Work. Jury Duty – and my fucking unlucky roll of the dice with a sequestered case have wiped me out.

Mentally, I realized last week that a troop of naked firemen could run by me and my only response would be that I would worry about them being cold and that was just not cool and it was time to do something.

Physically, my literal wake up call was my face slamming into the edge of a nightstand when I passed out while sleep walking in some random hotel in New Zealand last week. Stress has always made me walk in my sleep since I was a kid and this was not the first time I needed stitches due to this little life element. In this case, nine stitches across my upper lip will provide me with a (likely) life long scar to commemorate my decision to slow down, something I could have so done without, but luckily any layer of scruff will hide most of it.

Now that was almost two weeks ago (and I took my stitches out myself yesterday), but I cancelled all travel and most work this upcoming week and could not be more excited to just have a week doing “things” for life, house, and work or just sitting in front of the big iMac watching porn until the Steelwerks’ catches on fire trying to contain me. We will see.

I feel like a kid with a week’s worth of candy in front of me, lol.

However, then there’s that damn Locktober. I am participating the most I can, which means zero orgasms, though I am uncaged for flights as I am not willing to risk any of my traveler clearances having anything but good about me listed. And, yes, I know it’s not illegal to fly locked and some don’t even notices, but I rarely win in gambling so why risk it? But, to the boys in full locktober, congrats to you all!

Hi from an empty random airport in an empty random town in the Northeast.

I have been struggling about what to do with this blog, which is no secret, as chastity was and likely is still the predominant theme, but my interactions with Thumper are now either very hot or very cold, my interactions with others haven’t been much to write about – and I have been weird about that ever since being ghosted by a Carolina Dom who I had grown to like – and all I seem to do is work, despite telling myself I was going to cut back this year.

But, a few days ago I got an email from a young kinky guy asking about how I balanced the fear of my private life interacting with my public, professional life. I think he thought I was an anchor man or a spy or something way more fun than my current title suggests, but we had a nice discussion about things and how this blog had helped him come to terms with some of his kinks, wants and needs. He told me that he wants to be an executive, like me, and he worried that he could not have that and kink too. I laughed when I got that because I think of myself many, many ways and I think I am pretty good on the work level, but executive is never a word I use. This is made even more funny because it’s actually the first word of my work title followed by a senior and two more words where one rhymes with resident. So, I guess I am one though if one saw me now in running shorts, a long sleeve t-shirt, chastity bump and running shoes you might wonder.

Like me, he wanted to concentrate on money, career, the two German cars and a picket fence and shove his kink interests to the side until he thought he was ready to unleash them.  I told him I understood that because that was me as well and now we have the career, the two German cars, and I have an iron gate which, in my neighborhood is the equivalent of the picket fence. In my head, we don’t have the money yet, but also know we do not lack in any area where we want to either and that is a comfortable feeling, though hardly ones that is complete in my head.

I think I may have surprised him when I told him that when I look back at the ladder I climbed, my decision to hide my kink until my mid 40’s is now and will likely always be my biggest regret. I watch some of the younger guys I know from Twitter or the like and they seem to have these great groups of friends where they have bonded in what, at least on the surface, seems to be lifelong friendships formed in and out of kink which has to give many of them a nice feeling of security when they find themselves in the self examination modes. My advice to him was to stay there, find his pack of people and live every day naked, locked and happy because, in 20 years that opportunity may not exist or not be something he can claim if his public title of CEO limits where and when he can go to an event. For me, my job does not prohibit that and I would likely be just fine if I splashed my mug everywhere, but I literally have too much anxiety to allow that to happen in any way that would allow me to have pure, fully disclosed fun. But that’s me.

Now my caveat to him was to never forget who he wants to be when making decisions now as I was referencing this 28 year told I know from Twitter only who was a young banker and gym freak but then met a man who wanted him to gain weight, get lots of tattoos on his neck, his hands and and his face and, now he has decided he is gender fluent and wears house coats and refuses to use a  male or female identifier. I think he’s crazy, in a non judgmental way, of course, because I can almost guarantee he will never be able to straddle the line because, while white corporate America has come a long way, it’s never going to be that open, especially in the banking world where he wants to be. But, he may have found his true self and, if that is the case, yay for him, but I just worry he didn’t think past his dick and didn’t have a good mentor to at least attempt to show him an alternative.

So, what the fuck am I saying?

I really think that guy who wrote me was torn and I am happy I was able to give him some perspective on climbing the ladder or cage wall – and I really hope he decided on cage. So, maybe this switches to a kinky career advice blog, or one about turning vanilla partners into Masters )(thanks to Peter’s guest post last week.), but the main thing is it’s not dead nor do I intend it to be.

In closing, I want to express that the lack of building kink friends is a regret, but I worked hard to build myself and would likely make the same choices again, even if warned, I would likely not change a thing as I happy to have gotten to where I wanted to be.

The following is a guest post from my friend, LockedDoc, who has just completed a full year locked with no release on his quest to be locked indefinitely. We bonded on Twitter a while ago because he and his husband, Trip, are very similar to me and Axel, so I have enjoyed watching his relationship change. In addition, I enjoyed helping him make the move to a Steelwerks cage as he joined the #lockedinwerks family.

Here is his story as to how this took place. He can be found on Twitter as @chastepeter1

Drew

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When Drew asked me to guest blog for him, I was surprised, to say the least.  I’ve been such a fan boy of his for some time now.  But (as those of you over 40 will remember), when Carson asked you to guest host, you just said yes.  So here we are.  Drew and I have a lot in common.  We are both men of a certain age, although I got my AARP card a few years ago (don’t worry Drew, you get a 5% discount on BA).  Both of us have our dicks locked in cages, both of us have spouses who are not naturally dominant, and both of us are trying to get our partners to be more controlling of us.  However, Drew is more naturally submissive, although he has a wild Dominant streak.  I am more naturally Dominant, but admit to really enjoying my submissive side.   How I ended up with my cock in a cage and a collar around my neck for the past 1+ years is an interesting (I hope) story and one I will try to tell here.

First, you need to know a bit about me and a bit about my husband, Trip. I describe myself as a chaste kinkster, a switch, a husband, and as occasional property (to a Sir I have known for many years).  I was born kinky.  For as long as I can remember, I have had fetishes about boots, leather, bondage, and what I now know to be s/m.   I am not naturally a sub, as I don’t fall into that headspace easily.  I need to be taken.  I need to forced (with consent, of course, although the idea of a biker gang in leather kidnapping and using me is a HUGE fantasy).  I need to feel the power being taken from me to feel my submission, and having my cock in a cage is a powerful trigger for that submission.

Trip is also kinky.  I met him on Recon about 12 years ago, and we have been together ever since.  He is very much a bottom.  He loves having very large things in his ass.  His orgasms are anal.   On our third date (the sex date), when I went to his place, he had set up a sling, some gloves, lube, and a variety of enormous toys.  Okay, I thought, I’m in!  In the beginning, we fucked like bunnies.  I could tie him up, I could paddle him, I could use him, and he loved it.  And I fell in love with him, hard.

Trip is an extremely sexy, bald man.  I am very attracted to bald men.  However, Trip is not genetically bald.  He is chemotherapeutically bald.  You see, Trip was diagnosed with cancer when he was a teenager.  His hair fell out from the chemotherapy and never grew back.  When I met him, Trip couldn’t get a hard on (chemo dick), but since he liked having my dick (and other large things) in him, and I liked putting them there, and since we both came from that, it worked out well.

Over the years, my sex life with Trip had slowed to almost non-existent. It’s not a lack of desire, but a progression of problems related to the chemo.  Trip’s pancreas stopped working, his thyroid crapped out, and his gut became unpredictable (which is a problem when you are a fisting bottom). His heart doesn’t function well.   But what really killed it was going on an insulin pump, because now he has wires and tubes and a remote control and the type of sex we like (rough and spontaneous) is impossible.   On top of that, all my extracurricular activities stopped because, without my connection to Trip, they seemed like cheating (we have an open relationship and he knows about all my extracurricular activities).  I stopped going to Folsum and IML and Dore Alley.  I stopped wearing my leathers.  I stopped playing with boys.  I lost my kink.

Trip doesn’t feel sexy.  Trip does not want me to fuck him because he doesn’t trust his gut.  Trip doesn’t want to be fisted because he might bleed.  I can’t hurt him because he bruises easily. Trip doesn’t want me to grab him because his sensor might break.    So, instead of having intimacy with the man I love, I found my self increasingly self-isolating and jerking off and surfing for porn.

I have been fascinated with chastity for years.  I bought a cb2000 when they first came out.  I have been locked and I have locked boys over the years, but never more than for a few days at a time.  Sir prefers me locked.   About 2 years ago, I found a blog (male chastity journal) that grabbed my attention.  From that, I found Denying Thumper.  That bunny is very, very good at describing his chastity experience, his submission and denial in exquisite (and erotic) detail that really resonated with me (even if I did sometimes change Belle to Bill in my head, sorry Thumper).  I found myself jerking off constantly to Thumper’s tales of denial and submission (the irony here is not lost on me), and somewhere in the middle of that blog, a man named Drew popped up, whose life and loves and struggles closely mirror mine.

I knew I wanted to be locked for more than just a few days at a time and I knew I wanted it with Trip.  I needed to have the connection with him again.  I just wanted him back, and I needed to find some way to reconnect sexually with him and with my kink.   I found myself going into my closet in the morning and secretly putting on a cage (I was literally back in the fucking closet) for the day and taking it off at night.  I knew I had to talk to Trip about this.  Drew and Thumper gave me the courage to accept what I was feeling.   So I screwed up my courage and I told Trip about it… by text.   I typed 8 words and stared at them with my thumb hovering over the send button:  “I want you to lock my dick up”.  I hesitated for what seemed like hours before I hit send.  His response was almost immediate. “I can do that”, he said.  I melted.  I think I may have cried.   He knew I’ve been fascinated with chastity for some time, he knows I like metal things on and in my body (piercings, plugs, cockrings) and it turns out he too was worried that our relationship was stagnant.  “I want you to be happy”, he said (well, texted).  That night, for the first time, I prepared to wear my cage for Trip and to reclaim my kink.  I dug out my chaps, which were a bit tight as I was approaching peak “dad bod” by that time, had a bourbon or three, and waited on the couch for him with my cage on display.

I kissed him that night, hard.  I kissed him like we haven’t kissed in years.  “Do you want to touch it?” I asked.  He did, and then we talked.  We talked like we hadn’t in years.  I confessed my wants, my fears, my need to be sexual with him, and my desire that if we couldn’t have the relationship that we had before, I wanted to create a relationship that could work, and if that involved me being the submissive partner, I wanted it.  He had many questions.  Neither of us knew exactly how it would work.  I showed him Thumper’s blog and we agreed to try this for 1 month.  At the end of the month, I asked him if he liked me locked.  He said he liked it because I liked it.  We continued another few months.  I asked the same question.  He said he liked what it did to me.  Months after that, he said that he liked it, in fact, he preferred me locked.

I have already mentioned that Trip is, by nature, a bottom.  He is really rather submissive.  Getting Trip to take control has not been easy.  In fact, I have had to put my dominant skills to work to cajole, goad, and push him.  He does things, at first, to please me (as he always has), but with positive feedback, I think he comes to enjoy it.  At least, that how it seems.  I still have to initiate most things, though.  One evening, I stood before him in full gear and he had my hands restrained behind my back.  I had set out several items he might want to use, one of them being a collar (he has never collared me or seen me collared to that point).  I suggested that the collar might be appropriate.  ‘Hmmm”, he said, and reached over, grabbed the thick leather collar I had left out, and put it on me.  That got me going, and he noticed.   I made sure he knew how turned on I was by it.   The next time, the collar was already out for me.  And the next time, he grabbed me by the collar and pulled my lips to his.  Same with the paddle, the plugs, the tit clamps, etc.  I have to initiate it, I have to let him see how much it turns me on, and that seems to turn him on and it builds from there.   It’s a cycle of me pushing, and then responding to his actions in a way that he knows how happy it makes me until he initiates it without me.  I’m okay with that, as Trip will never be a demanding Top on his own, and I am willing to work with what I’ve got, because I love him.

To me, that shiny metal between my legs is more than a cage.  It’s a symbol of my kink that is there everyday to remind me of who I am.  I love the look and feel of my metal encased dick.  It turns me on.  Also, it’s my re-connection to Trip.   I cannot have an orgasm without him.  When I do have an orgasm, it is special.  I used to jerk off alone 3 times a day just to feel better.  Now, my orgasms are gifts from Trip, when he lets me have one (and they are getting fewer and farther between because he knows I am turned on by denial).  He owns my cock, and he is becoming more and more comfortable with that.  Trip is now the center of my sexual world again and my right hand has gone into retirement.  And when Trip surprises me, like when he bought me a heavy steel collar, I literally fall in love with him even more.  Chastity is like my marriage:  usually wonderful, occasionally annoying, and something I don’t want to be without.

As I sit here at the computer writing this, my dick is in a cage, there is a heavy steel collar around my neck, a very large plug in my ass, I’m wearing leather, and my husband is sitting on the couch watching TV as if all this is completely normal, because, well, I guess it is.

 

Dear Axel:

Yes, I know I am writing to you “in public” and, yes, I know you won’t like that one bit. But, tonight I sit 8,234 miles away from you on the other side of the world and I am not ashamed to admit to anyone who reads this that I am missing you terribly this trip, like most trips.

However, tonight is a little different as this morning I finally wore the collar and lock you had Chris design especially for us at Steelwerks that I have been so resistant to wear for some reason. And, tonight, as I sit here clutching it like my my mother often did her pearls, though for entirely different reasons, I am overcome with this crazy need to just say thank you and, from both my Dom and sub side, admit that you own me heart, soul, and any appendage you might want. As you know, the switch in me has been reluctant to say that for some reason as despite as much research as I have done, I just always thought I would be admitting a weakness if I allowed you to be the Dom you now want to be with me. However, in reflecting on life I realized that I could not be more wrong.

More importantly and though you know this, I need to say it for those following along at home, when I was 27, a year before we met, I saw a career counselor who had me lay out every dream I had professionally and helped me define what I wanted to be when I grew up. That design was destined for a single man and, we laughed in 1999 when I laid it out out with you saying something like “I’ll need a new husband if you are gone that much“, BUT, somehow, through a bit of hard work and a whole lot of luck, almost every single thing on that list has fallen into place and, over the last twenty years, you have been instrumental in every single step of me living my dream that meant, and continues to mean, that we spend more than half our nights alone. I know every week I leave you with the leftovers of life I have tried to pack unsuccessfully into the 72 hours at home (and I especially still feel bad about the time I thought I could remodel the master bath three days before heading to China) and while you grimace, it’s always okay. Like all of it, you just roll with it, though now I think I have given you permission to ready the paddle upon my return. However, it’s hard, and it’s tough, but it’s amazing too and I feel I absolutely need to say thank you for living the dream I know that you never had. This would not work without you in any single way and that is THE key when I am asked how things happened the way they did.

That said, even ten years ago, you were more vanilla than soft serve and, once again, you changed everything for my dream. It started with chastity, then the submissive boyfriend rabbit, now some discipline and a collar and, fuck, once again, there you are right there in the middle of my dream being all supportive again. However, the awakening in you makes me smile every time you say certain things or get all dominant over other things. It makes me proud and makes me want to make sure things on and in me that lock, by your doing, are tightened to the maximum allowed. This dream is just starting and while I once again say thank you for living one you never had, this one included that invitation to follow me, or, in the new standard, me follow you and I could not be more happy to wear this lock when I do and live this dream together wherever we actually are.

So, to the public reading this, thanks for coming along on this ride. The blog is in many ways my diary and this is a letter I want to look back on, so it felt right to add it here.

Ax, as we start 21 years next week, I am proud to be yours forever and always no matter where in the world I am.

Love, me

Greetings from day one of “Drew’s vacation” or as my boss like’s to say, “Drew’s god damn time he’s using some of his PTO days this fiscal year.” Ax and I are home together a few days then we are going to an island in the Hawaiian islands to just get away from the work and the family life of late. I hope there I will be able to do just that as the world has really hard on each of us family wise the dreadful year and we just have to recapture some simple balance again.`So, I may or may not write, but, either way, all is good.

With that, I have some questions that people had asked me recently though a variety of methods, so let me know had them for a bit.

Question 1:

From recon: “Drew, you and your husband’s profiles are so hot. But his says he intends to enslave you, bit that’s not possible since you are a Dom, right?”

My response :

Well, “enslave” is a fantasy word for him (and a but for me) but I did not stop him using it as he and I have had over 20 years of him knowing I am kinky and have spent the last five to six years getting him to adjust as he decide he wanted to control me, but a very slow process and I will not do anything to cause him to think twice.

However, yes, absolutely subs and even slaves can have a Dom side and even own and train subs themselves, For me, I have found that when I am dominant it fuels my sub side in such a way that I can fuck, demean, and destroy a sub sexually because I am also enjoying the thought that I get to go home and have the tables turned by someone who loves every inch of me and who I would do anything to please.

Question 2:

Same person, different question: “How can a sub/switch be locked?”

My response;

With a key to start and a PA when you really want to be serous,

Being locked, for me, fuels every kink cell in my body and either partner, dom or sub, will be able to enjoy that with me. As an FYI, though, Axel always allows me free reign to my dick when with a sub.

Question 3:

Twitter DM: So what’s the deal with you and Thumper? Are you back again, not back again, what? Still friends?

My response: 

Well, there are multiple blogs about this now and the reality is nothing drastic changed except we realized we didn’t need to pretend to be friends and equals. He enjoys giving me his power and I very much enjoy taking it. And, yes, we are still friends, maybe even better ones, because we stopped pretending.

Question 4:

Also from a Twitter DM: So, I see you and another character are fucking with Thumper again, I was so sorry to hear that because I thought you had seen the errors of your sins and had stopped seducing the married (real marriage, not queer wedding) father so he could be true to his wife. I hope you feel bad that you will be sending him to hell.

My response:

If hell exists I will likely see Thumper there, but highly suspect it will from something he taught me.

(and why do you read if so offended?)

Final Question 5:

Robin, from the Blog: Drew, you used to write about your Mom so much and I so loved how she reacted to things and the relationship you two have, Why don’t you do that now?

My response:

If you follow, you know that around the time the blog started, and even during some of the responses, we knew something with Mom was off. As you also would know, she was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s about 3 years ago and now, unfortunately, it’s progressed to the point where she doesn’t talk much and has 18 hour a day care at home. Last week we had “the talk” about text steps and it was one of the worst things I ever had to do, but that was made better by the fact that she didn’t even remember me being there 2 hours later and 4 hours later resumed calling me by her dead brother’s name. It’s sad. It’s not fair. But, if you have gleaned anything from us, we are taking it with laughter and are just doing the best we can; although it’s not big topic anymore.

 

Wow, It’s been my longest break from the blog since I can remember and, while I hate it, it really had to be as I pretty much just temporarily lost my passion for writing. This happened because I started thinking about writing this as an obligation versus a privilege and, thus, this became just something else like an expense report to me.

Since the last time I wrote I have gone through customs and immigration in various places around the world 23 times, spent a day with a Sir who was going to teach me and Axel before he flaked out, been locked a lot of days but because I don’t count so I don’t really know, and just yesterday had my new cage and all its parts sent back through the airport scanner, without the pouch, riding gleamingly proud-like in the gray tray for all the passengers of 6 airlines and the world to see. I really THOUGHT I should be mortified at that, tried to work up some indignation in my head, but was really just like “meh” about it, gathered all the parts and went about the rest of my trip. So, not too much different, eh? This is part of a new acceptance about this stuff that has hit me, but is not yet part of a series of posts yet either.

However, what has changed and what was addressed in his blog and on his new one, is that Thumper and I finally addressed the rabbit in the room between us and we have now started a re-engagement of him liking the way I hurt him and me wanting to hurt him more. The original decline in all of this was on me at first and then him, because I wanted to mix our friendship with the Dom/sub aspects of our interests  and thought it would be easy to do, but with his wiring it was not. He wasn’t a very good friend to me in the day to day, but to his credit, he did try and instead of getting resentful, I just backed away and found others, though none with such an incredible ass or pain tolerance. So,  a few weeks ago he reached out via text and said something that caused me to respond in a way most of the world would fine repulsive, but he found dreamy.  I am not sure what the exact words were, but it was something like you know, a term of affection all the kids are using these days. I thought he was about to be mad, but he responded with the sub voice I know with “you are right Sir” and at that moment there was clinking in both cages as our rings dicks rose to the occasion inside the steel and titanium pods.

I was sitting in an airport in Tasmania and he was sitting in one in Minneapolis and we clicked again. With just those words. We clicked within our roles and, within minutes, just decided that those roles are not changing now because that is who we are with each other and the chemistry that makes him put giant things in his ass when I say so is the same chemistry that makes me want to see his nipples so painfully engorged that they might burst into blood because of all the work I did to them. It just it works.

So, we vowed to start again, in a sense, but with no games, no contests, no special rules aside from what we choose to have in place that, for each of us, marks that we are getting what we need from this. He is the submissive in our friendship and I am the Dominant in it. Simple as that.

Now, some will ask about the switch thing and the chastity for me, and that’s easy too because, yes, my husband keeps me locked, but Thumper, who will never likely even see me in the cage as my rules allow me to unlock when with his, is a winner because it does nothing bit fuel my rather nascent sex drive and he will just have to deal with that because the more I am gassed up, the more he gets fucked literally and physically. A locked Dom does nothing but add value in my mind!

Finally, for those of you keeping score, all of this happened the day before he went to see Frodo, who I am glad he saw as he gives him a different level of bisexual than I can – though from the sound of it, F seems to be catching a few kinky vibes. Thumper told me his ultimate fantasy was to be severely used by both of us at the same time which I love in my sadistic way as that just makes Thumper moan a bit inside even just thinking about  that, but the likelihood has an extremely low probability, but it’s still a great deal of fun making him think about it (or me and various Dodgers doing him).

Right Thump?

 

Someone messaged me yesterday and mentioned that he was sure I had not written in a LONG time because I was “likely just busy with Axel hanging naked, creating new Dominant and submissive games and, of course, having sex like S&M porn stars”.

Of course.

While this dude may have been being passive aggressive or just dense, I had to read that three or four times to not chuckle because I was feeling really sorry for the porn stars we were being compared to because, if that really were the case, the only ones we could really compare to would have had to have be the ones who hated their jobs, had body issues and Dad bods, and only got the work because their creepy uncle owned the studio. It just made me laugh because I realized that people are going to create a vision for anyone who blogs (or does anything else on a private yet public scale) that’s going to suit what they want to see in their mind. In my case, this is especially true because I have rarely written about private details of mine and Ax’s sex life like many other bloggers do with theirs but I just don’t. It doesn’t mean my sex or bad or good, it just means I don’t.

Though, maybe I should. Right now it would can be described as non existent, but there are reasons and the cage has been on steadily as well.

Yesterday’s note also made me laugh because at the exact moment it came through we were both sitting outside on the covered porch (technically a veranda but that sounds too Foghorn Leghorn for me) having a snack and doing some work.  As I read it Ax was sitting on a pillow with a horrible look on his face because four days ago he had a surgery to revise some of the scar tissue and remove some of the pressure on his spine that was the caused by his post accident surgeries a few years behind and he currently has a gaping wound across his lower back that is driving him nuts.  Across from him  I was sitting with a bloody washcloth to my face because five days ago I had sinus surgery where they went in to open more drains for me while also scraping my sinuses,  rebuilding my septum, and taking out “excess” tissue in my nose all so I can breathe better and not rattle a whole plane with snoring. I can’t tell you it hurts at all, but if you have never had this done, it’s like volunteering to be given a massive sinus infection (because everything swells post surgery) where you are not allowed to blow your nose or sniff. Also, I got the bonus prize of these, I would say massive, plastic stents in each nostril that are holding everything open for another three days; hence the bloody towel for the bloody drips because they just don’t stop.

All this said, I hate to have now ruined that guy’s image of us, but is is better to point out the realities of being two middle aged gay men or live in a fantasy? I am actually asking this question because I don’t know but I do know that when you step back and look at some of the things I do believe one can mix sex play with aging and we do it naturally (you know, on the days when the rain is not coming in making bones creak). Ax and I have talked about maybe we are subconsciously making ourselves old as well through just weird little measures we both find ourselves doing. One example of that is one afternoon we had great sex and I was tied all kinds of ways for him, we never considered our age at all –  but when it was all over and time to go to to dinner, we had to argue about which car to take because mine is a M and the ride is too rough and his is too low to the ground. We are one step from a mini-van on days like that but that’s the reality of this game show, right?