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

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

Back to the hurting part…. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally.

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

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

Tomorrow I will ache. Tomorrow I will smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn, what an amazing life this slave has!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drew knew that, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, last night, last night was different.

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

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

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

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

He said, “umm mph“

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

He said, “god damn, Sir”

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

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

I said, “anything, slave?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, here are a few ways.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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