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?

 

By Thumper and originally published on The Submissive Rabbit

Avid followers of this rabbit’s travails will recall with some interest my past shenanigans with Drew. For those who aren’t and don’t, the short story is he’s a world traveling executive who lives in another city than me and who has, from time to time over the years, dominated me. Drew is a sadistic top and I’m a pain slut bottom and we clicked.

Things started out well but as time went on our friendship grew to such an extent that Drew, who identifies as switch and subs to his husband, shared those non-Dom parts of his life with me. Not just the family and work stuff that everyone has and needs friends to tell. Talking about chastity and bottoming and all the stuff associated with being a sub. And, for me, shifting between Dom Drew and sub Drew was hard. Too hard. I found I couldn’t take a Dom seriously who wanted to show me his new chastity device and tell me about the growing confidence of his newly dominant husband. So as Drew found new kinky friends and outlets for his interests and spent more and more time out of the country, things just…drifted off.

Recently, though, we’ve rekindled our dynamic. I call it a dynamic as a punt. It’s a relationship, of a sort, but not one built on romantic love. It’s built almost entirely on power exchange. On him having it and me not. It’s built on the alchemy of how pain can be transformed to pleasure, for both the person inflicting it and the person enduring it. It’s built on his willingness to help me explore my desires to bottom and push myself in that area. And, like any relationship, it’s built on mutual respect.

So, it’s back on. And he’s not going to show me the other side of his swtichiness. Just the Dom aspects. And I’m intentionally not looking for information about that part of him on his blog or elsewhere. Perhaps it’s a sign of my shallowness, but I need him to be Dom Drew and only Dom Drew. And it appears to be working for both of us.

For example. The primary way Drew expresses his domination over me is by telling me what to put in ass and when. That’s usually one of the three metal butt plugs I have, though there are other things, too. For the past three days, I’ve had the largest of these plugs (8″ in circumference) in my ass for hours and hours at a time. Something like 14 hours on Thursday and about 13 hours yesterday. It’s inside me again today and, except for an 11 day trip Belle and I are about to go on, I’m sure it’d be in there into next week.

In consideration of his being unable to direct what my ass does during the time I’m traveling, he’s imposed a cost. I will owe him two hours of plug carrying for every day I’m empty. In addition, he’s requiring 20 minutes of my nipples being banded by elastrators for each of those non-carry days. This will mean a minimum of 22 hours plugged and nearly four hours banded, though he’s willing to break that up over two or three days. So considerate.

So, if you been following along on Twitter and wondering WTF was up with all this Drew talk again, that’s the score.

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?

 

The new cage, as some may have seen from the flood of pics on Twitter, is absolutely amazing and is one of the finest pieces I have ever seen come from Steelwerks. While I call mine the “Axel 2.0” – like how one names their car – the official name is the Tiffany 2.0 and it’s part of an evolution of the original line of cages from Steelwerks, such as with my Crucible 2.0. In my introductory post about it, I mentioned that I didn’t call it Tiffany because I didn’t want to look at my dick and think of a woman because my brain is just not wired that way and, for me, something in metal in my pants takes on a masculine vibe that kinda gets me off, well, you know, if that was an option now. Also, a past bad relationship with a particular Tiffany in 11th grade really left me sour, but that’s his Steelwerks’ name so I will use the “Axel” in my head and in quotes, using the proper Tiffany 2.0 in descriptions to keep our google friends pointed the same direction as I realize marketing can get confusing otherwise.

Now, the good stuff, as a previous owner of the original Tiffany, which they still make, I loved that cage and still miss it. The difference from the 2.0 and the 1.0 is the tube is now all titanium and there is not a detachable head, so it’s one solid piece that slides on like that glass slipper Cinderella raved about. Mine has five openings at the end with four vents and a PA slot. For me, cleaning is effortless with just enough give to get a small finger or swab in for that once a day scrubbing with whatever foamy agent you choose.

Fit wise, I upgraded to a one piece ring versus the typical hinged because I am pretty sensitive “down there” and less breaks in the ring equals a smoother experience all around. The cage is attached by two longer screws on the top that go through a removable gap piece that is sized perfect for me, but would allow some flexibility for others who need more or less space (ie: a likely quicker and less expensive adjustment if needed). Those two screws hold the cage in place and, since I am pierced, the hollow wand pa goes in from the front and out the slot of the bottom where it locks in tight without any pull, when “erect” or flaccid. And, speaking of the screws, the absolute best part about these two is that if you drop them you can see them without laying on the floor with the iPhone flashlight, something that gets some really weird looks in the airport restroom when you are trying to follow orders to re-lock past security. And, speaking of that, this SHOULD go through without any issue at all, but I will admit to being too much of a pussy to do that regularly because flying in my life and I live in fear of anything that gets me on a list could delay me.

Weight wise, this thing is weightless. Really. I honestly haven’t had it off long enough to weigh it but, damn, it’s nice. For me, the fit is a bit shorter, curved a but more sharply, and a bit thinner, which means that I can and did wear it under even the tightest suits while standing in front of a group speaking. It’s ironic that something so literally encapsulating can be so freeing at the same time.

Finally, a review on a bespoke item is something that doesn’t help the masses, but as the owner of multiple cages through the years, the evolution of these devices (meaning the whole 2.0 line), whether it be by new materials, better tools, increased creativity or just the evolution of experience and design is flat out fantastic. If you have an original or a curiosity for a new cage, you only have one dick so why not treat it nicely through all that denial?

 

 

 

 

Good evening from a very empty Flagship Lounge in a fairly empty Chicago airport tonight. My work crept into the weekend this week and I won’t be getting home until about midnight thus limiting my weekend to a single day. I am not complaining as it’s just how it rolls at time.

However, when I do get home there is a box on my desk which contains a lot of my future in a beautifully sleek titanium shell. Yes, a new cage, this one is dubbed the Axel 2.0. Technically, Steelwerks calls this the Tiffany 2.0, but I am not a fan of the idea of something named after a lady encompassing my dick (also I have had two bad experiences with women named Tiffany), so I have appropriately retitled it just for me.

Anyway, why the new cage? Well, I have missed the original Axel since I sold it to be able to buy the Crucible as I have found I really like the contained feeling that a cage with a solid ring provides. Don’t get me wrong, the Crucible is AMAZING and will still often reside in my pants, but Axel, the husband, doesn’t really love seeing me hard in it, so we wanted to go back to all contained. What makes this one the most special to me is that, unlike ANY of my other devices, Axel commissioned this, had say so in the design, and really watched and waited for it to come. While I know that sounds silly, just knowing that makes me want it more and makes me want to wear it as long as required.

This one is all titanium and could, technically, go through airport security just fine, but my livelihood depends on a smooth and list free airport experience and I am not willing to ever risk this as Ax can trust me to take it on and off when needed and securing the keys when it is locked on. So, until I give him a reason to not have the trust, I will continue the on and off game.

I will leave this one here, but tomorrow expect to have a few, well, a few thousand, shots of the new cage on twitter.

 

In this whole “Drew explores kink” journey thing I expected to find many different things as I explored my Dom, sub and switch sides. Of course, as the way one’s mind tends to trail, I thought the known was already explored and that, in this journey, I would only find things that were all new, all illuminating, and all delightfully twisted. In many ways I have found all of those things including my sub-letting of Thumper, my new fascination with having my encased penis all over the internet, and multiple new friendships that have already changed the legacy that I will one day leave.

Recently, on some random day doing some random thing, I found the one thing I never expected to find:

My husband.

In the 20 years that I have known Axel, I know with 100 percent certainty that I have loved him every single day of those 7,300 days next to him. I also know that, while I have always been sexually attracted to him, I haven’t been great in showing that to him as I have always put sex on the the third, fourth, or even seventh shelf below whatever was most important at that current time be it work, family, friends, or even boyfriends on the side who have rabbit like names. As we know, it’s all a wicked balancing act and, with a weird professional life that sends me odd places all over the world (by the way, hello from Tasmania) every single week, I, well we, allowed it get out of balance from time to time.

However, something has changed and, while I suspect half of you are thinking my next sentence will start with divorce, it’s honestly the absolute farthest thing from the reality as, I have, honestly, just re-fallen in love with my husband in a way that mixes the 13 year old girl obsession with an unexplored submissive side that has resulted in me calling him Sir more than a few times recently. These things, also combined with a new level of respect for him as a human being, have also led to this creepy smile on my face that just simply won’t go away right now. Apparently, whatever it is is contagious, because he seems to have done the exact same thing with me. Seriously.

Of course, through the years, we have had waves of new re-connective-ness, but none of them felt like this and none of them lasted. Now, he and I are almost giddy again, which is something two men pushing 50 should never be seen in public doing. When I left for this three week trip down under where I am now, I felt like I had been hit in the gut by a bowling ball because I was being crushed by a feeling of sadness that I don’t think I have had when apart from him for years. This was a good thing and I am proud that I could still even have that level of deep emotions and he and I have kept that up in our daily calls and facetimes.

On the kink side, I realized that I have been trying to make him be my version of the dream dominant I wanted and, God love him, he tried so hard to change himself to be that too, but we couldn’t force that. But, in this new wave of “us” there is no “changing” for either of us as we each just are who we are and that day a few weeks ago when we just looked at each other and his natural dominance was just shining from behind his eyes. I ate it up.

From that moment on, he had me again, however he wants me, because I want to see that glimmer in his eyes every single day of my life. That glimmer creates a desire in me that, after 20 years, is fucking fun.

 

 

 

 

This post isn’t really about me and my kink in the slightest, but aimed primarily at those I have gotten to know of the five years of this blog as you have watched from the kink sideline as muggle Drew faced some hard realities of aging that have absolutely nothing to do with whether my dick is currently encased or not (fyi, not, because Ax thought I might be sad and just now let me have my way with him).

This post is, yet again, all about my Mom. For those relatively new to me, my mother is my hero. In sitcom comparisons she was the Julia Sugarbaker of real life and in movies she was the Skeeter of The Help. She has a doctorate in English and was a brilliant professor in her time. She was also a black-balled Southern Belle and I strongly remember as a kid watching her endure a Junior League meetings at the Country Club with a look in her eye that told me she would have almost preferred to be on fire than to be there at that moment, “but a woman”, as she said, “had a duty to the community”, so she stayed.

Sadly, a bit more than two years ago she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, at 72, which is much younger than most, and we have watched the disease begin to take it’s toll on her despite the best abilities of my father, my family, and some strategically based calls I made calling in connections from around the world trying to find something to help. However, she may one day be part of the cure, but for her, she is on the wrong side of progress and we realize that now it’s just a matter of time as MOST of that woman I described above has already left the planet, though there are occasional glimpses.

The reason she was mentioned so much in this blog was due to the fact that I always did, and still do, believe that she knew about me fucking Thumper on the side.  This was because she would throw some loaded questions out to me, such as, “and just how is your married bisexual friend in Minnesota doing? And that sweet wife of his, how is she?” or my favorite, “Are you getting what you need out of your relationship with your friend?” or her very direct questions to Axel such as “when Drew travels, especially North, do you get to see anyone special, you know, for drinks and things?” The first time she asked him that I believe she had a specific reason, but when she saw that he turned purple, white, and a bit blue all at the same time as those words registered in his mind, his reaction likely caused her to ask him similar things over and over again just to get a giggle or two. In reality, whether she did/does know or not was irrelevant to the fact that I was taking away an endorsement of sorts, from her, with, at least in my head,  a “you go live your life and fucking have fun in the process” type of takeaway. I mean, in reality who doesn’t want their mother to endorse an outside of non romantic boyfriend without working genitals due to the fact that they have been locked by his wife type relationship? I mean, really, don’t we all want that?

However, these were not JUST the reasons I would talk about her here either as through aging, and then the disease, glimpses of my parent’s sex life has leaked with things said from her like “well, your father always liked it when I was mean to him” or the casual threats, clouded in dementia, about spanking him when he had forgotten something threatened as recently as two months ago at Thanksgiving. These things, added to other comments like “well, you father always liked a good threesome” and “I don’t know why he pretends to make decisions” have made me think that my Dad was and is a submissive to my Mother in sex and in life.

In looking back, I don’t actually remember my Dad making many decisions at all about where we went to school, where we vacationed, and how they paid their bills. As a kid, ATM’s were a new thing and I distinctly remember an argument they had where he had not been giving her his receipts and “balancing his allowance”. These are things that were just normal to me and never caused me to pause as that is just how it was and, frankly, how I preferred it because she was always the parent I would go to if I needed anything. In addition to these things, I was a sneaky, nosey child and always remember finding a whip under her side of the bed and him having a box with some restraints, plugs and other items that looked primitive to me, even thirty years ago. As they aged, they made no bones about discussing the fact they had an active sex life, but, again in hindsight, she talked and he just silently acknowledged. Even as he approached 80 years old, he was able to go to many femdom websites, and some bisexual ones too, which is a fact Axel and I know quite well as he was able to get there, but never able to easily get out and we’d often have to avert our eyes while trying to release a MacBook with a frozen OS  or delete the pic of the gagged man with the small Asian woman brandishing a paddle that he had somehow managed to save as wallpaper to both his MacBook and iPhone. Please know, these are not things I am judging either of them on and, when not actually thinking about the fact that they are my parents and these are acts they would do together while naked, I was pretty damn proud of him for still having the appetite at his age.

I say all those things as a background because now, the man who allegedly deferred every decision to his allegedly dominant wife is now finding himself absolutely paralyzed as he has to make the ultimate decision of when enough is enough and when he has to stop trying to take care of every minute part of her because the time has come that she needs to live in a memory care facility for HIS health and not just hers. This is now a reality based on several things that have happened over the holiday period as she rapidly advanced in her disease within a period of three weeks, but the biggest factor is the love of his life is now being mean to him, and not in the way I suspect he used to like it.

I am also not implying in ANY way that the decision to move a spouse away from home I ever easy regardless of which side of the leash said spouse was on, but the whole thing has made me wonder if in Dominant and submissive relationships is there a place where one needs to be taught to take control or be comfortable with it. The reality is that I am maybe just “romanticizing”  the D/s aspects of this as a way of trying to come to my own terms with what is happening because I know my mother would have told him years ago that this was what was expected of him (again, in hindsight, she always used words like “expected” and “required” with him) when the time comes and that he is not failing her as a sub, a spouse, or as whatever it was they defined it to be.

For me, my approach to him has been very different than that of my sibling as she is taking the “it’s what is right” approach with him, while I have now started the “you realize you have not failed in your duties to Mom” approach with him, trying oddly to talk to the sub side of him without any creepiness because he is my father and/or that I am implying anything about the dynamics of their marriage to him. I know that in my own marriage, sex and kink aside, in the days after Ax’s accident and subsequent surgeries, it would not have mattered if he were my slave or I his, because my job was to protect him and us regardless, so maybe that is just what I am dealing with with the parents.

But, I just don’t know. This is a post I hope Ferns, Thumper, Mrs F and others will respond to from a Dominant female submissive male POV, and this is not specifically about my father but other ACTUALLY KNOWN submissive males and/or females, but does taking away the power in a relationship mean that it is not capable of returning when it needs to? or are after 50+ years is any dominant side dead? (again, in hindsight, never once in my life was I scolded by my father, it was always by my Mother). And, if so, how do we help these people when they are face to face with it?

For me, because of the switchiness of my personality, I think one should be able to pop up and do what is needed when assuming whatever role is necessary, but I am sure that doesn’t play like that in the end as I honestly think my father feels he is failing and is lost without Her direction.

In closing, there is really nothing that CAN be answered by this nor do I think any answer will change anything as this is likely me just processing on “paper” and going off into a little tirade as I am have spent my holidays touring memory centers and talking to old people. The one thing in ALL of this that does make me happy is that I kinda am proud to have continued to keep kink in the family and even though they would never know it or that I would ever tell them, the kink positive vibe my parents put out, regardless if intentional or not, made me strong, made me proud, and, despite some questioning here and there and what specifically it is, still makes me happy to be my perverted self.