Am I the only one who, even after 14 days of this, finds yourself a little turned on by everyone using phrases like “locked down”, “locked up”, and the like? I think some of that is the 13 year old boy in me that giggles in my head when someone says the word “plug” or “penis”, but is interesting that so many people are talking about having personal freedoms taken away like it’s ALWAYS a bad thing. I argue this when I can look down at my metal dick and find a hug sense of comfort knowing that freedom HAS been taken away via my own doing.

It’s funny, of all the ways I ever thought I would describe chastity, “comforting” was never a word I thought I would use. However, for me that is a constant that hasn’t changed one bit since being locked down because it is constant no matter where and what is happening in the fucked up world.

Like most of the world, I am home indefinitely. There are some amazing pluses to this as I have gotten to actually sleep in my actual bed next to my husband, cuddle with my dog, and just enjoy the fact that right now it’s 6:00pm, the sun is out, Ax is cooking, and I am home to see it all. In time, I know I am going to look back at these weeks and miss them terribly, but right now I want to run down to the mall, shop at every store, and eat at every restaurant.

I suspect that if you have read these posts the last few years you might have guessed I am a tad Type A (just a tad). Out of control is not a phrase I deal with well. Combine that with suddenly being in the same place when used to spending 200+nights traveling, and life is fucking odd. I know I am lucky, my job is safe (for now – I am just a worrier), and, in fact, even busier than two months ago.  These things, combined with the fact I haven’t been exposed to the virus means I have nothing to complain about in reality, so I am just going to say this is weird while not officially not complaining about what I cannot control. But I want to.

What I can complain about is I didn’t follow doctor’s orders and walked a bit too much on my stress fractured foot, so that fracture became a break and I am now on crutches and have a scooter on order for the next 6-8 weeks which sucks like mad and is 100% my fault. I am trying to pretend it’s a weird extended bondage scene, but so far I have failed to trick myself.  Though I am a tad excited that I did upgrade the scooter to have all terrain wheels (with air) AND a basket, I am still dreading the next few weeks like fuck.

All of these things have made me think about my switchiness, and my desire to control and be controlled. Could the lack of life control I am feeling now be rectified by a Dom controlling me? Or would I feel more in control if I were directing a sub? It’s an an equal feeling rooted in the unequal-ness I crave on both sides, so I wonder which, if either, would rectify this weirdness?

At the moment, it’s the sub side of me crying out for control and I am lucky that Ax and our coach of sorts are willing to help me with this. When the original two week lock down was mandated, Ax and I had grand plans to start this again. Then a life event happened (more in a later post),  we paused which worried me when I thought this might be only a two week thing, but now that we are looking at, according to my boss, 8-12 more weeks of this, so cross your fingers we can get this right this time. Maybe.

One day I will write more about some of my internal oppositions to my own fantasies and desires, but that’s not now as I would rather write about how I overcame them versus cowered to them. I know that is not the best way to do this (remember I am married to a therapist who likes to share his thoughts) but it’s the way I need it to happen so maybe the end story will be my drive to just finally fucking give in.

Stay tuned.




Guy 1: So, who are you dating?

Guy 2: “It’s very complicated”

Guy 1: “Tell me”

Guy 2: “okay, I am married to Terry, he’s not my Sir, but he owns a boy John in the next building. Are you thinking of Noel, my Master or Jeff, my sub?”

This is as fun post that is long past due.

It all starts with my new concept of wanting to build a family who can care for each other when one gets old, but also one that would fill our desired to experience a super kinky, hierarchical based, semi closed polyamory-ish, family style relationship. Did you stay with me through that?

As I have mentioned, Axel and I are in a great place mentally with each other as he slowly assumes the Dom role as I quietly assume the role of sub to him as well. MENTALLY, we get this now and we know we will eventually practice this, but physically and usually mentally, right now he and I are just fucking exhausted at the end of the week. I have mentioned the outside things drawing us these days, and until some of those factors change – which are far beyond our control – we will just play a bit here and there – with ourselves others as I know that one day the collar will lock on.

The family dynamic to some seems like an orgy ready to happen or incest-like role play, but, for us, it’s not that at all, though Thanksgiving might spark an orgy or two but who knows. For us, this is about finding a few men, or a small group of men, who will be there for us in a power of-attorney-type way for when we may not be able to do for ourselves. I envision this group to have natural power dynamics and, while we are young enough to do it, we can use each other in ways that links our kinks quiet well.

For me, despite the shit of life lately, I have visited with my kink whisper, Dom (@jockdgear on Twitter), twice and we talk every day. This man from my past, owns a part of me and has since I met him 20 years ago and I am lucky that Axel, the majority owner of me, allows it now and will allow it in the future. I am glad because I fully plan to allow Dom to the train me and my mind out of some dark shadows of shyness I have always had. He and Axel have already had some great talks about some shared career goals, so that is a great thing still on the horizon as he’s already in the family.

In another “thank God I am switchy” moment, Ax and I have met a boy (Rexx) who, if all goes as well as it has been, will one day wear our sub boyfriend collar. He is beautiful, smart and, so far, following every single task flawlessly. He’s eager to belong and describes himself as the bottom head of a totem pole so we will be fine together.

I see a lot of structures like this on online and am always thrilled for the participants. So, if that is your, does anyone have any advice or want to share the dynamics of their family?

More updates to come, but did want to say it’s not all gloom and doom.

 Q and A time…

Where have you been, Drew? I have missed your writing.

Well, so far, that is the question of 2020. The last few months have been some of the weirdest and strangest as life events have just happened that are not conducive to writing about penises and metal dicks.

For those of you who have followed along for a few years, you will remember that my mother was the accidental star of my sex blog because there were a few stories of how she shaped me, more stories about how I swear she knew I was fucking Thumper, and then just some general life lessons as we, together, watched her be diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and we listened as the stories became less and less.

Well, after an odd infection around and over the holidays, she did not get better and is now in a hospice home where she is receiving some amazing end of life care. This, along with a father who has never been alone in over 60 years, which I like having a toddler with credit cards and car keys, has encompassed Axel and myself. Even with private nursing for both of them, it’s exhausting and depressing and in no way do these things equal incredible sex that one wants to blog about.

And, I broke my foot. Twice. I think the first time was when I was last with Thumper because he and I went to dinner and I remember going in and things being great and then coming out with a weird pain and a limp. The next day, as documented in the blog somewhere, was hell and a week later I was in a walking boot. I wore that the prescribed amount of time, but apparently that wasn’t long enough and last week I was wearing my Sunday shoes to work and the pain came back again and so did the break, except this time it was bigger. So, now I have one of the walking boots that looks like a storm trooper and it kinda turns me on. Sadly, it’s 6-8 weeks of this which sucks as I still have to travel weekly. I do enjoy getting on the plane first, but I have a status level that let’s get on second no matter what, so that joy is rather short lived.

But, anyway, it’s not all bad and, in fact, none of that is awful, it’s just all unpredictable and I think you all know me well enough to know that I do not like the unexpected. Ever.

How was your visit with the Kink Whisperer?

It was hot. I wore shackles. He made me eat vegan brownies.

It really was nice and, in fact, I am going back this week. I owe him and the experience way more than just these three sentences, so a real post will be coming soon.

How many miles did you fly last year?

234,767 from 1/1/19 t0 12/31/19

Will you write more about your feelings on being a switch?

Actually, yes, that will be coming as I have been doing a lot of thinking about that recently.

Why don’t you write more about sex like Thumper and Chaste Cyclist?

That’s funny, the times I have written about me and Ax or even me and Thumper I felt weird about it. But, I have always been weird about talking about sex which is one reason why this blog was so good for me back when I was having sex that needed to written about.

I think this will be my new goal  – have sex to be written about. In fact, let me hop on my crutches and go find Ax…


Twenty one years ago, when I was a young puppy at 28 with sweeping ginger hair and a 30″ waist, I was in Los Angeles and met a Dom who was 22, owned a professional dungeon, and was exotic and hot as fuck. We were supposed to just have lunch, but, as things sometimes do, we connected immediately and that day I spent time in his cage, learned how to suck his dick while being bound and hung upside down, and ultimately spent the night with my ankle locked to his as we tried to stay off of each other while pretending to sleep. I left the next day and flew home in a newly enlightened state. Coincidently, that day was the first time I had ever been locked in chastity – lord, what did he start?  He commemorated all of this for me on a 3.5 floppy disk full of low resolution pictures so I would never forget that day.

That week, we talked every single night for hours (as this was pre text), of course it was after 9pm when cell phone long distance was free with unlimited minutes. I liked this guy and he liked me. It wasn’t a love thing, it was truly a weirdly young Dom/sub connection. We joked a few times about me selling my house, moving to LA, and becoming his slave. Like I said, we joked, he had a boyfriend who he was getting serious with in Germany, I had just started the beginnings of what would build to a nice career, and, he was 22 and I was 28. It was tempting, but there were other things in life we each had to do.

At exactly one week from the day I was hanging upside down, I met Axel.

Dom and I continued to talk, though calls were shorter and less frequent.  And, as I knew I was about to be falling in love with Axel, but those first few weeks, if Dom had called and said the cage door is open, I might have really gotten on a plane.

Dom, I thought, moved to Germany to be with the boyfriend and, in a world of no social media, we immediately lost touch. Though I could not remember his last name, I never forgot him because he is the one who showed me what BDSM could be and that was a comfort to me as I started a new life with a vanilla as ice cream man from Alabama who, at the time, I could barely understand – which was endearing as fuck.

Time passed, weeks, months, then two years and three weeks later I came home one afternoon to see Axel sitting behind our shared computer (no way in hell now) with a stunned look on his face because he had found the elusive, exotic 3.5 inch floppy disc and, on the giant 17″ screen that weighed 376 pounds was a me, in all my glory, hanging upside down with Dom’s dick in my mouth. Axel was wordless. I was embarrassed. Up until that point I had hidden every bit of my kinky side and, right there, in full color, I naked ass in the breeze showed it all.

That led to the first conversation about kink. About five years later we had another one. Around four years after that we had a third one and now, what feels like 107 years later, he locks my dick, tells me he owns me, and if he had his way I would not leave the house in the morning without a giant plug up my ass. I always, always secretly thanked Dom for taking those pictures. Seriously, whether he knew it or not he was acting as my Kink Whisperer even from wherever.

So, fast forward to two weeks ago. I had just put up a pic on Twitter showing my cage in a new jock in my sexy, sexy boot I have for a broken-ish foot and some stranger who had just friended me liked the pic. I went to bed and woke up the next morning to more likes of the pic, and a message that said something like “dude, great shots, I can’t tell you what it is but I am drawn to you”. Me, ever one to accept a compliment, direct messaged him and we chatted for about a day, even exchanging face pics, first names, and back ground stories. Late on the second day he said something to me that clicked and vibrated my cage a bit and I said, “would you happen to remember xxxx?”, and he came back with “you mean when I did xxxx?” and holy fucking hell, it was Dom. I have gained about 300 pounds and lost a lot of hair while he had grown a sexy beard, a great set of tattoos, and now had hair like Jesus. It was like I had met my best friend from 3rd grade because we were like kids texting until all hours at a pace that hasn’t stopped.

He is divorced with a beautiful child and I am married with the best dog in the world, but our bond was there and, with a lot of shit happening in both our lives not disclosed here, the leather gods above had a reason to reconnect us, I feel. I needed my whisperer.

Neither of us would change the 20 past years for anything, but we each did finally admit we were serious in our joking ownership ways.

Now, we are embarking on a kinky friendship where we will likely tie each other up, suck a dick or two, and share amazing stories from our own adventures (mine are about cars and travel, his are hotter than porn) but I feel lucky to have this chance again. Oh, Axel is beyond happy because, well, he’s just happy when I am and he also knows I needed a whisperer too. And, in a weird way, so did Dom.

I know all of this reads like a 13 year old girl just wrote a BDSM themed Hallmark movie, but as my birth family starts to dwindle and as I watch my favorite woman in the world (my mom) slip away, I have always said that fate would help me find or build a new family that would help protect me, Axel and the new members as we age and move forward, I think that is exactly it, even though there are no names, titles, or any other expectation than whispering.

I’m in LA next week and am taking off a day so we can do whatever it is we will do, I have visions of nothing and am not planning anything in my head which, more than anything, shows my trust in Dom as a dom, regardless of whether it’s lunch, dinner, or a nap chained to each other I suspect I will smile while dying to call Axel to tell him all about it.

Oh, and if you made it this far, just look at him:




It’s Sunday night about 5pm and in my part of the world it’s been dark for an hour already. I am sitting at my desk in the front of the house, Axel is in the kitchen baking (his passion), smells are wafting through while Stella snores on a pillow in front of the window watching traffic, and he’s got some weird Ed Sheeran and Chris Stapleton remix going through the Sonos through the house at just the right volume. It’s honestly a perfect moment right now and I don’t want to even go point it out to Ax for fear I might ruin it. Kink or no kink, these are the moments I wish upon so many of my friends but fail to actually have the words to express it at that moment.

But, the big news is I saw Thumper this week for the first time in over two years. We were both appalled at the time it had been since we had made an effort in our calendars to make it happen. I had the best time, but in a way I don’t think anyone expected, especially Thumper. We didn’t really have an agenda but I had sent some instructions which he dutifully followed and the scene was set where he picked me up at the airport with his bag of giant dildos safely packed away in his trunk – you know, like we all have in our cars. It was good to see him, but I surprised myself because I just saw him as almost object like immediately. Yes, we chit chatted and talked, but there was a mission to get to my hotel because I just wanted to cause this guy to have some pain. Pain from me.

When we got there we went to the room, which, coincidently was yet again a time I am with Thump and get this crazy suite upgrade that I think he things happens all the time.  He followed instructions and was naked and collared immediately and we sat down to chat, but I had some work to do some with some impromptu bondage he stayed the floor for a good bit making that noise he makes that is not like a cry or a whimper, but somewhat of a peaceful snore that says he is getting used to this and accepting it. We were going to spend Friday morning attacking the dildo bag and likely followed by me fisting him, so I concentrated on making his balls hurt and by attacking his nipples with the large sized magnetic chrome balls that could hold them tighter than me.

After about an hour of that, I went in for the nipple kill and used my hands, teeth, scruff, and more to really make the rabbit whimper. I thought I broke him at one point, but he’s a flexible bunny and he bounced back.

I was hungry and he took me to a not so great dinner, which was not his fault, and we ended the evening pretty early cause it was a school night, after all.

Then Friday came and I woke up with a pain in my foot and ankle that almost made walking impossible and it wasn’t setting up for me to have a good day period, much less one squatting behind a 6’4 man watching things go in and out of him.

I texted Thump. He responded. And the object went back to ex-boyfriend almost immediately because, in his sub’s mind, I assume, he went immediately into the care mode and we had a nice quiet morning and a trip to the giant mall for me to find new shoes that would fit so I could get myself home and to the doctor. I could tell he was highly upset that I didn’t need a rascal or a scooter so I hobbled along with a nice submissive friend taking care of me. And, I did feel horrible about the lack of play, but this type pain and play don’t match, at least in my mind and, more importantly, my groin,

We sat down to eat lunch and suddenly that submissive friend turned into my very good friend as, somehow, in talking about things not Facebook appropriate we had missed in each other’s lives over the couple of years. I kinda lost my shit and was suddenly in tears discussing the plans for my parents as they lose more and more life, telling him stories of Ax’s father’s funeral last week (oh yeah, Ax’s Dad died), and then through recalling some of the funny shit my Mom would say when she thought she thought I was having an affair with Thump way back when. I actually intended to ask her about that today, but it wasn’t a day she knew who I was, so I had. fast visit and came home. I needed that lunch with friend Thump and even if I crossed to that place where he can only see me as vanilla, I am fine with that.

What’s the point of this? I don’t know aside from the fact that it showed me, the switch, that friendships CAN exist under a BDSM theme and, when you think about it, that’s pretty cool.


Five years ago I fucked a married man with a metal dick.

Life has never been the same.

Five years ago last week, I met Thumper. Five years ago next week, I fucked Thumper. Five years, one week, and one day ago, I started this blog.

In these moments I can’t help but reflect back and think about the things one email to one stranger changed. No, this is not an ode to Thumper as he doesn’t deserve that these days, but this is an ode to trying and an ode to putting oneself out there when you are not feeling like you are getting everything in life. For me, that one instance of putting myself out there changed so much in me, in my marriage, with my family, and even in my career.

However, I also recognize that timing is key. Just meeting the rabbit did these things, but I, well, we, had to learn to grow these new sides of ourselves blended into regular life too. He and I both need and want  to see each other again soon, but because neither of us has had to blend secondary sex into our schedules recently, we can’t do it. Two weeks ago on a Saturday morning in Sydney for me and a Friday afternoon in Minnesota for him, we spent a good 25 minutes texting back and forth about available times we’d be able to meet in Minnesota or a mutual city and it was like we needed an arbitrator. I suggested dates, he had offspring issues, he suggested dates, I had work. More dates where Belle had already planned things or Axel was counting on me for something, back and forth and forth and back until we settled on a day in February 2020 where we could see each other (as an update we have since found a December day). I wonder if this was the case five years ago, would we have even met,  or was it the case and we just found each other more of a priority? I think about this now when I meet some interesting people with the full intention to meet them one day (and still have that) but I don’t know if it will ever be as special.

Looking back the blog has evolved to more about me and Axel and our inability to have the perfect Dom/sub life we THINK we want, but it’s never meant to be discouraging either. I occasionally make it sound as if we walk around with our heads hanging low wishing we had something else, but our day to day lives are full and we smile a lot. The opening up the relationship, first with me and Thumper and then with Axel and “the couple” and a few other dalliances here and there have been fun, educational and we have grown with every single one and can’t wait to carve more meaningful notches in the bed posts.

When the blog started I never thought I would write about sex and my mother, but for those of you who remember, she starred in some of the best posts. That was because unbeknownst to us officially at the time, her brain was changing and she was allowing herself to say some of the most loving, heartwarming, yet sexually implicit things that made me, to this day, think she knew I was fucking Thumper and that she knew Axel and Belle knew too. It was almost like I would get an “atta boy” from an aging junior league queen who had used her role as an English Professor to teach the world the beauty of the South despite some of the horrible things of the past. While she’s still very healthy and only 74 years old, an early Alzheimer’s diagnosis changed all of that though there are still some glimpses of her deep inside. In fact, I had the privilege (and I actually do mean that) to take her to a neurologist appointment this afternoon and while she clearly didn’t know me, she did make multiple remarks about the unusual color of my eyes and that she has those too. When the doc came in and asked the standard five questions, that little part came out with the following:

“Mrs Dual, answer the following:”

  1. What year is it? – “1997”
  2. Who is with you today? ” My friend. He has my eyes. So, my son, right, you are my son or my friend?” (when I answer both she’s confused, when I say neither the doc gives me a nasty look)
  3. When is your birthday?  She got it waaaaaay wrong, though ironically the date she named is Thumper’s birthday (also her anniversary).
  4. Do you know why you are here? “Yes, my friend drove me and said I had to be”
  5. Who is the President? “Doctor, you will have to kill me before I call him my President”

That was so fucking amazing. Even now.

But, back to the five year highlights. It’s been fucking amazing. The people I have met directly and indirectly just because I fucked a married man with a steel dick have been some of the most treasured people in my whole life.  Mac, Mr and Mrs Steelwerks, Ferns, Alco, Jeep, Porsche, Pilot, all of you came from this and, though we no longer even talk about how, we have some great memories that will always be fun.

Professionally, Thumper and I have both stepped up the ladder a few rungs and, in my case, somewhat over to a new ladder, and while financially nice, it’s put a huge stress on the kink side, unfortunately, usually at different times,  I used to worry about this and think that it would hold me back, but something I want to do in the next year or more is throw myself out there are a volunteer career coach and mentor for some of the kinky 20 and 30 year old pups who are wondering if they can climb the ladder with a locked dick and a plug in their ass. I certainly have and will continue to do so, I hope,

Kink wise, I have invested in some of the finest chastity cages on the planet while making  the maker of those one of those friends who will be expected to fly in and carry my casket one day. I love the side results of kink and this is just one more example.

Finally, my husband. Five years ago he gave me the gift of freedom and, most importantly trust. With his accident and limited physical abilities that were not in play back then and with my working on the other side of the world, we have changed as people too, but we have taken that trust, that kink, the proof that it will all be okay even when not perfect and now know that, while we may not be able to have it all, we WILL have what we can handle.

To those of you who have followed me for five years – thank you. You have no idea how much I have appreciated it.

So, cheers to five more…


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


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