Welcome to the Southern Hemisphere. I have one hour and forty-two minutes before I land in Australia where I have a four-hour layover before heading to a four hour flight to New Zealand. This flight left from Dallas and is a bit over 17 and a half hours long. I do okay on them, but the last two hours on the plane drive me insane and makes me miss WIFI terribly.

There have been some significant movement on the kinky home front but, like usual, just as Ax and I get going, lightning strikes and things get wonky. When last we left off, Ax and I had just returned from Hawaii having really connected but ending our trip with what turned out to be e-coli that we suspect came from tainted water on the zip line tour. That trip was amazing, but I have to tell you that when you share one hotel bathroom with someone equally as food poisoned, we saw and did things in front of each other that in twenty years we had not done together. Oddly, that forced closeness, as disgusting as it was, opened up some blocks we had let be right in the middle of us, which cannot work in a bdsm relationship (even a light one) so maybe that is a good thing.

And then, eight days ago, lightning actually did strike at 7:33pm on a Sunday night hitting our house squarely on the top end of the back gable causing a small fire that only burned about three feet before the rain apparently put it out. However, before or during that, as we stood there petrified with the hair on our arms standing up straight, sparks randomly burned places down the length of the entire upstairs ceilings, all the light fixtures exploded, the thermostats shot off the wall, and our new HVAC systems burned up. Basically, if it was plugged in, it died. So, after getting power and air back, the past week has been like Christmas getting everything ordered, delivered and now Ax is left to have to deal with the installs and the house repairs. I feel terribly guilty, but work is work. Now, the best part of all of this that the longtime readers will note is that THE DISHWASHER DIED. Yes, the expensive German machine that we could not justify replacing just because of the terrible beeping, beeped its last beep on Sunday at 7:33pm.

But, now to the good stuff, over the last few months, I have been fighting with the duality of my kinkiness way more than I have ever cared to admit. It’s funny to think about because these fights and struggles have not been when I am naked or even sexual, but more when I am driving down the street, sitting in a meeting, or just doing me things. I am mad at that dual side because it would just be so much easier to just be a sub or a Dom and own it, but it’s not who I am. In my mind, I think that because of the Dom side being present, I thought I could never fully embrace my subiness. This, in the past, was further exacerbated by the fact that when I was playing with Thumper, he couldn’t hear about my sub-side so I packed it away and never wrote in the blog world about this. Now, he and I are still close, especially when he is horny, but I don’t think he’s read one of my posts in a year (exaggeration), so I figured that rule will be ending.

While this has been happening with me, Ax seems to have finally found his dominant voice and has been more forceful. He has been setting and enforcing some basic rules (though those go away when you have a house full of work people) and we are getting past some of his issues that kept him from taking that control he really wants. This has been a good thing in so many ways, but even though it may mean my dick is locked up more or that my ass is red, I am really happy that he is finding comfort in this.

As an example, one of the things that he gets tired of with me is that I never stop working. It’s not that the work piles up more and more on the times at home, though it could, but my focus is really bad when I am home because there are so many things I want and need to do in my real non-work life. On Sunday, Ax asked if I had done my expense reports and other weekly things I hate and, when I said I had not, I soon found myself naked at the desk with my ankle locked to the leg until my work was done.  When I finished, he led me upstairs to our smoke-stained rooms where he decided I needed to be groomed a bit before my trip and hooded me, tied me, and got the clippers. These are the new Axel moments and, since I helped build them, I am going to celebrate them with him.

Now as for the chastity, we are going to try something new where I have committed to stay locked (aside from a few special circumstances) for a minimum of six months. Now that doesn’t mean I will be orgasm free since he really likes it when I do that, but it will be an interesting measure of control that I am looking forward to. He bought me a Holy Trainer V3 for “those days when I don’t deserve a Steelwerks” so his mind is racing in many good ways, though now I have to wonder what will cause me to not deserve the Steelwerks!

Anyone want to stay locked with me till January?

Hello from the last stop on mine and Axel’s vacation as we have one more flight and then we will be home. The trip has been probably one of my favorites ever because we were both relaxed, we both put out of office messages on our work emails, and we had made a pact to each other before going that this would be a trip of firsts and that we would do whatever we could to challenge our existing mindsets on various things from heights to sex to whatever else hit our radar.

First, we wanted to challenge ourselves mentally and physically. Mentally, I have a ridiculous fear of heights and physically, he has never been the same since the accident and the hip replacements. So, since we were in this amazing Hawaiian jungle, he decided that we should try zip lining as a way for us to use one activity to meet both goals. Now, Ax being Ax, I am not sure if he read all the options or just chose the first one, but he picked this amazing course that was nine zip lines that stretched over eight miles and included, what we didn’t know, several places where you had to clip yourself into harness and literally hoist yourself up to the platform. My triceps are STILL angry with me. But for him he realized he could do some of these things again and the smile on his face was infectious. For me, I realized that I was still terrified of heights but that I knew I was protected and by the seventh of the eight lines I could feel myself start to relax and enjoy it (that’s not true, by the third one I was allegedly smiling as I hurled myself down a steel cable thousands of feet above a jungle) original-22But, we did it, bought the T shirts, and went immediately back to the hotel for a very long shower and then nap.

The second thing was Ax’s desire to get me to settle and relax for one whole day without working while also stepping outside my normal. This was accomplished by a rented villa by a hotel pool where he made sure I had plenty of shade and that the Diet Coke was flowing, the chastity cage locked on tight with him having the only key this trip, and a large world’s most comfortable plug up my ass for the duration of the day.  If you know me, you know that I am a ginger and my people tend to catch on fire in direct sun, so I was shaded and happy as he went in and out of the pool coming back to tease me about my current state over and over again.

The third thing was something that even surprised me as he had been talking to a pro Dom in Honolulu and he set up a 120 minute session for me to have with him so that I could have whatever experience I wanted to have with him.  At first, I was not happy about this at all, but he let me message him and we talked and liked him, but it turned out he was less a Pro Dom and more a kinky massage guy that liked to do bondage massages, so I thought that could be fun and to see how it progressed (plus, my triceps were still killing me). The appointment was made for the next day and all was good.

Dude was coming to us and Axel was going to stay downstairs at the pool because he wanted me to have the fun and the experience. However, when dude got there, he was this highly intelligent, polished middle eastern man (ironically with a tiny penis) who started acting like a couples therapist. He asked why Ax wasn’t there and I told him, but he said to text and invite him up. I was not wanting sex with this guy as that whole stranger danger thing can never leave my mind, so he gave me this amazing massage and tied me up as he did it. By this point Axel was upstairs and naked and happened to mention to him that we had never done a threesome, something that apparently bothered him more than me as I have never cared about one, so dude went all dom on Axel and demanded that he remove my chastity cage. I was actually quite happy about the state of my locked self so I was hoping Ax would say no, but he didn’t, and as we have covered many times that is my the locked guy’s choice to make, so he decided he would. Now, if you have been around a Steelwerks device and the tiny locking S screws, you will know that the unlocking is not this dreamy sequence where the key is popped out, the lock turned and, with a thunderous sound the mighty penis is released because in reality it is this naked man trying to find his glasses and maybe a flashlight to line up the little bitty S on the little bitty screw head while also holding the PA bar to try not to pinch the locked man. Axel has always been squeamish around installing/uninstalling my PA or so this just adds to the scene that was going on all around me. I thought about screaming and jumping hard just for kicks, but I knew Ax would lose and likely never find his erection again, so I decided to enjoy my bonds and just wait. However, waiting was what I did because the scene somehow turned I was cuckolded because the two of them started going after each other and left me there to watch.  I was invited in later, but not being able to move made that choice a bit hard, but I was enjoying the voyeur role and decided to shut my mouth and stay there. All in all, it was an experience and, while interesting, likely not one I will do again as my stranger danger warning system is just too deeply installed in me.

So, in keeping with our thing of trying new things, for the last three days we were ditching the resort and had air bnb’d a treehouse high up in the jungle on the North Shore of the island. Now we are not campers and have no outside adventure spirit in us, but it was a fully contained and we thought would be fun. In reality the views were beautiful and the cabin was okay, though it lacked a TV, more than two lights, had a twin size bed instead of the king advertised, and if you were more than 6′ tall, which both of us are, you had to walk around stooped over. The minute I walked in I thought “um, what have we done” and that statement turned into the “what THE FUCK have we done” at 2am when we woke up with a lizard in the bed which was then followed by a giant roach falling onto Axel’s chest. So, the next morning, well, as soon as the sun shone and we could make it down the hill, we threw caution into the wind and used membership reward points to book this amazing resort we could never have afforded for more than a night for two if we had our rational minds.

Excited about our decision and the daybed package by the pool we pre-purchased, we found a lovely food truck area and decided to have breakfast before heading to a few beaches and then making our way around back to Honolulu for the resort. The food was so so and not anything you’d really remember except for the fact that about three hours later I started to feel really queasy but Ax was fine. I had this horrible headache suddenly and felt like I wanted to throw up, but I did my best to hide it from him so we proceeded to the new hotel. We checked in, he went to the pool, I showered, he swam, ad I then began a frenzy of vomiting and worse that would continue for at least 20 of the next 24 hours.  I didn’t text Ax cause I just wanted to go to bed, but he came up to the room and laid down beside me before he suddenly turned green and “had that look” himself.

Now, something to know about me and him, but mostly me, I hate talking about anything bathroom related. I never liked poop jokes, I shut the door (and often lock it) even when I am home alone or in a hotel room. We don’t talk about such things and I blame my WASPY mom. But, this room we had was one of those trendy bathrooms that are usually beautiful and made for people who love each other as they are all glass and have shutters instead of doors, etc. They are not made for two people who are ill and Ax and I broke new ground around 2 in the morning when I graciously moved from the toilet to the shower to vomit so that he could have the toilet. It was so disgusting and we both just “wanted a mom”, so I texted Mrs Steelwerks who, while younger than both of us, has such a caring way about her that I knew she’d make us feel better. Morning came and we were dead and had 10 hours to feel better to get our flight. I was feeling better since I started earlier, but poor Ax just wanted to sleep and had the chills and shakes so bad I felt horrible making him load into the rented Volvo to head home, but we had no other flight options and it would have cost a fortune, plus really fucked with my job, if we had stayed.

The first flight was nine hours and since I used points we had the flat bed seats where I think I slept 90% of it like I never had. Ax was behind me and I think he did the same. We were lucky that there was this amazing attendant on board who said “food poisoning?” and she brought us crackers and Sprite and scraped all the “stuff” off the meal to get me just a chicken breast too (that experiment did not go well, fyi).

We are on the second flight now which is a tiny plane, but he’s still behind me and I am waking up, but he’s still really green, so I am hoping a nap at home will be very much the trick. I have to be on the west coast for a lunch tomorrow, so I hope so too (though I can cancel if needed).

So, here’s to a great trip full of the one of a kinds.


It’s been about three months since I wrote about the Crucible 2.0 and what a wonderful device that it had been in my six or so weeks of ownership. However, at that point I was still struggling for words on how to describe it as it was just the “perfect chastity device”. It’s been about four months since then and I have spent a considerable amount of time locked in it, so I feel like it’s the time to write a follow up, long term review.

Have my feelings changed about it? Yes, but in the unexpected way of going up, because, THIS IS THE PERFECT CHASTITY DEVICE, but only for those who are ready for this. Axel and I are on vacation in Hawaii and I have worn the cage the entire time but, unlike any other cage I have ever worn, including the Schandmaske, I honestly do not even realize it is there until I have to piss or when a troop of hot lifeguards walk as it does it’s job by significantly restricting erections. In fact, over the last few days I have been wearing board shorts and/or running shorts exclusively and, as the rule with both, they are designed to be worn without underwear or a jock (fun fact, locals mock those with a visible underwear band beneath their board shorts). The shape of the Crucible allows it to look like my dick should an outline be seen, so when leaving the pool or the ocean, I just look like a very endowed kind of guy and I really have no issue with that. It’s just becoming part of me, what I suspect is the job of some of the best devices out there.

My question to all though is that if you don’t feel it are you still being controlled? Yes, I know the literal answer is yes for when it is on there are no orgasms, are weirdly shaped erections, and a painful restrictions, but I mean when life is just happening. As I walk down the street without thinking a thing in the world about my penis, is that chastity? Is the fact that this fits in my pants without looking obvious also chastity? Yes, yes, I know the answers to this are yes and, in fact. the answer is that it’s likely the best chastity because a man could be locked forever in this without having to really ever think about it, but the lack of thought, the lack of worry, and the realization that it just is what it is is indeed a bit unsettling. But, I mean this in comparison to the traditional devices that, even when comfortable, you still pretty much know with every movement that it is down there and that someone might hear you rattle a bit. I mean, in that situation, the one with the metal or plastic dick always knows their place, always knows why they are locked, and always knows that they have no choice. This usually means that they will be aroused more often than not, which also increases the awareness of the device encasing their genitals. It’s a double edge sword. But a nice sword as well.

At one level, when one has been locked to the point that it is just part of life, do they still need the above feelings to know their place and/or why they are locked? I contend they don’t and, by that time are ready for a device such as the Crucible 2.0. These are my thoughts based on Thumper, Porsche, and various other people in my life who have metal penises too and who don’t need a great deal of discipline in their life to be submissive to their key holder, so are there more points of view on this? I would suspect that most dominants would have an alternate cage for those times when the discomfort matters (as an fyi, I have asked to have a scrotal cuff designed to lock to my PA for those days when I don’t/Axel doesn’t want that not so free feeling) so that frees up this Crucible for most other times I guess.

So, back to the Crucible 2.0. This cage is awesome in so many ways. It’s shaped just like my own dick, weighs absolutely nothing, and looks really great sticking out of a zipper while standing up to piss at a urinal. Yes, it’s an investment, but when I talk to most of my friends about what they paid for their spouse’s wedding bands, this is generally less than half of that (unless you go for the diamond encrusted Crucible 2.0 – coming soon) and I guarantee you it would get you more attention than a silly ring at any bridal shower anywhere! Steelwerks is now also making this one with a locking cock ring base as well for those of you who are not pierced or who will miss that particular attachment point.


I have said it before, but it’s worth repeating, that the Crucible 2.0 is as close as you can get to your own dick, but without all that personal control so many of us have fucked up at through the years.



Hi from the sky, like usual. The unusual is Axel is sitting beside me as we are off on a nine day vacation to the islands in the Pacific where we hope to do nothing but reconnect and relax and just be. The miles and points are a perk of my work travel, so it’s always fun to take him on an adventure and treat him like a rock star every now and then for putting up with my weird life. We packed what seemed like the whole toy chest with us too, which usually means one of will get sick, sunburned, or pissy in that “we jinxed it” sort of way, but we do have the best laid plans to get laid many times.

Anyway, the gist of this one is another parent story. If you have been reading me through the years you will know that I have one of the most sex positive, amazing mothers who never failed to say the right thing when I needed it. Unfortunately, through this blog, you have also seen the decline as she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s about three years ago and the disease is now rapidly taking her amazing brain away from us. That’s tough because I miss those incredible talks we would have and I tend to grieve every now and then on Sundays when I get in my “brand new car” (I got it in November but every week she thinks it’s new) on the way home from my weekly, when in town, visits. But yesterday I didn’t grieve at all because I was laughing too hard. If you remember, my mother has said many things over the last few years that have led me to believe that I come from a kinky, somewhat polyamorous couple (the “your Dad always loved a good threeway” Christmas conversation comes to mind) and the disease keeps letting her reveal just a bit too much which makes me laugh yet cringe but always sends my 81 year old father down a path of something that makes him turn white, red, and a bit purple all at the same time.

So yesterday morning when I visited I was met by both of the parents in the driveway as they were just sitting pretending it wasn’t 180 degrees outside. As my Mom marveled over my new car and wondered why the dealership would have delivered it so dirty, my Dad, wearing the famous Nasty Pig hat that he borrowed from my house when I went home and immediately fell in love with the fit  (he still has no clue what the NP and pig tail on it means), ushered me into one of this three lawn-care garages to look at his new lawnmower. What I should say is my Dad lives for grass and always has to the point that every other year he gets a new lawnmower that, at points in our lives, was more expensive than the car he was driving. It’s his thing and I love it for him especially because I was never asked to mow the grass when I was a kid as it was 3 acres and he wanted all the fun. It’s like me and German cars. I get it.

So, as he showed off this prize the first thing that hit me is the series or the name of it as my Dad, the Nasty pig wearing elderly apparent kinkster, is now cutting his grass and all the other elderly ladies grasses on his street on a bright orange machine called “The Bad Boy 747cc” with a cut out for the muffler right below the logo saying “HOT”. Now, this is just funny to me in that now every time I see someone cutting grass I will have to wonder if they are a bad boy like my dad,  but it didn’t stop there. My mother, who had been somewhere else, wandered in when I was teasing my Dad about his bad boy status and, no longer really aware of many current vibes, heard me call him by that name. I thought we would all laugh, but somewhere deep inside she had a memory or something and looked him square in the eyes and said “you know what we do with bad boys in this house, don’t you _______”. While she could have been meaning he didn’t get his morning cookie, I was wanting to die a bit but, luckily, no more so than he was. Of course, the way the disease works is that she was completely past that moment in an instant and the now awkward conversation quickly changed into how much food to give Stella while we are gone and which plumber he thought we should call for a leak we have.

Never having two sexual bombshells in the same week I think Dad and I (and now my sister who I IMMEDIATELY text when something like this happens as pay back for being mean to me as a child) felt we were safe and just went about doing things in the yard and the garage. He had the new Bad Boy out and wanted to show me something about how it pulled and sent me to the garage to get a length of chain, he was sure was hanging on the wall. I didn’t find it and was about to give up when Mom walked in and asked what I was looking for. I said exactly what I was searching for and without missing a beat she said “Oh, go look under your father’s side of the bed, he used to keep some there”.

That was it. It was all I could stand and after quickly texting my sister again, you know, cause I could, I retreated to the safety of my new car and tried to block my mind of the images, the bold and bright and horrible images, that were swimming in my head.

Later in the day, though, I started smiling about it, as I still am, because regardless of whether these things are true or just something she is making up in her head (like telling me my Dad is making her ride in the very back seat of their van), I do sense that they had a good sexual life together for the last 60 years whether always together or with the occasional guest stars. That makes me proud in many ways, but also I hate they had to hide it, assuming they did.

The funnier thing is wondering how much of who I am now is genetic or environment (the kink, not the gay) or if it’s just happenstance? The Duality part of me I have no doubt was a learned behavior as if they were doing any of what we have mentioned, they did it around the Country Club world we lived in most of the time (unless THAT is where they had their fun….hmmm. All those years I was left in the pool for hours now makes me wonder) and they each had very successful careers that also apparently didn’t interfere.

So, maybe I did learn from them, but do we think kinky genetics are a thing?

I feel like owe those who follow me an apology because I just took an unplanned leave of absence from the blog and kink world over the last six weeks or so, but I won’t apologize. I will, however, offer an explanation of more than just my regular busy with work thing. And, yes, I absolutely fucked myself with work because I was chasing an elusive mark that would propel me into a second quarter bonus opportunity that would make life a lot more fun this Fall. It’s something I said I would never do when I reached other milestones in my career, but when it is right there in front of you, it’s like the perfect penis. It’s hard to not just reach out and touch it lightly, then fondle a tad, followed by a grab, and then before you know it, that thing is so deep inside of you that you cross the line from amazing sensual sexual fucked to full on being fucked as the lube starts to dry out. For me, that meant the last six weeks has been 17 cities, 49 flights, two continents, seven countries, and lots of Diet Coke and McDonalds.

In addition to this, someone I love as much as life (not Axel) fell off the wagon after 11 months clean from a pretty nasty addiction to meth that, while not ever having been discussed in this blog, involved me finding him on the floor about 15 months ago, his confession of at least a year’s prior addiction, and lots and lots of handholding and family nights with him at the after work group therapy place. He was doing so well – until he wasn’t when friends found him high again while I was down under. I returned from Australia at the last minute to hold his hand a bit before going back just four days later. It was under control and there were plans for structured counseling and more hand holding so I went back, came home ten days later and then he stood me up for dinner. Knowing the patterns of behavior now like I do, I used my keys and found him on the floor again. I honestly thought he was dead and as I was checking for breathing he woke up. He jumped. I screamed. He punched me. I screamed. He pissed himself. We rode to the mental hospital. He stayed. I left.  Subsequently, I got so incredibly angry that I could not focus on ANYTHING for a week or so. Unfortunately, it was a very pivotal week for me as I had two huge presentations to do, one with my boss, and I fucked them up beyond belief and am still paying for them, and likely will for years as I suspect a client will be lost.

I left Ax to deal with this since the initials after his name say that’s his specialty and because I was just flat out tired. We all knew he needed immediate help and Ax and some therapy buddies were able to find a 30 day facility in Oregon and hire a former military companion addiction escort to fly next to him and deliver him behind doors of the facility. The whole thing was so expensive and, luckily, he’s a mid-fifties banker that could cover it, but I could not get my mind off of what someone without that level of support would be able to do in the same situation. It crushed me.

Dealing with that, the incredibly weird jet lag that followed, the lost client, and my Alzheimer’s mother temporarily not knowing my name for the first time almost broke me, but it didn’t. Of course, over in Thumper Land he was unlocked and not feeling kinky at all, so that right there signaled the world was off track, big time! It was weird and a bit of a lost feeling, but I am not one to dwell in that area more than needed.

So, in a moved that surprised even me, I started watching my Twitter friends more and quietly reading and following them from the side and had the best damn time! It’s amazing how the like button can just create little families of strangers that can say the right thing at the right time, even when it has NOTHING to do with the situation at home. I love these strangers.

After that, Ax and I were introduced to a hot little pocket gay in his 30’s who wants nothing more than to be a slave to an “older” couple. It moved very fast and was very fun, but in the light of reality, we will not rush things and I am set to meet him in person in mid-July when we are in the same place.

Then, I decided to take some time off and will be home (with a few work calls here and there) for the next week and then Ax and I are going to a Hawaiian beach for the 10 days after that where we have promised each other kink and sex and naked time galore (and the completion of about 27 home projects too)

I cannot wait.

Of course, my Dom side is racing now too – so this should be a fun week.

So, I’m back. Be warned

Over the last two weeks I have been to five countries and thirteen cities. This is just my life and not the point of this post, but one of my habits in each place is to always look at Scruff, Recon, or similar (I am too old to have a Grindr account) to just look at the men and see who is there. Plus, it’s not secret that I have met and made some really nice friends from these places, so it’s always, well, sometimes, a win/win.

While this is just as likely to occur in the straight vanilla world just as much or if not more than what I see in mine, there its a sense of hope or delusion or something that these people are going to find THE perfect match in some way or another and, in many cases, it seems like they will be unwilling to settle.

By this, there are the standard  5’2″ 400 pound men who insist that they can only dominate men “who care about their bodies and work out” or the “must be height/weight proportional”, we’ve all seen the hypocrisy in those ads (and no, this isn’t fat shaming, this is just reality and the lack of proper mirrors in some homes). But, these ads are not really the ones that I am talking about as I am focusing more on the ones that think they might also find a magic lamp in their posting.

Specifically, the ad that made me think about this was last weekend when I was in rural Tasmania and there was a local guy on recon whose ad said the following:

“Single, 48 year old kinky Master in XXXXXX village seeking slave to own part time leading to full time. Seeks hispanic male, ages 33-36, between 5’10” and ‘6’2″, must be smooth, must have post graduate degree, must be willing to accept complete ownership, MUST BE LOCAL and do not message if not.

Now, there are so many things wrong with that ad in general, but the MUST BE LOCAL just really made me giggle, especially because finding any hispanic man, much less an 6’1 kinky smooth slave is not that easy in all of Australia, but in rural, in the mountains, Tasmania? It made me giggle for hours because how in the hell can he even think he’d find that?

BUT, then I started thinking about it a different way that if this dude REALLY wants just this type and REALLY thinks that this tall, smooth, educated hombre will REALLY make him the perfect Master, then why not put it out there? I thought about messaging him to ask about his luck but, even though I am 6’1 and have the degrees,  I am far from hispanic and smooth and way over age, so I didn’t want to “disrespect” him by messaging – lol.

So, if this and only this will make his world, then good for him. However, I think I may have to start a personal ad coaching business to help the rest of the people phrase things a bit more realistic. I mean, in my muggle job I coach executives about how to be a better leader, so it certainly could apply here as well. I believe in disclaimers and feel everyone can say “muscle guys are my biggest attraction, BUT, that doesn’t rule out others” or something similar. Of course, maybe I just feel that way because 20 years ago my ad would have said (or maybe it did being aol and all) “most attractive to short, blond, light eyes, tall, smooth men with sweeping hair and a very outgoing personality” but I then married a quiet tall hairy man with a balding head of dark brown hair and eyes so dark I often wonder if he has demon blood, You know, exactly my type – Ha, but despite the fact he looks nothing like my ad, I love him madly anyway and am very glad I included the disclaimer.

So, I ask, you know for my future editing business, are these ads full of hope or delusion? or, does it matter at all?

The other question is why do I care? I mean I am always offended by the ones that discriminate by saying “No Asians” or “HIV negative only” or the ABSOLUTE WORST “Clean only” and really wish those could be reported, but if people are reaching for the stars in non offensive ways why should I worry?

Anyway, this was a nothing post about really nothing but am curious as to how others read these and if you read them with hope or with delusion in mind of the writer?

Hello from a tiny little corner of New Zealand. It’s such a fascinatingly beautiful, quirky little country that I can’t help but smile every time I am here. Just based on Twitter, recon and Scruff, it seems to be a kinky little country as well.

Anyway, over the last few months I have casually been texting here and there with a new sub who connected with me through this blog for advice, some mentorship-ing, and just general chat. The funniest part is he has the exact same job I had 15 years ago, so I feel this very weird Dad vibe with him regardless of whether he embraces his kink or not, but we do laugh because our mixed conversations about chastity, plugging, and percent utilization of suspect pooling would be enough to scare any HR officer sideways should we have worked in the same company. He is married to a kinky sub who has encouraged him to find a Master or a Sir as he (his partner) has zero desire to ever take control of him. His main kink at the moment is chastity, and he looks really nice in his Holy Trainer that I push him to wear more and more.

However, he won’t wear it to work without an absolute threat and, when he does, he reports that he sits at his desk all day praying that no-one will look at his crotch. I have been kinda hard on him pushing more and more though I can’t say I would have been much different at his age. My excuse, however, is I didn’t have anyone telling me it would be okay, so why not just blindly follow my advice? I get it and, well, I still get unlocked when I am giving a speech because generally if I am on a stage and if the lights are right, people are exactly at crotch level and I feel, even now, that the world would notice thus interfering with my ability to work. I would not be able to finish. So, alas, I have patience with him and am trying to gently coach him along.

This all got me thinking about the crux of this story, face pics. Dude and I have had lots of conversations and this is an area I do feel a bit of a hypocrite about because I don’t post them. On site like Scruff where the message is “nice guy who travels a lot and loves to make new friends”, I absolutely post it without any worry because, in 95% of the cases, I really am just looking for new friends (and, yes, that caveat is spelled out in the profile). In situations like this blog, Twitter, or recon, where my message is “HEY YOU GUYS!!!!!, HEY HEY, LOOK AT MY SHINY SHINY TITANIUM SUPER PENIS”, I am a bit more reserved and don’t disclose a great deal about my real life and never show a face, though I will always gladly send one to anyone who cares.

It’s this dual identity thing that suddenly is giving me pause because, how can I be a real role model if I am not willing to 100% own what I like attached, inside, and around my body? I feel it’s a double standard in so many ways and I see exactly what I am doing. However, the other side of me that has worked hard for 20 years to build a very unique career that is not particularly non-public, is just terrified about the details of my sexual life mixing with the public life. It’s not a gay thing as I very publicly changed my name to the same as Axel’s and will talk about my incredible husband to anyone who dares look at my left hand, but it is a kink thing and I, to this day, cannot figure out if its a privacy thing or a shame thing, though I think it once was one and now is the other.

When I think about this I think about two figures from the interwebs that I admire incredibly for their public embracement of what gets them off and I often think about how much I thank them for doing so. The funny thing is, I have never met either one and have not had any more than a brief few words on Twitter or recon with them directly either. And though it might sound slightly stalkerish, one of these helped shape me and the other continues to guide me, even without their knowledge.

The first is Ruff, from @ruffstuffsblog on Twitter. He is a few years younger than me, but we started coming out in kink about the same time, but he just went exponentially faster than me and way more public. But, despite the fact he was a Twink’s age at the time, he showed me the “normal side of kink” through his generous display of pictures, comments and such things and continues to do so through his blog and Twitter feed. My claim to fame here is that I actually did stand next to him once at MAL, but I was shy and he was in a full latex catsuit and Ax was holding my leash a bit too short. I laugh because muggle facebook thinks he and I should be muggle friends at least once a week (mutual friends), so they clearly do have all of my data. I have no idea if you will read this, Ruff, but thank you for being so out, kinky and proud as you have led a generation in many ways,

Second, also in the recon and Twitter world is Sir Steven, aka @TXLTHRMAN on Twitter. He and I have a mutual real life friend as well, but I have watch him “grow” online the last few years and this young Sir owns his dominance (and a slight submission at times) and just displays it through the internet with a sense of grace and pride that only a true Texan would have. Again, I’ve never met or even talked with him seriously, but if you follow him you will see why I am drawn to him. I don’t know if it’s on purpose or not, but I watch the tweets he likes from the younger (and some of us older) boys, subs, doms, and other (especially the others) and he continually gives affirming comments, likes, and more than I know if something that really does help the growing kinkster. So, should you also read this, keep this up, Sir, there are many out there who silently very much appreciate it I am sure.

So, back my face drama, I really don’t know but am edging closer and closer to just baring it all which sounds so funny since the world could likely pick my dick out of a crowd I have so many pics of that flapping around out there.

I shall continue this debate in my head, but I now have a flight to Australia to catch and a dessert bar in the club calling all three of my names.