Hello from day 376, I think, or it feels like, of quarantine. My state is starting to open up and I have been to the gym a few times, picked up some take out from inside a restaurant, and even got a haircut, so it’s nice to have elements of the real world popping back into real life (and yes, it may be too early but I protected myself and those around me). Real life the last few months has been intense and I mean that in a neither good nor bad way, but just intense. Ax and I are each dealing with the loss of a parent – in very different ways – while adjusting to each of us working from home every single day of the week. Luckily our house is big enough that we could honestly go all day without having to overhear work calls from each other as long as we each stay in our assigned places, but it’s still fucking odd that after 21 years together the last nine weeks have been the longest we have ever spent together. The first ten years or so, he spent in school and practicums getting his degrees and licenses and then, when that happened, my career took off and I hit the road, so this has been a tremendous opportunity to spend time together and about 97.6% has been amazing- which surprised me just a bit for some reason.

Now, this being about our intimate life and all, I’d love to tell you we have had kink fueled sex every afternoon followed by more each evening but nope. I had envisioned myself chained to the desk just outside of the zoom camera while leather and latex sat all around the desk. But, again… (And don’t any of you pretend to be surprised.)

I blame myself because even with chastity and the like, when I get stressed, my dick can crawl up inside of me faster than anything and, for me, if you have learned only one thing about me yet, you will know I like things even, planned, and with foresight – all things that one cannot do in a quarantine. Work wise we are both incredibly lucky to still have jobs, me more than him, but I worry constantly as I am in an industry that was hit hard. I, like many I know, took a “voluntary” reduction in pay to keep my company from laying people off. Of course, this being a side of me I don’t show the public I think I can say here and debunk any myths as those things are never actually voluntary, despite what the press release says. In fact, I was never even consulted and have a mental list of at least 10 jack offs who should be laid off because they don’t work. But, being a good corporate citizen, I bent over the way they expect good obedient workers to do in the real world regardless of your Dom or sub status on Twitter.

Now that I have all of that out I am not sure really why I am writing this post though I guess if nothing other than to just prove I am still alive. I was planning to write more about a mildly judgmental exchange that happened a few weeks back on the Twitter started by one of my favorites that bothered me, so maybe I will now. My friend asked how many devices people had, how long had they been buying devices, and, finally, how much had someone spent collectively on said devices.

It was really interesting in some ways because some guys had ten or more devices and had not spent more than $400 while others, like, me and a surprising lot had spent more than five digits on various cages, mostly being products from Steelwerks, Steelworxx, Lori’s, Mature Metal, etc. While there was a collective “wow” among the group at that stage, I still thought it was a bit fun and interesting to see how we all had the same interest but how we had all found various ways to take care of our need based on where we were in our lives and the like.

Then, a stranger to our group walked in, like they always can on Twitter, and I can’t remember the exact comment or really even what it said, but there was an immediate tone of judgment in it that was questioning why anyone would pay such money for something like a cage when other cheaper ones off the rack do exist. It kept going and going a bit more as they often do. Because of the group tagged in this, most of us in the higher dollar levels had a Steelwerks cage so that, naturally, was the topic of discussion. This led those of us who have these devices, and even a few who didn’t, to begin to justify our purchases in ways NONE of us HAD do yet for some reason felt compared to do.

I talked about how women I work with have wedding rings that cost $10k or more and, unless I am in the wrong circles, nobody says boo about it. I think explained how I had spent $35 on my wedding ring on Amazon because I was saving money because I knew where I wanted the good ring to be and it wasn’t on my finger.Others talked about the comparisons to BMWs and Bentleys and the like, but at the end of the day I just felt bad because I just didn’t understand why we, myself included, felt we had to defend ourselves.

This judgement, so to speak,  in our personal preferences to spend seemed the “height of bad form in a culture of kink that is supposed to value everyone’s individual motivations and desires as OK even if they’re not mine” (Thumper, 2020). The conversation ended there and left a bitter taste, though I am not sure if it was just me on that day or if it was a general thing that on any other day I would have just shrugged off.

There’s been no more discussion of that thread and no likes or anything else to get it moving again, so I assume the issue will die down if it didn’t already die out, but the kinky judging the kinky about their kinks needs to stop.

This isn’t a whine post or the like, but just an update with something to pay attention to. You know, like one of those afternoon specials from yesteryear (question: do those still exist?)

Over the years of this blog, my Mother was the accidental star of multiple posts that featured her inquisitions about my sex life, her suspected knowledge of my boyfriend on the side, and her just general fascination and acceptance of my sexuality.

A few days ago she gave in to her fight with Alzheimer’s and left us to go on another journey that I hope is filled with just as much love, laughter, and acceptance as she showed me.

And, proving the funny of this whole thing, the day we said goodbye, my father wore his favorite hat, my Nasty Pig hat he accidentally borrowed one day from my house and fell in love with and wears all the without having ANY clue as to what that “fancy logo” stands for.

So, in honor of her and her love of the kinky people, I wanted to re-post my favorite Mom post.

(P.S. – absolutely no need to say you are sorry, etc, I just thought this a fitting way to close the story of someone who added so much here)




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.