It hasn’t been that long since my Dad moved away to his next phase of life, whatever that may be. Now that the business of death is done, I miss him more than I ever thought possible. This is not a thirsty call for comments, but just a simple fact that any of you who have lost a parent, or like me, parents, just learn to accept, use as growth, and do everything you can do to continue to make them proud despite the fact it no longer affects your allowance.
Anyway, as a tribute to my Dad, this week I bought these two new Nasty Pig caps and gave him a bit of a shout/snout out, While this may seem incredibly strange to most of you, tenured readers of this blog will remember me writing about the day I was traveling that my elderly father had come to my house to do something and called me to say he forgot his hat and was going to borrow one of mine. I thought nothing of it as I usually have somewhere between 77- 203 ball caps within arms reach of the door and went on about my life.
A week or so later was the next time I saw my Dad and as he rounded the corner of Cracker Barrel where I was meeting him and my Mom for breakfast. I noticed the gray and bright red Nasty Pig on his head and immediately laughed as THAT was the cap he had borrowed, out of all those hats. I had no idea how to bring up the fact I wanted it back as I was not going to tell him what it was, but he pre-empted that by THANKING me for the hat and telling me that it was the best he’d ever worn. Then, my Mom said it was “stylish” and he swooned. It was never coming off of his head whether deep down he was a nasty pig or not.
From that day forward the Nasty Pig went with him to the barber shop, country club, grocery store, and anywhere else he would go. In fact, I believe I remember a conversation Axel had with him about that he could not wear it to my Mom’s funeral and he agreed that he would save it for his one day, a sly suggestion Ax had to win the argument.
Turns out, it was only a few months later when he would have had the chance at his funeral, but in the time in between he had a series of minor falls that, to an old man on blood thinners, looked like the aftermath of the Red Wedding each and every time, Ultimately, there was not enough Tide or Woolite in the world to save that pig and, at the end of the day, it became yet another casualty of 2021. I actually think he forgot about it rather quickly, but I didn’t as it still makes me smirk when I think about it every single time.
So, Dad, while you may never have known the background of that cap, know that I will never be without one (though, unlike you, only in the proper venues).
Here’s to you, Dad, from your pervert son who you made so proud with your acceptance, love, and apparently inner pig.
I was given some options and a choice to make. This isn’t something most owned slaves are allowed, but I’d go as far to say that I’m not most owned slaves and that my owners are definitely not average by any stretch of the imagination. I went a full year without an actual orgasm. Christmas 2021 was supposed to be the big day for my 2021 orgasmic release. However, Drew and Axel were traveling, so we moved my scheduled orgasm day to New Year’s Eve/Day far in advance so I knew the days would be shifted and, at that point, one extra week would not kill me. However, as a result of the latest craze in games of chance, a turn on “Is it Cold, Flu, or Covid: The Third Edition” put a less than fun kink in our planned ringing in of the New Year (and, fyi, it was not Covid).
We had an impromptu celebration of New Years the day after where I was given the option to orgasm, but I just wasn’t mentally prepared for it. I’m sure that it would have been amazing, and I’m sure it would have registered on the Richter scale. But, there’s a lot of emotion tied to giving control of your orgasms to someone else, well two someone else’s, that I am absolutely unconditionally in love with. The holidays had been increasingly difficult for me mentally the last several years, and this year was no exception. As odd as it sounds to 99.9% of males out there, I just wasn’t mentally prepared for an orgasm. So, I chose to forgo it that day. However, I did get flogged, paddled with my Master’s favorite (read pain inflicting) leather paddle, and the heavy steel paddle. I was happy, and it was probably one of my more intense impact sessions to date. That was followed by being shared by my Master and Daddy. I think all three of us got just exactly what we needed.
After some discussion, I was given the option to choose to cum any day until January 31st as long as they were each present or wait until New Years Day 2023. The choice was mine and mine alone. I can be quite an objective slave at times, so I made a list of pros and cons. Depending on the day, my mood and the volume of girth in my tube, each list carried more weight than the other at any given time. It isn’t even half way through January, and, today, I made my decision.
Today, I had the day off of work, so I spent it with my Daddy and Master. I’m an early riser, so I was up at my usual time (around 3:30am). I made it home to find Daddy already up and about. I greeted him and the pups. He was busy getting ready for work as he had a full schedule with patients already on the books. He felt me and I felt him. We loved each other and I went upstairs to nap with my Master until his alarm went off. I asked permission to get on the bed, and it was granted. I’m not particularly good at sleeping, but I rest truly soundly and deeply in that particular bed. I slept in the deepest part of my sleep so close but I never truly feel like I can get close enough to my Master. As we woke, I massaged my Master’s body as my cage strained as hard as it ever does. I truly worshipped my Master’s body as his owned slave. As he had meetings starting, I was given orders for the day, a list of tasks, and a different uniform from my daily uniform protocols. As he showered, I put on the day’s uniform. A heavy chain padlocked around my neck, leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles, and my new leather harness.
I met my Master with a towel as he exited the shower. I dried his body. Today, I was to be below the level of his waist in the room with him. I could not speak without permission or being directly spoken to. I was to be within three feet of him at all times except for the scheduled times to complete my daily chores. His slave was in slave Heaven.
Daddy left breakfast for us in the oven before leaving for the office. Master fed me mine as I sat on the kitchen floor kneeling with my hands behind my back. I am the best treated slave I know. My shiny titanium still trying to stretch. At some point during the day I was trying to remember how long an erection should last before it becomes an emergency, despite not having taken any of the medications that carry such a warning.
As my Master started his meetings, I served under the desk until it was time for my chores to be done. After they were complete and Master’s morning meetings were done he had our lunch delivered. Of course, mine was ordered for me. After lunch I completed my chores for the day. I showered off the day’s dirt and my Master and I spent time together as I massaged his body. We discussed the upcoming year as I tried to get close enough to him. Despite every part of my body that I could possibly get to make contact with his close enough continued to elude. We discussed physical goals for the year, as we as a family have individual health goals. I am growing my muscles to better please him this year. We discussed my progress there. We discussed our relationship with a depth and candor most vanilla relationships probably only dream of. Two is company and three is a family with unconditional love, right?
As the conversation continued, I made a decision. I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Master, I have made my decision not to cum. I don’t need to wait until the 31st.” He smiled his beautiful smile that makes my knees weak. He asked if I was sure, but he knew that I was. If my full cage and purple balls weren’t a dead give away, I answered a confident, “I am, Master.” I like to think this made him swoon a little bit, but his Mind knows me quite well. More than likely, he knew it already.
So why delay my orgasm another year? Well, bragging rights are always nice. The pride of my Master. My pride in being owned. Honestly, I like my titanium dick better than the one I was born with. Neither are anything to be ashamed of. My titanium cage represents more to me than I could possibly list. The short version is that it is a constant reminder of unconditional love given by two men to me. It reminds me that I am worthy of being owned by them. It reminds me that the three of us always have support in an unusually fucked-up-at-times world. It is real fucking love, or at minimum a tangible representation of that. They would love me the same if it weren’t there.
Finally, I’m spending another year locked in a cage because I’m a pervert and a sexual being. We visited friends that were consider family not too long ago. We had an amazing time. I loved being shown off by my Master and making him proud. That night after some time in their dungeon, my Master and I spent time together. That night I experienced something that I had never had before. The best way I can describe it is a physical and mental orgasm without any actual ejaculation. Fuck! It was amazing. I’ve never had such an amazing no orgasm orgasm. I want that again and again.
Some may not get our dynamics, and that’s okay. I’m still going another year with a locked dick as an unconditionally loved slave in search of another amazing year with more no orgasm, orgasms to be had.
Happy New Year. I am now proud to say that I did not ejaculate once in 2021. Something I never thought I would never say. What’s more, something I would never have thought anyone would say.
So, I suppose a little reflection about this year is warranted.
In 2020, I met an amazing, sexy, man for lunch. We had an instant connection and somewhere, deep down, I suspected this man would own me one day. He made me melt. I mean, have you seen his eyes? A week or so later I met his husband who is equally as amazing. Then, within a few weeks I had my first chastity cage, and I was head over heels for these two men. A month later, I had my PA installed, a bonafide start to the badass metal dick club. By the time I had healed and gauged up and healed again, I had a shiny new titanium cage. A cage that I had not seen. A cage that I had no input in designing. Little did I know, my Master and the mastermind at Steelwerks had designed a perfect cage for me. The first time I actually saw it, it was already locked on my dick. It was fucking beautiful.
At some point the rules were decided. I could ask to come twice a year and my request would likely be granted, although for some reason this year I did not ask. I’d be allowed to come at Christmas, just over a year from being locked. Today is one week after Christmas and I still have not cum and my dick is still locked. My Master and Daddy traveled for the holidays, so we knew in advance that it wouldn’t actually be Christmas, but after they returned a series of unfortunate events involving my family and the “is it covid or is it a cold?” factor factored in and it still hasn’t happened. It will happen. Just not today.
That said, to be honest, there is a part of me that isn’t really one hundred percent convinced I want to do the deed although every other part of me says that I want to 120 percent. I’m a little nervous about it as well. I mean, fuck, there’s a lot of pressure to perform, you know?
For me, in addition to the denial and generally kinkiness, this titanium cage has represented the one true time in my adult life that I have ever had true unconditional love and support. It represents that love and support despite the fact that I’m a kinky pervert, despite the fact that I don’t always feel deserving of it, despite the fact that I’m not always the easiest person to love. But there it is, my dick locked in a titanium cage, my owned dick, a reminder that despite my imperfections, I’m loved without condition.
I’ve actually woken up in the middle of the night with the most stupid thought of should I just say no and go another year? I mean, as every day that goes by my desire to be indefinitely chaste gets a bit stronger because of the shiny reminder of unconditional love securely locked where it belongs. I guess what I’m saying is that I enjoy the tangible reminder that I’m owned and with that comes unconditional love. I’m excited about “Christmas Orgasm,” but I’m just as happy whether or not Christmas 2021 actually will come this year or whether I will decide, with the guidance of my Master and Daddy, to just call it a year and go for two?
Over the last few weeks I have been asked why I, Jack, and various others use the #lockedinwerks hashtag when we tweet pictures of our Steelwerks cages. The implication of the questions were more judgmental than informative and one went as far as stated that labeling the pics made the person who posted look like an “elitist jackass” because of a type cage that is locked on his dick or even that we were promoting a secret brotherhood of locked fellows. The second part is rather funny because it is a brotherhood in many ways, but if it were truly secret, would we have a hashtag? And, as far as the bragging, I would think a screenful of a beautifully crafted titanium cage would brag a bit more than a few letters and a numbers sign, don’t you?
I think I was the one who started that hashtag years ago and, for me, it was and it is a way of showing pride. It’s a product a I proud to own, proud to wear, and proud to lock my boy in. It’s a product that brings me happiness, peace, and joy. And, it’s a product that is made by kinksters for kinksters and giving money to a fellow pervert for something they make that I benefit from brings me great satisfaction. On the same front, I have recently noticed a #lockedinbarz hashtag for the Behind Barz products made in the U.K. I am thrilled to see their customers stand behind them and show off their amazing products the same way. In full transparency, I know nothing about Behind Barz but I get the impression they are also kinksters for kinksters and, for that, they should be supported as well.
I think the reason this hit me in such a negative way was having just seen a hollow PA barbell on Twitter that is the EXACT replica of my original hollow PA barbell that Steelwerks made for me years ago. It was a forward and I don’t know the guy but he was really proud that he had bought it as a knockoff made in China and paid almost nothing for it. He thought that, since it looked as good as the original, it had to be as good. Right? From the posts, he really was enjoying that barbell and was trying to get it to fit in a Holy Trainer or, well, in something that looked like a Holy Trainer, I suspect. He’s happy with his bargain and, I guess, good for him, but at what cost did he get it? Will it be a bargain if it slices his dick or his penis falls off? That will be an interesting tweet.
See, the reason he got his bargain is that years ago Steelwerks did the work. They put in the time, the energy, and the craftsmanship while, for this particular design, I put in the money. In the consumer world, nothing is sacred, I know, and designs and ideas are copied all the time. Even more often, companies blatantly aspire to be as good as the best – I mean, anyone who drives a C Class knows it will never be a 3 Series, but I digress…
All that said to go backwards a bit and say that if there wasn’t a demand, they wouldn’t be made. There are probably 1,007 reasons why cheap devices need to exist and why men need to buy them, but I just wish it would not be celebrated as a win over the small business who created it – regardless of who they are.
How does this all swing back to the hashtag? I guess it is about penile pride at a base, but it’s about small businesses at the core, ownership of design, and recognition for those who created something great enough someone else wants to copy. That’s a lot of shit for one hashtag, but I think it’s also why we don’t see #lockedinDHgate or #lockedbyebay. So, for now, #lockedinwerks and quite proud.
My Master and I have discussed hypnosis before, and it is something that stirs both of our cages. While I wouldn’t really say we’ve achieved any sort of level of hypnosis, we’ve definitely developed a system of triggering words to help redirect my focus. There are actually five words, to date, but it started as three. They only work when they come from my Master and there is one word programmed to work from Daddy, as well. I’d love to tell them to you, but I cannot. However I will tell you about their effect on me. As I start thinking about them, my cage starts to strain a bit. In addition, I am not really allowed to show the emotion they cause when I am not right in front of either, so I tend to go a bit blank. So, if run into me and suddenly I go blank, check my cage, it will likely be expanding. Now, back to the words.
The first word triggers a response of pain. When my Master speaks it or sends it via text, all of my pain receptors fire. I feel every bit of pain he has given me. It puts me in that place that I go when I take my Master’s pain. It is a place of disconnected connectedness. I focus on the sensation. I focus on my Master. I focus on making him happy. Inevitably, I think about his amazing eyes, his amazing grin, and a particular look of satisfaction and pride when I’m taking intense pain from him. As the word is repeated, the sensation of pain grows stronger and more intense.
The second word causes the sensation of being filled with an inflatable plug while taking my Master’s cock down my throat. Every time the word is repeated, the plug grows bigger and his cock goes deeper and deeper down my throat. It is a mental spit roasting of sorts, I suppose. All I know is that it makes me more eager than I already am to have my Master closer to me and deeper inside of me, if wanting, needing, craving that is more possible than the current level of craving. Beyond this increased need to be closer and have him deeper inside of me, I often have that mental feeling of being empty and my hole wrecked, despite no physical penetration having actually occurred. If you have ever been opened up with one of those pig hole toys, it is something akin to the feeling you would have after it comes out.
The third word is more of a word that turns me into a physical object. When my Master gives me the word, I hold the pose that I am in at the moment. Turns out, I inadvertently have been holding my mindset at that given moment. That’s just an amazing added extra that happened to come along with this particular word.
The fourth word is a recent addition. In fact, it hasn’t been tested yet. However, when I’m given this word, I am supposed to go into a head space that lets me separate from my self. It lets me enter an almost animalistic slave mindset. It is a space of submission, on all fours. It is a space where I want nothing more than to serve, be near, and just protect my Master. The protection part wasn’t really part of the programming, but it is just there. Think guard dog, and you are somewhere in the ballpark for this word.
The fifth word was programmed for Daddy. When he gives me this word, all I can think about doing is absolutely with all I have physically show him just how much I fucking want him. Use your imagination, but it is basically my usual lustful thoughts amplified and put into action.
Sir, as usual, has my safety at the top of his agenda so he promised to never use these when he knows I am driving, with a patient,
There is a list of words we plan to program for this slave. One thing I know, is that each and every time we use them, I’m reminded how much I’m unconditionally loved. I remember that I’ve never allowed anyone inside my mind like this. I’m reminded that the level of trust in our relationship is nothing I ever expected to find. I’d say I probably didn’t really want someone to know me so well at a past point in time. That’s all changed because of Drew and Axel. I’m proud of who and what they have done for me and the person I’ve become because their acceptance of every part of me. I’d venture to say most will never find this on the same level, but I hope that you do. Its worth trying to find. It’s fucking amazing, and I think I’m better because of it.
This year marked my fortieth trip around the sun. This year has been my best year yet, for numerous reasons. Two of those reasons are at the very top of the list…one named Drew and the other Axel. This post isn’t about that but if you need a list about those two and what they do for my life, just message me. I am the best I’ve ever been because of these two, and it just keeps getting better.
Of course this year’s milestone birthday wouldn’t have been complete without the customary birthday spanking. So, let’s discuss that.
Somewhere, somehow we (or maybe He) pre-calculated a rate of 10 swats, hits, or whatever word you like to call it per year. I knew that gave me at least 400 – reasonable enough. That made my titanium clad dick strain and I knew my mental limits would be pushed. Of course, that made the titanium strain more.
At some point that evening I asked my Master to hurt me to tell him I was ready (He loves when I ask for or volunteer for taking his pain). After getting the clearance from Daddy that I was done with whatever chores he had given me, I was instructed to get four things from the gear closet.
I entered the combination in the lock on the door to the gear room. As the door opened, I remembered what I was instructed to get. A steel paddle, a steel rod(think steel version of a cane), the big, heavy leather paddle, and the paddle I call the tenderizer in my head. It is a small wooden paddle. One side is smooth, and the other side looks like a meat tenderizer.
I closed and locked the gear room and went to the bedroom as instructed. I placed the four implements on the bed. My straining cage gave away my excitement as I kneeled on the floor waiting for my Master. He likes to make me wait for a bit. During this time my mind does different things. I think about looking into his eyes while he hurts me. I think about the beautiful grin on his face. I think about how I love to make him proud of me and how loved those words “good boy” make me feel. I use this time to clear my mind and go to a space that centers me. Of course, my balls have usually turned a purplish blue color by this point.
I hear my Master coming up the stairs. As his footsteps steps get closer, my cage pulses with my heartbeat. As he walks through the door, I look up and our eyes meet. There is a glint of something that I don’t know how to describe, but it makes me just want to get closer to him. The trouble is that I can’t ever get close enough. Despite that, I plan on always trying to find close enough, but hoping I never really get enough.
He asks me if I need this tonight. Of course I do, but he needs my reason. My reason is that I had a hard week with him traveling and let it get to me. I didn’t communicate that well at first, but it had been corrected.
In my uniform (naked with just my collar), I was ordered to get on the couch on all fours. “Yes Master,” I replied as I assumed the position. As the steel rod made contact with my ass, I felt the thuddy deep burn that let me know I’m going to feel this one for a few days. One hit after another, I entered a space in my mind that allows me to take my Master’s pain. It is good for both of us. I look over my shoulder and see that grin of his and beautiful eyes, a look of pride, a look of determination, a look of kinky unconditional love mixed with a little bit of sadist. Fuck, I’m hurting, swooning, and maybe even leaking. The deep burn of the impact hitting a quite sensitive spot brings my attention back to the spanking. My Master stops to admire the results, the ass he owns is starting to warm and redden a bit. He feels the warmth of this slave’s smooth ass and makes some remark about just getting warmed up.
He switches to the steel paddle. The first strike hits hard and deep. I feel a burning sensation run down my leg. My teeth grit, but I make no noise. My Master doesn’t like a loud slave. Each impact gets a little harder and more intense than the last. I feel proud. I want to take more of his pain. I want my limits pushed. I want to remember this when I sit for the days to come. I feel my ass start to burn with warmth, and I grin.
He stops for a minute, admiring his work. He reminds me that I need this and tells me I will take more. The sound of his voice makes my caged cock press against the titanium with even more force I’m in a zone of pure submission at this point. I’m mentally begging for more. My physical senses are heightened and I feel in the feeling of pain, pleasure, and pride that I am taking his pain.
The tenderizer is my Master’s next choice. The feeling of the spikes on my ass sends a different sensation than the steel implements. It stings with a quick burning, tingling sensation. A rapid succession of hits makes me writhe. My Master grabs the back of my collar, and it helps center me again. I feel the very specific pattern it leaves forming on my almost white hot ass. I know that feeling, and I know I will feel it tomorrow.
My Master switches to the big leather paddle. It is heavy. The first impact on my ass hits with a combination of a heavy thud with the sting of a lighter paddle. The best of both worlds, maybe? This combination along with the fact that I can be hit harder with this particular paddle makes it the one that hurts the most, in the best possible way. I know it hurts, and he knows it hurts. I feel a sense of pride as I take his pain. I can see his pride in me, too. It is written all over his face. He stops. He feels the heat coming off of my bright red ass. My mind is in a place that is hard to describe. I’m near my limits. He knows it. I want more and he knows it. He also knows me well enough that I will push my limits. I trust my Master with every part of my being. This means that he often can sense my limits before I do.
“Do you need more?” He asks with this swoony southern drawl, already knowing my answer.
“Yes Master. I need more.”
“Twenty,” I answered. Not totally sure that I could take twenty more at this point, but I also wanted to make him proud. Again, he knows my limits better than I do most times. The other side of that is he knows how far he can push those limits. Damn, it is good to be owned!
“I think you can take forty,” he says as my dick strains in the cage. I’m more than willing to let him push my limits and responded with a strong “Yes Master”. He asked which paddle hurts the worst. Him knowing that it is the leather paddle and me knowing it is his favorite one, this question didn’t really need to be asked. We both knew it would be the leather paddle.
He instructed me to go into the bathroom and bend over the tub. I did as instructed and waited. My ass burned and I could feel the heat coming from it. I could also feel a stirring in my cage. The first hit with the leather paddle burned deeply. I started to count in my head, and at some point decided that I don’t like the counting, so I quit. It does things with my head and takes me out of the moment. I don’t need anymore numbers beyond 1 and 2 for the most important things important in my world anyway. As I kept taking my Master’s pain, it hurt and I loved every second of it in some perverse mix of pleasure, pain, and pride. It was amazing, and I one we had pushed a new limit. My body was shaking. My breathing was telling I was at a new limit. My cage was giving me away. All exposing my feelings to my Master without speaking a word. He stopped and held me. “You took sixty,” he said with that amazing grin. He held me close. I felt protected, loved, and an amazing bond growing deeper. For the record 400 turned into 700+.
Following this, and every spanking, he will normally allow me on the bed where he can literally wrap almost all of me in his arms and we just wait there until I settle. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we make out. All times, I feel protected, safe and fucking proud. Then, of course, I am sent to put up my toys.
I feel, my words seem to fail to appropriately express what our spankings mean to me. Even better yet, to us. They are more than just a physical act. As I go throughout the following days and sit or my clothes hit just the right sensitive spot, I grin. These feelings of pain (not harm) remind of that moment of being held, loved unconditionally, bringing pride to my Master, and feeling safe in knowing every fucking part of me is owned.
Growing up my family’s tradition, like most families, was to go around the room at Thanksgiving and say what we thankful for. It was the anti-festivus which, you know, is for the rest of us. In my family, we wrote our lists (did I ever mention my mother was an English professor?) and would read them at the appropriate time to those in the room, As we kids became adults, that tradition stopped and I started writing somewhat of a self assessment that was meant only for my eyes which did expand a bit as social media grew. However, for the last few years I have not done anything as, in my mind, life was testing me in ways that I never expected and I wasn’t sure how to be thankful for anything, or if I was. I am not going to go into the story because I vowed to not take this blog that direction, but let’s just say I went to a lot of funerals, have about six new scars on my body, pandemic-ally changed just about every aspect of my career by force, gained weight, lost weight, lost friends, gained friends, but I have lived to tell about it.
However, reading the above paragraph actually just makes me smile because, frankly, despite those things, I couldn’t be more happy. I met my slave/boy during this time too and he continues to make me swoon. In addition to all of the validation he has given me in owning more and more kinks, he honestly has helped me build an even stronger bond with my husband in ways I never expected. Axel and I used to talk about growing old together and, looking at a recent picture of us together, we both kinda laughed and said “fuck, dammit we HAVE grown old together”. We were in our late 20’s with sweeping hair and 32″ waists when we met and now, in our early 50’s, the skinny pants went away right after the hair did. There are so many factors in being middle aged that we didn’t plan on, but, again, we ARE doing okay, but damn I wasn’t prepared. In a marriage like ours, things change but, if you work hard, both of you can change with it. Physically and mentally we are so different, but we keep going. Things that once drove us, like sex, friends, careers, have all changed. As an example, for us, sex is important, but luckily it is not THE driving bond between us because when you add one stressful career (me) to one, often incredibly dark, mentally taxing, stressful career (him) add in health, money, and retirement one day, you get a pair that no longer get the instant erections of yesteryear because there is always something that either mentally or physically competes. Or we are just sleepy. But, THIS is an example of how things adapt and grow. They don’t stop, They shift. Sometimes, I worry that I should worry about this more, but I love that man so much in so many ways that I don’t. His support of my kinky mind, which is about 227% more kinky than his, has been such a blessing that I can honestly never say thank you enough. But, to watch his own kinky mind develop and grow has been nothing but a joy to see and I hope it continues. Adding the slave to the mix, a slave that was intended to just be a play toy for me at first, created this thruple effect of love and support that just kinda sealed all the good things in place.
So, to keep the theme, I am thankful to Axel.
Also, I am thankful for jack.
I have called jack a unicorn so many times that he might think he is one, but it’s true in so many ways. This boy has done so much for me and Axel that I can’t even begin to list the things. Again, even with a slave, the sex is not the dominant factor. He has come into our worlds and integrated himself into our lives in so many more ways than sex. I have said it so many times, but for me, slaves (or ones who think like jack) are equal in some ways, thought vastly unequal in others. When I think of him, I actually have two images in my head that each counter the other. The first is him in his natural naked state, dick locked away, ass plugged, ass bruised, collared, doing anything and everything he can to make us happy. THIS, I so love. However, the other picture of him in my head is him in his scrubs holding my father’s hand the night before he died going over every single medicine and protocol in his chart making sure he had the most pain free, dignified death he could have. I can’t describe what that meant to me, but to him, he was just doing his duty to make me happy. He was no less a slave that night, to me, but his ability to take his gift of service to us and mold it to whatever we need is just something I honestly never thought a BDSM relationship could have. I see it clearly now, and hope those who get to know us through these posts can see it too, but I think this whole notion of submission equals nothingness likely means that so many people may miss meeting the one who can either hold or wear their leash. Does that make any sense at all? As for the unicorn bit, well, he’s smart, he’s more kinky than me, he has a deep voice with a polished southern drawl, he looks good with his cock locked away, and, well, he’s both adorable and hot. So, yes, jack, I am both thankful to and for you.
Going down my kinky thankful list, we have Chris and Mrs. Steelwerks. Yes, these two started as a business relationship and, unlike most of my friends, that have touched my penis, but, somewhere in all of this I fell in love with them as people, kinky as fuck people, but people who whether or not they know it, have helped shape who I have become in the kink world and the muggle world through their friendship, These two people have so much love and acceptance for each other and for those in their immediate circles that they just make me smile when I think about them and don’t we all want friends who make us smile? So, to mr. and Mrs. Steelwerks (see what I did there?), I am, indeed thankful to you too.
My thankful list starts with Thumper who opened all of this to me and, even though he never calls or writes anymore (insert ho hum music here), he’s still one of my favorites who I value and treasure. I am also thankful for my Australian girlfriend, Ferns. I never thought I’d be able to say that phrase generally, but especially knowing that she is a beautiful, Dominant, soul who probably rivals all of the above people in her kinky mind still kinda puts me in awe that we know each other. Though the world hasn’t put me in her hemisphere in awhile, I still treasure every moment when she didn’t feed me.
Finally, to I am thankful to twitter and those of you who put it all out there for the world to see. I am not a face pic posting guy (I just can’t be professionally), but for those of you who are and who are out showing the world everything you are and want to be – thank you.
So, with that, happy thanksgiving 2021 and thanks for reading this year.
A year can bring a lot of changes. Actually, it’s been about 14 months, but it wasn’t as catchy a title. Anyway, those changes, like life, tended to be good, bad, and indifferent. I’ll try to get my sappy part out of the way early. My first year as a locked, collared slave has taught me a lot. Paramount of all is that I’m loved, unconditionally despite maybe not being quite lovable at times and, despite my new status, I am more of a man than I have ever been – now I am just a naked one.
This year has been amazing. I have two men who have shown me what unconditional love is, accepted me for my perversions (and helped add a few more), and shown me just how amazing life can be when you allow it.
I spent a lot of time under a certain desk and in service of some fashion or another. I have chores, uniforms, protocols. I’ve been to places I’ve never been (physically and mentally), flown first class, and I’ve gained a whole new family in addition to Drew and Axel and our blended family of terriers.
One thing that continues to amaze me is my Master’s mind. We tend to think a lot alike, but he seems to almost know what I’m thinking at times. Well, a lot of the time. He knows when I’ve had a bad day and am trying to hide it. He knows when I need to be hurt (not harmed). He knows I want to make Him and Axel proud. And He knows just how far to push my limits, even better than I do at times. He pushes me out of my comfort zone and doesn’t allow me to retreat when I’d rather just not deal with adversity and hatred of others.
My Master and my Daddy care for me in a way that nobody ever has even down to birthday party with my favorite cake and gifts….more than I think I deserve. I’ve learned that others may see ability in me than I ever have myself credit for. I’ve learned what real unconditional love is and I’ve learned more about giving that type of love, too.
On a kinky side, I’ve experienced things for the first time. I’ve lived out fantasies. I’ve gained a load of new toys, and I’ve had parts of my body stretched and hurt in the most amazing ways. And I have not touched my dick in over a year.
My slave side has grown deeper. I don’t even pick my own clothes, at least without some guidance from my Master. He chose my new car, my computer, what shoes I wear, and, in a case like the car, seeing my Master deal with the salesman made my titanium tube full. It was amazing and I felt protected.
So what I’ve learned in a year has been that I’m worthy of submission to my Master and my Daddy. While we may not follow the path others follow, it works for us. I’ve learned to communicate better, at times. I’ve become a better person because of support from two men who support me like nobody else in my life ever has. I’m proud to be owned. One of my most favorite things in this world is to see the smile on the face of my Master and my Daddy. They make me swoon. They hurt me in just the right ways. Oh yeah, and I have a beautiful titanium cock. That’s pretty amazing, too. I guess my point is that there is a lot of amazing kinky stuff, but that isn’t even the top of the proverbial iceberg when it comes to what is amazing about Drew and Axel.
Finally, a note to those who seek this style life, GO FOR IT. I will never regret finally opening up my mind to seek what I wanted and, though I really doubted it would be, it turns out it was out there – literally down the highway. Don’t feel like who and what you find has to look like me and my Master, or the Master on BDSMLR, or the slave on Twitter. Design your path
As you may have already read, I had a shit week this past week. It was one of those weeks that brought back a lot of old feelings that, frankly, I didn’t think I would have to deal with in such a manner. My heart was hurting. I just wanted to retreat from everybody, but I wasn’t given that choice. So instead of telling all about that, I thought I’d share what unconditional love looks like for us.
Drew was away all week, Daddy (Axel) was busy with a full schedule that was busier than his usual overfilled schedule. I did manage a counseling session of sorts with Axel that was good for me. My chosen Canadian family talked with me, as well. What I wanted more than anything was to touch my Master and to serve the two men who are probably the only two people in the world who have given me such unconditional love.
You see, service to these two has become a means for helping me center. They both realize that, and are all too eager to oblige at times. Friday’s schedule got screwed up and I was not able to see Drew until Saturday morning. It was beyond my control and I know it sounds unhealthy, but it threw me and I got to the point where mentally, any forward progress I had made during the week was about to all go to shit because Drew was home and a dinner for us had been planned.
My Master has a beautiful mind. He knows what I want and what I need, even before I do at times. I was better by the time I actually got to touch him on Saturday, but he knew his slave just wasn’t right. I arrived at our home (while not a full time resident there, Drew and Axel’s home is also my home) and put on my uniform. I went through the required 15 minutes of greetings the puppies (bio, you perves). Although I was trying to cut it down to 3 minutes or less, they weren’t having it. They are small, beautiful, and so fucking happy that you stop what you are doing right then and there and not even Drew can beat the happy greeting.
Finally, sufficient kissy faces with the newest puppy and a sufficient amount of rubbing the right spot with the other, more reserved, puppy I was allowed access past the front door. My Master sat waiting for me. He asked how I was as I assumed my position in the floor. I muttered something like “I’m fine.” I just wanted to serve him, to get to that centering place. He knew that would require a little more than I realized. He wanted me to talk about it. In fact, he ordered me to talk. I tried. I cried. He held me. His touch, his embrace, his physical presence, his voice, he gave me all he had in that act of holding me. It is no surprise that he owns every part of me, but I don’t think that I have mentally and physically ever given anybody so much of me as I have in that moment. He knew what I needed more than I did, and that was just the beginning of how unconditional love was shown to me this weekend.
He knew the answer before it was asked, but my Master asked what I needed. Of course my answer was to serve. I spent time locked in my kennel outside. I had the best sleep I’ve had all week in that kennel. I’m sure I was grinning ear to ear as I slept. I was an object in a cage. An object that needed recharging.
You may have seen a recent Twitter post or two about some new cuffs Chris at Steelwerks crafted for me. Well, they were used in a variety of ways this weekend. As I was cuffed hanging on display in the kitchen while Daddy did that magic he does in the kitchen, I was teased a bit by my Master. I strained in my cage as I tried to taste his lips against mine, and he smiled that grin that makes me legs weak. Daddy stole a few kisses from me and the twinkle in his dark brown eyes was bright as these two men made out in front of me. I craved them both more.
My Master came close to me, as I strained the limits of the chains holding me in place. He grabbed me tongue in his mouth. His teeth held my tongue tightly. It hurt, it felt good. He pulled me tighter in the chains with just his teeth pulling my tongue. I felt pain and pleasure, and unconditional love. My straining cage leaked. Fuck…I am loved. I knew it before, but sometimes a slave needs to be reminded.
Unconditional love looks like a slave put away in a kennel, an object on display, a leaking titanium cage, sore painful nipples that remind me of this, a plugged hole, and a still red and burning ass. I can weather any storm with the unconditional love of my chosen family.
To come full circle, the issue from last weekend is something that will be fine with a bit more time. Being a gay, single Dad isn’t easy on a good day. Add in being kinky as fuck plus a dash of in living in one of the least educated, least open, least LGBT supported states it multiplies that from time to time into a concoction nobody would eat. Frankly, I had let my guard down, so the incident we do not speak of anymore knocked me down more than I wanted, but I am a resilient slave and I have a Master to serve and a kid to raise so I will be just fine. Especially as unconditionally supported as I now feel.
Good afternoon from a beautiful autumn day in the South. I am sitting in the back yard writing this, Axel is napping, and Jack is safely stored away in his dog kennel on the other side of the yard where I can see him, but he can’t see me. I let him keep his phone so Twitter might be full of wire bar’d images before I even finish this, but his being there today was an absolute necessity.
See, to phrase it lightly, he’s had a shit week. While I do own “every bit of him”, as he states a lot on Twitter and wears on occasion on a special tag Steelwerks made, I could tell you about his week, but I won’t. If he chooses to write about it he can, but let’s just say that he had the kind of week that reminds you that being gay, especially in the Southern Bible Belt full of God loving Christians who judge in the name of God, is still often tough and still hurts a lot at times. Of course, while we know that the people that spit the vile are a lot of the same people who will tell you about the “sins of gay” before getting a beer to go, picking up their mistress or whatever on the side, and then heading to the casino for the buffet, BBQ and banana pudding, it still just makes you want to scream sometimes as we as a group have come so far until we are reminded that we really haven’t.
This week, I write about this as the bond we have as the household of Daddy, Master and slave withstood it’s first test of anything emotional having to do with a core factor of what makes us, well, us. Of course, if you know my year and Axel’s and about the nine close people we lost, you know we have dealt with things, but this was the first instance where one of us could have said “enough is enough, the outside pressure means we need to pull away, etc” and, when it started, I worried a minute bit about that happening. That said, that worry only lasted minutes before I was assured Jack would be fine and, that, together, we would get through this. For Jack, the child of very religious, Sunday go to church special clothes wearing Bible thumping parents, he has always had to deal with the “we love you but we will miss you in heaven” tractor-set crowd and has done remarkably well, but this week marked the first time he ever had a chosen family – us, our Canadian friends, and a few others who were going to support and love him un-fucking-conditionally and, well, he struggled with that. The week was particularly bad as well because I was far away for work, Dr. Ax had a packed client schedule, and our puppy doesn’t talk yet, so it was a bad week to need someone when he could stop by our house. He did fine and each day was a bit better, but today is our first time together since the incident so it has been phenomenally good to be together and help heal in person.
The best part of this for me; however, is that I could look into his eyes and know that TODAY he needed to be controlled, hence the cage in the yard as I type. I am allowing him very little choice at all today and he could not be happier. After lunch, he asked if he could talk about some of his fears around what had happened and, of course, I let him. However, he maybe got seven words out before he started crying. so he just let me hold him for a while after that. While I knew the answer. I asked him what he needed and he said “to serve, Sir” so I got the cage out while Ax made a chore list.
I wish I could show you how he is smiling in the cage now, but we have that no face thing happening, but through his submission, the boy has found peace and comfort. I am proud to say that we have trained him that way and wish everyone could find inner peace in whatever BDSM role they choose (or biologically have chosen for them) – myself included many times. This storm will pass and those left in the clean air that will follow will be better for it.