I just can’t seem to quit you

You all remember my last flight saga? The one where WN (Southwest) left us stranded on the aircraft on the tarmac for hours. The one where my “quick” 39 minute flight turned into a 4 hour extravaganza of pain? The one where I vowed not to fly WN again until they got their issues sorted out?

Since the pandemic when pretty much all travel stopped, I’ve been traveling a bit again. All of my travels are “regional” and unfortunately, the choices of airlines that go from where I am to where I need to be are limited. That fact coupled with the rather generous voucher I received from WN for stranding me led me to book another flight with them last week. Yes, that’s right. The weekend of the Southwest “meltdown”.

The flight out was okay. It was packed and a bit late, but otherwise unremarkable. I snagged a decent seat and got there without too much incident. In the morning of my return (Sunday), I was notified that my flight was cancelled (among the thousands that were) and booked for the following day. That didn’t work for me. I needed to be home on time, and I had already checked out of the hotel and had a rental car that needed to be returned. A mad scramble followed to find an alternative way home. Not wanting to fly to LAX, which I avoid like the plague whenever possible, and not wanting to fly a 5 hour connecting journey for a 1 hour flight, I managed to find a little airline called JSX.

JSX is a charter airline that flies small jets from private aviation terminals. It was, frankly, an amazing experience that was reminiscent of flying 40 years ago. I was dropped off at the terminal where I was checked in. There’s no TSA, no scanners, no hassles. From there, the jet pulled up and we boarded. About 20 passengers and one dog (they allow dogs!). The seat was standard coach width but with 36 inches of pitch and loads of recline. They also served alcohol and snacks! On landing, we went again to the private aviation terminal where my bag was waiting for me, and I walked 50 feet to the curb where there was zero traffic and Trip just drove right up. It was awesome.

I have to go to Vegas again next month. I looked into JSX, who flies there. Unfortunately, I got another WN voucher and the fare to Vegas on JSX is a lot more. So my options are Southwest, Frontier, or Spirit. Yeah, I’m on Southwest AGAIN, because it was free. I’m not really interested in flying an ultra-low cost carrier, because they charge you extra for even a carry on, and I do not fit in a 28 inch pitch seat, so it ends up costing more for less.

Clearly, my masochistic tendencies were ascendant as I hit the “book now” button. I honestly was ready to fly JSX again, if not for the several hundred dollar fare difference and that damn voucher.

Wish me luck…


All’s Quiet on The Western Front

I know….I haven’t posted much lately. Everything is fine. I’ve just been incredibly busy. So busy, in fact, that it’s boring. There’s really nothing exciting to tell you about. I did, however, take my first out of town trip a couple of weeks ago. It was my first time stepping on an aircraft since 2019 (which is unusual for me). I went to Vegas for a few days for a meeting.

My flight there was fine. It was a quick 40 minute hop. The airport wasn’t crowded and the plane wasn’t either. All in all it was “up, down, safe and sound”. The return, however, was vastly different.

First off, the airport was crowded and the terminal this airlines uses (SWA, FYI) is old. I arrived in plenty of time, breezed through security, got some food (I ate my food at the little roped off areas they have around EVERY eatery. I then went to the gate to await my flight. At the gate, I played musical chairs because there was every type of Covidiot you can imagine; guy not wearing mask even though masks are mandated and there is a sign every 2 feet. Apparently, the rules do not apply to him. Then there was lady who thinks you cannot talk on a cell phone without removing your mask. Then there was “chin strap” mask wearer (hey Buddy, the 19th century called and wants their tooth ache back). Finally, there was “I’m going to eat my sandwich at the gate even though there are separate tables literally EVERYWHERE” lady.

After moving myself multiple times, we finally boarded the plane for a 39 minute flight. Now, I fly enough to just sense when something unusual happens. Even though I was half napping, I am also vaguely aware that CA is west of NV. So, when the aircraft turned south, it was kinda obvious that we were not going to be on a 39 minute flight. I fact, we went quite a way south, did a circle around Palm Springs, then flew up the coast before turning east to then turn around and land. Turns out that thunderstorms popped up right in the middle of our planned route and were severe enough to cause rolling ground stops. Okay, I understand this. I was okay with our 30 minute flight now being 90 minutes. But the fun didn’t stop there, not by a long shot. (Next time I will tell you about the epic text battle I had with Tripp who vehemently insisted we were landing even though I was actually on the plane and it was evident we were nowhere near the airport)

Once we landed, turns out there were no gates available because all the planes sitting at them were empty and not departing due to the ground stops at their destinations. So we sat, and sat, and sat. Now, I know being a FA is a sucky job lately, and kudos to the folks doing it, but our FAs were, to put it mildly, surly. They made it a point to let us all know they weren’t any happier than we all were. They also made a point to let us know that there was no alcohol on the plane and that NOBODY ever died from not having alcohol (a point which, at that moment, was arguable). They did give us each a little cup of water, eventually (and a tiny packet of pretzels)

Finally, someone figured out that you could actually move empty planes that weren’t going anywhere and allow full planes that weren’t going anywhere to disembark their now very unhappy passengers and then these aircraft could become the empty planes that weren’t going anywhere in place of the other empty planes. They also could have remote parked us and let us walk. They claimed that was a safety issue, but I’ve been remote parked at some of the busiest airports in the world (CDG in particular), and have used air stairs many, many times.

Anywho, from wheels up to the time I actually exited the airport, 4 hours had elapsed. I mean, I’m used to spending a lot of time in a metal tube, but this was excruciating. Tripp had to admit he may have gotten poor information from the internet (did you know that there is misinformation on the internet??? )

Otherwise, the trip went smoothly and it was nice to actually go somewhere. I miss travel, even to Vegas, which is basically next door.

I hope you are all well and safe, and I apologize for not writing sooner.


Mystical Semen

What is it about cum that is so inherently fascinating to me? Why do I crave it so much? There’s something magical about it, something I can’t define.

I’m not talking about my own cum, which while associated with many pleasurable events, isn’t any more exciting to me than my spit. I’m talking about Sir’s cum. It’s powerful, and my need to have it in me is strong and deep.

It’s definitely a reward. As a sub, making your Sir cum is knowing you’ve done your job well. It’s more than that though, because where he cums is more important (to me) than when and how. I want him to cum in me. I want his seed inside my guts, and while I love the taste of his cum. or seeing him cover my cage with it, having him deposit it in me is far more desirable.

Perhaps it’s the fact that penetrative sex is far more intimate. A cock in my mouth is nice, but I’ve had lots of things in my mouth. Stuff is supposed to go in there. Starting from your first day on this earth, you put stuff in your mouth. But other than the old fashioned Mercury and glass rectal thermometers my mother used, nothing really ever went in my butt. I didn’t even contemplate that until I was past puberty. Fucking, and to some extent, really good kissing, are just incredibly intimate acts. Men are “supposed” to be the penetrators, not the penetrated. . At least, that’s what was indoctrinated into me when I was a teenager.

I also think it has something to do with the fact that for the major part of my sex life, cum was taboo. I came of age during the height of the AIDS crisis, and people were dying every day. Everything was “safe sex” and nothing went in my ass that wasn’t latex wrapped. So, it was always forbidden fruit. No matter how bad you might want it, you couldn’t have it, unless you enjoy playing Russian Roulette, which I absolutely do not. There is undoubtedly a difference between fucking and breeding.

My being locked and denied plays into this as well, as he can come as often as he wants, and I can’t. But that’s a different power exchange. Still, it plays a part for sure. I’d feel this way locked or not, though.

I think for subs (at least this sub), having a man penetrate you and ejaculate in you is the ultimate form of submission. It’s hard to describe what I feel when I see his face starting to scrunch, feel his thrusts getting faster, his stokes going deeper and deeper until he explodes in me. It’s akin to a religious experience to be honest. It’s the most exquisite power exchange I know. It wasn’t until Prep came along that it was possible, but now that it is, I crave it. Giving a hole that stuff is only supposed to come out of to someone to use for their pleasure and to put their stuff into is mind-blowing for me. Never mind how amazing it feels (which it does), I’d want to do it for him even if it didn’t. The fact that he fucks like a machine doesn’t hurt either.

There are delights having his cum any way: down my throat, on my face or body, on my cage particularly, licking it off his boots, etc. but nothing comes close to being bred by him. It’s what makes me feel I am truly his boy.


Irish Eyes

He’s so fucking hot. We have a lot in common. We share kinks and fetishes, particularly gear. I forget how much older I am when I’m with him, except if there’s a mirror around. He thinks I’m sexy. I’m not going to argue. I think I left sexy behind 10 years and 20 pounds ago. He’s funny, outgoing, and very dominant. He’s tall, muscular, pierced, and tatted. He looks so amazing in leather. He looks amazing not in leather. He makes me weak in the knees, which is good because it’s easier to suck him while on my knees.

He’s naturally in control. He points, I swoon. He doesn’t make love to me, he fucks me. There’s minimal consideration for the submissive, which is exactly what I need. He plows into me hard, right from the get go and keeps going relentlessly, with both of my holes. The first time I sucked him, I was ready with all my skills. I was going to tease his cock and lick his balls and play with him before I started in earnest. I was ready to give him an amazing blow job. Instead, I found myself choking on him as he grabbed my head and went right for my throat. He got the blowjob he wanted, not the one I wanted to give him. Damn. He doesn’t even give me time for another hit of poppers. It’s hard to do them when your being pounded mercilessly. Spilled poppers on your mustache is not pleasant, (though it’s effective). He likes pain and impact play. He doesn’t know how much I leaked and how close I came to an orgasm when he played with my nips and smacked my balls. He tastes good. His lips are sweet, his cock is hearty, and his cum is delicious.

The texts he sends me are instant cage tighteners. I told him I was thinking of him. He told me he was thinking of me naked and gagged. I showed him my favorite boots. He told me how good they’ll look while my legs are over his shoulders.

He’s fascinated by my cage. He introduced me to his friends as “Doc, whose been locked for 3 years”. He likes to see it and play with it. He likes me locked. He sees it as a challenge to make me come other ways.

But what gets me most is his accent. He’s Irish, and although he’s embarrassed by his brogue and usually manages to not sound Irish (he sounds kind of Australian when he’s trying not to sound Irish), sometimes he lapses into his native lilt and I just melt. I love it. I could probably cum just from that. I wish he wasn’t ashamed of it, because it really is so damn sexy, just like he is.

Erin go bragh



I had a date last week. It was the first date I’ve had in a year and a half, for reasons we all are sadly well aware of. I got fully vaccinated in February, but the pandemic was in full swing here and while I felt safer, there was no way I was going “out”. All that changed remarkably quickly here. No one realized how quickly the vaccine would roll out and how quickly our case rates would fall and the world could open up again, which left me unprepared for any hookups.

See, I stopped taking Prep at the beginning of the lockdown. There wasn’t any reason to keep taking it, so I stopped. I figured I’d have plenty of time to get started again. I figured wrong, because we went from zero to essentially normal in a matter of weeks, and I kind of met a boy online (boy, as in male, not as in submissive). We chatted a while and we made a date to see if we clicked. That happened last week. I thought our first date would be “casual”. You know, maybe lunch. It didn’t turn out that way.

There was the first gear event happening in almost 2 years and we met there. That was pretty casual. We talked and laughed and we kissed a bit. I met some of his friends. Things seemed to be going well. He admitted he was nervous to meet me (god only knows why….he is way hotter than me), but that he was very glad he did and he was very interested in attempting to impregnate me. The feeling was mutual.

I wanted it. I wanted it bad, and I got some of what I wanted, but not everything, because I hadn’t gone back on prep, and I always try to be as safe as possible. Having survived the AIDS crisis in the 90’s, it would be sadly ironic if something happened to me now. So we didn’t go “all the way” and I made an appt with the Prep clinic for the first thing available.

I thought this would be easy. I mean, I’m negative and had been on Prep, but no. Since it’s been so long, they wanted to test me for EVERYTHING. That’s fine, but geez. After drawing about 17 gallons of blood and filling a liter bottle with pee, I was sent home awaiting my results. I’m happy to report that I am still negative, I have the kidneys of a 12 year old, and I have no STI’s whatsoever. However, I also don’t have any Hep B antibodies. I don’t remember if I ever got vaccinated for Hep B, but Dr Sex said males who have sex with males should be vaccinated, and I’m all about safety. I got my first dose of the vaccine and 15 minutes later I had my new Prep Rx.

One thing that’s changed since 2 years ago is that Truvada is now generic, and I was quite pleased to find out that there is zero co-pay. Sweet!

Anyway, I have to get another Hep B vaccine in 4 weeks, but I started taking the big blue pills again, and hopefully sometime next week we will be starting trying to get me pregnant ( in case your scratching your head, that a euphemism for shooting his load into my guts). I’m really in lust over this new gentleman friend. He’s pretty amazing, and he fucks like a machine, just FYI. I can hardly wait until he can come in whatever opening he prefers.

Being fully vaccinated and back on Prep is an amazing feeling. First, taking control of your health is important, but also, it feels kind of like normal again, which is something we have all been waiting so long for

Stay well and stay safe


The Collaring

It’s been a little less than a year since my relationship with Sir ended. I’m just starting a potential relationship with a new Sir (fingers crossed), but he’s already mentioned a collar and that got me thinking about the last time I was collared (also, it got me hard, but that’s beside the point).

For many years , I was “collared” by Sir, but only when we were together. I wore a collar as a symbol whenever I was with Him. He liked seeing me in it, and He liked me showing it off. He put collars on all His boys when He played with them. Once, when we went out to eat, I tucked it under my t-shirt. That got me a stern reprimand and a smack on my ass. So, I wore it whenever I was in His presence and I showed it off. The collar was to be displayed. It definitely makes one feel their submission more when collared, even if it comes off at the end of the day.

I’ve written about my transition to His slave. I called Him Master once during a scene instead of Sir. I didn’t think He noticed. Afterward, as He sat on the couch and I took my position on the floor between His legs, He mentioned it. As He ran His fingers through my hair and gently played with my nips, we talked about my becoming His slave. There was a lot of discussion about expectations and also about needing to talk to Tripp about it. We talked about my chastity becoming “long term”. We talked many hours, but I knew that it was right for me. Becoming His slave didn’t just “happen”. It was discussed at great lengths between all involved, but when all agreed it was possible, He wanted it. Tripp agreed reluctantly, but eventually he was on board with it, as he knew I needed it.

With Sir’s decision to take me as His slave, and Tripp’s agreement, my transition from sub to slave was set. Sir instructed me to be at His dungeon door at 7 pm the following Friday, locked, naked, and kneeling. I figured He had a ceremony of some sort planned. He also had me drop the keys to my cage off at His house ahead of time, as per usual. I arrived as instructed, texted my arrival, stripped (the entrance is behind a gate, so it’s private), got on my knees, hands behind my back, head bowed, and waited. After about 15 minutes, the door opened. “Welcome slave” I heard. That was the first time He called me slave. “How do you greet your Master, slave?” He asked. I started to move my mouth towards His crotch. He stopped me. “Boots, slave”, He said. I got down lower and licked His boots. “Good slave” was the response. I licked them until He told me to stop. He pulled me back to my knees, then lifted my chin so I was staring at Him. He was wearing His harness, a leather jock, chaps, arm band, and Muir cap. He had a broad grin on His face. He blindfolded me and then led me into the dungeon. He told me to kneel once He led me to where He wanted me to be. I did as instructed.

I knelt, naked and blindfolded for several minutes and heard Sir moving about a bit. Eventually, Sir removed the blindfold. I was on the mat in the center of the dungeon and there was box on the floor in front of me. He had turned off some of the lights, so that only the center of the dungeon was illuminated. He told me to open the box. Inside was a heavy chain collar and padlock (larger than the collar I typically wore with Him). The key was in the padlock. “Becoming my slave is your choice?” He asked. “Yes Sir”, I responded. “You are sure?” He asked. I told him yes.

“As a slave, you belong to me. You have no limits or safe words. You can ask for a break, and you will tell me if you have any problems, but you no longer have a say in what happens to you. Do you understand?” He asked. “Yes Master”, I replied. “It is your choice to accept the collar, slave. I want you to put it on, lock it, and hand me the key. It is the last choice you will make”, He told me. I felt the weight of the collar in my hands, and the growing pressure in my cage. This wasn’t a collar, this was HIS collar. No one had worn it before, and it would always be on me to identify me as His slave.

As I slipped the collar around my neck, it felt like it was meant to be there. I locked the padlock, and held out the key with both hands for Him. He took the key, leaned down, and kissed me. He then led me to the fuck bench, put me on it and strapped me down. He stood in front of me and instructed me to “get Him hard”. I began to lick and suck my Master’s cock and I felt it grow in my mouth. “It’s time, slave”, my Master said, “I’m going to mark you as mine”. He went behind me, spit in my ass, and for the first time in all the years we had played, He pushed His cock into me without a condom. It was time. We were both negative and I was now on Prep, and I had wanted this. We had talked about it, and I had talked to my doctor a few weeks before.

As He thrust into me from behind, He pulled up on my collar, choking me, and asked “what are you?” “Your slave Sir” I yelled. “Who does this belong to?”, He asked. “You, Master”, I responded. He fucked me hard, almost brutally, and kept repeating the questions over and over. With a final deep thrust, He called me “his cunt” for the first time and came into my ass with a deep growl of satisfaction.

It was the first time I had been bred in 30 years. Tears of joy were streaming from my eyes. As I lay there strapped down and sobbing, I felt His cock at my mouth again. “Clean it off, slave”, I was instructed. I opened my mouth and took His cock, along with His seed and whatever of my ass juice was there into my mouth. It was heaven. I don’t know how long I sucked Him, but He started to grow hard again. I sucked Him until He gave me the honor of a second load.

He took me off the bench, gave me water, and wrapped His arms around me tightly. We stayed that way for quite some time. “Thank You Master” was all I could say. And He was my Master. I was owned and I was happy. I kept touching my collar, making sure it was really there and this wasn’t some dream. Later, I fell asleep in His arms. I went home the next day and, for the first time, Sir kept the keys to my cage.

Eventually, the collar became normal. I was used to wearing it, and like my cage, would feel odd if it wasn’t on me, which was rare. But even though I became used to having it on me, it was still a powerful reminder that I was His property for as long as He wanted it.



I got up early, way too early on Sunday. I had to drop Tripp off at the airport. It’s his first post-pandemic flight. I got up at the ungodly hour of 5:30 am to take him to the airport. In the past, when he had an early flight, he’d take an Uber, but you can’t get one anymore, and if you can, it’s ridiculously expensive. I don’t know why he booked such an early flight on my one day to sleep in. I’d say that was most inconsiderate, since he didn’t actually have to be there until the next day. Everyone who knows me knows that the thing I hate most in the world is getting up earlier than I have to. I have it timed to get up for work at the last possible moment to arrive on time. He should know better.

Anyway, I found myself with oodles of time on Sunday that I otherwise wouldn’t have, so I decided to put it to good use. After a good clean out and a shower, I set out all the toys, both the commonly used ones and the aspirational ones, made up a fresh batch of J Lube, opened a fresh bottle of poppers, and got busy. You see, I have a goal, and the fact that I both got up exceptionally early and that I had the house to myself made it easy to spend most of the day stretching my hole. My goal is to be able to take a fist again. I haven’t done that for years, and my ass has gotten tight. It’s not like riding a bicycle. Actually, it kind of is, because I rode a bike for the first time in 25 years not that long ago and it took a while to get my balance back and my ass hurt for days afterwards.

The reason for having this goal is…. I “met” someone. I use apostrophes because we’ve only texted, but we do have a date soon. He is a very Dominant Top, very handsome, whose kinks match mine almost one for one. He’s also a fair bit younger than me, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. He thinks I’m hot. Let me tell you, he is fucking hot. He is way hotter than I ever have been. He’s into gear, boots, impact play (I’m dripping already), and fisting. I want to please him, and I want him to be able to fist me if he wants, hence the week long plan to get back into fistability before our date this coming weekend. I know nothing may come of this, but if it does, I want to be ready. I’ve been more than a year without a Sir now, and that’s far too long.

I set out all the toys I planned to use, from the smaller plugs and dildos, the medium sized items, and the fist sized ones. I spent several hours stretching my hole. I also used my speculum, which is kind of difficult to use solo, but stretches me like nothing else. It opens up progressively larger and larger and it’s an awesome stretch. After some time with that bad boy, the bigger toys started going in more easily. Finally, after going larger and larger, the biggest plug slid right in. At that point, I started on the fist sized dildo. It took ages, but I’m happy to report it eventually went in.

After that, I went to Tripp’s dildos. Tripp used to be able to take a small SUV in his ass, and his toys are seriously large. I didn’t think I would be able to take one of them. With an extraordinary amount of lube, porn on the TV, more poppers than should be legal, and taking it slow (slow, slow, slow), I got it in. It hurt like a motherfucker. I was crying, but I was determined. As it slowly stretched me past anywhere I’ve ever been before, and as the massive dildo slid passed my prostate, I came. I came so hard, I think I may have passed out. The combination of pain and pleasure was overwhelming. I had absolutely no plans to orgasm, and I wanted to save it for my potential Sir, but it happened. I’ve never had something hurt so bad and feel so good at the same time. It was mind blowing.

I plan on spending a few hours each evening this week making my hole pliable again. Even if nothing comes from “meeting” new Sir, I miss being the type of sub with an easily used ass. It’s not been easy. As I get older, my body doesn’t cooperate quite a nicely as it used to. As they say, practice makes perfect, and I need a lot of practice. At least I have the time, an empty house, and a possible new Sir to motivate me

Stay safe and stay well.


A Means or an End?

Over on my second favorite blog, DenyingThumper, the rabbit has been stewing a bit lately about how locked men see their cages. He’s also been polling on Twitter, between posts about his now size 32 waist (skinny bitch). The results have been fascinating, though I admit that some of the possible “answers” didn’t really fit my situation. But it got me thinking. Why do I want to be locked, and is it the end, or is a means to an end? And the answer is, I don’t know.

It’s no secret by now that being caged has been a strong desire of mine. It’s also really brought out my submissive side. But, if that was the goal, then once it was reached, what purpose does the cage serve? It did awaken things in me that will never go back to sleep. If I was unlocked tomorrow, my desires wouldn’t change. And to some degree, that was a goal. I wanted to change the dynamic of my marriage and I wanted to serve my then Sir better. It’s not been 100% successful, but there’s been significant changes. It seems the cage served it’s purpose in that regard. It made me reconnect with my kink, which I had been dying to do. It was indeed a means. That having been said, I don’t want to be unlocked.

If Tripp wanted me to fuck him or put on a show for him, and he unlocked me, I would do it as best as I could. I doubt I would be a good fuck anymore. I’d probably not last too long. The days of me pounding someone for 15 or 20 minutes are gone, I’m afraid. But, while I would enjoy pleasing him, and probably enjoy the act as well, I wouldn’t choose to do it. I don’t really want to Top anymore (well, not much). I want to be the sub mostly, like 99.99% of the time. I still need to initiate any sex with my husband almost every time, so I sort of feel like I still Top from the bottom, at least to get him going (he does have his moments though, not as many as I would like, but still). Mentally, I can still enjoy dominating someone, but not physically (there are some exceptions, like Jake Gyllenhall). But you don’t need your cock in a cage to be a bottom, and I want my cock in a cage. So that seems to be an end, rather than a means.

My identity is a a locked man (Dom or sub is irrelevant), but I also like the physical presence of the cage. It feels good. It makes me horny, and it unleashed powerful forces within me. It also gives me more confidence. I mean, I go around all day, every day, with my cock in a cage, and if you really look, you could probably tell. You have to be proud of it to do this, trust me. Just like you can always tell a guy who wears leather from a guy whose leather wears him. It’s just confidence in yourself and a “fuck you” attitude to anyone who would try to shame you. I would absolutely love to live in a world where kink (and everyone has at least one kink) was something that no one had to hide. I think it would be a far more interesting world, and a far better one. That’s been a struggle for me my entire life, so I feel rather victorious at times, because I’m not fantasizing about it, but rather living it. Both a means and an end, it would seem.

Being locked (I don’t call it chastity because I have sex) has unlocked (if you’ll pardon the pun) forces deep within me. Things keep growing and evolving, which is why I am so happy and fascinated with it. If it was always the same, it would be boring and would serve no purpose. I’d be over it. So, I guess in some ways, it is an end unto itself, but in others, there seems to be no end of discoveries about myself, and it’s a means to continue to explore my kink, my emotions, my desires, and my strengths as well as my weaknesses. It’s also, according to some, turned me into a slutty cock whore, but I digress.

It’s both a means and an end, but it’s also neither, or at least, there seems to be no end to the changes I am going through and discoveries I am having about my true self. I’m a work in progress, and I hope I always will be. The cage just seemed to have kick started that process, but I don’t want to be without it, because it’s also a part of who I am. I don’t believe that will change. Maybe it will. We will just have to see.


Irregularly Regular

Something’s happening to me. I’ve come twice in a row from ball and ass play, with permission of course. I’ve come from it before, but it was very occasionally and only after a very long period of denial. Also, it didn’t happen consistently. I’d get close sometimes, but then it would ebb and no matter how hard I was worked over, it just never reached that point again. The only fairly consistent way to make me come was with the wand on my cage, so if Tripp wanted me to come, that’s how he did it. But he didn’t do it often. I didn’t come much.

I had some goals for my chastity. First, I wanted to please my then Sir and be the best slave I could be. Other than to torment it, Sir wasn’t particularly interested in my cock, which is how it should be. For Sir, my cock was just another toy he could use as he wished. My focus was on pleasing him, taking his pain, and taking his seed. Any thoughts of an orgasm were few and far between. Occasionally he would unlock me and have me jerk off for him. Just as I was about to climax, he would smack or twist my balls or my nips HARD, or smack me, or shock my balls. He wanted me to associate any pleasure I got with pain from Him, and it worked. Still, He very rarely unlocked me.

Second, I wanted to fulfill my very long term fantasy of being locked for long periods. That happened quickly and organically, as what was supposed to be a couple of weeks became essentially forever without any active thought. It was just so obvious to everyone involved that I was meant to be caged. Plus, the denial aspects became a major kink. Getting me all hot and bothered with no way to achieve a release drove me wild.

Finally, I did want to experience getting more pleasure from other parts of my body. I had read multiple blogs and talked to several long term chastity players about the changes that happened to them. I wanted to be more focused on my holes. I wanted to want to be fucked often. I used to like to be fucked, but didn’t go out of my way to get it. Mostly, I did the fucking.

The first time I came from being fucked was a revelation. But it didn’t happen regularly. In fact, its only happened a couple of times. The first time Tripp made me cum from ball play was one of the best orgasms I ever had, but again, that was very inconsistent (and I hadn’t cum in months).

Lately, it’s been different. There’s probably a number of factors involved. After Sir and I broke up, I lost a of my sub headspace that I enjoy and my outlet for it. Tripp is wonderful, and he can be dominant, but it’s not quite the same. But thanks to a particular Alpha who had taken over my ass, I’ve been really feeling that headspace again. I’ve been plugged almost daily, and he’s been slowly progressing me to larger and larger things in my ass. I’ve grown to look forward to his orders.

I’ve already told you about my first nocturnal emission the other week. A few days ago, Tripp was playing with my balls after I’d had a stretcher on them for the day (again thanks to Alpha). I started getting close. He started smacking them harder and I came for him. That’s not super unusual as it had been several months since my last orgasm (if you don’t count the wet dream). Then, the following day, Tripp was playing with my plug as we lay in bed. I started moaning and writhing and he tugged in my nips. I started to get that deep in the balls feeling and knew I was going to come. He let me shoot again. I have never had 2 orgasms in 2 days without some form of cock stimulation, and yet it happened easily.

Tripp said “it looks like you don’t need that cock anymore”, and I think he’s right. At least, I hope he is, because having my ass and balls as the source of my sexual pleasure is exactly what I want and need, and after almost 3 years locked, it seems like it’s happening, at least I hope it is.

I don’t know, but after all these years, I think I am finally becoming the man I am meant to be; a locked boi/slave whose ass, balls, and nips are wired to his pleasure centers. At least, I hope so.

Doc of a Thousand Days

Today is a milestone. I’ve been locked for 1000 days (with many, many more to come). 1000 is just such a nice, solid number, I feel it needs to be celebrated. It’s just another day locked for your boy, but it’s nice place to stop and reflect. It’s been an amazing journey that started with a crappy plastic cage and has morphed into permanent genital incarceration in a bespoke titanium sculpture.

My fascination with cock cages and orgasm denial started probably 25 years ago. The nascent internet (remember dial-up?) was just becoming a thing. I used to get Mr S Catalogues delivered by mail in those days. Living in the Bay Area, mostly we went to the stores in person. That’s where I saw my first cb2000. I wore that cage for exactly 1 day until it split at the seams and trapped my cock like it was caught in a zipper. That cage went in the trash the next day, but the desire to be caged only intensified. What followed were a series of different cages that I wore from time to time, but none that really fit or were actually wearable for more than a couple of days at most.

Sir and I started seeing each other in the late 90’s, and his fascination with locking my dick was very close to my own. He was my first (and for many, many years my only) key holder. I was locked whenever we were together and generally for a day or two before hand. We usually played every weekend, and I would lock myself and drop the key off at his place a couple of days before our sessions. He’d send me home with the key, and we would repeat weekly. I’d stay locked when we would go away together. I spent all of Folsom and IML locked. I think 5 days was the longest. I enjoyed being his boy, or sub, or what have you, but things changed, particularly because locking my dick eventually brought us to a new level, that of my becoming a slave. His owning my cock pushed us further and further until he owned all of me. It’s really that powerful.

When I became his slave, he wanted me to be locked long term. I’d wanted that for a long time. I had to talk to Tripp about that, because it affected him too. I needed him to be okay with it. I’ve told that story before, so no need to go into it. But if you want to read about it, it’s essentially the first post of the blog. You can find it here: https://lockeddoc.com/2020/01/01/about-the-doc/

My first long term cage was a Chinese knock off of the Evotion. It was cheap, effective, and reasonably comfortable. It was the cage I was wearing when I came out as locked to Tripp. I wore that one while researching a more durable solution. It didn’t fit great, was often uncomfortable bordering on painful, but it was functional. I moved onto a Steelworxx cage based on Thumper’s recommendation, but it never fit me very well either and caused multiple issues. They eventually mostly got resolved after months of frustration dealing with the owner of the company, but it was not going to be a 24/7/365 cage. I did like the metal far more than the plastic however.

I tried an HT (I needed a plastic cage for travel as I was flying quite a bit then), but they just don’t fit me correctly. Also, any device that doesn’t lock via my PA is less than ideal. I still have my HT, but it’s hard to wear it for more than a day. The ring sizes and shape just don’t work for me. I ditched the HT from rotation and got a custom sized Evotion 3D printed cage, which works quite nicely. I don’t wear it much, but I can wear it long term when necessary. It’s a pain in the ass to put on, but once it’s on, it’s amazingly comfortable and incredibly secure. I’ve never had any issues with it, other than I prefer metal. It’s definitely more functional than beautiful, but it functions flawlessly.

Still, we wanted a metal cage, which led me to Chris at Steelwerks and the first of my cages from them (warning: they are highly addictive). I ordered a Tiffany from him and that became my locked cock’s home for many months. I wore that cage 24/7 with no issues (other than the typical issues all locked men have to deal with. If your junk is in a tube, there’s going to be some issues). Being locked long term gradually became being locked essentially permanently, since everyone agreed that Doc was meant to be locked (not that it necessarily mattered, but Doc agreed 100%). Sir always wanted His slave locked, I wanted it, and Tripp came to want it as well. Eventually Sir and Tripp decided that since we were all on board with Doc being locked essentially forever, and Tripp didn’t like the open look of the cage cap (where my cock head was somewhat accessible and visible), I was to get a new Steelwerks cage that would completely enclose my now unused cock. If my cock wasn’t going go to be used, it shouldn’t be seen either. Also, the original Steelwerks was a bit too short for me. The result was the cage I now live in, the fully titanium anatomic cage, which really is my forever cage and covers my cock completely. All one can see is a titanium prison. It feels different, partly because it’s molded to my flesh cock, and partly because of the mental aspect of seeing and feeling nothing but titanium in my crotch. I don’t look at it as a cock cage, I see it as my cock. Seeing flesh down there would destroy the mental image I have of how I am meant to be. I never developed that feeling before when I could still see flesh, which was an unexpected and amazing surprise.

I’d like to get another cage eventually. Not to replace the current one, but maybe just for an occasional change of pace. I’m really liking the new convertible crucible, but to be honest, Tripp wouldn’t ever let me not use the ring, so it would just be what I have now. Also, I can probably try and jerk off in just a crucible, which is a big no-no. Even if I couldn’t come, I could and probably would stroke, which again is a non-starter, since Doc does not get to play with his cock (also, it’s not my cock anymore anyway). Also, my erections need to be contained. Doc doesn’t get to have big boners anymore. The pressurization of my cage when my 7 hard inches (well, formerly mine) is squeezed into 4.25 inches of titanium is one of the feelings I love most. Also, seeing the fleshy bits would make me feel less me, if that makes sense. There’s always something new from Steelwerks that catches my eye and captures my kinky heart, usually on Drew’s cock (LOL), so maybe someday (I’m looking at you, creature cage…).

My life has certainly changed over these past 1000 days. I used to come daily, if not several times a day. I’ve had exactly one orgasm in 2021, and 5 in the past year, all of them caged and all of them “hands free”. If I come, it’s always caged, and that’s the only way I would want it to be. My flesh cock hasn’t been used since 2018, and I am totally happy about it. Being caged is like Miracle Gro for my submissive side. I’ve wanted this for decades, and it really is so much better than I fantasized. It’s how I am meant to be. I’ve gained a revitalized relationship with my husband, I’ve found amazing kink friends who are also locked or appreciate locked men, I’ve been reclaiming my kink more and more, found an Alpha whom I adore, and have a piece of custom crafted titanium permanently encasing a penis that will never again be sucked or fuck someone. A cock beyond my reach and beyond my touch. Sadly, my relationship with my Master ended due to Covid (he’s fine, it’s the relationship that died). Overall, even with the difficulties of the past year, and the suffering so many went through, it’s been one hell of a ride. Here’s to many more days #lockedinwerks.