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Sub-O’s away next week, with at least some opportunities for naughtiness. What a shame he doesn’t have a master at the moment, he thinks. Could be kinda fun to be owned for the week.

Mmm, just maybe, he thinks, he’ll fish out his chastity device anyway. After all, a slave oughtn’t to be let out with an unlocked cock!

tumblr_odi3rdpZfl1sq9cs6o1_500So I’m in the pool changing room, and I look over and there’s a guy I’ve seen a few times before. Big, muscly, completely shaved head, tattooed and not in a tasteful way. Kind of good looking, but in a mean-looking, raunchy kind of way. Fuck, I find him hot. I don’t think he’s gay – surely not. But there’s a vibe somehow. He looks back over at me a time or two, or three. But his look is completely inscrutable. Maybe he knows what I’m thinking. Fuck, he’s hot. Alpha male. And suddenly I find I’ve gone off on a Men-and-fags fantasy – like I was reading about on Tumblr the other night. What if … what if I were just to drop him a little note (like I read about on there), saying had he thought about having a fag serve him a straight alpha dom. What if we went into the changing room toilet right there and them, and he just face fucked me, or pissed down my throat, slapped me across the face. Then just walked off leaving me to wipe away his piss and jizz. Till the next time ….

5a44f29bf5035003da386030For the last couple of days, I’ve been strutting my stuff on Chaturbate and Cam4 a lot, edging myself repeatedly until finally letting go with a satisfying orgasm earlier this morning. Looking back over the past year – where, admittedly, I haven’t been blogging much on here, it’s clear to me that much of my sexual life, including my kinkster side, has been played out on cam in this way. In 2017 I’ve really had only two or three live BDSM meets, very little sex with my partner (a state of affairs we seem OK-ish about), but lots of time getting horny by webcam where anyone who wants to can see. So, at the end of the year, it seems appropriate to ask, what’s with all this?

Well, clearly it’s satisfying a certain exhibitionist urge. And when I ask what that means the answer is something to do with nakedness, vulnerability, openness, showing myself, being myself. And as ever, it’s also something to do with connection. The cam sessions where I’ve had the most fun are the ones that have been the most interactive – usually with me naked and doing my stuff, and whoever else texting in their comments or requests or orders. Although I’ve also enjoyed sessions where the the guy/s on the other end is/are also on cam, the sub in me also gets off, I have to admit, on the power asymmetry of the whole CMNM thing.

And then there’s the fact that that the guys at the other often seem to be getting a lot of pleasure out of watching. In the last couple of days, I’ve experienced moments of connection where guys seem geniuinely turned on by, and appreciative of what they see. That’s kind of flattering of course, but also touching. Maybe it may not be a bad thing to bring someone a bit of joy this way.

Obviously, none of this is quite the same experience as an in-the-flesh encounter, but it has its merits for all that. Meanwhile – perhaps because of having had some down time over the holiday period – I’ve got to the end of this year feeling as horny as fuck, and putting out again on Recon and wherever else for the possibility of a live meet. The slave boi in me refuses to die!

There’s a form of master-slave relationship that has long lurked at the back of my pervy mind, which has – until not so long ago – taken form only as fantasy or curiosity. But recently I got a taste of it for real, and since then I’ve just not been able to get it out of my mind.

1-240x180The fantasy master in question is strict, sadistic, centred in his own being as a master and detached towards his slave – clear that the slave is there purely for his (the master’s) pleasure. I once read a Recon profile of a master from Malaysia who claimed to practice an Eastern version of the master-slave tradition, and while it would be dodgy to see this as a characteristic of all – or only – East Asian doms, I have noticed it as a trait in some. (I remember once being on my knees in a backstreet bar, looking up into the cool blue eyes of such a guy, as his fingers inflicted the most searing pain on my nipples. He had just the faintest hint of a smile on his very handsome face. Man, that was hot!)

So, while away a couple of weeks ago I get a message from a guy on Grindr who’s clearly interested in the fact I’m wearing a chastity device. We chat on and off throughout the day. It’s clear that English is not his first language, and that, despite being young (only 28), he’s pretty experienced as a master. As it turned out, he was Japanese; and if you were looking for a bit more evidence of a different kind of master-slave mindset, you could argue he provided it.

To cut a long story short, by the end of the afternoon, I had fetched up at his place for an hour of play. Play was maybe – definitely – not quite the right word: though not unplayful, this guy was clearly a tough master.

“You would quiver before my punishments”, I remember him writing in one of his earlier messages. And on my knees, being lashed hard by his belt (it took the best part of a week for the marks to disappear), I could believe it. Even so, as this was a first meet, he  was probably breaking me in relatively gently by his standards.

I’ve had thrashings like this before, but here was also something different: an emphasis on strict discipline. “You need properly training”, he said. The correct position to receive his belt was on all fours, my head up, looking forward. In addition – get this – he popped an egg, still cold from the fridge, into my mouth.

“You must not break the egg, or else I’ll punish you more”. But of course within just a few seconds one of my teeth had bitten into it making a hole. Further lashes of the belt followed. And, predictably, I let out a yell of pain.

1-240x180“Don’t make noise. Take it silently”. So this was the discipline. Taking the blows; controlling my response to the pain, trying to stay calm so as not to break the egg in my mouth. This was something new, something else. Going beyond submissiveness. The subjugation, the abjection of a slave.

At the time I questioned whether I was enjoying this. The guy gave little away, was detached, hard to read. Yet, he held my gaze when I looked him in the eyes while the back of his hand slapped my face. There was connection, and a faint smile which communicated an elusive hint of warmth behind the cool exterior.

At the end of it, I left with the taste of his cum still in my mouth. (None issued from me of course.) “Next time we’ll have a cup of tea”, he said. Ha! There’s humanity there, even as we experienced the frisson of going outside the (western?) liberal humanist way of things. And yes, I do want to go back.

In the end, the meet I was planing with Master Chris never came off – he couldn’t swap his day off to meet when I was free. But it’s still on the cards, so who knows? Well, he does. He’s adamant I’m going to serve him, and periodically we still check in with one another to keep the communication channels open. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt as a BDSMer it’s that you need patience.

Meantime, all has not been uneventful. During my last trip away I did have a couple of brief encounters – one of them with a pretty powerful young master (Grindr seems awash with 28-year old tops, who don’t seem to have any hesitation about hooking up with older guys). I hope to write about that soon.


The agreement I had with Master Chris last week would be that I would be his slave just until the weekend, for the last bit of my trip away. And that this brief, fixed-term arrangement would end once I was home.

But, as is abundantly clear from my last post, I haven’t been able to pull out of that slave space mentally. Funnily enough, he rumbled this in a message conversation we had last night.

We were looking to fix up a possible in-person meet next week. I mentioned to him that in the meantime I’d got another meet pencilled in for later this week with another top:

“He may want me to cum”

“Just tell him you’re under my control

“Ok, I’ll put that to him”

“Good boy. You sure you’re not my slave anymore?

“I’m not sure”

“Cause you seem to be doing as I want”

“You’re not technically my master again yet”

“No I know but as you pointed out you’re not sure you ever stopped being my slave”

He’s right of course. In my own mind I haven’t ever stopped being his slave – not for one  solitary moment. Every minute of the day I wait for a text from him, long to be under his power. Want to serve him.

We’re planning to meet next week. I cancelled my meet with the other guy.

For  three days last week I became the online slave of Master Chris. Just three days, yet it feels like three weeks. Probably because those days were part of a highly sexed-up week. that just added to their sheer intensity. Yet I can’t deny  there was also some kind of hot connection in its own right. And now that moment’s over I miss it. Miss him, if I’m honest.

This wasn’t the beginning, and it may not be the end of things either. It all started a few weeks ago, when I was away visiting family, and he found me on Grindr. Young top/dom aged 28, looking for a hook up, clearly turned on in his own fantasy by the profile image of me in my leather harness, and keen to get into a kinky, sub/Dom based relationship. We couldn’t meet then –  neither of us free at the same time, and nowhere to meet. But we chatted a lot, and he also checked in over the next couple of weeks on the odd occasions I’d uploaded Grindr again.

And then, when I was away last week, the whole thing took on a new dynamic. He’d looked in again on Grindr, and this time, to cut a long story short, I let him take charge. I offered him control of my cock for the rest of my time away, and it was immediately locked, the key sealed in a tamper-proof bag, and photographic evidence provided. And for the next few days he kept himself and me horned up by making me wear my rubber gear and send him photos, sometimes combined with WS activity. Fuck, the whole thing was so hot; the guy has a natural dom streak, which I seemed to bring out in him.

So we may yet do what he mooted when we first spoke: hook up in a hotel room on some future visit to my family, near where he lives. Originally I wasn’t sure about the idea, and I’m still a bit hesitant now: although some guys love hotel room sex, I can’t quite shake off the sleazy overtones. But right now I want to do it. Right now, I miss not getting texts from him, even though it’s not been 48 hours since we last communicated. Although the whole thing might blow over before too long, I feel a new story may have begun.

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Here’s a thought I had today – occasioned by the fact that, even though it’s been just four days since my last orgasm (three of them locked in my Holy Trainer), I feel like I’m in the third week of a chastity stint.

Chastity buffs seem always to measure lock-ups or denial periods in terms of days – as if all days were equally horny, or the feeling of denial were equally acute the whole way through. But of course life isn’t like that. If you’re busy or doing other stuff you can go for days without really feeling the absence of orgasm. Although I’m proud of my longest chastity spell – some eight weeks – I realise now that this was probably made easier by the fact that for the first four I was living abroad, working hard, and with an intensity focused on a different kind of culture and style of living (which isn’t to account for the second four weeks of course!).

But these four days have come at the end of a week away that have been filled with sexy activity and horniness – an in-person BDSM meet, a cruisy night in a dark and leathery bar, lots of time hunting for sex online, and an intense few days of domination from an online Master (with the potential for more in future). Some of this I aim to write about in upcoming posts, so watch this space. But the point here is that it’s probably no wonder my horniness levels are sky high, even though I’m only a few days away from my last orgasm (at said BDSM meet).

So when we measure our time in chastity – admittedly a kind of man-ish thing to do – maybe there should be another factor in the formula, beyond mere days. It needs to read something like: C (chastity quotient) = N (no. of days) x H (average horniness level for the period). If H is on a scale of 0 – 10, with 10 at the top, then for me at the moment this would read 4 x 8 = 32!

A further factor has been the two-hour edging stint I did on cam yesterday once my locked-up cock had been released. This reached truly electric proportions of arousal and plesure, and I still managed – just – not to cum at the end of it. This reassures me that I probably actually am improving my levels of self-control. And in fact the scenario was the opposite of the one I described in relation to ruined orgasms in my last post. There I talked about working on my ability to ejaculate without orgasm – which prompted my former online master, Master69, to text me to say he’d been working at the opposite. Yesterday I felt I was also starting to get there: something close to a protracted orgasm without ejaculation. Good slaves need both skills, I feel!


Lately I’ve been on cam quite a lot, and having enjoyable encounters with older and younger dom guys, as well as doing a bit of domming myself, of lads with sub aspirations. I’ve really been clocking up my edging time and with it, I think, a gradual improvement in my cum control. Quite of, ten my sessions end without cumming, or, if I’m asked or required to cum, I’ve gone for a ruined orgasm.

Why? Well it’s the old thing of wanting to stay on a peak of horniness, I suppose. And it’s another aspect of cum (self-)control. Very gradually I’m learning where the edge teeters over an ejaculation, but not fully – or possibly not at all – into orgasm. In a communication from chastity veteran Thumper, he assures me that that with practise it’s possible to ejaculate without orgasm. And as someone committed to learning to be a good sub/slave, that seems to me to be a skill worth learning – maybe not for every time, but as an aspect of denial that might please a master.

So, I’ve been getting the practise in. I now can’t really remember the last time I had a full-blown ‘manly’ orgasm, but I would guess at least three weeks. And today, on my second ‘orgasm’ of the day, I managed to release spunk with hardly any accompanying climax at all – which brought its own kind of mind-fucking buzz. For now, I intend to keep going with this, learning how to develop cum control into cum denial.


Working at home, naked, my cock locked up, I’m reminded that a slave experiences his body differently from a man. In a situation where a man would be clothed, the slave feels the air against his body and a sense of there being nothing between him and the world.

I am there, slave, unprotected. I try not to flinch back from the cool air, to embrace that feeling, to let my body breath out and occupy that space -slave space – that is mine.

And being like this, a slave’s body is available (even there’s no master here right now). In principle, it’s ready for use. And the slave, locked up and denied orgasm, is always horny. Always ready to serve as required. I stroke my nipples and imagine it’s a master doing it – just because it pleases him to. And my cock squirms and oozes, and I know there’s no release.