Welcome home, boy.

It has been quite some time since I updated this blog. A combination of long working hours, and no longer taking the Piccadilly Line (formerly my writing time) has resulted in me putting it on standby.
Alas my car is bust, and I'm back on the trains. So it'd be rude not to, wouldn't it?

When I took on my slave three months ago, I knew that I'd have to lose him to the other side of the world for 12 long months. On meeting I knew he'd be worth the wait, and duly tagged him as my own.

He was meant to be away for a year in Japan, tearful farewells a few weeks ago and I knew I wouldn't be domming, or hugging my boy for a long time to come.
That was until he decided that Japan was a mistake, he didn't know why he'd gone, it was going to cost huge amounts of money, and he was missing home hugely.
He falls back out of the sky into the UK later today! Which is awesome!

Ludicrously busy at work I'm unlikely to see him for more than a day next week, but still.. It will be an awesome day.

I didn't have a huge amount to say for this post, more a little thing to say that I'm still alive, and that life on the whole is still perfect. Can't wait to see my slaveboy again!

Boy x

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:On a train near Gatwick Airport

Cagebound.

I sit here grinning away following a fantastic scene my Master set me up in. Pictures were taken so I thought I'd share what happened with a few horny shots.

We actually did two scenes, the first was a test mainly for Master to see if he could still do heavy rope bondage with lots of lovely knots, and also a test for the cheap rope we got to see if it was any good. He sent me to plug myself first of all, it has been a long long time since anything was up there for long, and it took a while to get in and used to. I returned to the room and a few minutes later and my body is bound into an armbinder known as the 'dragonfly':



From this I was then bundled into the cage, put on my knees, my head locked into the cage door, and my arms raised. I was kept like this for a short while, but unfortunately this boy does not have the best joints in his knees, and a short while was all it was...




The next scene was to be more long term, and painful in a good way. First Sir introduced me to the catspaw, the method of binding wrists so you can pull all you want and they won't tighten, but the knot cannot be undone once pulled taut from the other end.

I was first rubber hooded and blindfolded, then placed with my back up against one side of the cage bars, my legs spread apart and cuffed so they could not be brought together, my balls parachuted with my spiked leather parachute. This was then hooked with some rope up to the top of the cage, pulled over and secured along with my throat and chest to the cage bars, I could no longer lean forwards, and my balls were being pulled fairly hard with the spikes digging in.

My arms were then pulled to either side of the cage at the other end and secured so they could not be loosened.

Blind, balls stretched, unable to do much more than wriggle back and forth, and lift my legs up and down the bars... horny as fuck, and looks it too ;)



i was left for a good long while, I have no idea how long, but it was definitely an hour at least. My balls steadily got more and more unbearable, burning and pulling constantly.. but I just couldn't get enough! Thrashing about in my bondage, unable to see a thing, felt awesome.. knowing that even if I did get out of it all, I was still locked inside my cage. Feeling very very imprisoned, and loving every moment.

After a long while I begged Sir to put clamps on my nipples for a further focus, once on I thrashed around even more, in total heaven, it felt amazing the pain all over... but gradually the nipples calmed off, and I was left with the burning balls sensation once again. Sir returned shortly afterwards only to remove the clamps, then put them back on again, just on the ends, right on the tips.

Oh my god. OH MY GOD.

I couldn't stop moaning, over and over, thrashing about, pulling at my bonds, in absolute ecstasy and unable to touch a thing. SO frustrating.. Sir returned a while later and laughed at how rock hard I was. I honestly couldn't get harder, my cock straining at the parachute, and my balls jammed full into the spikes. This only made me hornier!



A while later I begged Sir to let me cum, and make me stay in the torture after I came for ten minutes. I was in true maso mode, I needed pain, I needed torture. Sure enough Sir wanked me off, to the point I was pretty much screaming as I came, over and over, he took it further, kept wanking me, I was totally out of breath, head swimming, unable to think or do a thing. He let go, 'see you in fifteen minutes boy.'

Ow. Almost instantly my nipples woke up, OW, my balls woke up. Everything was on fire... FUCK FUCK FUCK THAT HURTS! I struggled for what seemed like an eternity, Sir came in 'just to let you know, that was 5 minutes.'

I couldn't take more, I struggled yet more and more, eventually using my comically dexterous feet while straining with the leg cuffs to slowly feed a tiny amount of rope through one of the loops, it took a good while, but determined I managed to work a tiny gap, through which I could hook a toe, and continue to feed through with another toe (yes they really are that capable) while pulling out my wrist.

Once one wrist was free, it was only a moment or two before I was able to remove most things, Sir was alerted with the sound of the hood removed, he helped me out, as I grinned away.

Fucking hot.

Oh and the plug is still in.

Hehehe. Do drop a comment :)

Boy x

Fitness

I've spent 25 years on this planet, and nearly all of those I could whatever the hell I liked, knowing that pure fat and salt seemed to magically converted into more space to eat more pies. I could eat two fudge cakes and lose weight, it was ace.

Until the past few months, the past few months I could inhale and gain half a pound from the dust. My metabolism has clearly decided that now I'm quarter of a century old, that being enviably lithe with the appetite of a medium sized shark is no longer a priority.
Nope, now the appetite rages on, but so does the waistline.

Action was required, and this is what this blog post, and subsequent updates will cover.

I want to be fit, I want my Master to be proud of his boy, to have a nice bod that people won't run screaming from at the pool. I want to fill a tanktop without a small wobbly moon hanging out of the bottom.

For this I need Sir's help, my willpower in the face of a double cheeseburger is somewhat limited. I could quite merrily replace oxygen with KFC on an average day. This boy needed rules.

And rules he got.

No fast food, no crisps, chocolate, pizza, cheese and other fatty dairy, no pies, no pasties, nothing high in saturates, no sugary puddings. At the time I dismissed this as leaving me with little else to eat besides 'clouds and air'.
The truth is, in three months I've managed to pretty much constantly follow this whilst having a highly nommable diet. Yes, I could merrily sell my own legs for a Big Mac, but the only thing I've had from the golden arches have been a few consented milkshakes.

Sushi, fruit, low fat yoghurt, wholemeal sandwiches, salad, light wraps, more sushi, lots of chicken, pastas and I'm not dead. I'm happy, I've watched myself get better. It's ace.

I started with watermelon syndrome, hiding a large oval fruit over my belly under my top. My abs disappeared, my hips got grabflab. It was rubbish, I didn't have scales but I must have been well over 13 stone, verging 14.
As a boy who was 10st10 for YEARS this is somewhat alarming. I bought scales last week, assuming since I'd lost loads of weight and the last time I'd weighed myself I was 12st7, I'd bought them primarily for the smugness factor of seeing 11 stone something once again.

Step on. 12 stone 10. Whoa, okay? That was not expected. I was the heaviest I'd ever been, and I could visibly see where I had lost the weight back off again. Thank christ I didn't have scales during my watermelon era. I think I'd have bought Bulemia for Beginners.

So here I am, feeling better, until this morning. I weighed myself. 12 stone 13. Sir let me have fried chicken as a treat on Monday, that had clearly laid several eggs inside me and hatched chickens made out of lead cholesterol. Bastards.

So that's where I am, if I eat anything fattier than water I gain weight. The depressing truth is, it's time to calorie count. Fuck you body!

I start a new job in a week, and with it comes a lot more freedom, and a lot less lethargy. So it'll be time for phase two (which currently would kill me)... EXERCISE.

We'll see how that goes shall we?

Boy x


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

A new acquisition

It's been some time since I last updated. Main reason being I've been working such a huge amount that my usual blogging time, the tube home, has been spent napping without exception. Back once again though, and plan to update regularly once again.

So, a major development has occurred. I have been hunting for a slavepet for a good 8/9 months, since Sir gave me permission to take on a boy of my own.

After several false starts, subs that lose interest, and boys who suddenly end up in relationships, I've finally got my boy.

And what a boy! He turns 20 in two days, incredibly cute and never stops smiling. A mere 5'6 which just makes him that much more adorable.
When we first spoke he was just into the idea of play, and felt that ownership was not for him. I asked him why, and his responses revealed he followed the popular misconception people have of M/S relationships. The slave has no freewill, his life is controlled, used for the pleasure of his master, that his life as he knows it will be altered heavily and that it all sounded a bit distressing and too much for him.

Of course some masters DO operate like that, and there are of course slaves for whom that is what they want.

It wasn't what he wanted though, and nor was it what I wanted. I steadily assured him I take ownership to care, train and offer security and companionship to my boy, and that more important than my direct pleasure, was his. A happy boy makes a happy master.
After talking a huge amount and realising just how perfectly matched my wish for a slave was to his vision of a perfect master, we arranged a meet.

Four days before the meet happened however, the surprise Master had been teasing me about all week came to light. I had no honest clue what it was. Blindfolded on the bed I waited, told to remove my blindfold I looked to see the boy knelt beside me, he was my surprise. Grinning up at me I instantly hugged him tight, and didn't let go for ages! It really was the perfect surprise, and one I had not expected at all, as they'd both planned it together and threw me way off the scent!
We had a wonderful evening, and he stayed the night. Managed to miss his train but otherwise it couldn't have gone better. The sight of him collared in the cage, smiling contentedly through the bars was wonderfully heartwarming. I finally had a boy, and he was clearly overjoyed to be owned.
Fast forward three weeks and another meet later, and he's just been ordered to buy his first bit of gear, an orca wetsuit in a very small and tight size. Provided it fits he's gonna look amazing!

Next meet the 4th. Can't wait! Will update more shortly but the news needed to be told. :)

Boy x


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

An insatiable appetite.

I'm a versatile, always have been, always will be. No matter how dom I get, how many boys I've owned, I'll still wanna get tied up.. And no matter how deep I get into the position of my Master's boy, I'll still forever love dealing out torture on helpless innocent subbies.
My mindset at the moment takes this to ludicrously complicated extremes. Extremes to the point that aside from one constant, I haven't a frikkin clue what i'm horny for.
The constant I have pleasantly discovered is the fact that however dominant, forceful and controlling my wishes are, I have nothing but 100% submissive adulation for my Master. This is a good thing, my versatility has been ousted completely in his presence.
Outside of his presence though, Jesus fucking Christ. Take my slavebro for example, even though we have partially parted, he will forever be my bro and I'll forever be his Alpha. Except that isn't even simple, I mean fuck yes, fucking him sealed 100% in tape on all fours was the moment I really got my dom horn on.. But at the same time that grinning muscly sexpot does sit in my mind as someone who could happily get the cuffs out and give me what for. Repeatedly.
While at Masters feet last night, collared and periodically stroked, I was on MSN declaring exactly how I'd be planning to keep a potential slavepet, and detailing him with some rather horny mental imagery, as is my forte.
The whole time I'm not with Sir I seem to be filling the time with the hunt for a pet, the corruption of wide eyed potentials, and lots of dom horn. None of which affects my view of Master.

Taking my sub side, that is even more unquenchable in it's thirst for satisfaction. It's something I need to work on. I'll say it now... I'm a boundaholic. I am happiest in bondage, want to be kept in it practically permanently, and nag Master repeatedly to tie me up or have some play.
Even when tied though, or locked in my cage, my mind will zoom onto heavily dom thoughts..

Its something that will only get worse until my appetite is sated. I need a slaveboy, I need to dominate without it being some random, need it to have progression, watch a boy improve through training. Then of course sell him on the black Market to fat morally questionable Americans. Maybe not the last bit.
It is cool how switch I'm getting though, that I can be in one scenario yet experience the other side. It's great insight.

I JUST NEED MORE OF EVERYTHING. NOOOWWW.

Weekend

It's the weekend, and I'm at work. This is rubbish for a number of reasons.
Firstly, I don't usually work them, in this business pretty much everyone higher up than me and anyone in support is off on weekends, so operational matters pause until Monday. This makes them the best days for me to take off.
Second, Sir is off on weekends and it's rubbish that I can't spend the day with him and that when I get home I just want to curl up and sleep as I've already been up since before 3am. If I don't sleep I'm invariably ratty and just end up bringing Master's mood down, which is never good.
Thirdly, weekends DRAG. The mornings are often painfully slow, it's 7am now and it feels like it should be noon. By noon it'll feel like tomorrow and by tomorrow I'll be back here again. In spirit, this job I never leave.

Was allowed to sleep in bed last night with Sir, which I'm glad of, he could tell I'm still feeling fragile and full of crappy feelings over how much I hate my job, and still upset over not seeing my lovely slavebro on Wednesday at a time when he needed me most. So glad to see that his exams went well though, would have upset me even more if I'd known that my bugger up Wednesday had affected his scores. Congrats bro, you're free! And hungover by the sounds of it.

I'm fully accustomed to my cage being my room now, rather than going splat on the bed and reading a book I am now happily crawling through the cage doors and curling up there instead.
The enclosure reminds me of the cosiness of when we used to caravan holiday and I had the bottom bunk, sitting up in the corner reading a book. Just the same comfortable homeliness can be found behind bars, but with that extra sense of belonging.
And no chemical toilet four feet away, thankfully.

Seven hours to go and I can leave for another day. For now I'll just type this and get annoyed with my iPhone for capitalising Reading. I don't want Reading, I want reading. Grargh.

Boy x

Administration

On the Tube home once again, after the worst paperwork day in a while. I do truly despise Thursdays at work, a nightmarish whirlwind of wanky deadlines throughout the day, that I must hit whilst simultaneously trying to run a busy shop with one other member of staff. That, and my boss likes to visit on Thursdays, just to get in the way of managing stuff on time.
Today's paperwork resulted in a hideous profit loss due to me being shit when I first started. Can't wait for the call tomorrow!

So currently inexplicably sitting in a stationary train somewhere on the Piccadilly line in the dark. I can't wait to get home, to get into my cage and feel that lovely glow I get when locked inside.
Sir is home before me too which makes a nice change, and so there will be no self locking today, yay!
Even if I wanted to sleep on our big comfy double bed, I can't. My cage is my bed now, and Master has placed the bed out of bounds. Furniture is for people, cages are for slave pups. I was allowed to sleep in bed with him last night which was nice though. Not that we stayed awake long.

I'm loving the shift in my live in 24/7 status now the cage has arrived. Slowly but surely my human liberties and freedoms are being removed within the home. Confined to the cage and to sitting on the floor, looking up at flatmates on the sofa is humiliating yet assuring. I'm comfortable in who I am, and feel comfortable to express that in front of our housemates.

More than anything right now though, after a 14 and a half hour day, this puppy wants to SLEEP.

Boy x

Frustration

Yesterday was meant to be a good day, yesterday was meant to be a GREAT day, a day I've looked forward to since we planned it two weeks ago.
Yesterday I was meant to be in Bristol, visiting my slavebro who I haven't seen since our housewarming. Lack of money and lack of spare time had resulted in me being unable to go visit, and with bros exams he was far too busy to come to London. Alas finally a day cropped up where I could hop on the coach and spend the day with him.
The plan was for me, his alpha, to have the tables turned somewhat and be his playtoy for the day, Master had waived any limits on our play, and a day of intimacy, affection, bondage, servitude and horny bro fucking was on the cards. Awesome.

Up at 6am I wanted to get as much time in as possible, given I had to be back the same night as work at 430am meant an early night. Coach booked for 8am.

Long story short, two aborted tube journeys, one missed bus and a complete arse of a driver resulted in me not getting the 8, and going for the 9 bus and bring refused boarding. The to-ing and fro-ing and the heavily escalating oyster fares of touching in and out repeatedly at rush hour were bad enough, but the smack in the face of being denied the bus, even though according to bro there was never any issue if there are spaces, was the final straw.
Snatching the ticket out of the drivers hand, storming off the coach yelling, I informed bro what happened. I couldn't face getting on the tube again and I couldn't afford a new ticket. I angrily and miserably stomped home, locked myself in the cage and hugged tight the puptoy my bro gave me at Christmas, who sits by my side every night and is usually my cuddle partner. I spent two hours in the cage attempting to calm down, and fell asleep for a while. The cage is almost intoxicating, even though I knew I could get out, the sight of being surrounded by the bars calmed me. Nothing can get me, safe inside, my space. Breathe.
I decided that sulking was not the answer to improving my mood, and gave my good friend Ed a ring. A while later and we're in Islington. Fetish shopping retail therapy ahoy.
Of course, I couldn't afford to buy all the lovely things, such as this really nice puppy collar:




..but it was nice to do the kink crawl of Fettered, Regulation and Expectations again after several months.
After spending £27 on wasted travel for the day, and seeing a 75% off rubber hood for £5 in Regulation, I wanted to have SOMETHING to show for the day.
Got it home, tried it on. It's the best fitting hood I've ever had. The noseholes are perfectly located without slippage and the hood is tight without excess pressure.

A small mercy in a day of complete fail. Thankfully bro is coming to see us next weekend, so I won't be without his cuddles for too long. This boy can't wait to share the cage with his slavebro. It shall be awesome.



Boy x

Anticipation

It's Cagemas. On the tube home from work, raging hard on, excited about the prospects of what is to come from this day onwards. Less than three hours and the shiny box will be here.

Running through mind are so many questions, so many possible scenarios.. How will Master use this new dynamic in our relationship? He has the power to decide what part it takes, because a cage is not just another piece of kit, it isn't a new gag, it isn't a sexy new rubber suit.. It's an item with the potential to redesign how a slaveboy lives.
How often will Sir put his slave in it to sleep? I know that every night is out of the question, and for this I am glad. Why? Because those minutes before and after sleep, no matter how short, no matter how quick we succumb to closing our eyes, are always some of the most special minutes of the day.
The minutes held in Master's arms close, safe and secure. The minutes spent talking, affirming my place as one of his precious boys, the kisses down the back, the feeling of Master's smooth body against mine, his hard cock resting over my hole.
It is a truly wonderful thing that it just takes a display of affection to make the heart race. Holding each other, my tag round my neck jangled playfully, Master and slave's cocks both hard. I turn round to face, we kiss goodnight, and sleep blissfully.
I could never face being denied that every night, to be able to turn over again two minutes later to kiss Sir sensually down the spine and tell him I love him. In the cage, the bars keep all but my voice away from him.
Don't get me wrong, I will sleep wonderfully at his feet, locked away secure for the night, but I have grown accustomed to the warmth, the physical love of my Master as my bedpartner. I don't think Master would particularly wish to go without either.

This brings me to the day. Sir has already said he's looking forward to getting some peace, locking his boy away while he relaxes in another room. It's true, I never shut up, and so being restricted to my prison, probably cuffed and gagged, gives Sir that space he wants.
I have a feeling my caged life will predominantly be during the daylight hours.

Who will I share it with? I await the day I am locked with my head secured, my slavebro in the cage behind me. My hands cuffed to the bars, my body is all his, with noone able to enter the cage to stop him. While I'm his alpha, physically bro can easily overpower me. Tomorrow I'm visiting him for a day of servitude, which will be hot.. Dommed by younger pupbro, a little humiliating! He has a lot in mind, and to ensure he flexes his dom muscles to potential, neither myself or Sir have imposed any limits. Hot.

However Master decides he wishes to use the cage, i'm sure it'll prove a fantastic investment. Not often you can buy your ideal home for £350!

Do drop a comment :)

Boy x

Twas the night before Cagemas...

and all through the house, not a slaveboy was stirring.. because he was gagged.

Well, maybe not gagged right now, but it IS Cagemas Eve.

Tomorrow afternoon I take delivery of 36 cubic feet of air, encased in rigid metal bars. I get my cage. It's a very nice cage, with hole for the head to poke through for vulnerable boy usage, and a feeding slot for Sir to pop my breakfast through in the morning, in bowl.

I CANNOT WAIT to sleep in it. To be led in by my Master at night, given a kiss before the door is closed behind me and securely padlocked, pup caged up safe for the night at Master's feet.

We're having to completely rejig the bedroom round to fit it properly, so I may actually end up at Master's side, which would be equally as nice. We shall see how it pans out.

Anyway, this is the very first post in my new blog. It is completely public, as my twitter feed is, but to be as completely open to everybody I'd plan to remain mainly anonymous. Though yes, a fair number of the people reading this will already know who I am.. but kindly respect that this foray into the world of the normals is one I'd like to do as my Master's boy, hooded and presented for your entertainment.

There will be plenty of pictures to come though, and hell I might just get all exhibitionist and show my face sometime anyway. Pfft.

Please do keep regular tabs on this, do let people know it exists, it'll be a nice regular account of an owned alpha boy's life, of his servitude to his Master, and of his hunt for, and eventual training of his own slave pet.

For those who don't know me, I'm a 25 year old guy originally from the North, now living in London. I started kink at the 17 with other people, and started experimenting on my own with self bondage, breath control and other such things at the age of 9 onwards. Early Learning Centres in my parallel world would be quite a different place.

At 17 I started as pretty much complete sub, had a few encounters and tried my hand at domming. Liked it rather a large amount, so much so that for the following seven years I became Master to a number of boys, and became fairly well known amongst the internet fetish community as one of the young tops worth bothering with. Of course as the age flicked over from a teenage number to the 20s, the messages dropped as they do, but I still have a lot of close friends from that period, and a lot of guys still after a bit of my dommy magic.

Always a bit versatile I was flirting with my submissive side even while I had my boys, role swaps, switchplay and tie up games were always good. At the age of 22 I came across a guy who spent several years trying to make me his slave, even though at the time I was heavily involved with slaves of my own.

Needless to say three years down the line, that guy is now my Master. 9 months collared by him, 9 months of amazing experiences, self-exploration and deepfelt feelings. I always knew that there was a sub side lurking within, a true slave side... but nobody ever managed to release it. Until Sir did, which was one hell of an emotional time! He is a wonderful wonderful man, and I hope to be at his feet in servitude for many years, living out my days under his caring ownership.

I do hope you enjoy my blog, and if you don't already follow my twitter feed, follow and enjoy that too. I need the feedback and knowledge I'm not just writing to myself, as I lose interest easily. Don't make this a dear diary, make this a conversation.

Boy x