This week, I have mostly been locked in a chastity device.  Actually it should be constantly, not mostly…

Where’s My Damn Cage?

Whilst checking in on my recent cage order I noticed on Badassworkroom’s site a banner stating a 5-7 week build time.  Okay, I’d just hit 5 weeks last week and now I’m getting antsy.  I had a few issues with my Steelheart that needed cleaning (see “The Accident” in the next section below).

Still, I’m getting very close to hopefully getting some sort of notification.  I’ve not had any confirmation of my order, or clarification of the specification and details I included.  Not too worried about the clarification, as cage makers tend to be pretty experienced in personalisation requests.

It would be awesome to hear from them in the upcoming week though.

The Accident

Well, this was unexpected.  I know my wife had been keeping me locked for longer periods now, but I needed to  have an extended airing time after a regular deep clean.  I’d noticed some dried blood type residue during the recent clean and feel.  It’s hard to see anything when theres no “windows” on my cage.

Given the level of horniness I was experiencing, it was agreed that I would be having supervised showers.  It was akin to my wife randomly entering the bathroom whilst I was showering, ensuring that I was not “getting hard” because even that wasn’t allowed.  I behaved well there.  I dried off – there was a few red patches to be expected in certain places, but after ten minutes of dry conditions, I didn’t see anything oozing out or broken skin.  It was all good in that regard.

As for the dried blood – I suspect it might have been some moisturiser had somehow gotten into the cage via the front hole as I regularly put it on the scrotal area to help the skin stay softer – it often feels more like crusty leather if I were to attempt to describe it.

Panic averted, I kept to our plan to be unlocked and supervised for a couple of hours to allow some ‘breathing’ and just ensure everything is going well.

So my wife tasked me with doing the ironing – this was originally my suggestion that I start doing this.  Heck, I’m even at the point her daily panties are ironed and folded to perfection.  So she wanted to help, but here I took a risk and told her not to.  You see, when we started the FLR (Female Led Relationship) thing, I wanted to wash her.  She found it awkward and uncomfortable at the beginning, associating the act of cleaning someone else as a form of having an invalid or degrading response.  She felt it was a loss of dignity.  Fast forward a couple of months, and she now says, “I’m going to have a shower, and you are going to wash me.”  She’s even now accepted that I wash her pussy too now.  I do a good enough job, given that I’ve only been given the privilege for a week or so now.

So I’m doing the same with this household chore.  She was to lie back on the bed, watching me, naked even sans cage de chasteté naked – to do the ironing, folding and putting away of the laundry.  She has a very specific way of doing the laundry, and I’m happy for her to keep doing that. So I get the board out, set up the iron and get to work.

She seems to appreciate it – we talk as I work.  It looks like it helps her relax a bit, as I know she does enjoy seeing people hard at work, given her already incredibly strong work ethic anyway.  That work ethic is what would have driven her to help and take part in the chore, but I really wanted this to be a time where she just sat back, wound down, relaxed and enjoyed her little slave husband doing her bidding.

Eventually (and around a million pairs of panties ironed and folded later), I’m finished.  She wants me on the bed.  Not for that… get your mind out of the gutter!  To play card games instead.  I’m not allowed playtime, or so I thought.

We play a few rounds, I’m finding the sensations of fabric against my cock is particularly strange.  It’s almost slightly unsettling being out of my cage for this length of time (usually a hygiene clean is around 5 minutes max).  I get hard, go soft, hard again.  It can’t make up it’s damn mind.

We stop playing cards and cuddle.  She reaches over to my erect cock (staying up for a lot longer now) and starts masturbating me.  This is somewhat unusual in itself.  My wife has weak wrists, and can’t do anything like this for long.  It’s really, really, REALLY pleasurable to experience her playing with “her toy”.  I’m moaning.  She winds it up a notch and then jackhammers away for about 10 seconds before I’m on the edge of cumming. She suddenly stops, leaving me at the edge, air humping.  A laugh comes from her and she holds me closer.

The dogs kick off downstairs.  They need sorting out, so she leaves me on the bed, horny as anything and all alone.  Bad move.  My wandering hands reach down, and I play with myself.  I stop, nervous that she will suddenly turn up.  This repeats as she is longer and longer away downstairs.  Eventually I’m just focused on the pleasure I’m getting, careful not to approach any sort of edge or climax, but almost in a state of learning the sensations I would have skipped past when I was freely able to masturbate.  It’s quite sensual, erotic, playful until…

WHACK!

A sharp firm blow to my shoulder from her hand.

“Bad boy!  On your front now!”  She says, extremely firmly.  I’m crying out with pain from the blow.  She’s already in the drawer, getting the paddles out.  I’m fucked.

I roll over and she gives me a series of firm wallops from the leather paddle, and then another set from the wooden one until I’m begging and crying out for her to stop.  She does, thankfully, but it bloody hurts.

“No cuddle for that one.  You were extremely naughty.”

I’m lying there, now with a sore ass, still erect somehow, and extremely chastened.

After some time, I roll back and apologise.  We talk – she says it was very bad of me, but it was also her fault in part.  Before all this, I had mentioned that I needed to do this deep clean, and not to trust my ability to resist playing with myself.

So she did accept her part in it.  I have a scheduled orgasm due – a locked “normal” one, and was punished further by having a day added to that date.  She would have added a week had she not been partly responsible, but it also reinforced her need to cuff me.

We played a little more after talking, with a slow combination of playing and cuddling, taking her time to bring me to the edge and again and again.  We got delayed once more with the dogs kicking up again, so this time:

“On your front, hands behind your back.”  No please?  Ooh I like this firm approach.  I do as I’m told and I’m cuffed and left.  She attends to the dogs, and eventually returns.  Uncuffed, she then grabs the wand and starts to play with me again.  The vibrations from the wand are so intense, I’m on the edge in seconds.

On the third edge, the accident happens.

She puts the wand on, and a few seconds later I’m telling her I’m very close.  But it’s too late.  I spurt, then dribble a bit of cum in ruined frustration.  She looks horrified, crestfallen.  Playtime has now ended.

I’m told to clean up, so I wipe it off, waiting to soften and the remainder to dribble out pathetically.  All I can do is apologise.  She’s scolding me now (not harshly, but there’s disappointment in her voice) – about how I should have warned her, I wasn’t allowed to cum, and that I’ve ruined her fun.

It’s hard.  Harsh, even.  I’m gutted.  Not for myself, but for her.  She really loves to make me ride the edge, to keep me super frustrated.  We wonder if it will affect my post-orgasmic mood drops.  Fortunately I’m not punished for getting to the point of ruined orgasm, but I would not have been surprised if I was.

Thankfully, the next day I was not really feeling much effect from post-orgasm drop, there was a little in the morning but we had external factors of stress for both of us, so that didn’t really count.  By lunchtime I was back to my fully horny self, sending her sexy texts, kissing, cuddling her as usual by the time I’d finished work that day.

And most thankfully, my scheduled orgasm is still on.  Only 7 days to go now…  So maybe next week’s episode I’ll be describing what it’s like to get a regular orgasm in my cage.  I’d write about it now, but it’s been way too long since I got one I can’t recall the details.  The previous chance I had at having a caged orgasm, I refused for her sake.  That’s an essay in itself right there.

Vintage Captions From The Archives.

I recently had a silly idea, and made a few “Vintage” chastity captions, just trying something light-hearted and fun.  I quite like them, and have been making a few more. Wonder what my readers think?

Here’s some more 🙂

Chastity Caption of The Week

This week – quite the deep quotation.  I don’t recall a source (should have made a note, but there we go).

A profound statement that I can resonate with.  Being locked 24/7 by my keyholder exposes some deeper thinking that I would never reach had I retained easy access to masturbating.  The frustrations of not being able to come, the denial of even being able to stroke away, all works to reveal some hidden deeper processes that go on. Submitting to my keyholder wife, doing what I can to please her.  Even now, as I go on longer than I ever have before, the submission to her grows slowly and steadily.

I’ve noticed that things she requested that would have irritated me in the past no longer do so.  It seems the caged cock phenomenon is eroding the negative frustrations as my own sexual frustrations gradually transform in to a servile nature towards her.  And to that I say – Good.

Site Updates

I’ve added a page for all my on Caption creations – you can see it here at Everyday Chastity Captions.  A longer term goal for this page is to allow a bulk download of the images so you are free to use, share and enjoy!

You can also find my Vintage Chastity Captions here.

See you all next week, and stay locked.  If you’re not locked, WHY THE HECK NOT!!!