Fixing the fixing

Have I mentioned I’m trying to post every day in August? I am. Why? No idea. Just seems like a fun thing to try. I don’t really think enough happens to necessitate 31 posts, but we’ll see.

As I alluded to on Saturday, Belle let me take the PA fixing out of the Steelheart. I woke up feeling a nasty pinch in there and assumed it was the fixing trapping an errant fold of skin in a way it normally doesn’t. I’ve felt something like this before and it’s ended up turing into a sore spot that’s ended my stint in the device. While the PA solution is almost always sufficiently comfortable, there isn’t a lot of room in there generally speaking and, as the old saying goes, shit happens.

Turns out, there were no visible signs of a problem. I was only out for maybe a minute (as long as it took to remove the fixing and my PA ring), but I couldn’t see anything wrong. For the rest of the day and most of Sunday, I was on my own recognizance. The meat feels different in there when it’s not secure. It moves around a lot more and feels kind of jiggly. Unlike the CB6K tube, this one’s big enough that the meat has some freedom of movement. It’s somewhat distracting since I’ve become so accustomed to the static feeling the PA fixing provides. It keeps the cock pinned to the backside of the tube.

Also, being technically able to remove the meat drops the hotness level for me. As I’ve said before, I like it better when I have zero control. With the PA fixed inside, that’s exactly what I have. Zero control. It’s not that I was tempted to squeeze out a surreptitious wank, but knowing I could made the device feel like a fancy stage set as opposed to a serious piece of bondage equipment.

At some point over the weekend, I asked her again how long we was going to leave me in the device. Part of me wants to know, part of me doesn’t. I think she’s doing a good job right now keeping me guessing. Of course, it’s constantly on my mind. I know we’re approaching uncharted territory with regard to duration, so every day I look at it hanging off of me and wonder if today will be the day. Or tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month.

She again refused to tell me if she had a specific date in mind. Minimally, not before late September was all she’d give me. That would be about two and half months. I’m so committed to staying in for every second she wants me there that I need to be careful in listening to my body and any signs it tries to give me saying it needs out. Obviously, part of me really wants out, but the rest of me wants to do what Belle wants and show her that I can. There would need to be some pretty severe physical damage to make me ask for it to be removed at this point.

Sunday evening, Belle wanted the fixing back in. She knew I didn’t need it out anymore so, when I was about to start my evening cleaning regimen, she brought the key to me and removed the lock. I rinsed out the tube and ran a hot washcloth over the meat (leaving the A-ring on) and put the whole thing back together, but left the key in the unturned lock.

Getting into bed, she asked, “Where’s the key?”

“Right here,” I answered, pulling my encased package out of my pajama bottoms. “I left it for you. I don’t get to turn the lock.”

“Exactly,” she replied as the brass lock engaged and the tiny chance I had to access my own body was taken away from me.

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