Back in the can today. I woke up and the little annoyed spot was 86% healed. Not sure what it is about the skin in that area of the body, but is seems to put itself right faster than other skin.
So, I worked out this morning all free and floppy (figured there was no reason to make stuff grind down there any more than necessary), showered without rubbing for the genie (bonus points should be awarded), and locked the device back into place so I could greet the day in the manner in which I have become accustomed.
All great, right? Wrong! I’m in my first meeting of the day and start to feel an odd little twinge from the area where the bottom of the penis joins with the scrotum. There might be a name for that little bit but Wikipedia is failing me. So anyway, I slyly shift my seating position and give the device a little shove in order to unpinch whatever little bit is being squished. No luck. The odd little twinge starts to grow a bit more insistent and I start to shift in my seat in a vain attempt to sort it out. Again, no luck.
It’s at this point that the sensible part of my brain (the one I clearly inherited from my mother who is nothing if not a picture of Midwestern sensible) starts berating the rest of my brain for thinking this whole chastity thing is hot. The meeting over, I retreat to my office and reach not so subtly down my pants to pull the whole device away from my body. This is often a way to “reset” whatever little bits of skin have become trapped by whatever little bits of steel.
Fucking hell, that hurt! Jesus! I’ve never actaully felt anything like that. A strong, intense burning from that otherwise nameless intersection of tender male parts. I frantically started rooting though my bag looking for the emergency key, but as soon as I start I know I won’t find it. It’s safely nestled in my nightstand drawer where it’s been for months. FUCK.
I retreated further to the server room. It has a lock on the door and is infrequently entered. Once behind the door, I pulled down my pants to do a visual on the tortured meat. Lifting up the tube to get a look at the spot sends such an intense stab of eye-watering pain that my knees almost buckled. It’s so bad I halfway expect to see blood. How could there not be? But there isn’t.
After more gingerly approaching the lifting (actually, more pushing the nuts out of the way than lifting of the tube), what I see instead is a little ball of penis skin trapped somehow under the edge of the tube right at the base of the penis. I’ve never ever seen this. Nor do I have any idea why it’s trapped, but the trapped skin has turned white from the stress of the pinch. Without a key and with no ability to reach down to that part of the device on the inside, I started to pull the device away from me while simultaneously trying to work the shaft back with my other hand, pulling the skin on the very flaccid little member from the top hoping to free it on the bottom. It was a motion similar to what I’d do if I was trying to pull out, but of course, that’s impossible. All I wanted to do was free the pinched bit.
I can’t say why it was pinched or what caused it to be so stubborn in getting itself unpinched but I know the very nanosecond it got free. I felt a cool wave of relief wash over me starting at my shoulders, going up over my head, and down my front. And just like that, the pain was gone. The Wicked Pinch of 2011 was no more.