Regret/relief

We were laying in bed, talking.

“What are you doing down there?”

“Where?”

She lifted the covers and saw my hand wrapped around the stiff penis.

“There.”

“Nothing. Just…nothing.”

“You’re jacking it.”

“Only a little.”

“Maybe it’s time to put you back in.”

She got the device and brought it to me. I waited until the erection had subsided enough to push it all through the little ring. Each testicle, swollen with desire, went grudgingly before popping through with a twinge and a yelp. The penis, in that transitional state between plump and stiff, pliable enough to push through if I thought about anything else than what I was doing in front of her and at her direction. I put the security fixing though the PA ring and stuffed it and the still-chubby penis into the tube. I had to force the tube and the ring to join, compressing the swelling contents so the pieces would align. I held the package up to her and she slid the small brass lock into place and turned the key.

“There, that’s more like it. That’s how you should be.”

She placed her hand on the package, but I only felt her finders on my balls.

In my chest, I felt a wave of emotions. Regret that access to the penis was gone, relief that it wouldn’t be a distraction anymore. Satisfaction that my status was no longer in doubt (had she forgotten about me? did she have plans for it?). But mostly just a warm blanket of love and affection for the woman who kept me this way. I sank quickly and deeply into the comfortable fuzziness of my submission.

“Thank you.”