Tom wrote a thing about keys. Go ahead and read it if you haven’t already, but long story short, Mrs Edge took all the keys, even the “emergency” one, and has left poor Tom without any.
But not having a key at my disposal at all? To go all day, every day, for weeks, maybe months with not even an opportunity for access to a key? The idea of turning that absolute control over to her was surprisingly hot for both of us. Remember, on these devices, there’s no padlock, no locking pins, and certainly nothing to be broken or cut. That cage is not coming off without actual power tools.
And it made me think about a conversation that was happening on Twitter a few days ago about keys and locks and I said something about the real lock being the trust a keyholder has in he who they lock. This is more or less what I was talking about when I said, “The very best chastity device is the one between your ears.”
Locks and keys and access to keys and where the key is and if she’s wearing it around her neck or giving it to her friend (boy?) for safe keeping (you wish) or leaving it in her desk drawer at work or what have you really gets a locked guy’s crank cranked. I get it, believe me. The key becomes…the key. Where is it? What’s she doing with it? Did she bring it? What if she looses it? Ooo, there it is! Etc.
First of all, what Tom says in his post is true. The emergency key idea is kind of bunk. I can remember the number of times needing an “emergency” key in the approaching ten years I’ve been locked up on one hand. And most of those times, I didn’t have it and I survived each time (look, here I am writing this thing). In a real emergency, neither Tom or I or you would have time to get to the key anyway. In reality, emergency keys are convenience keys. And most of the time, access to the key is planned for planned things like air travel or medical procedures.
Except when all that is on its head.
Belle doesn’t hide the key. She’s been gone for two weeks and she left it behind. I know exactly where it is. I have my own key all nicely secured in a locked thing (and I sometimes even remember where it is), but it doesn’t matter. If I need the key for whatever reason, I know how to get to it. She knows I know all this, too. Belle just doesn’t seem to care about the key as an object of power. She could, but choses not to. It’s not the significant thing in our dynamic. She trusts me to do the right thing and follow the rules.
This flies in the face of the One True Way to do enforced male chastity, I know. It probably seems a bit of a let down for some. But what I’ve grown to understand is that key obsession goes against the spirit of submission. I submit to Belle, not her key. My involved fantasies about how the key should be handled are my fantasies. If she wants to play a game with it and where it is and keep it hidden, etc., that’s her choice. For me to require her to do so because I can’t be trusted knowing where it is puts too high a burden on her to play this game my way.
I said on Twitter just this morning…
Woke up alone again. Spent several minutes rubbing my thumb along & against the hard, warm steel tube where I used to have a penis. Smooth, unfeeling, and packed solid.
Unf, it’s been so long since I jacked off. Sixteen months. I’m not allowed. She never lets me. My balls ache.
— thumper 🐇 (@thumperMN) January 21, 2018
Man, that sounds like a guy who really should not know where his key is. But what the fuck would the point of all this be if I took the key and used it to give myself relief? And what’s the functional difference in knowing exactly where it is (a little box in her nightstand drawer) versus hunting all over for it on a desperate search?
I have no time at all for men who can’t be trusted to hold up their end of the deal when it comes to enforced chastity. Slipping out the back of an unsecured device for a quick wank is the same as using the key to take the whole thing off for the same reason. I do understand how security adds to the hotness of the situation (an inescapable device and a mysterious key), but just like at the airport, it’s all theater. The keyholder should set the terms of their keyheld’s containment and he should respect and honor their wishes. Maybe they do some things because the keyheld wants it or likes it, but that’s optional for them. What’s not optional for he whose junk is locked is following their rules.
Since Belle’s been gone, I’ve been in six different devices. Just because I could. She has no rules about what I’m locked into, just that I’m locked. And my travel during her trip has required me to be in the Holy Trainer which is fine for travel but I far prefer metal when I have the option. I’ll be using her key to put myself back in the Holy Trainer tomorrow since I have to fly again. I might even take it with me so I can swap into the Steelheart before flying back. Crazy, right? Madness. But not really.
For me, the thing is the device. When it’s on, it’s fucking well on. I don’t take it off for reasons other than health, national panic, alien invasion, etc. When it’s off, I’m a basket case and really can’t be trusted. The flesh is weak. The mind, too. A hard shaft in a hand is a potent thing to a guy who comes once every 12 weeks, on average. But that’s why the device is there. That’s why she requires I wear it. And I have accepted that submission willingly and wholeheartedly.
Truth is, to succeed at enforced male chastity over the long-term, you have to want to be locked up. You have to like it. You have to crave it. We are party to our own imprisonment. I fully admit to all those things. If I ever fucked up so bad she stopped locking me up, I’d be miserable. She knows that. It’s the ultimate leverage she has over me: My fear of her withdrawing her domination. My burning desire to submit and give her control over the penis is what keeps me honest. I always always want that. I’m not fooling anybody.