Permanente

In response to my last post and the note I put in it saying I don’t count time spent switching devices or cleaning/hygiene as “unlocked,” Tom commented…

The word “permanent” is the worst word to use, except for all the others. I’m unlocked for medical, travel (neither of us want that kind of attention), and when I head out on longer distance cycling jaunts (no point in having me get all chafed).

And I totally agree. I actually tweeted about this a while back. What does it mean to be in “permanent” chastity?

I consider myself to be “permanently” kept in chastity. Even though, besides times like I mentioned above, I have been unlocked for things like doctor visits or trips though the TSA with the kids, etc. “Permanent” because I have permanently handed control over my locked status to Belle. And Belle has said many times (and, in fact, my rules unequivocally state) that I am always to be locked unless I absolutely cannot be or she wants what’s inside. And, as anyone who’s been to my blog before knows, I always want to be locked up. In my heart and mind, I am forever and always locked in chastity.

Buuuuut, according to a strict reading of “permanent,” what I describe isn’t that. There are guys (and other penis-having people) on the net who have riveted shut their devices. There are guys (and other PHP) who will tell you they haven’t been out of their devices for yeeears. And…OK.

Look, I’m here to tell you right now the idea of literally never ever seeing the contents again because they’re locked away into a device forever and always is, absolutely, hot as fuck. But I can also tell you, with a high degree of expertise on the matter, that it’s impossible. At least with current technology.

Setting aside how simply impractical it is (the kind of stuff Tom said) and how complicated it would make certain aspects of one’s life, the cruel fact of the matter is chastity devices get peed on a lot. And urine is like really hard water. It leaves mineral deposits. And that shit needs to be dealt with. Even when I wear the Evotion 8, a mostly plastic, mostly open device that sails through metal detectors, the issue of mineral accretion happens. And when that’s not dealt with, the bits that are against skin or literally through the head of the penis become really uncomfortable.

I would estimate that the reason I ask for the Steelheart to come off nine out of ten times is because the PA ring gets a crusty build-up that ends up being super uncomfortable and irritating. I can go maybe three weeks before getting there, but I always do. The Evotion and Halfshell, being the other two PA-fixed devices I wear, are the same.

So far this year, I have been unlocked 3 hours and 53 minutes. That’s three times Belle wanted the contents inside her and one trip to the doctor. Three hours and 53 minutes out of 4,175, AKA locked up 99.9% of the time. So no, not permanent because that was in five different devices and the contents did get wet three times, but man. How much closer to permanent can you get? I mean, in a relationship where my keyholder still does, if however infrequently, want to take the contents out for spin.

Short story long, I think when it comes to the concept of locking a penis in a device, we need to have a slightly more liberal definition of the word permanent. I would not argue with someone who wants to say they’re in indefinite chastity. Or some other wiggly turn of phrase. But I hope we can all agree that at some point, two or three nines to the right of a decimal point is more than sufficient to rank as permanent.

I mean, if you’re keeping score. If not, disregard this whole post.

Maintenance

Belle gave me the key to the lock in the Steelheart this morning since I’m going to a ballgame with one of my kids tonight. We’re so free in the United States we need to go through metal detectors to enter places like sporting arenas. My god, smell the liberty.

In any event, I used the opportunity of switching between the Steelheart and the Cobra (yes, I will write a review of it eventually) to clean, shave, and trim. I’ve been locked up continuously for 59 days so it was time.

Note, I don’t count time out swapping between devices as “unlocked” nor do I count the 10-15 minutes it takes to do the cleaning and hair maintenance. Some purists who think permanent chastity means welded on might chafe at that, but it’s always been my rule.

The Steelheart came off and went into its vinegar bath (which is kind of like that scene in Star Wars when Luke dipped C3PO into a vat of oil) and that left me with…it. The contents. The thing I’m not supposed to touch except when doing just what I was about to do.

It felt so weird. Just how it moved and bobbed and the sensation of it as a free penis rather than the compressed object it usually is. It looked rather normal considering it lives a life not unlike some invertebrate under a rock, never seeing sunlight. But I found the way it shifted around and caught the light sort of mesmerizing. It made me feel kind of fuzzy and dopey.

I stayed focused on my tasks, but as I had to lift it to shave the shaft and the other places I usually can’t get to, I was left with the palpable impression that it was something other than me. Not of me. More something I was. A presence that was trying to tempt me to be that way again.

I got the shaving done and moved to the trimming and the temptation grew stronger. It chubbed out a bit. Not hard. Not a hard-on. Plump. Suckable. Heading towards strokable. So tempting. Like it was talking to me. Belle won’t mind. It’s OK. Just a squeeze. Just a few strokes.

I put the base ring around my balls and pulled the penis through and I felt it start to grow more from the touching and pulling and constriction of the ring. Before it could get very far, I shoved the cage down over it. Squishing it. Reducing it. Putting it away.

I felt simultaneously senses of relief and regret. I could have gone too far. But I didn’t. But I could have. But I didn’t want to. But I did want to. But I didn’t do it.

That’s the thing about being kept like I am. Getting out, even for 8 minutes or whatever it took to do the maintenance, even for someone like me totally committed to being permanently maintained except for those times she specifically wants to use me, is dangerous. I’m always on the edge. Cheating and bad behavior is always so close. Too close.

But at least now it’s tidy.

https://twitter.com/thumpermn/status/1406936568531718147

Morning wood

Over on the Twitter, I was asked in a DM about waking up from morning wood. And this is, I suppose, one of the more pressing (ahem) issues a lot of penis-having people find with long-term chastity. The fella I was chatting with says, after two years of being locked most of the time, he still struggles with the pressures of the morning.

At this point, after more than a decade of being locked most mornings and several years of being locked nearly every morning, I find that I am woken by pressure in the device maybe 20% of the time. More often in the Steelheart than the other devices I’m usually in (Evotion 8, Holy Trainer 4 Nano, Cobra tight, Halfshell). I think this is because the Steelheart has more bits and bobs inside the tube that can be pinched or weirdly squeezed than the others plus its tube probably has the largest internal capacity of any of the others.

In general, I’d say (as always) smaller tubes are better and more comfortable in the morning. It’s also necessary to have a well-sized base ring. Too big isn’t better than too small but way too small can bite like hell. But assuming the fit is OK (and honestly, the base ring on the Steelheart and Evo8 are probably both a little small for me), a lot of it is just waiting for one’s body to accept and adjust.

If you search this blog, you’ll find me bitching about morning wood after years of being locked up. But now, I don’t wake up from it most of the time. And even when I do, most of those times, I’m able to roll over and go back to sleep. Of course, every day I wake up with a very tight device, so it’s hard to discern the difference between waking up normally and being woken up by the tightness. But the real difference is, over time, I stopped feeling discomfort from the tightness most of the time. I almost always find myself loving the feeling of the extreme tightness. It makes me feel comforted, cared for, and sexy.

Is this mental or physical? I think both. The contents are different now than they were at the start of being kept. My scrotum is more stretched out even as my testicles are larger. And the shaft of the penis itself has a groove from the base ring pressing into it every single morning. So I have physically adapted to permanent chastity.

But I’ve also mentally adapted. The feeling of that device (whichever it is) holding me tight in the morning is honestly, most days, the best feeling in the world for me. I adore it. I crave it. I will often lay on my stomach and press my pelvis into the bed to feel it harder. I’ll flex the contents when I sense they’re losing their compression to get more blood in them and make the sensation more intense.

In actual fact, tightness is the signature sensation of my sexuality. It’s what feeling horny feels like. It’s the physical manifestation of my being controlled. It’s the gravity that keeps me centered as a kept male.

So I don’t know when the switch gets flipped from waking up annoyed at the pressure and waking up energized by it. I’d start with the fit. If that’s in order, I’d have a talk to myself about what being a permanently kept male is. I find that the fastest way for me to get my head on straight when it comes to chastity challenges (besides getting Belle off) is to tell myself this is what I am. That what I’m dealing with is part of who I am. That I want to be this way and that there’s no real way for me to not deal with it without losing the whole package.

Then I roll over onto my stomach and grind my tight package into the mattress and flex the contents so they swell so fucking tight. Because MMMMMM, yeah.

Identity

I’ve been thinking a lot about identity lately. There was a recent call into the Savage Lovecast about whether or not being kinky was equivalent to being LGBTQ+ (more or less) and then there was this meme I retweeted that claimed chastity was an identity and then there was this great post on my third favorite chastity blog, Locked Doc. And I suppose most of what I’ve been writing here for a while now gets to the issue of identity.

Dan’s answer was problematic for me because he boiled being kinky down to “it’s just how someone has sex.” At least, that’s how I recall he left it. So it’s not an identity like, say, being lesbian is. And I do get the point that to be openly and happily lesbian (for example, not picking on lesbians), one does need to be identified as such, even and maybe especially by people who are not lesbian. That’s what being “out” is all about, after all. But the “it’s just how someone has sex” part hit me because I think at its root it’s how a lot of people have dismissed homosexuality. I know from personal experience that otherwise straight people have urges to have sex with people of their gender and sometimes choose to indulge those urges and then use that experience to say all same-sex attraction and sex is a choice. “It’s just sex, not an identity.” And that’s nonsense. Some of us can choose to have sex with people of any gender while others can’t because the idea squicks them out. And sex pretty obviously isn’t the same as feeling love, fulfilled, secure, etc.

As a person who came to realize his kinky nature relatively late in life, I can say quite firmly that while it is how I have sex, it is also inconceivable to me that I’d have sex any other way now. I am kinky. Could I have vanilla sex with someone? (I mean, assuming I was ever unlocked.) I guess, sure. Theoretically. But some gay-identified people occasionally have sex with people of genders other than their own and that doesn’t change their identity. I am exclusively interested in having kinky sex now. I’m not sure Belle would call what we have kinky sex, even when she unlocks me allows me to fuck her, but it is. Regardless of the status of the contents, all our sex is in the shadow of a power imbalance. I may not be tied up and she may not be standing over me holding a crop, but it’s kinky nonetheless.

Bottom line, the only kind of relationship I could have with another person would be a kinky one. Specifically, one where I was the sub/bottom and was kept in chastity permanently. I would not be able to be happy with anyone absent those dynamics. That is me, permanently and 100%.

So that’s my sexual identity sorted. There’s also the aspect of gender identity. As I said a few weeks ago…

And while I’m biologically male, being essentially permanently kept in chastity makes me feel like something other than a man. It’s rewritten a lot of my motivations and behaviors that define “man” in my mind. I’m not claiming to be non-binary or anything, but I sometimes feel as though I’m passing as a man rather than actually being one. That I’m actually some other thing we don’t have a word for.

Over on Twitter, someone brought to my attention a post on the Become Her Slave blog where Giles English pondered what it would be like if we treated men kept in chastity as if they were a separate gender. It’s an interesting thought experiment and some of what they wrote I agree with, but the point is, for men in long term/permanent chastity, even being able to have that kind of conversation makes a ton of sense. We just feel how it makes sense.

The part I liked most about Giles’ post was the idea that locked men would be recognized by others. That our state would be accepted and there would be a way to telegraph it to the world (other than walking around with our devices hanging out). And I really crave that. I crave being seen for who and what I am. To be understood and accepted. Because, besides identifying as kinky, I am a kept man.

If that’s not identity, I don’t know what is. It’s So. Much. More than “how I have sex.” When I’m locked and feeling the device and knowing its contents are not under my control and the sex I have is totally predicated on that fact and even my involuntary fantasies and thoughts presume no functioning penis, we have moved way, way past any kind of tactical sexual process.

So my identity is kinky, sub, bisexual, kept male. And probably another couple things, if I think about it (poly and a bottom, for example). How do I boil that down to a pithy set of pronouns? Or expect some muggle to understand the nuance in what it means? Well, I can’t. But it doesn’t change that that is who I am. It doesn’t change the fact I wish I could live authentically and be seen. I’m not enough of a warrior to understand how to make a world where those things are possible, but that doesn’t change that I wish all of it were.

Stress

The past few months have been daunting for me. Mostly related to dealing with an aged parent and being an only child, but contributing to the stress has been a significant home remodel project (which I’m not doing but has nonetheless created a lot of disruption in the house), some personal travel, my daughter’s high school graduation, her resultant anxiety about going off to college and some dithering about whether she wants to do that or take a gap year, and Belle’s job requiring her to work ridiculously long hours here at her office away from the office (aka, our house). Plenty of things to knock me out of my comfortable rhythm of life. And this week will be something of a crescendo as many of these things are intersecting and, oh yeah, I forgot to block my schedule at work.

Part of the comfortable rhythm I mentioned is when Belle lets me get her off. North of 95% of the time I get to bring her to orgasm is on the weekend. Weekend mornings. And a lot of those mornings I haven’t been home or some other thing has gotten in the way. I doubt in the past five or six weeks I’ve given her more than a couple orgasms instead of the ten or twelve that might otherwise have happened.

And that sounds not great for her on the surface, but for all I know she’s been taking care of herself while I was away. It’s really not great for me because, as I’ve been kept in chastity this entire time, I have no outlet for all the energy built up inside me. A normal guy might go jack off for relief, but my one and only outlet for that kind of thing is Belle’s pussy and I’ve barely touched it.

This has led to me feeling a lot more stressed than I might otherwise and also somewhat emotional with swings back and forth as well as being short tempered. The dark and unpleasant side of enforced male chastity.

And here we are very late on a Sunday with me staying up to pick up my mom at the airport after being away for yet two more weekend mornings with their pussy access meaning tomorrow I’ll be extra tired as I balance work, life, mom, etc.

I have no tidy ending for this one. I’m stressed and unpleasantly frustrated. I need an outlet. And I don’t have one. Hurmph.

Polling

Sometimes I ask questions on the Twitter in the form of the polling feature and then I’m immediately frustrated by its limitations. For one, I can only ask questions that have four answers. Then there’s the excessively short character limit for each option. Yes, yes, I know I could do like a Google form thing. But then that would require forethought and stuff.

Anyway, I recently asked a series of questions about duration of lockup that I think are interesting. First one…

My use of the word “endurance” was called out, but…based on my reading of the dictionary, I did, in fact, mean “endurance” so there we go.

Anyway, this ended up how I thought it would based on my experience and what I’ve heard and read from others. Some people are presumably new to chastity and are just trying to make it though the night. I remember those days. But 3/4 of people are doing what I’d consider “long term” (though that’s an interesting point — what defines “long term” chastity?”). Thirty-nine percent are doing it the way Belle and I are. Months to years indefinitely, I think, defines how we do it. It’s our “endurance goal.”

Next question I asked was…

Again, not a shock. The only somewhat surprising thing is only 15% of people are doing lock up terms “about the same” now versus when they started. Of course, they could have started last week. I’d be curious to know of the guys doing it less now than then, is it due to device issues? Not being able to find a good fit? Or because their keyholder didn’t/doesn’t like it?

Then I asked…

Once more, not a shock. Not based on my experience and what I hear and read from others.

I think all this is important for those just getting into enforced male chastity or thinking about experimenting with it (on either side of the lock). Locking up penises is rarely done as a hobby. It’s not a once in a while thing. The practice expands in a way opposite that of the locked up member. The more you have it, the more you want it. Days turn to weeks and months then years and the one being locked nearly always wants more of it, not less.

One more question about how dicks are being locked…

Half of those responding say what they want is to be mostly or always locked. Another third say periods of being locked then not, which is how Belle and I did it for a while. Until it became clear we had to take it to the “mostly or always” stage. That was something we both wanted.

I guess the nature of male chastity allows for it to consume one’s relationship and sex life. Those into bondage or sadomasochism or what have you can’t do them all the time. But male chastity can be done all the time, even when the couple is apart. That’s potent for a kink that becomes more compelling as the time practicing it goes on.

Finally, I asked…

Less than a quarter of those locked in chastity want to have an orgasm when they’re released. More than half would rather be teased then relocked while the remainder don’t want to be unlocked at all.

This gets to how chastity rewrites the basecode of those being locked. We start to crave the crave more than getting what we crave. Even to the point of being disappointed when the key shows up and they hear it’s orgasm day.

I guess this is what I was trying to get at when I wrote about the two types of men in chastity. Those who still think about the device and its contents separately and those who only think about the device. That’s what it does to you. Maybe not to every guy, but to a very large percentage of them. You don’t have to just take my word for it.

The confidence of the contained

What with Covid receding (in the US, anyway), life is starting to return to some kind of normalcy. One part of that is our daughter now goes to school four days a week rather than being remote as she was when the year started. And, since she’s vaccinated, she’ll be in-person at college next year, too.

I only mention that to set the stage for what happened earlier. It was just Belle and I alone in the house and…wait, you’re expecting some hot sex thing here, aren’t you? Oh dear. I’m sorry. It wasn’t hot sex. I should have maybe said that earlier so as to avoid you getting your hopes up.

Anyway, we were at home alone and I was back from my run and she was in the bathroom after her shower doing her hair and stuff. Being alone meant I could hop in the shower with her in there but leave the door open so she didn’t get steamed out. And as I stood at the sink and got ready, naked as I prefer to be, I could leave the door open as we conversed about various things even as she was going back and forth from our room and the office.

Right after I put the shaving cream on my neck I got a call from the contractor doing work on the house about some piece of minutiae related to the work he’s doing for us (I’m picky and he knows it). So I took the call and we discussed the minutiae and our plan for going forward and after I hung up went out into the hall to discuss the thing with Belle. Both of us, standing in the hall, she clothed and ready for the day, me totally naked except for the Holy Trainer v4 Nano (Steelheart needed cleaning) and shaving cream on my neck.

There was a time right after we started using chastity in our relationship that I felt super uncomfortable with her seeing it. It made me very self-conscious. In my defense, it was the CB6K which is hideously ugly, but still. I wasn’t really ready to accept the device as normal. I still felt like a freak for wanting it on me. And that led to insecurity about it.

Now it’s the total opposite. Had I been unlocked for some reason, I suspect I would have put a towel around my waist in that situation because I don’t like her seeing the contents exposed anymore. When she unlocks me for her pleasure, I turn away from her to remove whatever I’m wearing and get back to her and under the covers as quickly as possible. I realized I was doing this at some point when she told me to get up and close the door after she let me out and the two steps back from the door to the bed where she could see the contents flopping in the breeze made me fight the urge to cover it with my hand. I’m just super not comfortable with the thing anymore. Not with her, not with myself. Not at all.

And in thinking about this and my last post, I find the device makes me more confident now. Which I guess has to do with me feeling more whole while I wear it. At the end of my camping trip, we drove out on the road that’s basically a washed out creek bed and stopped in a clearing a few miles from the highway to air-up tires and say our goodbyes before we went our separate ways. I wanted to also change into street clothes from my smelly camping stuff and stood in the open back door of my truck and did so. At one point, I was completely naked except for my socks and the Steelheart and I didn’t feel scared or rushed or any of the things I would even if I was just changing in a locker room where nakedness is expected. Somehow something has flipped in my head where enforced chastity equals confidence and floppy visible penis equals anxiety and even something bordering on shame.

If I explore this more, that time I was pulled out of line and made to show the device to a couple TSA agents in Chicago didn’t leave me feeling embarrassed or shamed. It made me feel empowered. I even liked it. Not that I’m going out of my way to flaunt what’s between my legs (I mean, other than here and on Twitter and Instagram), but when it has to happen and it situationally makes sense, that’s how it is. Deal, world. I suppose this is why my chastity bump doesn’t freak me out anymore. OMG THEY CAN SEE MY BUMP. Yeah, okay. Whatevs.

I wish we lived in a world where everyone’s uniquenesses were accepted and celebrated. Where the millions (my estimation) of men around the world in chastity were understood and tolerated. In short, I wish this part of me wasn’t secret. I can’t change that it has to be, but I do get to decide how I feel about people knowing it about me. And I refuse to let their ignorance about it influence my confidence that it and I am valid.