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Denial ≠ chastity

I asked Chat GPT 4.0 “What is chastity?” and it said…

Chastity is the practice of refraining from or abstaining from sexual activities, often for religious, spiritual, or moral reasons. It is typically associated with the belief that sexual activity should only take place within the confines of a committed, usually marital, relationship. Chastity can also refer to the virtue of being morally pure or modest in thought, word, and deed, which includes refraining from engaging in sexual activity outside the boundaries of a specific relationship or marriage.

Which is kind of problem, I think, for those of us who practice what we call “male chastity.” I am not, in any way, practicing anything like what that paragraph says. Actually, quite the opposite.

I recall Tom once said something somewhere (maybe his blog, maybe Twitter, maybe somewhere else) about men in chastity calling themselves “chaste.” To paraphrase him, no you’re fucking not. I mean, I hope not. Being locked in a device and then being cut off from sex entirely sounds like a thing that would be banned under the Geneva Convention.

Most people, it think, find being in chastity leads to more and better sex, not less. That’s certainly been the case for us, even though she hasn’t allowed me to penetrate her in [checks notes] 400 days.

This problem with verbiage has always bugged me. I tried once to coin a verb to encompass what being in chastity was. It has, thus far, not been widely adopted. Alas. But perhaps we can agree that those with locked penises aren’t chaste and therefore aren’t practicing chastity. What we’re doing is something else entirely.

The point of the device is to enforce a power dynamic in a relationship that disallows the wearer from deriving pleasure via the contents of the device. Either through self-pleasuring or with a partner, the device enforces the denial. Makes is so there is no option. So that the one being denied can’t succumb to temptation and do what they’re not allowed to do under the terms of their relationship dynamic. Devices don’t enforce chastity. They enforce denial.

Were I in a position to change the usage of these words, I’d make it so by fiat. No more “chastity devices.” No more “enforced male chastity.” Being “chaste” isn’t the point of the thing. It’s the denial that is the point of the thing.

Denial is the force that powers this dynamic. Not being allowed to orgasm or touch myself when I want to. Emotions and hormones colliding under the pressure of frustration encased in my submission. The result of being denied the single most basic thing that having a penis entitles one to. For some of us, like me, it actually makes us better at sex. Raises our awareness of what pleasure is and greatly enhances the pleasure we’re able to give. It transforms us as sexual beings. And transforms the device into a symbiotic thing that is simultaneously of the body and separate from it.

“Chastity” sounds horrible. Denial is magical. “Chasity” is punishment. Denial is transformative. “Chastity” is in conflict with the body. Denial is zen.

Denial ≠ chastity. Denial > chastity.

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Airport shuttle

We were in my truck sitting in the apparently permanent traffic you find at the intersection of Highway 100 and 494 in Bloomington.

“Thanks for taking me to the airport,” she said.

“No problem,” I said. “Remember when I used to go all the way in with you?”

“I do,” she said. “That was a long time ago.”

“It was,” I said. “Can’t do that anymore.”

“Nope.”

“Remember when I used to go all the way inside you?”

Laughing, “I do. That was a long time ago, too.”

“Yep. Can’t do that anymore.”

“Nope.”

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Wankless woods

I recently got back from another week in the woods with muggles and, as always, I was locked up. Being camping in the wild in that condition does create its own considerations, but this time around they were especially highlighted by the fact that I was without any keys. I was absolutely, 100% locked up, no matter what, until I got home 8 days later.

I didn’t intend to go that way. There have been trips like these when I left locked but came back unlocked due to issues with the device interacting with my body unpleasantly during our daily, lengthy hikes. So going without a key into similar situations is really not recommended. Except this time I was rushed and forgot to ask Belle for the emergency key and she forgot to offer it. I mean, being locked up is just how I am, so we don’t really think about it at this point.

Once I realized my predicament, I was very, very careful to keep things as clean as possible and well-lubed (thank the maker I remembered my silicone). Thusly, I was able to hike over 30 miles during the course of the week without device-related issues. I think this is also due to how terrific and well-fitted the Orion is. It rarely gives me even the smallest bit of issue and it passed this test with flying colors.

Interestingly, when I got back to the house after my trip, I asked for and was given the key in order to give me and the device a thorough cleaning. The Orion went into a vinegar bath and the contents were shaved and cleaned and, I was amazing to find, they never seemed to stir. The vibe was almost clinical and, even though the shaft was touch, lifted, soaped, etc., it didn’t really do anything. When it came out of the Orion, it looked very pale and sad and a bit Gollum-like and I felt nothing sexual towards it at all. Don’t get me wrong, other penises still get me going. But this time, the one on me simply didn’t. It’s been such a long time since it was used for anything pleasurable and my commitment to the dynamic Belle and I share is so absolute that, if I’m honest, it kinda grossed me out. If there was a way to never have to see or touch it again, I’d take it.

All that it not to say I don’t very much enjoy feeling it strain inside the Orion and I love to grab at it and feel that tension within. I love how the device and my big balls feel in my hand and pressed into the bed under my body or just stuffed inside my jeans. Once the Orion goes on, it and the contents transform into a symbiotic third thing altogether that I really, really like. But on their own, the contents are like…I mean, I can’t even think of an analogy. There’s nothing else like it in my experience. I prefer the look of my ring finger with my wedding ring on it (I’ve made the connection before between the symbolism of a wedding ring and a device that enforces denial), but I’m not, like, averse to seeing it that way. I don’t wrinkle my nose at it or observe it like some kind of specimen in a tray. It’s a unique thing that I suppose you get, if you’re a guy like me, or you don’t.

In other news, it does not appear as though the new shiny Orion will arrive before Belle leaves on a two week work trip (it’s not supposed to get here until mid-month, but I was hoping). I would have preferred for her to either take the keys with her or keep them hidden but I will want to change when the new one shows up and so she’ll leave me the emergency key to use when it does (assuming the new one doesn’t come with its own keys which, now that I think of it, it very will may). I’ll resecure the key and provide evidence to her of it and the contents being such.

We had a house guest this last weekend and, because of an especially needy rescue dog and her annoying habits in the morning and the elaborate process we need to go through in order to secure some alone time, I was unable to get Belle off after being away. And now she’s going away. I really hate not being able to provide her that pleasure. It’s what powers me and it’ll be just me and the Orion for over three weeks before I get to feel her come again. I’m not worried about her. She can always take care of herself. But there’s only so much I can accomplish on my own…

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50/50

There was a point while wearing the venerable Steelheart last month when I realized I didn’t want it on anymore. Which is not to say I wanted out. What I wanted was for the Evotion Orion to go back on. Sort of a shocking moment for me since so much of my identity has been invested into that shiny steel tube for so long. But there I was.

It was all very practically driven. I do love how the Steelheart looks. I love how it feels to have a smooth, warm steel tube in place of the contents. I love how the Steelheart fills out my underwear. But more than all that, I guess I love what it’s like to wear the Orion. So I asked Belle to let me put it back on after a couple weeks in the Steelheart.

March ended like this…

Locked 100% of the month but also almost perfectly 50/50 between the two devices. I didn’t try and do that.

For the record, I’ve been in a device 99.7% of the time so far this year. About 6.5 hours unlocked. I don’t have any reason to believe I’ll have any unlocked time in April. The goal of <24 hours unlocked all year is on track.

I also don’t have any reason to believe I’ll be in anything other than an Evotion Orion for the rest of the year. Or maybe ever. I have a very special and very shiny new Orion being made now I can’t wait to get on and once that’s here, in combination with the one I already have, I might be done looking at and trying on new devices. Like, ever. Unless some very interesting new design comes along that I want to test, I guess. I can confidently say that none of the other devices I have hold much appeal to me now.

You guys, I used to wear like four devices in a month. I was always swapping and enjoyed the variety. Now I’m in the one and like, “Yeah, I’m good.” That’s how great the Orion is.

Based on their guidance, I’m hoping the new Orion will have landed by about mid-month. Looking very much forward to writing that review!

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Preferences

Belle had my balls in her hand while we were kissing this morning. Probably the Orion, too, but you know — all I can feel through the Orion is how tight it is on inside. She was squeezing them gently and rolling them around between her fingers while I was warming her up for her Sunday morning orgasm. But I had a question on my mind.

“Do you prefer me this way?”

“Yeah, of course I do. Why do you think I’ve left you like that for so long?”

A bit sheepishly, I replied, “I know. But sometimes it’s nice to hear.”

“I want you locked up. Always.“

I know, it was a dumb question. She’s kept me locked up for more than year straight. But…like I said. It’s good to hear from her. That that’s how she wants me. That it’s how she prefers me. To hear that she doesn’t want the contents as much as she wants my fingers and mouth and hairy chest and strong legs and wide shoulders. She wants a man to get her off on her terms, not his. Her focus, not his. Her orgasm, not his.

And you, since this is probably not the first time you’ve read my blog, know that’s how I prefer it, too. For her to come first and last, always. For her pussy to be worshiped and elevated over all else. For it to spasm under my touch, her post-orgasmic glow punctuated by the gnawing of my unrequited craving. That’s how I’m wired.

And somehow, along the way, it’s how she got wired, too.

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Moar German steel

One of my favorite things is the metal cuff I have from German maker Träume aus Edelstahl. Welp, I said in my review of that little bauble…

It locks with a hidden, internal screw mechanism and a special little tool with an oddly-shaped head. It came with just one special little tool with an oddly-shaped head, by the way. So best not to lose it. An extra one is $30.

And what did I do? I lost it! Like, full-on searched high and low and everywhere in between and cannot find the damned thing motherfucking lost it. Luckily, the cuff isn’t on me at the moment. When I realized it was gone, I went to the website to order a new one but it was closed for the holidays. After they reopened, I went back and saw a thing I’ve always always wanted from them: a lockable steel collar. So I rationalized the purchase by saying to myself that I was kind of getting it at a discount since I had to buy the key anyway. Yeah, that’s logical!

And then I waited. And waited. And yesterday, it came!

And it’s beautiful. Eight millimeters thick, shiny steel that’s perfectly fitted for my neck. It’s lovely and heavy and makes me all tingly to feel it on. Above, it’s shown in its simple form. It also came with a removable O ring. You know, for…attaching. And stuff. Dress it up without the ring, make it all practical and stuff with the ring.

It’s the same finish and thickness as my cuff. It’s just…stunningly beautiful. I love it. I want to wear it all the time. I want to wear it out and show it off. I want it locked on forever and for someone to hold the…oh, wait. The key. Turns out, I somehow didn’t order the right one. I got the one that doesn’t lock. A small segment of the ring in back is held in place by tension when posts on the segment are pushed into receiving holes in both ends of the main part. The posts are thoughtfully chamfered to make insertion easier. The opening is just the right size to get my neck through.

Which…well, I guess is fine. Having a collar that can come off more quickly and easily is probably a good thing since society (at least the society I hang with) isn’t really ready for those of us who want to be collared to wear them everywhere all the time. Except now I still don’t have that fucking weird little key thing.

But I will in about a month. Ordered it this morning. Stupid fucking rationalization.

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365

Today is the one year anniversary of the last time Belle let me fuck her. The last time she let the contents out for anything other than fact of life-type necessities. When I did the sleuthing to figure out how long it had been, after I realized it had been a long time, I said I didn’t have a memory of that fuck. Luckily I have a blog and I (less often than I used to) write about the sex we have and, as a matter of fact, I wrote about that time.

It felt like the orgasm wouldn’t end. Even after I had shot my load, I felt involuntary contractions trying to milk as much juice as possible. My whole body arched around the erection. My abs actually kinda cramped from the effort.

I mean, if that is the last time, it sounds like the kind of one I’d want as the last one. And after reading my account of it, I do remember it. It was nice. I also wrote…

When will it happen again? Will it be five months? Five weeks? Five days? Tomorrow!? No idea. I don’t even bring it up. I’m not allowed to either 1) ask for an orgasm, or 2) advocate against one so I tend to just not talk about it at all with her for fear of it being misconstrued as one or the other. Of course, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to do it and I certainly don’t need to know if and when she wants it to happen again.

My reticence to ask about being let out makes it very hard for me to even ask if it’ll ever happen again when it seems like it won’t. But the other day, I screwed up the courage (since that’s all I can screw lol) and asked. She laughed and kind of scoffed at the question. But, in fact, she can’t say. She likes me locked up. She wants me that way more than not. Has wanted me that way for at least a year now. As much as I want closure on the matter — certainty — she doesn’t want to be boxed in. And I don’t have the right to ask her to be.

So, I suppose, nothing has changed. That’s been her basic POV on the issue for just about forever. But we’ve never gone this long without the contents getting wet so, to me, it kinda feels like we’ve turned a corner. Nothing has changed and everything has changed. But she won’t commit. She doesn’t have to. That’s the deal. It’s what I signed up for. It’s what I begged for.

I ended my post from a year ago the same way I could end this one.

In a way, that total lack of control creates its own kind of peace. All I have to do is be ready for whatever she wants.

The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess.

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Orgasmic party tricks

I was reading a fresh post on a relatively new chastity blog I’ve been following (I mean, only one that I can think of has been doing it longer than me, so I guess they’re all relatively new?) and it had me nodding my head. The blog is called Careful What You Wish For and, based on the most recent entry, I think that’s a pretty apt title.

The basic premise of the post dealt with challenges the blogger, LockedUpL, was having with stamina. It is, in my experience, a perhaps unexpected (though totally logical) consequence of denial and chastity. Also, as it was in my experience, it didn’t happen with L right out of the gate.

I remember in the early years of being locked up and denied that my relationship with and understanding of my own orgasm was such that I could fuck Belle longer than she wanted to be fucked (and she likes getting fucked). It was as if I was able to see all the little interlocking pieces of my orgasm and how they worked together so well that I was able to short-circuit it right as it happened while I was fucking her. A brief moment of being perfectly still and allowing ejaculation to happen but without actually coming. Like I was ruining my own orgasm inside her. Then, the penis would stay hard as I kept fucking. It was great.

But I think doing that somehow ended up breaking it because I can’t do that anymore. Haven’t been able to for years. There’s no real build-up period so I can’t catch it before it happens and while the ejaculation doesn’t really feel orgasmic, the erection fades quickly. It’s like I’m coming but not really because it doesn’t feel like orgasms used to feel but I might as well have come because I can’t stay hard and the whole stupid process is over in about two minutes, tops. For the purposes of pleasuring Belle, the entire effort is useless. And it sounds to me like that’s about where L is (or getting to).

It’s like there’s different stages of male orgasms. The before-chastity kind everyone is familiar with. Slow build-up, explosive release, massive hit of sleepytime brain chemistry after. Then there’s the middle kind I described above. The kind that come from really paying attention to how they work that lead to being able to do amazing party tricks like fucking the wife for an hour. Then there’s where I am now. Infrequent fucking and zero masturbation and too many orgasmic party tricks fuck with the wiring and suddenly we find ourselves with the shortest imaginable fuses.

I supposed that last stage isn’t inevitable. But without mixing things up and perhaps taking a break from chastity and being allowed to experience normal orgasms for a while (or, minimally, masturbate and edge for long periods), I think it is the final destination.

Well, maybe not final destination. Because the final final destination is where I seem to find myself now. The permanently locked-up, post-pussy, post-masturbation place. Because at some point, letting me out for sex became unnecessary in a relationship where her pleasure and satisfaction were paramount.

L is pleasuring his wife. He says again and again that she’s very happy with the sex they’re having, notwithstanding his inability to perform. That sounds super familiar. Belle has been a very satisfied customer for a long time, even as my ability to fuck dwindled. When I read L’s words, I hear a man who’s struggling a bit with the true meaning of his erection being totally optional to his wife’s pleasure. Mouths, fingers, and toys can easily take its place. I mean, he knows it’s true, just as I do, but I sense the same conflict of really groking that as a man I used to deal with. When all the precepts of how we’re raised and conditioned with the primacy our culture places on erections in sex all crumble. What does it mean to be a man when the thing that most defines him in his own mind becomes irrelevant to his partner’s sexual pleasure?

It’s a mindfuck to be sure.

I guess my advice for L is to listen to his wife. She’s telling him she’s having a good time. She’s very happy with their sex. It doesn’t matter to her that he can’t last. Accept that last bit entirely: his penis doesn’t matter like it used to. It’ll never matter as much as it used to for her. And if he doesn’t let go of outdated paradigms of what constitutes sexual success, it’ll end up becoming A Thing between them. The last thing he wants to do is get so worked up over the changes chastity and denial are having on him that he makes his wife feel pressured and stressed. Trust me on that one.

Maybe someday he’ll find the kind of acceptance I have. I don’t think ending up pussy free is required to do chastity correctly, but I do think we need to embrace that the most important thing to guys like us is the pleasure and satisfaction of our wives. That is the purpose and meaning of chastity, in my mind. And there’s just no way we can follow that path and not expect ourselves to evolve in certain ways. Not all of them would be acceptable to our previous selves. But…that’s not who we are anymore. Right?

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February stats

Just a quick post to recap February.

I was in the Evotion Orion for most of the month and was able to change into the Steelheart towards the end. I was out for two approximately one hour periods due to air travel. On the year, it’s a similar story. All Orion except for that short period at the end of February. I’ve been out 6.5 hours for the year, entirely for travel. That’s 99.7% locked for February and 99.5% locked year-to-date.

I expect I’ll be in the Steelheart for the rest of March and I don’t know of any reason I’ll need to be unlocked. In April, I’m going camping and will ask if I can go into the Orion for that since it’s easier to pee through and stays cleaner than the Steelheart. But camping, even with outdoor showering within view of my friends, isn’t a reason to be unlocked, so I don’t see a reason to be out in April. Or May. Or June until the very end of the month when Belle and I are going on a cruise. So, assuming I get out to fly (and since it’s just the two of us, I don’t have to), that’s another hour unlocked on each end.

All of this only matters since I’ve set the goal for myself to be unlocked no more than 24 hours for the year. I still really think even less is possible. My stretch goal is no more than 12 and, even though I’m technically more than half way that in just 1/6 of the year, I think it’s not out of reach. All depends on how often and under what conditions I fly.

And, of course, Belle. If she decides she has a use for the contents, that’s about an hour each time. But she hasn’t had a use for them in 349 days, so I don’t know what the odds are there.

Regardless, I assume I’ll be in the Orion most of the time. Unless something else (👀) comes along, that is. Last year, I wasn’t in anything more than half the time (the BA-31P led the pack at 45%). I think it’s really possible for the Orion to be closer to 80%, if not more.

Guess we’ll find out…

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False advertising

I go to the gym twice a week and work out with a trainer. I’ve been seeing this guy for years now. For so long, I remember being in the CB-6000 when I first started with him. I remember being freaked out that he’d see it (and, to be fair, the standard CB6K makes a pretty damned obvious chastity bump). So much so, that I recall wanting Belle to let me out for our sessions.

Eventually, though, I got into better devices and lost my inhibitions about them being detectable through clothing. I mean, I don’t wear running tights to my training sessions. I don’t flaunt being locked up in front of him and the other muggles. But I also don’t worry if there’s a less than natural-looking lump down there. I’ve been asked if my trainer knows I’m in chastity and all I can say is no, we’ve never talked about that, but he has surely seen my chastity bump many times without saying anything (if it even registered with him).

So anyway, he recently switched to a new gym. If you’re a gym regular, you start to know the other regulars, at least by sight if not by name. But being at a new location, there’s all these new people I’m still getting familiar with. This new gym is a more serious one than the last, so the regulars tend to be bigger and hotter which is nice. But yesterday, there were two guys working out together that I’d not seen before. They were in good shape, but not like crazy ripped or anything. And they were obviously gay, which was notable only in that all of the people at the gym present straight. And they were both, at various times, checking me out.

Or, more specifically, they seemed to be checking out my package. I was wearing a pair of tightish army green sweats over a pair of athletic underwear with a roomy pouch to hold the Steelheart and the combination made, admittedly, an interesting profile to anyone looking. And, of course, guys look, not just the gay ones. The chastity bump was especially noticeable when I was doing standing biceps curls (which I know because I do those in front of a big mirror).

I caught them looking a couple times, then looking at each other. It was kinda obvious. So much so that my trainer even clocked them doing it and told me. My trainer is straight but barely if at all homophobic, so he thought it was funny.

Thing is, these guys could easily have been half my age. They were probably seeing a daddy with a big dick when in reality I’m, well, not that. More a DILF than a daddy, I guess. And I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t like the attention, but it’s also not the first time I’ve been sort of torn about the Steelheart in particular giving people the wrong impression about me. It’s like I’m stuffing my underwear or something.

It’s about relative comfort with how I’m presenting to the world. And it’s not just the Steelheart that does that. I’m obviously male, and appear pretty straight. And yes, I am male, though it’s more complicated than that as someone permanently in chastity. And I’m absolutely not straight. What I really am is a lockup-up bisexual bottom sub, but how do we communicate all that silently and only through presentation? We can’t, I guess, absent a shirt that says, literally, “LOCKED-UP BISEXUAL BOTTOM SUB” on it. And I’m just midwestern enough (by upbringing and cultural osmosis) to be uncomfortable wearing those things about me on my sleeve (literally). But, oddly, not so uptight that I’m worried about someone seeing my chastity bump?

Fucking weird.

Anyway, I fantasized about flashing these guys the Steelheart. That would set the record straight. But, of course, I did not for obvious reasons.