Posted from somewhere over the Atlantic...
This morning on Twitter I put a photo of myself in the Holy Trainer Nano I’ll be wearing while in Paris on Spring Break for the next week. I was in the Steelheart before and asked Belle what she wanted: Me locked in something else or nothing at all.
“Of course, you’ll be locked up. Wear the plastic one.” Like, duh.
So that was that. Plastic it would be. I put the Nano on and thought nothing else of it until that picture on Twitter. One of my followers asked if I had any trouble getting through security.
And I was like, ha! I laugh in the face of danger. HA HA! I assured my follower and all the others on Twitter that of course I’d be fine. I’ve travelled all over the world on dozens of flights in chastity and have never had a problem. Not once. Not ever.
HA, I say.
We were connecting to Paris through O’Hare and for some reason I’ll chalk up to O’Hare being horrible and all part of my general dislike of Chicago, there was no way for us to get from our terminal to terminal five while staying on the secure side. We had to go out to get a bus and then go back in. And when we made it to the international terminal, there was no Pre-Check. No Clear. None of the comforts of bourgeois air travel to which I have grown accustomed. We had to slum it in regular security. Which meant the backscatter scanner rather than the simpler (and stealthier) metal detector.
I continued to think nothing of it. I’ve been through them before. No problem. So I did the thing. Put my hands over my head and my feet on the yellow marks. And the damn thing busted me.
It started with the little screen on the other side drawing a yellow box over my crotch.
Fucking hell, I thought. The fruit of my hubris.
The nice TSA man started to tell me how it was going to go down. The kind of touching involved. He offered to take me into the little room but I declined. Standing in the busy checkpoint, I hoped he’d skip right over it. The Nano has a low profile. Not as low as the Nub, but low. Maybe he’d miss it. Surely he would. He patted my ass (“I am now patting your buttocks.”) then turned me around. He started to pat my front. And stopped.
He felt it.
He looked at me quizzically. To the best of my recollection, the conversation went something like this.
“Oh, that. Plastic.”
“Can you remove it?”
“Can you…move it to the side?” He made a motion like he wanted me to rotate the odd lump to my hip.
“It is not.”
He cocked his eyebrow.
“OK…” Then he told me he and another guy would have to take me in the little room and see what it was. I knew it was going to happen from the second he gave me his first quizzical look.
“That’s fine.” I said. I felt pretty calm. I was about to show two total strangers the locked penis in my pants and I was really OK with it. Whatever. All in a day’s work. Life of the locked sub.
Belle and my daughter, by the way, had gone through the line. Belle gave me a look back. She knew what was up. My daughter didn’t know what the hold up was. In the end, I said it was just something weird that showed up on the scanner. No big deal. More or less the truth.
Anyway, eventually the other guy showed up. He was HUGE. At least 6’ 6”. Maybe more. They led me to the room, closed the door. They started to say what they needed in a way that presumed this was going to be an awkward moment for us all but I was way ahead of them. I unzipped and whipped it out. I remember noticing how the head of the penis was clearly visible through the gray plastic. I gave them a good look at it, but my balls stayed in my pants.
The big guy gave a laugh. Not in a mean way. The smaller (though honestly, still not small) guy asked, “What is that?”
The big guy laughed again. I smirked at them.
“Chastity device? Can you get it off?”
The big guy said, “I’m going to have to get this cleared.” And left the room smiling and shaking his head. Just me and the first guy left alone. I had put everything back in my pants, but they were still unzipped.
“Never seen anything like that before,” he told me.
“No?” I was honestly surprised. “I’d’ve thought you would have.”
“Nope.” he laughed a bit, “Not me.”
I think he wanted to ask me more about it, but didn’t. He may have felt awkward but didn’t show it. I didn’t feel akward at all.
The supervisor came in then. Older guy. Older than me. Also big. Were all these guys like on a football team or something? I whipped it out again. He had clearly seen one of these before. He wasn’t smiling and didn’t laugh.
“Is that it?” he asked, “No more of it? Nothing in back?”
“Nope, just that.” He must have had some experience with a full belt coming though the checkpoint.
He looked at the locked penis some more.
“How’s it held on?”
“A ring…” I shifted the package a bit to show him the base ring.
“I need to see.”
OK, you asked. I pulled the whole package out for the three of them to inspect. Hooked my thumb over my underwear (black Cocksox thong with blue trim, if you’re wondering) just like in the dirty pictures I post to Twitter. Balls and all. The air felt cool on my sack.
“All right, he’s cleared,” and the boss man left the room. The really big guy went with him.
“Sorry about that,” the first said, “We have to check.”
“Not a problem at all,” I said as I packed it all back in my pants and zipped up. “I totally understand.”
Then, half under his breath, “Nope, never seen anything like that before…” and we left the room.
I will admit that the very moment he touched the locked penis in my pants and I knew I’d have to show it to him or someone, there was a flash of heat in my face. Just a touch of panic. But it was fleeting. Then I found it kind of amusing. And then…oddly hot.
I’ve said lots of times here that I hate that how I am has to be a secret. I do want people to know, in a way. Not that I’d wear a shirt with a slogan on it or anything, but…still. And I’m not at all ashamed of what I am. I’m not embarrassed. So many times I’ve caught people checking out the odd bulge in my pants. Even had people make incidental and accidental contact with it. Never felt bad about myself. Never really regretted it.
I do strongly feel everyone has the right to be kept out of my kink and that’s one reason I don’t go out of my way to advertise, but there was no option here. And I truly did not expect to be caught like this. It’s never happened before. But once it became a fait accompli, I decided to enjoy the ride. Luckily, the people who went along with me weren’t dicks about it. I think part of what made it OK for all of us is that I wasn’t being anything but helpful and totally forthcoming. That kept things from getting too weird or tense or for them to become suspicious.
I left the little room, collected my belt and shoes and put them on, and rejoined Belle and the kid. I was feeling a weird kind of adrenaline-charged euphoria. I was amped. It was fun. I liked being forced to expose myself. I admit it. It was a blast.
Will I wear it through again? Probably not. Well, maybe not. I mean…I dunno. Usually I don’t go through those scanners so it’s no worry. But also usually I’m traveling for work with coworkers. So…I expect I won’t. Maybe I won’t. Question mark.
I haven’t had a chance to talk to Belle about it yet. There just wasn’t a moment. But, you know. It was what it was. No going back now. I’ve been exposed.