Ch-ch-ch-changes

Belle and I are about to leave on an 11-day road trip in our little camper. My social media accounts are about to swap over into “grandeur of nature” mode, fair warning.

It occurred to me as my hand was randomly down the front of my shorts feeling the smooth steel tube, warm with my body heat and slightly slickery from the lube I have to put under my balls, that I’d be really OK with Belle leaving the key at home. Being without the key while locked in the Steelheart is just about the hottest way to do the chastity and pretty much my optimal state.

It’s only happened a few times, and always when she says she’s forgot the key. I don’t recall it ever being intentional. I do recall, though, early on when I was still in the CB6K and we were going off on a weekend away for some reason or another that I was super fucking horny to get the thing off. I wanted to feel my hard-on and fuck the shit out of her. I was actually kind of angsty about it. She didn’t forget the key that time.

Ah, youth.

Chastity changes you. Not just hormonally and mentally and emotionally, though in all those ways, too. I was chatting with someone earlier about this. How not having a penis, the primary sex organ for a man, requires he become creative. Learning the other ways he can feel pleasure and that not all of them are from physical contact. It carves new pleasure pathways. Exposes hidden ones. He also has to learn how to pleasure his partner in ways that don’t involve penetration. For real, young men should be required to have sex with their partners for a full month without use of their penises to learn that critical life skill.

At this point, I think the penis is just too easy. It’s engineered by evolution to provide maximal pleasure as efficiently as possible. In general, they’re absolutely the easy way out, sexually. Most men and certainly men who would never consider being in chastity think this is exactly their point. But I have come to view it as a downside. For me, penises represent weakness. Temptation.

The other day, I was out all day because I was going to a sporting arena after work. I could have worn plastic, but didn’t because I also had a weird sore spot that a day out fixed right up. Every time I went to the bathroom I was presented with this weird little floppy meat thing instead of whatever rigid and usually shiny object I’m used to. Yeah, peeing was easier, but it was so…unimpressive.

That’s not a tiny penis kink thing. Well, not entirely. I mean, when it’s super flaccid it is really small. I said unimpressive because it’s so easy to use. That’s their raison d’être. The shortest possible line from desire to satisfaction. But a locked penis is hard. It’s about no line from one to the other. To be locked and denied for long periods is challenging in all the ways having access to a penis isn’t. And I need sex — my sex — to be hard. Challenging. In all the ways penises aren’t.

That’s how chastity has changed me. It’s bypassed my evolutionary wiring regarding “path of least resistance” pleasure. All my pleasure now needs to be maximally resistive. The more the better. Chastity, denial, bondage, bottoming, pain. It’s not that I don’t appreciate sweet sex. I get why it’s good and necessary. And my submissive, sexual service nature makes me willing to do that when it’s required of me (like when Belle unlocks me to fuck her). But hard sex. Resistive sex. That’s what I’m about.

Was I always like that or did chastity and denial make me that way? I dunno. My thinking is they tend to lower the water level of one’s sexuality exposing topography that’s usually hidden in the depths. And orgasmic satisfaction raises that water back up, turning the topography back into islands or submerging it altogether. But what do I know.

I think all this is why I’m not nearly as worried as I used to be about my device being detectable by Muggles. I was running two days ago (and this morning) outside in light blue shorts and discovered as I was moving that I was sporting a fairly obvious bump that moved in a weirdly heavy way. And…I didn’t care. See it if you want. I dare you to ask me about it. I won’t take it off for you. Not wearing it is easy. It’s not special. But wearing it. That’s a thing I’m proud of. The dedication and the difficulty. It is special. It’s my super power.

The presence of this thing on my body makes me more me than I am without it. I feel lesser without out. And it made me like this.

So yeah. Chastity changes you.

Avoiding temptation

Recently, due to travel, I’ve been in and out of the Steelheart and the Holy Trainer Nub. Since I was most recently traveling either with coworkers or family, the experience of my recent TSA run-in has caused me to go through security unsecured which has led to putting devices on in bathrooms immediately after.

I traveled for work a few weeks ago and took the Steelheart through in my carry-on. Same when I went to visit Frodo. It’s never caused any TSA agent to want to inspect it though I assume it shows as a very metal object on the X-ray, just not in a shape that they find interesting. There’s no telling if it ever will get flagged for inspection, but so far it hasn’t. Since on the work trip I knew where I was going to be the whole time, I felt comfortable being in steel, but this trip we were on last weekend was in touristy areas and occasionally steel becomes an issue so I was in plastic.

Someone messaged me to ask how I avoid temptation when locking and unlocking, especially when I’m alone, and does the penis ever get ideas of its own and make putting the device on difficult.

Starting with that last point, yes, it can get difficult. Though that’s the exception. I’m usually moving too fast and with too much purpose for the thing to get to a difficult state. It’s not uncommon for it to be plumped from the act of being contained, but if I keep my wits about me and don’t think too hard about it, it stays in a workable state. I’d guess more than 90% of the time there’s not much more than a little plumping that occurs. Barely amounts to a chubby.

With regard to the avoiding temptation, I think the thing about that is I don’t want to be unlocked. Not ever. I resent having to be that way. And because I want to be locked up, I can generally be trusted with the key. Belle lets me have it when I need to take it with me and we don’t get hung up on where it is or what I’m doing with it (though when I went to see Frodo she asked for proof I was locked which is just sweet and hot).

While with Frodo, I did have to unlock a few times due to concerns about possible metal detectors (which were unfounded, it turns out), but again, I am never thinking of ways to cheat and/or get out of chastity. There is simply no way I could be with Frodo like that. I’d hate it. It’s impossible to consider. The Rules are the rules and I’m so invested in them the idea of not following them is totally alien to me. Luckily, Frodo gets that and has never even joked about me not being true to Belle’s expectations. To the contrary, when I was unlocked while we were out and about he made a point of telling me I didn’t need to be that way.

No, it’s not unusual for me to crave the contents, but it never goes beyond that. Just this morning on the way to work, I was distractingly horny and intensely aware of the Steelheart and what it was keeping me from and the desire to have access was achingly palpable, but that’s as far as it goes. I crave the crave. That is the point of what I am: always yearning, always struggling, never satisfied. Controlled. Obeying. Denied.

Unf.

Popping the lock and letting it out would destroy everything. Temptation only works when the prospective object is something one desires. I do not desire the penis as a penis. I desire what not having access to it creates.

The Rules (updated)

The rules under which our dynamic operates have evolved over time, but the last time they were updated was almost three years ago. My previous post discussed a rule I put in place for myself about not touching the penis, but rules I put on myself are easily waived or bent. Rules Belle puts in place carry much more weight. So this morning…

Therefore, here is the updated list of Rules that I follow.

  • I can only come when Belle tells me to and, if she tells me to, I have to.
  • I must be wearing a chastity device at all times, unless she says otherwise.
  • When unlocked, I cannot touch the penis except for maintenance purposes or to swap devices. Never for pleasure, unless she has released it for sex.
  • I am not to volunteer how I feel about having an orgasm and must never ask for one.
  • If I have sex with someone else, the penis must always be locked. No exceptions.

The revised “no touching” rule replaces one that said I wasn’t allowed to play with it. Touching leads to playing so, in reality, this is better. The definition of “playing” isn’t as definite as “touching.”

These are the rules she expects me to follow. I vow to do so. Of course, it’s hard. If submission were easy, it wouldn’t be worth much.

Busted and exposed

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.

Welp.

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.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, that. Plastic.”

“Plastic?”

“Yep.”

“…”

“Can you remove it?”

“Not here.”

“Not here?”

“Nope.”

“Can you…move it to the side?” He made a motion like he wanted me to rotate the odd lump to my hip.

“Nope.”

“…”

“…Medical device?”

“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?”

“Chastity device.”

The big guy laughed again. I smirked at them.

“Chastity device? Can you get it off?”

“Nope.”

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.

Initiation

Regarding my 10 Rules For Locked Men post…

There were some comments on Twitter and even one on the post about Rule 5:

You are not to initiate sex other than to reinforce your availability to your keyholder to satisfy their needs and desires.

It was pointed out that sometimes people do like for their men — even their locked men — to initiate sex. That’s, of course, correct. Regardless of the state of the penis, one’s sex partner won’t always want to be the one to initiate, for a variety of reasons. The point I was making was based on my experience and probably mostly directed to men who are newly locked up.

I recall early on I was fucking horny (stars, asterisks, daggers) all the time. I wanted sex and a lot of it, even if the penis wasn’t coming out. I was all over Belle and left her feeling pressured to have sex. So, for a while and once I pulled my head out, the “never initiate sex” rule was one I put on myself. Now, I do initiate sex. But I only do it thoughtfully and based on an understanding of her rhythms and preferences. I don’t jump on her during the week. I will ask or suggest or offer. But it’s her call. Weekend mornings I know she’s receptive so I feel comfortable being more physically forward then. She can say no and I’ll back off immediately without complaint, but I know that’s less likely. She prefers sex in the morning and weekends are the days she’s most comfortable doing it. I shape my behavior around her preferences.

Like any good sub, I want a list of ALL THE RULES but I also know no two couples are exactly the same and my list was merely an attempt to document how we/I approach being nearly always locked up. The correct approach for anyone who finds value in them is to discuss them with their partner and amend, extend, or delete whatever doesn’t make sense.

The one thing I think is inviolable for submissive men who are locked up (oddly, not all men in chastity are subs or see their conditions as acts of submission) is that to allow one’s penis to be secured by another is to acknowledge a totally new, radical, and fundamentally different relationship to sex. Almost everything men are taught to think about it and how to approach it by culture has to be retrained. Reflexive responses need to be rewired. Behavior needs to be reconditioned. If you read the rules, they all basically point to the same basic set of ideas:

Sex does not belong to you. It’s not for you. It’s not about you.

The penis has been put in the middle of our cultural understanding of sex through thousands of years of conditioning. Mostly led by men. Mostly in cultures where men were trying to cement their central role of being in control. But for a guy in chastity, sex may not include his penis. Not often or maybe not ever. And he has to be OK with that. Has to really believe and feel it. Has to be willing to only have sex that’s in service to his keyholder’s pleasure and satisfaction. That’s what Rule 5 was about. It’s what they’re all about. It’s what chastity, in my opinion, is about.

I didn’t get that at the beginning. Didn’t get it for a while. But I get it now.

Best underwear for guys in chastity

About 14,000 years ago, I wrote a post about the best underwear for chastity. I figure it’s time to update and expand that entry.

I have a serious thing for underwear. It drives Belle nuts because I have far more pairs than any normal person needs (I mean, seriously, nobody really needs more than 10 pairs or so). I haven’t counted in the same way an alcoholic or nicotine addict doesn’t count, but it’s a lot of pairs.

I just keep buying underwear. I’m a total sucker for it. And now Instagram knows and keeps showing me ads for more. Not to mention I belong to the Underwear Expert club so I get pairs automatically sent to me from them. Hey, the first step is admitting I have a problem. Right?

The underwear drawer is bursting.

I say all this (and have added so many photos I’ve posted to Instagram and Twitter) to drive home the point that I wear a lot of fucking underwear and know from which I speak on the subject.

Those who have come to chastity relatively recently might think the best underwear for chastity wearers is the tightest. The pairs that smoosh everything down as much as possible and make the whole package as featureless and inert as possible. I, however, am here to tell you life is too short for that shit. Sure, you’ll maybe hide the fact you’ve got something interesting between your legs, but you’ll suffer for it and, by the end of the day, will be in a lot of pain. It’s just not worth it. You have nothing to be ashamed of, my friend.

My idea of a perfect pair of underwear is one that provides some support for the device so that it doesn’t hang in such a way as to put too much stress on one’s balls but not so much it squishes or flattens or pushes the device into one’s body. That fine line of offering support but also allowing freedom of movement. Note I am almost always in the Steelheart (a metal device with a moderately prominent tube) so guys in plastic or micro devices will have different needs.

All that said, my previous best underwear was the John Sievers “natural pouch” pairs. I still have several of them and they’re still excellent options. They have a roomy, generous pouch and are very high quality.

Another brand I’ve recently become acquainted with is Ergowear. They also have an “ergonomic” pouch and a wide variety of styles and colors. I’ve had a pair of boxer briefs from them for a while and recently expanded my collection to include these which are probably my favorite pair of underwear from a comfort point of view.

The pouch is massive and there’s essentially no waistband but the whole things still works. I’m not crazy about the length of the inseam and will probably try the shorter boxer briefs next time or the bikinis.

For the record, here’s the first pair of theirs I wore.

I do have a few gripes about Ergowear. I placed an order from them that took so long to arrive I had forgotten I placed it. Also, one of the pairs I received seemed to be sized appropriately in the waist but was two sizes too small in the leg openings. So, service and quality are not marked very high, I’m afraid.

The other recent entrant I’m pretty happy with is Cocksox. They have three pouch styles. Original is the roomiest, contour is slightly less so, and snug is exactly what it sounds like. I have only worn original-cut pairs. The thing I really like about Cocksox is their more adventurous colors and styles.

These briefs are just so fucking awesome. Kind of lacy, but not at all feminine (not that there’s anything wrong with that), with a roomy supportive pouch. Love the red accent color.

While this thong is totally hot and my current favorite in that style.

Heavens. I love Cocksox. I just wish they had more options in their original pouch.

The biggest problem with all these roomy-pouched underwear is those times I’m not in chastity and wear them. They make the penis seem particularly insignificant since it barely makes a dent in filling all that space. But…who am I kidding. I’m rarely not in some kind of chastity.

Of course, I wear more than just these brands and I don’t only wear big, roomy pouches. I have underwear of all kinds and some I wear because I love the color or fit even though I know the chastity aspect is lacking. C-In2 is like that. I love love love their styles and fabrics, but their pouches are just acceptable to too tight. At the end of the day, underwear choices have to be about more than just practicality. But if you’re in a device not too unlike mine and are wanting the best combination of style and function, I recommend Seivers, Ergowear, and Cocksox.