I’ve been reflecting (a lot) about my place in this world as a man, as a husband, and as a lover. 2025 has been a heady year. MrsBR_Saiph and I kick-started it with a commitment to my being pussyfree, and of course, to continue my 24/7 chastity. It was the culmination of many whispered conversations in the dark after our first Splash Mocha. Where, afterward, she found herself only interested in Black men and how they made her feel. Many a night, her lithe fingers teased my cage while mine explored her moist lips, as we talked about her lovers. How big their cocks were. Thick, so very thick, some longer than others, and all of them stretching her, sometimes to her limits. To a one, each awakened the primal beast between her legs.
It had taken countless of these erotically fuelled conversations before she felt comfortable enough to be honest. About how truly amazing they felt inside her. Or, how it felt to be manhandled in all the right ways by a beautiful Black man who moved in all the right ways.
And, how I had never been able to satisfy her, not even close, the way those men do.
It took gentle prodding on my part because honesty, even when it stings, is the cornerstone of this lifestyle. As the new year approached, she finally admitted that she didn’t need my dick, that our lovemaking was perfect the way it was. The SpareParts Joque Harness & Strap-On, the Hitachi Wand, my tongue, and my butterfly kisses. It was all she needed—from me. There it was, the honest truth, ‘I don’t need your dick,’ whispered on tentative breaths that feared hurting me because of her love.
Honesty did bruise my ego, a lot for a millisecond, and a little for a beat after that. Just as I knew it would. Then I gave my head a shake and let her words settle into my soul, where ego has no place. Her words echoed what I already knew, but needed to hear. Words I’d been ready to embrace long before she was comfortable enough to utter them.
You see, I’ve held her hand and listened to guttural moans of pleasure come from her as another man fucked her, far too many times to ignore the reality. I have never, in my life, made her sound like those men do. I love watching her get railed hard, and she loves me watching. In this equation, where we were both enjoying the reality of the Bull, my dick had no place. In fact, by it not being part of the equation, she had found sexual nirvana. And in her sexual freedom and bliss, I had found my place.
With that out in the open, and my masochistic desires unfettered, it only seemed natural for us to experiment with me being ‘pussyfree’.
It’s been a life-changing ride. Or, at least, it’s altered my vision of my reality. Months of not coming, and most certainly not experiencing erections. The endless teasing touches and whispered naughty desires—of beautiful Black men, and her digging deep to just ‘make it fit’. It all took me so far down into the sub-zone I couldn’t see daylight. But I wanted to. Desperately. Had my fantasy been too much in its reality?
I wasn’t sure, but then on a whim, she unlocked me for my birthday. PIV had never felt more glorious! I swear I saw stars when I came. Then I felt guilt. For cumming. For my erection. For taking a bite of the forbidden fruit when I had committed to truly putting her pleasure before my own. But hey, I got over it!
The year moved on, and I remained chaste while she moaned and writhed under the thrusting embrace of one lover after another. I was allowed out shortly after Splash Mocha, and when I came far too quickly, her words said it all.
“That, my dear, is why I keep you locked.”
She was smiling as she said it, so I knew she was only (partially) playing with me. Yet the words were once again, the truth. We both knew it, and I felt it powerfully. She delivered the coup de grace a few short weeks afterward. I playfully asked if she needed my cock. I was simply enjoying the banter. Except this time, with a pause and a thoughtful look, she lost herself in her matter-of-fact answer. “No. Actually, I don’t think about your dick anymore. Not really.” She paused again, blinked, smiled nervously, then frowned. “Is that bad?”
Fuuuck. I’ve never loved her more. Our journey has never been rushed. We have struggled and overcome, and learned so much about ourselves and each other. Our love has never been stronger. Our faith and commitment to each other has never been stronger. And to watch my Lady venture into a place of absolutely crushing honesty, because of her trust in us, was epic.
It’s been a hard lockdown since. I still try to banter about her needing my cock, but now she just smirks and doesn’t bother replying. Our lovemaking is intense, and the Joque is our best friend, or is it the Hitachi? Either way, it’s been exhilaratingly scary for me at times, and at others a little crushing, because the truth does hurt, doesn’t it? But, only if we let it, only if we fail to look at what that truth means. For us as a couple, for her as my Queen, and for me as her man.
I hadn’t planned on writing anything for Locktober this year, but our Friday night visit to ‘The Club’ showed me how far we’ve come in embracing her pleasure and my place as a locked cuckold. I realized it was the perfect month to share where we are at.
She scooped up three beautiful Black men. Two consecutively, and then the third shortly after. They were all friends. The third guy asked if she had ‘one more in her’, and of course, she did. As he came deep inside her while she was on all fours, her hand in mine, he asked her. “Was I the best?”
She giggled and told him what he wanted to hear. When we were back in the room, she held my cage, her eyes full of concern, checking in because that’s what my Lady does. “How are you?”
My mind went far and wide over the past year, our journey, and where we are today. In the span of an hour, I watched three men put their cocks where mine was no longer needed or allowed. I watched them take long strokes, spreading her lips with their meaty cocks, making her cry out and close her eyes in pleasure/pain.
I remember how incredible it feels to be inside her!
I immediately chided myself because I had never made her respond like that. The cage hidden beneath my cotton towel reminded me that was all part of why we were here today.
I watched them thrust hard and cum deep inside her.
When have I last done that?
As my stomach clenched with envy, I realized I didn’t know. While PIV had only recently been denied me, cumming inside her had already been long a thing of the past. I hadn’t done that since her first lover had years ago. When she’d first been taken around the world on another man’s cock while mine had been caged.
I don’t know what the future holds. I’m nervous about living a life where I cum in my cage far more often than I’m allowed an erection, while other men cum inside my wife. I’m nervous because it’s a road I’ve never traveled. But I do know I’m traveling it with her. I know the cuck angst I felt as they came inside her was transcendent. I felt… at peace. I was in my place. I was confident I was where I belonged and was the man I was born to be. Her man. At her side, living our best life together. So, I looked down into her eyes and met her concerned look with a smile and answered like I meant it, because I did.
“I’m good, baby. I’m good.”
Happy Locktober, my chaste friends. May your journey be all that you wish it to be.
The End
Thank you for reading. If you would like to read more of my work, links to my published stories can be found <here>
B.R.Saiph 