As an author, I take great pride in my work. Why wouldn’t I?
I spend countless hours thinking about my story, then many more writing it, and even more after that polishing it until it’s the very best I can offer.
Is her hair the color I want, or how about what she’s wearing in a particular scene? What sensual naughtiness do I fancy the characters doing as they excite, frustrate, seduce, and otherwise titillate the reader? Have I described the leather belt in her hand in such detail that the reader can intimately feel it’s unforgiving touch in their mind’s eye? Can they feel the panic as he does when she closes the lock on the shiny new cage she purchased just for him? Have I made their gut clench when she sleeps with the other man?
There are so many thoughts that go into a story I can’t begin to describe them, but if you’re an author, you know exactly what I’m talking about.
My point is, that most writers work hard to produce the best material they can because it’s a passion, and for the fortunate few, a full-time job.
After all we give of ourselves to create something, is it worth it? Only the reader can decide.
If we are lucky, we develop a fan base. If we are unlucky, we get the ‘superfan’.
They will at first compliment your work to lower your guard, then proceed to tell you how they would have written this scene or that one, or what the characters should have been wearing, or looked like, or done. They may tell you how you should write the sequel, because of course after all that feedback, you’re gonna want to do another, right?
Then, once you block them, they spew vile trash in a book review and drag your rating down.
If there is a bright side, at least in doing so they reveal to the world just how much of a nutter they are.
I work hard for a living. I have a family to care for, and a life to live. Somewhere in there, I find time to create something and then dare to share it.
What have you created and offered to the world dear superfan? May we see your work? May we comment on it as you have felt so entitled to do so with others?
Just kidding, I don’t care.
I don’t care what you have done with your life, I don’t care what you think about my work, and I certainly don’t care about you.
I’ll continue to write, to create, and in doing so I’ll contribute to the world around me because that’s who I am. I’m a writer.
What are you?
A word that once learned is forever etched into a chastity enthusiasts heart. From the moment of our introduction, I’d found the thought of being locked for 31 days to be as equally deliciously terrifying as it was intriguing.
To be clear, in it’s purest form it entails the complete and total denial of ones manhood and all of it’s magnificent pleasures.
In the beginning, on Oct 1rst those were only words.
Our chastity play has evolved over the last few years since we started. A few days here, graduating to a week or two there, interspersed with regular playtime and plenty of happy endings. 17 days was the record to beat and then we met our first bull.
Almost a year later locked 24/7 and I thought I knew what it meant to have lost control of my most prized possession. Sure, we still enjoyed playtime but there was no ‘free’ play time for me. I’d been put down hard (no pun intended) into my place.
For the first time in my life, I never had a say in when I could be erect, let alone have a big-O, and most certainly could not masturbate.
So when my darling wife told me, with a twinkle in her eye, that we were doing Loctober this year though my heart skipped in excited trepidation, I felt I was ready.
So what is Loctober then?
For me in the beginning it was just the knowledge that I was in for a long haul. So, feeling that initial fear, for real in your gut that visceral twinge of fear of the unknown. She was taking me into uncharted territory. So self assured about it, so matter of fact, and if I truly wanted to play in this lifestyle with her, then I was along for the ride. Assumed, just as it was assumed that it was perfectly natural for her to arrange a date or two keep her satisfied while I was kept under lock and key.
One would have thought being cuckolded on Day 13 would have put me over the edge but not quite. It was an amazing hot experience, casually dressed with cage on under my clothes and sipping on a cold beer while watching another man gave my wife what I was denied. If he only knew the whole story! At the time it put me well into my sub-space but I’d no idea what the month still had in store for me.
When she’d first mentioned her plans for the month, I could picture those mornings alone in the spare bedroom, darkened and trying to sleep after a night shift. The relentless want of simply having an erection, primal senses reacting to the knowledge She was close by. Warm, wet, Her.
I guess foreshadowing is a bitch ‘cuz see on day 20, I almost lost my mind. Waking that early morning knowing that the end was so far away that all I could do was endure, did nothing to ease my desperate need for release. The pent-up energy making me want to scream but I couldn’t breath. All the grinding and stifled moaning, curling into a ball and clenching my legs together so I could hump the cage between them in pathetic frustration, did nothing to bring relief.
I want to pause for a moment and draw focus to that last sad bit, as embarrassing as it all is. Before this month I had thought I knew what suffering was. That was until the moment I felt myself slipping away on the chaotic winds of agonizing sexual despair. It’s power overwhelming me and causing me to momentarily lose my grip as it dragged me away. Only in the last moment, pulling myself from it’s clutches to grasp hold of the hope for the end as distant as it seemed did I gain true understanding. Of myself, my limits, and my strengths.
I think that was the peak, and I can’t begin to tell you how thankful I am that it’s behind me!
The Mrs researching PA piercings, our super sexy conversations about how it was ‘OK to live our life the way that worked for us’, the super charged physical connection as we lay together in bed touching, loving, being. They have all been fantastically wonderful moments and I struggle to express the exuberant joy in their memory I’ll be forever left with when this is over.
I’d thought I knew what it was to ‘feel’ her as I held her, but as day turned to night and then to endless day it became so much more. The heat from her loins as I pressed my nub into her naked bottom as we lay spooning would ignite an uncontrollable animal hunger in me.
The smooth softness of her skin yielding willingly to my reverent touch, my fingers quivering with barely contained desperation, trying to be ‘cool’ and pretend the elephant was not in the room, was perhaps the most intense physical connection we’ve ever shared.
Quiet soft sounds, rustling sheets, warm skin against skin, muscles tensing, together.
The burning need in me quenched in the fires of her release. Her stiffening, the soft moan, the tremble and the gasp as she found inner Nirvana, the transference from our heads to our toes was encompassing and complete.
As this month comes to an end so does an epic journey that until I’d done it, I had no idea I was born to make. I’m still the same person and yet I’ve been forever changed. I’ve walked the walk as they say. That I’ve been blessed to have someone make this journey possible and then take my hand and join me, leaves me speechless. I was never alone, She was always there. In my darkest moments I had only to picture her and the key she so lovingly held.
The end draws nigh, and I know not what the future holds but the one thing I do know is I have no regrets. I’m not just proud of myself, I’m proud of what we have achieved together.
I am humbled by this beautiful and amazing woman I share my life with, and all her wisdom, her love, and her wild carefree mischievous spirit. That my being locked and denied brings us the pleasures in life we enjoy, well that’s for us. Who knows, maybe it is for you too. What are YOU doing next October?
At times the denial threatens to overwhelm me, sucking the air literally from my lungs. I wake wanting to scream in raging frustration. I instead lay still and try to ride out the waves of alternating angry want and crushing euphoric acceptance of my submission to Her.
Loctober isn’t over yet and though I’ve seen the better part of it tick by one relentlessly locked day after another, the last stretch seems like a marathon.
I want the end NOW.
My foolish male pride DEMANDS it.
My true self ACCEPTS it.
I think I need to stop looking at the calendar and instead TRUST in Her.
@MrsBr_Saiph has got me, I just need to relax and enjoy the ride.
Let’s not even talk about that working on my #wip has been impossible with my shoulder out of commission.
I f-cked it good last week burying my sweet pet. Not a good time.
Emotionally I’ve been drained and with being unlocked since Saturday, I’ve been a little head spun.
Am I crazy? Complete freedom and yet a little (or a lot) of muscle discomfort and a sad heart make for complete disinterest in being naughty with myself?
I feel passionately that first it’s a serious transgression to masturbate or enjoy any physical sexual pleasure without permission (not that I haven’t 😈),and second that if I can’t fully enjoy it, it’s damn near sacrilegious to devalue the opportunity.
That said, I’m feeling better both physically and emotionally and I’m coming around! I’m missing my characters and their journey.
I love living the story in my mind and feeling their emotions, and envisioning the people behind them. They are real, if I let go and let them be.
Letting the story out, in due time.
Resisting the urge to settle for what is essentially forced.
Allowing myself to self-indulge in the f’n amazing experience of being a writer.
Livin’ writing, livin’ ‘it’, well…Wow!
Hotwife Holiday narrated by the fabulous @LoganAnare is now available on Audible!
Beth takes Henry on their first Hotwife Holiday and forces him to confront the fantasy he’s always professed to long for.
I think a lot of you kindred spirits that are into the hotwife/cuckold lifestyle or those enjoying the thought of it can relate to that I’ve struggled with being a cuck almost from the beginning of our adventure. Fantasy meets brick wall of reality.
As I hope is evident from a post I made on a popular chastity forum recently, regarding spending some time facing a wall, I have found a new place of happiness, tranquility of joy for that is what I felt. Joy for Her, and all She was experiencing because she’s everything to me and she deserves no less. Joy for Me (yes Capital because I’m so proud of myself!!), for being able to shuck those shackles of fragile male ego and embrace the unencumbered freedom of submitting to her pleasure.
Lets cover a couple basics that for me at least, and perhaps my bad, but they were not forefront on my mind when we started all this.
He is likely going to have a very large cock. One that despite your best day, is gonna trump it every time.
He is going to be a champion of fucking.
He can fuck your wife in front of you effortlessly and with extreme vigour while you watch. For a really long time (sometimes an obscenely, to me, long time) and cum wherever they agree, multiple times.
Take your best endurance time, and best performance, look at it one last time, then toss it out the window. You won’t be needing that now.
You are going to see the woman you love, your lover, losing herself in anothers arms. She will say things, and do oh so many naughty things, all while you watch. Her choosing another. While you remain locked.
When as a cuck, I finally let go of my negative insecurities that were holding me back, I reached something. As I felt the welcoming embrace of my girl, sharing her moment of bull fucking pleasure with me, as I felt her loving me for sharing it with her, I felt complete.
For me, it’s been one hell of a head trip. Big time at times. Like train f’n wreck at times, but I think if both parties can communicate, and show empathy towards the others viewpoint and experience, it can work well.
We’re so not done figuring this out, nor ourselves. I’m not sure that journey ever ends, neither the pitfalls or joyous celebrations. I only know that I’ve learned to be relaxed.
I want to be the cool guy at the party.
I want to have fun, and watch my Lady have the fucking time of her life.
I find no matter my intentions when beginning a new story, invariably once I begin, I immediately start chasing the end.
I tell myself ‘This time it will be different, this time I will relax and just enjoy the story as it unfolds, no pressure.’
I’ve come to realize I’m a bit addicted to the emotional high of typing those two words. Even more so, the rush I get from publishing and then promoting the fact that I’ve actually achieved the end game is like emotional cocaine.
I now type those two words ‘The End’ at the start of each new story. I carriage return throughout, pushing them down and away as I go, but keeping them with me at all times.
It scratches the itch, removes the urge to type them because they are already there, and helps me focus on the writing journey, and savor it for the amazing experience it is.
Primal hunger and lust, need versus want, submission and control.
These are the thoughts that fill my days and haunt my sordid dreams at night.
She is the beautiful strong willed girl next door, and she is everywhere.
We need only open our eyes to see her.
At work, at play, out on the town, or at home in our own bed.
When I see her, I see male chastity, denial, cuckolding, and complete and total enslavement to her carnal pleasure.
I see many things, naughty and debaucherous, and would love to share them with you.
I hope you will join me to look at her through my eyes as I weave tales of love, newly discovered passion unleashed, and boundaries found then destroyed.
Join me as we discover together, how our lives are shaped by the love in our hearts and the demons between our legs.
The Good Wife, narrated by Ella Daniels is finally available on #Audible!
Marsha is a beautiful devoted wife, and she was the epitome of sweet and innocent. That is until her and John discovered male chastity!