If you have not yet read the first part of this ongoing tale, you may wish to read it <here>. It will most definitely add context to this next part…
It is a new year, full of new beginnings and of course regardless of how the course may appear to be set for me, it is one full of hope. I had a transformative evening with @MrsBr_Saiph and I would like to share it with you.
~~~~~
The Tale
“Happy New Year baby,” she whispered playfully into my ear and then snuggled into me as she drifted off into a contented sleep. Her words, spoken so quietly in the dark hotel room belied the steel resolve in all she hadn’t said (just then).
The last couple of months have been wild, and to say it’s been a complete head-fuck would be an understatement. @MrsBr_Saiph has kept me locked the entire time but that’s not what has been churning my grey matter to mush and preventing just about all coherent thought.
You see, in the past, she would often unlock me for a little sexy fun and sometimes I would even get to cum. I would hold on, day by locked day, to the promise of not only being allowed an erection, but the sensation of her sweet pussy enveloping my eager and denied cock. Oh, the ecstasy of feeling her all around me and enveloping me in her wet heat…
That was the past though, and of late is now something I can only look back on with a desperate craving. I foolishly shared my darkest fantasy of being ‘pussy free’ one too many times and now it has become my reality. And that is what is scrambling my brain, even as the cage relentlessly reminds me that there is no escaping what used to be a naughty thought and is now a terrifying reality.
Last night, as a night out at ‘The Club’ combined with the celebratory atmosphere of New Year’s Eve lay ahead, I found myself daring to wonder ‘What if?’
Before we left home I shaved my face extra smooth because she likes my face between her legs best that way. I hopped in the shower and shaved my balls, because she likes them that way with the cage, and as I was rinsing off she opened the shower door and handed me the key.
“Take it off, for tonight.” She gave me a playful wink and stood back as I toweled off.
“Oh boy, things are looking up!” I quipped as my dick grew with excitement at its unexpected freedom.
“Nothing is looking up, I just wanted to give you a little taste of freedom tonight.” She frowned and grew serious. “This doesn’t mean anything. You won’t be cumming. Tell me you understand that. Tell me you won’t disappoint me.”
So of course I did, I told her everything she wanted to hear. I however not-so-secretly hoped that she was only prolonging my anticipation, that tonight was going mark an epic ending of something we could both look back on as one hell of a kinky mental ride.
She looked incredible in her little black dress. She was the only star in my sky, and her eyes were alight with love and happiness as we danced the night away. She made some new friends and I held her hand as they used their cocks to take her away to places I could only imagine taking her to. Her moans of pleasure made my dick hard under my towel and I found myself hoping that later on she might allow me the chance to take her away too.
We giggled like teenagers as we fell through the doorway into our hotel room, slamming the door behind us in our rush to get naked and into bed. The clothes were off in a flash, and then she was in my arms. Finally, I had her all to myself.
Her tongue found mine as her little fingers wrapped themselves around my dick and pulled on it, drawing it upwards into a rigid pole of desperate longing that quivered and ached under her feminine touch. I moaned, but then got a hold of myself. I knew that now was not the time to be selfish. I had to play it cool, lest I jinx whatever this was.
I shimmied down between her legs and tasted her sweet nectar, kissing her lips and teasing her clit with all the love and devotion a chaste husband could possibly deliver. My eagerness for more must have been apparent, though in truth it wouldn’t take a mind reader to know what my hard dick was yearning for, and she beckoned me up into her arms.
Her eyes found mine, deep brown pools of love and understanding, for no one knows me like she does. I could feel the heat of her hot and ready cunt a hairs breath away from the eager head of my dick, proud and engorged, and hopeful. I held myself still, holding my breath in anticipation of what she might say.
“I love you more than anything, you know that.”
I breathed out, desperately trying to remain calm. “And I love you baby. So much.”
The corners of her mouth pulled up into a smile. “But that doesn’t mean you get to fuck me.”
My face said all I didn’t. I couldn’t help it, I am human after all, but she didn’t give me a chance to plead my case.
“You can put in the tip, but no more. No fucking, no stroking it, just put it in and hold it there. Understand?”
I couldn’t understand what she was getting at but hell yeah I wanted as much as she was willing to give! “Yes…I understand.”
She grew stern. “Promise? No fooling around.”
“I promise, I promise!” And then it was in. I was in. She was warm, and oh so wet and she was all around me and she felt just like I had always remembered, but better. Soo much better. My body screamed at me to push myself all the way in, to bury myself inside her and pound her pussy into submission and show it what it had been missing out on, but I held the line. I drew deep, and kept my eyes locked on hers. Her eyes glinted with devilish mischief as she witnessed my silent struggle, and then as I wrested control over myself her eyes beamed with pride, and she kissed me.
“Good boy.”
My heart filled with pride as her wicked words of praise washed over me, and yet… My dick throbbed with confused frustration, begging me to let it do what it was put on this earth to do, to complete what it was so fucking damn close to being able to do. But I held the line, as I held her.
Our breathing slowed as she held my gaze. “Did your penis miss me baby?”
“I…uh…y-yes!” It was too difficult to talk and keep my focus at the same time, what the hell was she doing to me?
“Mmm,” she purred. “I like that.” She shifted her hips and her lips slide over the sensitive skin of the head of my dick, and for a moment I thought I would cave in to my carnal desires and thrust inside her, but I held the line.
“I wanted to give you something special to start the new year out right.” She pulled me in for a kiss, her tongue driving me mad as it danced with mine. She pulled back and brought her hand to my face. “I wanted to give you a reminder of that which is no longer for you.” She raised her head and brushed her lips over my cheek, then dripped her devilish words into my ear and down into my soul. “The new year has only just begun, and it’s going to be a long one. For you.”
I wanted to respond, to beg her to reconsider, to stop this lunacy but I didn’t have a chance. Her hands pushed on my shoulders, urging me down, and thus my dick away from what had for a brief moment seemed like a foregone eventuality. As her hand pushed on the back of my head and drove my face into her swollen and previously that evening well-fucked lips, as her sexual power consumed us both, she let out a moan. “Now show me how much you love me. Show me how excited you are to get that cage back on and begin the new year, with me.”
So, is it all fun and games? I don’t know. After last night I have given up trying to predict the unpredictable and can only hang on to her love, and my faith in us, and knowing that no matter where she may take us, I will follow her lead.
I just experienced an incredible Saturday night with @MrsBr_Saiph, one that was the culmination of many weeks of her firm and relentless masterful shaping of my psyche. It was so incredible (for me) that I want, no – I need to share it with everyone around me, but of course I can’t. So I hope you’ll humor me while I share it with you.
The problem is that it’s not easy to share, and I struggle with that when it comes to things like this. When I part the curtains and let others see the story within the story, it leaves me vulnerable. That’s the cost of sharing – vulnerability. As much as I want to show the positive and love-filled reality of the lifestyle I live, I cannot do that without allowing others a glimpse into my very private world. Personal moments that rock my world, that I just know will be forefront in my mind for years to come are just that, personal. Moments, that if I tried to explain them, most people would not only never understand, but would ridicule me for them. Moments that are beyond words that grip my soul and shape my devotion to the woman I love in ways that dreams are made of.
The funny thing is, for all my words and all my writing, I cannot find the words to describe how it made me feel then, or now. I only know it is powerful. While it is extremely likely it is yet just one more of the countless sexy games she has played with me over the years, this one is changing my perception of the world around me.
We each have our unique journey to make in the lifestyle but perhaps there are facets of this one that may ring true with you. It is in story form, for that is how I share, and how I relieve the mental pressure so to speak. It’s not necessarily ‘keep you on the edge of your seat’ writing, but this tale is the one I am living, and perhaps there is a version of it in which you are too.
~~~~~
The Tale
For weeks, upon weeks now, She had kept him locked and denied. For him, simple pleasures had become immense ones. The peaceful silence of the weekend early mornings accentuated by the soft sound of him suckling her toes, and that of his tongue ensuring her soles were thoroughly clean, had morphed from kinky treat to revered pleasure. Laying down the corner of the sheets on her side of the bed was no longer something he simply enjoyed. It had become mental foreplay for when he would (and never soon enough) be able to spoon with her and press his caged cock to her ass and feel the heat emanating from between her legs.
They hadn’t planned it, not as far as he knew. He had been locked 24/7 for years now, but his chastity was flexible. Life happened and there were situations and periods where he was free, like all the other macho-acting tradesmen he worked with and crushed after-work beers with, men who knew nothing of chastity and submission. This though, was different. It wasn’t immediately apparent, but rather it had crept up on him (them?) and then it became a thing.
As was their routine, she would often unlock him for some weekend sex. He was never permitted to cum, though he almost always did. The challenge, besides the obvious one of not cumming, was to last as long as possible. And, if he did cum, he was never allowed to spurt his mess inside her. That was for the bulls, even if they were wearing condoms at the time. If he used the words seed or cum, she would correct him. He’d had a vasectomy and allowed himself to be locked in chastity, so he didn’t get to use the words real men did. He didn’t have a cock like those other men, so he most certainly didn’t get to cum either. He got to make his little mess, and she never let him forget it. She would burrow into both his big and little brains with her wicked words and he loved every second of it.
It would be during these much anticipated and enjoyed moments of penetration that he would do his very best not to cum (yes cum – he got a secret and naughty thrill from using forbidden words in his mind). Success was almost entirely dependent upon an equation he’d yet to figure out. One of complex ratios between time locked vs unlocked and ruined orgasm vs not ruined or none at all, and so on. Sometimes he was a marathon winner, and other times a sprinting failure. He often felt that if he could solve this impossible math and share it for the betterment of mankind, he’d be an overnight hero to every other man in a similar situation to his.
After being encased in steel all week long, his cock would be ultra-sensitive to the slightest sensation. Her hot wet pussy gripping his shaft and beckoning the spunk from the head of his cock was relentless and merciless in its temptation. He would change the oil on the car in his mind, or try to think about when he’d last cleaned the gutters, but inevitably he’d think about how good her pussy felt. He’d think about how insane it would be to be denied being inside her, while other men were welcomed with legs spread wide, as he’d of late watched so many other men be. He’d think about how impossibly cruel it would be for her to deny her husband her pussy while freely giving it to other men as she pleased. And then, he’d blow his load. Every time. Once the thought began to whisper its salaciously terrifying implications into his mind, there was no stopping the eruption.
Shortly thereafter, when he had finished licking up his little mess off her stomach and apologizing for making the mess to begin with, she would ask him what had happened.
“Why didn’t you last longer, why couldn’t you be stronger for me?”
He’d look away, unable to meet her questioning look, so neutral and innocent in its query. There was no need to lay on guilt or shame for she knew he was already doing all that to himself just fine and required no assistance. He would then look back and see that she was still waiting, and he’d have to answer. She knew him better than he knew himself and therefore there was never an option to deflect. He would tell her that after shamefully giving in to release far too soon, it was the thought of her keeping him pussy free that did it. Those two words and the unfair cruelty they represented sent him over the edge every time, and every time he was helpless to stop it.
He’d thought that over the years she had merely dismissed his ramblings as nothing more than titillating fantasy talk. It wasn’t like they didn’t smack talk about all kinds of other things. However, there came a point when he began to realize she’d perhaps paid more attention to or rather, given more credence to his ramblings than what he’d given her credit for.
Then his life began to change. A weekend came along and they’d (she’d) passed on their usual weekend sex because ‘she hadn’t felt up to it’. That hadn’t gotten his attention because well, that was just life. They’d been married almost twenty-five years and of course, there would be times that sex wasn’t in the cards for him (cage or not). He’d dismissed it then, but it wasn’t so easy to do the next weekend when he was again denied because it was then that she told him. “No baby, no sex for you. You’re pussy free now.”
His heart had stopped and then a moment later he’d smiled. “Yeah, OK sure, yup, I’m pussy free.” He remembered the big blustering wink he’d given her even as he’d enjoyed his cock surging in the cage at her words. Then, it had very much seemed like playful banter, the type of which they’d long done before. She was merely spicing things up between them from a new angle. Now, he cringed when he thought about how naive he must have looked to her.
Throughout the week she’d stop in the middle of whatever they were doing and ask him how his ‘penis’ was. She hadn’t called it a cock or a dick in years and often made it a point to remind him of its name now that he was a locked cuckold. If he were to try and use those words she’d call him on it every time, the corners of her mouth pulled up in a mocking grin and her eyes alight with mischief, and he’d eventually stopped fighting it. It was just one of many aspects of his conditioning she’d slowly and relentlessly schooled him in since he had confessed his aching need to submit to her and be kept under lock and key.
That was fine, that was for them normal chastity stuff, good for revving the engine and keeping things spicy but as of late, the weekends now were when she reminded him of his new reality. She would throw out the phrase in casual conversation when he least expected it. No matter what they were doing or where they were, she would fit those two words into the activity and leave him wondering if she really meant it when she reminded him he was now…pussy free.
The weeks went by and he had remained locked. No sex, no release…for him. The pussy licking sessions grew longer, and the foot suckling became more intense, but the pressure never let up. The Hitachi Magic Wand buzzed away in the quiet of the night as he held her while her body shook with pleasure, and he grew confused and unsure.
They had done loads of sexy talk over the years, playful smack talk where she would push his buttons and he would lap it up. It would invariably follow at some point with hot kink-fueled sex and they would end the week mutually satisfied. It was perfect and predictable. She liked being fucked, and he liked fucking. But, their life hadn’t remained predictable. What had changed was that over the last couple of years, she’d become a cuckoldress and fucked other men and had then naturally gravitated to sampling a few well-endowed Black men. The tipping point he suspected was the BBC-themed weekend they’d attended a few months earlier.
She’d been pushed to her physical limits sexually by those men and ever since she hadn’t seemed to respond as enthusiastically to him in bed. She loved him, he had no doubt, but he knew her and could sense that for her, having sex with him was no longer the same. It was passionate, it was loving, it was hot but yet there was something it was no longer. It wasn’t some cruel game she was playing, it wasn’t something either of them had actively sought out, but it was there. She no longer found his cock as sexually exciting as the cocks of the other men she was fucking.
One day they had been walking hand in hand along the forest trail on their property, the dog bounding happily out ahead of them, and he’d welcomed the stroll for the normalcy and predictability it represented. He’d looked sideways at her with a playful smile on his face. “It’s been a long time baby, for sure you’ll need my cock tonight.” He’d nodded smugly to himself. “I know my girl, and I know what she needs.”
She’d laughed out loud. It had come out in a rush, unscripted and cruel in its biting assessment of what he’d said. She’d composed herself. “Baby, you tell yourself whatever you like, but you’re pussy free now.”
The following weekend had not brought any relief and he had been unsure about bringing it up. He hadn’t had to though, she’d not so casually reminded him of his new status all weekend long. Whatever game she was playing at was working. He no longer felt sure about anything.
Then it came to a head.
Another weekend arrived, and while they were again out walking she brought up how good things were between them, and how happy she was. He nodded, not daring to direct the conversation lest he jinx it. She looked reflective. “Sure, we play at little things like keeping you pussy free, but we’re not following a script. At the end of the day, we’re just going with how we feel. What ‘will be’ and all that.”
His dick turtled inside its cage at that, but he put on a brave face. “He-he. Sure babe. You tell yourself that and me and my big cock will see you tonight.”
He knew he was setting himself up for it but he had to push back against her casual disregard for what they were doing and the effect it was having on him. She might not appreciate how long it had been since he’d had an erection, let alone had sex, but he sure did.
Sure enough, she didn’t let it go by. “You mean, your little penis in its cage will see me tonight.”
She laughed, and he laughed along with her and a moment later, as the autumn leaves slipped and slid lackadaisically down on the afternoon sun’s rays, falling all around her, she kissed him. And he kissed her back with everything he had, madly in love like the day they’d met and for a moment forgetting the game she was playing with him.
The day flew by and the night along with it and he felt good. They were in tune and her playful eyes told him without words that she was ready. She was ready to get fucked. Enough was enough. So when they went to bed and she told him to ‘go get the key’ his heart soared and his cock jumped in its cage. This was it, finally!
He had loved every second of every night he had been able to press his caged cock into the crack of her ass, the heat promising untold delights just beyond the unyielding bars of steel. After all a guy took what pleasure he could, however he could. This though, as he tossed the cage onto the floor and slipped under the covers, eagerly pressing his rapidly hardening cock against her ass, was different. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the sensations of her soft skin against the head of his cock, her heat radiating into it, her pheromones drifting into his soul. This was…heaven.
He slid his hand over her hip and down between her legs, feathering her pussy lips with his fingertips. Butterfly kisses lovingly delivered, regardless of what part of him served to pleasure her. Those other men could be brutes, as she so desired on a primal level. He however knew his place, and that was to be loving and gentle and reverent of her femininity, and not try to be something she didn’t think he was. She wanted them one way and him another. That was just fine by him, and even more so tonight now that he was finally unlocked.
She reached back and palmed his cock, her fingers loosely feathering his balls as the rest of her hand whispered around his shaft. He thrust into her palm, giddy with excitement at being free, at being hard, at feeling her with his cock.
Her thighs opened to allow his searching fingers access and they quickly found the slick folds of her pussy, wet and ready. He slipped one finger inside her, then another, then as he pressed into her with a third he thrust again into her hand, but to no avail. The harder he tried to press his cock against her palm, the further away it would retreat, leaving him with nothing but the illusion of her touch.
Frustrated, he abandoned playing with her pussy and he climbed on top of her, trying to get his legs in between hers. She went still.
“What are you doing?”
He looked down at her freshly shaven mound, the dim light gliding over its satiny smooth surface in a proclamation of the wonders just beyond the folds of flesh it was highlighting. He knew what she was asking the moment she asked it but he didn’t want to give it credence. It couldn’t be. She had been messing around all these weeks, it had been just another smack-talk game. He’d been sure of it… until now, until the steel in her voice stopped him in his tracks and shriveled his manhood that had only just recently dared to get erect. He dragged his starving eyes away from her taunting lips and met her gaze, her eyes burning with mischievous heat.
“That…is not for you. I told you. You’re pussy free now.” Her eyes held his in an iron grip that dared him to contradict her as she gave him in spades what he’d long fantasized about. The room was silent but for the soft pop and crackle of the flames merrily burning in the living room fireplace outside their bedroom. Time slowed as he processed the implications of the moment. Her pussy was literally right fucking there and despite unlocking him from his cage to allow him a perfectly usable erection, he was not allowed to put his…penis, inside her.
If he dared accept the reality she was presenting him, he would live his greatest fear and his greatest fantasy. She had other men to please her in ways he truly could not, and she would enjoy denying him more than she would fucking him.
The choice was made for him when she broke the moment and pushed him off her, dismissing him as she reached for The Wand. “Hold me.”
His balls tightened and a chill went through him. She had never intended to give him a choice, she had merely wanted him to take a moment and fully recognize his new reality. He held her close and desperately humped the crack of her ass while her body racked with orgasm after Hitachi delivered orgasm, knowing the clock was rapidly running out. And then it was over. She lay panting as he kissed the back of her neck and struggled to not be an animal, to no longer grind his as yet unsatisfied cock and blue balls against her.
He had so much he wanted to say, to talk about, to understand, but what he wanted was irrelevant. His body was screaming for relief as her breathing slowed and she slipped into a deep satisfied sleep. She wiggled her ass into him as she adjusted herself fully into the spoon, blissful in her contentment even as she drove him mad with desire.
He took slow steady breaths, willing his cock to settle down, willing it to understand that tonight, nor perhaps any night in the near future, would be for appeasing its needs. He felt a peace wash over him as he thought about the pleasure they’d shared, at the pleasure through his denial he had given her. He felt a blossoming gratitude for her allowing him the opportunity to suffer for her in ways he’d only thought he would ever fantasize about. She may be playing a game, or she may not. Only she would know for how long this would go on. He had so much as asked for this and she, in her love for him and the amazing life they were living, and whether he liked the reality of it or not, was giving it to him in spades.
Ready or not, and for as long she wished, it would seem he was now pussy free.
Authors note: This is not an erotic tale, though it was a very erotic experience for me. It is merely a recounting of a moment in time that celebrates the wondrous complexity and never-ending ability of the women we love, to amaze us.
~~~~~
It’s been a while since we’ve been able to get away for a night of play, and so when She suggested we go to ‘The Club’ last night I was all in! I mean, who doesn’t like a little naughty Thursday before a Good Friday?
I was wearing my extra small chastity cage because I enjoy the very intense reminder that on nights like this, my cock is not that which will bring the love of my life and my best friend, her pleasure. The shiny steel dome encapsulating my manhood and thus my psyche, a welcome companion as I eagerly place all of my focus upon Her.
I watched her slip into that short skirt, listening to the leather whispering promises of unadulterated pleasure as it assured her that all eyes would be drawn to her that night. That those virile men would be no more able to resist her allure than they could the air they breathe, and myself would be amongst them. The corset followed, the soft satin belying the strength of the boning hidden within, accentuating her in all the right ways, pushing her breasts together and presenting them in all their magnificent splendor. And all the while, the silver key sparkled in the light, nestled between them, proudly proclaiming my chaste devotion to Her.
She was stunning, and as her tiny fingers wrapped around my arm as we walked together into the club, I felt my heart quicken in anticipation and swell with pride at being her cuckold.
The DJ kept the beat thumping, the dance floor was packed, and sure enough, the men were drawn to her. One after another would watch her move as she danced and ground herself into me, teasing my cock with what it would be denied that night. One after another would make their way over, and do their thing, moving their bodies with a rhythm only Black men possess. Yes, Black men, for it would seem on a primal level all others knew they would be turned away. And one after another, she would acknowledge them with a smile, and then turn her attention back to me.
After a time we found ourselves in the playroom, where an attractive blonde woman was suspended in the air, her partner artfully adjusting the Shibari ropes while the room looked on. There were three St. Andrews Cross’ whose bases formed a circle and were leaned over on a slight angle fastened together at the top, and all three were occupied. As per the house rules we had removed our clothes and wore only towels and I adjusted mine as we sat/leaned against a padded knee wall to watch.
The sound of leather floggers and wooden paddles striking flesh, followed by muted gasps and moans flowed over us as we took in the sight.
“Are you worried someone will see your cage?” She asked me.
I nodded, feeling my cheeks redden at the thought, as ridiculous as that may seem since we were at a sex club after all.
She ran her hand lightly up the inside of my thigh making my dick twitch, and her fingers snuck under the towel to press against the steel. Her eyes lit up mischievously. “I wonder how it would look with you strapped to that cross…”
I shook my head. “I do too, but baby there’s no way I’m ready for that!”
She simply giggled at my discomfort and we returned our attention to the young lady in front of us as her ass grew increasingly red from the flogger in her boyfriend’s hand. Then we watched as another young lady pushed him up in between two of the crosses so he was beside his girl, yanked his towel off, and proceed to whip them both. It was fucking hot, and as I looked around at the crowd mingling and chatting but all watching as were we, the kinky energy in the room was undeniable.
We then strolled through the next room, watching couples, several three and foursomes, and one very busy gang bang and I turned to her. “Don’t you want someone to play with?”
Looking around the room, she slowly shook her head and then gave me her smile. The one that tells me she’s feeling it. “No baby, tonight I want you.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “But you were the one who suggested we come tonight?”
“I know”—she stepped in close, draped her arms over my shoulders, and looked up into my eyes—”but a girl can always change her mind, and tonight I want to play with you. Let’s go back to the hotel.” She brought her lips to my ears, her breath warm and moist on my skin. “I’m not unlocking you by the way.” Stepping back, she pursed her lips in that wicked grin that so utterly captivated me the first time I met her. Oh yeah, she was feeling it!
We went back to the room and it was… mind-blowing, but I won’t mention everything we did. Hey, a guy has to have some secrets right? I won’t mention her standing over me in the tub wearing that leather skirt and giving me a golden shower, or that there may have been a very large dildo used later and that I’ve got a delightfully tender ass today. And I won’t mention her spooning me and whispering in my ear to ‘cum baby, cum for me’ as she pressed her fingers on top of mine, guiding me as together we pressed on the cage while she made my prostate sing…
~~~~~~
It was a late night, we didn’t sleep well because the hotel bed was shit, and when we got home today we went straight to bed. I cuddled up to this amazing woman I am so unbelievably fortunate to be able to share my life with and pressed my cage against her, the heat of her body seeping through the steel and into my cock.
For me, a cage cum is similar to a ruined orgasm, and as such, I was still running as hot as I was last night, and the night before that (I’ve been locked for a while). My body thrummed with desire even as feeling her body next to mine soothed me. I kissed her neck and ran my hands gently up and down her side, feeling her relax as sleep beckoned her into its peaceful embrace.
I thought about how I was a fifty-year-old man, had been married for 24 years and been with her forever, and yet here I lay running hotter for her now, than the day we met. I considered all the kinky fun times like last night, and all the incredible moments we shared as she found pleasure in another mans arms. I felt like the luckiest man alive. My absolute faith in her love for me and my love and devotion to her, our trust in each other, it was all possible because she had taken my hand and allowed me to walk this path in life with her.
I couldn’t help myself, I had to tell her how I felt even if she had already drifted off. “You’re my everything baby.”
I guess she hadn’t quite gone over yet because she answered in a sleepy whisper and shifted her ass so it pressed harder against me. “And you’re mine.”
The squirting orgasm, much sought after by many men (and until last night, myself included) as the ultimate demonstration of a woman’s pleasure. What it is though? According to WebMD, What Is a Squirting Orgasm: Squirting refers to fluid expelled from the vagina during orgasm. Not all people with vaginas squirt during orgasm, and those who do may only squirt some of the time.
Now that I have the definition out of the way, lets talk about what it means for me. I’ve witnessed it on an adult themed booze cruise in front of a crowd, I’ve tasted it’s salty sweetness on my tongue at the Fuckfest swingers party we went to the other year, and it is spectacular and a natural wonder to be celebrated. What it is not, is something I have ever been able to elicit from Her, in the many years I’ve loved her and whose sun I circle, and the one who for me, makes every moment worth living with her like there was no tomorrow.
And so last night at ‘the club’ when that beautiful black man lay with my lady, and within 4 seconds (yes I said 4 seconds) of fingering her, elicited a sopping wet sound the like of which generally occurs after hot ‘n heavy fucking (which they did later), I was surprised, and I was then immediately impressed that she was so ready. After all we had literally just met the guy. Then mere moments later when he started to slap his palm against her sopping lips and droplets of Her splattered over my face where I sat up by her head I realized she wasn’t just ready for sex, she had squirted.
She had squirted, in seconds under the ministrations of another, where in all my years of trying to be the best lover I could be, had never even come remotely close. Like, it wasn’t on the table, we weren’t thinking about, it just wasn’t something she was inclined to do. It was something other women did, but surely after all this time with me and all I could do for her, it just wasn’t something for Her. But it then suddenly it was, but not with me.
So yeah, that was a bucket of cold water on my poor little fragile cuck ego. I knew I was being a fool, just wasn’t sure exactly how but I knew it, and so I compartmentalized it. Hey kudos to all the previous train wrecks, I’ve learned to keep my shit cool until I can reflect on it later. So I was able to bring myself back up to maybe 90% of where I was only moments earlier, but I felt it churning in my gut, eating at me. However, I was able to ignore it. I watched this skilful lover pound his cock into her and take her away on a journey that only a strange and new man can, and I loved it. I loved it because the first huge cuck hurdle for me was embracing that I could never take her where these men can and do. I don’t need to go about that, if you’re a cuck you know what I mean.
I watched him manoeuvre her and thought, nice move dude, or, Oh, she’s really liking that! She held my gaze as she moaned with pleasure, and gripped my hand tightly when she couldn’t moan any more. It was a spectacular fucking, and I loved it, and so did she. My gut however, wouldn’t stop telling me I had a big problem brewing and I was going to have to face it.
I had every intention of going back to the room and giving her butterfly kisses as she drifted off into a contented sleep, for she had already told me her body was tired and sore and she didn’t think she was going to unlock me. I loved that btw, and she knew it. She knew the cage was ruthlessly denying me already, and her decision would only heighten the angst and bring me a mental fucking equal to what she’d just enjoyed herself in the physical.
However, she innocently asked how my night had been. The dam broke and I told her how poorly I felt about myself as a lover. As I spoke, the repressed feelings burst forth and I said I felt like I couldn’t go on in this lifestyle, that my ego couldn’t take it. “I have a hand!” I proclaimed, twisting it and wriggling my fingers in the air in front of me for her to see. “His looked no different, why was he able to give you that which I never could?!”
I talked of how I had come to embrace that other men had different cocks than mine, and abilities I either didn’t have or were just different than mine. I embrace it because while she has experienced the prowess of a true sexual Olympian, a lot of her escapades have been amazing simply because they were different. I’m good with that. Hey, there’s always someone better. Writing, singing, fighting, fucking…it’s just how it is and I’m soooo OK with that.
This was different. My hand was similar to his, what I could see him doing looked no different than anything I’d ever done or seen done, yet he’d brought her to a place I nor any other ever had, and thus foolishly thought I was safe from facing the truth of life in regards to this one thing. A thing that had meant nothing to me before, that wasn’t even on my radar, until it was in my face (literally). In the end, I had to accept that there really is always someone better, in ALL things.
I never once spoke loudly last night, I’ve long ago learned to keep my emotions in check when talking about lifestyle feelings, but I spoke honestly and she listened and comforted me like the amazing person she always is. We ordered late night pizza (it was so damn good), drank some beer and went to bed holding each other.
In the morning the angst had passed. I regretted saying anything at all now that I could see clearly, but I had. She was glad I shared my feelings because she was then able to help me work through them. We talked about it on the way home, and how this was just one of many more hurdles to come. There will be always be more. We are too inexperienced and naive to predict what they will be, but this lifestyle has taught us that they will come. The trick is to navigate them together, and always remember how much that amazing person loves you that has joined you on this journey unlike any other.
And to acknowledge just how much, regardless of my struggle, I really enjoyed watching that beautiful black man work his magic on my girl.
When I’m away without her for instance? Yes, of course. That hasn’t changed in all the years we’ve been together. What did change for me is how much I miss her in my daily life, after choosing chastity.
Choosing chastity, what, wait? How can that be a choice? Isn’t it supposed to be ‘forced’ on you by a dominant and cruel lover intent on enslaving you, and in some cases foregoing your locked dick in pursuit of new exciting ones? Yeah, well if you believe that, you can go back to wanking to chastity/cuckold porn and read no further.
The reality is, that chastity is a choice. It is a choice by you to fully and completely commit to the one you love in ways you cannot imagine before you close that lock. It is a choice by her to accept your commitment to her and all it entails, for you each must find your way in this for it to be both healthy and beneficial to your relationship.
The years-long journey to where we are today is a story unto itself and not for this short post, but I will say that choosing chastity forever changed my life and my relationship with the most important person in it, for the better.
That’s all fine and good, and you’ll read all of the above a thousand different ways from a thousand guys like me. However, if there is one aspect that I found to be most serendipitous, it would be the unrelenting desire to be with her, from the moment I leave her, every single time I do.
It’s not that I ever lost the excitement of seeing her at the end of every workday, or the desire to spend my free time with her. After all, loving and cherishing her has absolutely zero to do with chastity. What did change over time was those early days ‘firsts’. You know them, and they are intoxicating, and in all long-term relationships, they become elusive. That electric first touch as you hold hands, that quickening of your pulse as your eyes meet across a crowded room, the heat that sears your soul as she does nothing more than kiss your cheek.
It has no reflection on the love that is shared, it is simply human nature. It is why couples buy sex toys, and costumes for the bedroom, why they watch porn together (or alone), and why they often don’t feel ‘in the mood’. It just is. Chastity though, changed all of that for me.
At first, and for selfish reasons, I could think of little beyond when the cage would next come off, and when I could have sexual release and think straight once again. Though we were having more sex than ever before, as time went on we reached a point where I was no longer allowed ‘free play’. I experienced a profound acceptance that I no longer had control over my most basic of manly functions, and my thinking changed. Once I could see past my immediate selfish desires, I instead found greater pleasure in appreciating what was there all along. Her.
The ache in my loins never ceased, but being denied sexual release has forced my entire being to seek pleasure elsewhere. In the little things, in all that I once took for granted, and they all feel like ‘firsts’ every time. The once assumed touch of her hand, now sears my flesh in wanton response. Catching her eye across the room, both of us knowing I am thinking only of her, brings me joy and excites me because she accepts it and me. Where my response though heartfelt was automatic, my spine now melts as her warm moist breath whispers those three magic words ‘I love you’ in my ear.
I wait all day to come home and inhale her scent as I press my lips to the back of her neck as I say hello, and her presence completes me. I lightly touch her waist, her arm, kiss her cheek as I go by, for no reason other than showing her how much I love her, and her enjoying that completes me. I wait all evening for the moment we go to bed and I can press myself against her hot naked ass and feel the heat of her flesh burning into my caged need as we spoon, and though most nights it will not lead to anything more, she nonetheless completes me. I long for the weekend and lazy mornings with my face between her legs and rubbing lotion on her feet as she relaxes, and holding her trembling body as the Hitachi works its ‘magic’. I long for the still of the night, listening to her quiet breathing and feeling the gentle beating of her heart as I hold her tight and swear to all that is right and just in the world that I will never, ever, let her go or take one moment with her for granted again. In all things Her, she completes me.
Is it angst when I am actually looking forward to the cuckolding experience? This is unique to the individual for sure, but I myself would have to say yes. However, for me (now) it doesn’t hold any negative connotation. For me, there are many aspects of the experience that reverberate the very strings of my soul as it unfolds each time. In the beginning it was a brutal cacophony of discordant emotions as harsh reality slammed mercilessly into the foggy haze of something long anticipated but in my naivety not yet understood. The resulting and unexpected awakening of the ugly beast that lurks within us all, known as jealous insecurity, almost derailed our foray into the lifestyle before it had barely begun. I wanted him to kiss her, I was angry that she kissed him back. I wanted him to fuck her, I was hurt that she enjoyed it so much when he did. I wanted him to take her away to somewhere she’d never been, I was crushed when I was left behind (if only for moments at a time)
Luckily for me, I have been blessed with an amazing woman to share this journey with. With her patient love and understanding the music changed. The harsh sounds were muted. The chaos was tamed. The thuggish paws of jealousy twanging like a simpleton on those strings morphed into dexterous digits delicately plucking each note in glorious syncopation with the rhythm of lust we both yearned to dance to. The angst remains but now it is a beautiful thing. When he kisses her, I want her to kiss him back like he’s never been kissed before. When he fucks her, I yearn for her to let herself go and make primal noises that I could never elicit from her. When he takes her away, I smile with joy, wishing her bon voyage on her trip around the world.
I crave the angst but now savor it like a fine wine, whereas I once gulped it down like a drunkard does cheap ale, oblivious to all the delightful undertones that are there waiting to be explored. For me the angst is like Her finger nails lightly brushing over my naked skin, sending delicious shivers down my back. Those finger nails could draw blood, could exact pain but instead they deliver pleasure. I have learned to trust, to close my eyes and let go, and know that She will never hurt me and in doing so, let the music carry me away.
Angst can mean many things, but in the hands of a skillful cuckoldress, it is an elixir of love.
“Why do you kneel and rub her feet?” The man’s muscles rippled beneath his skin tight shirt and casual diner jacket, the disapproval evident on his not unattractive chiseled face. The dance music pounded a relentless beat as the lights of ‘The Club’ flickered around and over us.
I could see the movement of others fucking all around me, but didn’t focus on that. I focused on Her. It was all about Her.
“Because it brings Her pleasure.” I took a brief moment to look at him, to make my point clear. I was nobodies slave, yet I was, in truth, Hers, albeit willingly. He shrugged and walked away.
She looked at me. “Yep.” Returning her gaze, but with even more apathy, “Yep.”
I once again gazed lovingly upon her soles and nibbled on her toes in a moment of joyful weakness. Giggling, she gently slapped her hand over the top of my head, pillowing her fingers into my hair and then gripped my head tight, pulling my face upwards between her legs. “Fuck talking about it, show me you know what I need…”
I crashed hard overnight.
“What could this guy possibly be going on about?” you say with incredulous exasperation.
“He’s locked down hard, he’s cuckolded, he gets fucking corner time for cryin’ out loud. What’s the problem?!”
You know, it doesn’t really matter, what matters is how my amazing ‘S’ handled it, and me.
And this is what separates the wannabes from the masters of the art of the human dynamic.
She gave me space, then she knew, she knew when to move in. The physical touch, the mental caress of her voice, the surety of her love for me and all that is US.
When we were done, the things said and the tears shed, the intimacy rejoiced and the spent satisfaction afterwards, I was left breathless.
Not in exhaustion, though it had been physically demanding, no it was in wonder, pure friggin’ wonder at this woman who knows me more than I know myself, and who time and again shows me what true love is.
The lifestyle has much to offer, and I’ve never felt more alive, but it can never be ‘Set It And Forget It’.
You’re living on the edge is some ways, and it’s exhilarating beyond belief, and I’ve no regrets, but it’s intense at times. Only a skillful woman can successfully help her man be all that he can be for Her.
Those that know me as BR Saiph are aware that I live a life of a locked cuckold to my very controlling (and a little dominant) amazing and beautiful wife @MrsBr_Saiph.
Perhaps you’ve read one of my books, or my posts, or followed my journey on chastitymansion.com. Regardless, it may come as a surprise to you and even a disappointment if you’ve vicariously enjoyed my tales, that two months ago it all came to a hard (no pun) stop.
For the last two months I’ve been unlocked, non-dominated, uncontrolled, felt no submissive urges, been very alpha, and sexually independent with my own orgasms (with my hand and with my darling wife). So in other words, pretty much lived a vanilla life.
Why, you exclaim in horror, would you do this when you yourself sought this lifestyle for so long?
Truth is, being a cuckold is at times fraught with challenges, both personal and in the relationship dynamic. In my case, I went off the rails suddenly and with no warning and crashed into a wall of insecurity and resulting self-pity. My darling S. had done nothing wrong, we weren’t even actively engaging with a bull (thanks pandemic). Ask any cuckold, that’s just how it goes. One day you’re good, one day you crash hard.
Long story short, my cuckoldress stopped all kink and propelled us into vanilla. She picked me up, and made me whole again in both mind and spirit. A healthy cuckolding relationship means you always come first for each other. Did I mention how much I love this woman?
As that unfolded, I almost lost her in a head on collision with a drunk driving mother fucking ass wipe. Guess how I feel about shit heads who drink and drive? Anyway, back to sexy talk!
A long month of recovery for her and things were starting to look more normal in so many way and then we received an invitation from a bull she’d been chatting with, to something called a fuckfest. Maybe I’ll post about that someday with all the incredible details. Point being, my incredible cuckoldress wanted to gift me a full hall pass this one night. It was part of the ‘building me back up’ process. Did I mention how much I love this woman?
Long story short, it was the icing on the cake and I was indeed a new man the next day. It was unimaginably difficult for her to watch me with another. She is not a cuck remember? She is a cuckoldress. She never wanted to swing, never wanted to see me with another, and only entered the lifestyle because we agreed she would play with others, not me. However, her love and concern for my fragile male ego made her overcome her pain and give me this gift of sexual liberty for one incredible night of debauchery.
That is selfless love, and I will be forever grateful and forever aware of the sacrifice she made for me.
Of course, nothing is free my friends and when the party is over, the party is over. So it was with her usual cold calculating no-nonsense tone that she announced to me yesterday that my freedom was over. She had decided I needed to be locked up and put back down into my place because the shenanigans had gone on long enough.
“You’re all better. This is for the best. You’ll see.” she said. It wasn’t a question.
So last night the cage went back on, and the panic set it instantly. Isn’t it funny how the mind and body can forget so quickly what the soul knows intimately.
“The ring is too tight, I can’t get my balls into that!”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Baby, this cage is too small, my cock has re-grown too much!”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Can’t we wait until the weekend?”
“Don’t make me say it again.”
And so, my life as a red-blooded, orgy-fucking, do what I want with my own cock independent thinking man came to an end.
Today, the panic is even more intense. I think about how I can’t get an erection or grasp that erection tightly in my fist simply because I want to. I must now ask for Her permission. She will decide when or even if I am allowed any physical pleasure with Her cock. PIV will again be a treasured reward, and orgasms even rarer.
After 28 years of happy faithful monogamy, I was granted a taste of the sexual freedom that she so readily enjoys whenever she wants, and now I must accept that it was only that, a taste. Sexual freedom is not for me, I am Her submissive, I am Her cuck, and I must again submit to Her will and control over my body and in many ways my mind.
I no longer have the control over my own most prized possession that I had just a mere day ago and now have lost.
Again I will look at women and wonder what would they think of me if they knew I had allowed my cock to be locked in a cage.
Again I must sit to pee, every time.
Again I must look down at my crotch and wonder what it feels like to have an erection simply because I want to.
I sought this lifestyle desperately for years. I asked for this, even so much as begged for it in so many ways. I yearn for it when not locked and indeed despite my complaints, the cage felt like an old friend once it was back on.
My body rails against the steel injustice it must now submit to.
My mind struggles with panicked thoughts of loss of free will, for you cannot fight the might of the key in a skillful woman’s hand.
The fear is real, the panic is real, the desire to be free again, just for a day, is real.
Yet, my soul is content. My heart is bursting with love. I know this is but a regular part of the roller coaster of being locked up after a period of release. I’ve been through it countless times. I must hold my breath and hang on, for it will pass.
The serenity will wash over me as I slip peacefully down the rabbit hole of submission my beautiful and incredible darling S. will guide me into with her deliciously naughty and skillful mind, and all will be right in my world.
All will be as it should be as I kneel before my goddess, my key holder and cuckoldress, and walk beside my lover and my best friend, my wife.
The panic is real, but don’t fear it. Embrace it, cherish it for all the kinky wonder that it represents, and thank the stars you have been blessed with a woman that is willing to live this life with you in a way that fulfills and brings joy to you both.
I’m living the life I’ve always dreamed of, and that my soul has yearned for. I’m where I belong and am blessed to be.
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.
B.R.Saiph 