"And now I'm going to masturbate": How permanent chastity has changed our FLR

"And now I'm going to masturbate."

"There's no key," says Xena, "you don't get any choice. And now I'm going to masturbate. Go kneel in the corner."

I do as I'm told and kneel there, hard inside my permanent Custom Saint.

Moments earlier, I'd said,"You know how you never quite know what to say to get the effect you want. I've finally nailed it."

I was rubbing her feet at the time and she was in a particularly good mood. "Go on," she said.

"Chastity is like a rubber wristband. When you twist it a little to tighten it, it's comforting.  So don't talk about releasing me - that makes me feel insecure - talk about how it means you own me, how I have no choice in the matter."

"OK..."

"And when you ping it, it suddenly becomes scary and exciting. Tell me how long you'll keep me locked, mock me about not being able to orgasm."

"So twisting the band..." said Xena. "You're my slave, you're sealed in. There's no key. I prefer you this way and you don't have any choice in the matter."

My penis hardened in its permanent chastity device. At the same time, I felt pleasantly owned.

"And tweaking the band..." said Xena. "You don't get to orgasm for at least a year. I might not ever let you out."

My my poor penis was trying to erect itself, straining and straining against the surgical nylon.

"How was that?" said Xena, sweetly.

I made a hopeless whimpering sound.

And now I'm kneeling in the corner while she plays with herself. I'm well into middle age, but there's something... sacred about being in the room with a masturbating woman.

"How do you feel... slave?" asks Xena.

"Turned on... scared."

"Scared?"

"I can't masturbate. Everything you do is going to rattle around inside my brain for weeks."

"Really?" she says, eyes twinkling. "Put your head under the covers and watch."

So I scramble over and duck my head under the duvet.

There it is, between soft thighs: her pussy, lips bulging and quivering in time to her blurring finger.

"How do you feel now slave?"

"How do you feel now, slave?" she asks.

"Lost..."

"You may put a finger inside... carefully."

So I stretch up between her thighs and hook a finger inside her slippery tunnel. The muscles immediately clamp and writhe around me, setting off sympathetic spasms in my caged cock.

Two weeks earlier, I was also rubbing her feet...

I'd just checked the parcel website. "Looks like the new device will arrive soon. Do you want to make a ceremony of sealing it?"

"No," she said, quite genuinely, without  a hint of tease. "Why should I?"

"Why should I?"

 

"But it's a big change," I said.

"But I already keep you locked. I don't see the difference."

"Well, it's a big difference for me. I can't even ask to be released." I sigh. "I mean, for you it's at least less emotional labour."

"OK," she said. "It's a slight difference for me."

Now I felt weird. I don't like the meta thing of begging to be treated badly. "But you do want me to install it, don't you? I'm not doing this to myself!"

"Yes," she said. "When it arrives I want you to put it on as soon as possible. I just don't want to be involved."

I puzzled over this as she flipped over so I could rub her calves. "Oh," I say. I'm the word person in the relationship. It's my job to articulate things. "It's like I'm having the coil fitted. It matters to you that I'm sealed, but the process isn't interesting. If I could go off to a centre and have a laser piercing and come back with a permanent cage fitted, that would be cool too."

Like having a coil fitted.

"Exactly," said Xena.

A few days later, the device did arrive. I cleaned it, dyed it, cleaned it again. Finally I snapped in the seal and just lay on the floor, not remotely turned on, but very, very comfortable. I felt... completed.

And here I am ten days later, head under the covers watching Xena masturbate while her glorious vagina ripples around my finger.

Being sealed does make a difference. I don't even have the theoretical option to just take the thing off. I don't have to balance the urge to plead for release with the deeper fear of Xena casually caving; she can't just remove the thing either, and the prospect of fuss and inconvenience, not to mention the limited supply of expensive seals, would shift her into the kind of headspace where she would say no.

End result, hopeless lust is inescapable and my only source of sexual pleasure. That thought itself is a turn on, so I spend the next quarter of an hour forlornly wavering so near but so far from ejaculating while Xena enjoys her own orgasm at my expense.

"Enough," she says. Her face is flushed all the way down to her cleavage. "Kneel on the floor."

And I do.

The same thing happens the next night. 

And the weekend after that. We were having a bit of a dry patch thanks to lockdown and middle age stuff... this isn't a dry patch any more.

There's definitely an aphrodisiac effect.

Xena is more casually dominant than ever before.

The relationship and mental effect is harder to pin down, since we were already almost 8 years into an FLR.

I swear Xena is more casually dominant than before. She just assumes she's in charge. If I argue with her, she's surprised then irritated. There's no sense of trading chores for kink; I get a genuine telling off when I don't deliver.

Meanwhile, I feel different. I was always intensely submissive, but now I just am submissive, if that makes any sense? How I see myself in the spectrum of masculinity has also changed, but I can't quit pin that down.

Some of this is amplified by the shear wearability of the device. For example, I can sleep on my side with my legs closed around my genitals just as if I wasn't locked. That creates a sense of normality about having a cage locked around my genitals, yes, similar to a woman having a coil installed except that the coil prevents conception, and the chastity cage prevents erection and ejaculation.

---

CLICK HERE to download my Femdom Erotica (all written while chaste!)

(For ebook format, 

Lulu or iTunes.)