Wednesday night was vibrator night. Mrs. Lion and the Magic Wand did somewith me. After a fairly long run up and let down, I lost interest in more action. I guess I was vibed out. My sexual interest is fairly low even though it’s been six days. Maybe my “grumblies” have returned. Yesterday was a day I just wanted to go back to bed and pull the covers over my head. I haven’t been sleeping very well and that does little to improve my mood.
I was thinking about all this on my way to work yesterday. It occured to me that if I wasn’t wearing a chastity device, I could just push sexual things into the background and wallow in my feeling down. OK, I know it’s true that I could do that even wearing the device. Or is it? While it’s perfectly comfortable, I am always aware it’s there. But I don’t think about how my life would be without it. It’s not making things worse for me. At moments like that I am not thinking about sex. A cage locked around my penis isn’t really relevant. Or is it?
You see, that cage makes me different from most other men. That, in itself, isn’t troubling. My life has been far from the norm forever. But I start thinking about what the cage means that influences my self image. Let me explain. Wearing a chastity device is a symbol that my keyholder, Mrs. Lion controls my sexuality. It’s impossible to pretend that the cage is there just because it turns me on to be locked up. That reason would have worked a year ago, but not now. Mrs. Lion has made it clear that I don’t get to decide if it ever comes off. She would need a good reason to unlock me, even for a short period of time.
My self image is that I am an independent, dominant man. I’m pretty sure that Mrs. Lion would agree with that description. So what am I doing with a cage on my penis? Why have I agreed — no, asked — my lioness to take control and use domestic discipline to keep me on a short leash? Am I weak? Am I kidding myself believing that I am independent and dominant?
That could be evidence that my self image needs revision. Actually, I don’t think so. Take my namesake, Lion. Lions are independent, strong, and rule the pride. At least that’s how it looks. In reality, the lion doesn’t decide who can join or leave the pride. The lionesses do that. They do defer to him and let him have first shot at the kill, but each one decides if she wants him near her. He’s lioness-pecked, so to speak. To the outside world he is a fearsome foe. At home he better watch his step.
I think that’s what my life is like now. Outside of the den I am dominant and can be a little scary. But at home, I don’t get to be that way at all. Even a soft growl can get me spanked. What’s more significant is that not only do I like it this way, I asked for it. In those low moments I realize that I am not only the author of all this, I am it’s biggest cheerleader. I need things to be the way they are now.
But I’m not submissive. I realize that. Like my namesake, I need consistent training and reminding to avoid reverting to my wild self at home. The stronger my lioness is, the better I feel. Lions can be trained, but not tamed.