After a while, you can get used to almost anything. Wearing a male chastity device, particularly a very comfortable one like my Cherry Keeper, disappears from my conscious mind almost as soon as Mrs. Lion locks it on. I only think about it when I need to go to the bathroom. It provides a few challenges there. Even though I’m working from home and therefore, naked, I don’t find myself looking down to see if it’s still there.
In one sense, it means that enforced male chastity, including hardware, is fully integrated into my being. It’s a perfectly normal part of me. If I get horny whether I’m wearing a device or not, I recognize that I don’t have any options to scratch that itch. That means that the presence of a device containing my penis has no impact.
In a way that’s too bad. Part of the fun of wearing a male chastity device is feeling the physical restraint preventing any sexual expression involving my penis. It was fun to feel the cage pressing on my nascent tumescence. That doesn’t seem to happen anymore. For me, enforced male chastity has lost its new-car shine and smell. It’s turned into reliable control of my sexuality.
In the beginning, that was our goal. We’ve managed to reach it. I’m not unique; a lot of guys who do this for more than several months also get to this point. I’m not putting it down. It represents a kind of optimum sexual state. With or without hardware, my ability to experience arousal and orgasm are 100% under the control of Mrs. Lion. That’s not a gift. I don’t think I could take it back even if I wanted to. It’s just the way I am now.
When Mrs. Lion wrote in her post on Wednesday that she expected me to remind her to lock me up in my chastity device, I made a mental note. On Wednesday night when it was time for her to help me get my eyedrops administered, I quietly put on the Cherry Keeper base ring. When she came over to put in the first drops, I pointed out that I was ready for the cage. With no further comment, she locked me in.
Later in the evening, I asked her if she even noticed that I am wearing a male chastity device. I wondered if it had become so much a part of me that she stopped seeing it. Her answer was somewhat ambiguous. She said,
“The white Cherry Keeper is more visible than the (stainless steel) Jail Bird.”
That didn’t really answer my question. I wasn’t being clear enough. Actually I had two questions in mind: The first was if she is consciously aware of my exposed genitals. I am always naked when we are alone. Has she stopped seeing this most obvious sign of my gender? Second, is she consciously aware of the device she locked around my penis?
If something is in plain sight all the time, does it become invisible? Since I am always naked, are my genitals no longer noticed background noise? Obviously, I don’t expect her to be constantly surprised and delighted when she sees them. That’s silly. Is she sufficiently aware that she consciously notes when she has a device locked on me?
It doesn’t really matter, of course. I just wonder if she too has become blasé about my enforced male chastity. It isn’t a bad thing if she is. It’s a little odd if we both feel that way. After all, each of us writes a blog post about this almost every day. I just wonder if we haven’t abstracted our knowledge and interest in enforced male chastity so that our own physical reality isn’t really part of the picture.
It’s a little like being a teacher. Maybe we’re teaching cooking. We spend a lot of time thinking about the best way to help our students learn to be excellent cooks. When we go home, we make good meals but don’t think much about how we did it. There’s no question that our years of experience living with enforced male chastity has taught us a lot. We’ve shared what we’ve learned as well as the mistakes we’ve made along the way. We continue to share what we are doing and how it’s working.
That doesn’t mean I spend a lot of time thinking about my situation as a chaste male. I don’t. It’s what I am. I miss the excitement and frustration that went with this practice for the first couple of years. Yes, Mrs. Lion still edges me within an inch of my life. She leaves me breathing hard and begging for release. Then, she puts the chastity device back on and life goes on.
I don’t know what more I should want or expect. I’m getting exactly what I should. I guess I’m just whining about the fact that since it’s not new to me anymore, there is no lasting frustration that I can hang on to. That’s not entirely true. The day after one of those brutal edging sessions, I find myself thinking very frustrated thoughts about how close I was to ejaculating and how much I miss not having the chance.
I don’t think about whether or not my penis is locked in a cage. It doesn’t matter. I can’t do anything about the frustration whether I am locked or wild. For the record, I’m not blasé about the frustration. It’s as sharp and real as it was six years ago.
While my state as a chaste male is a constant in my life, my curiosity fuels an endless search for interesting new chastity hardware. It’s probably no different than the way some people feel about getting new clothes. They may not actually need a new item, but they enjoy searching for and trying on new stuff. It’s a little more complicated when it comes to chastity devices. Assuming I find something new and it’s available in my size, I need to get Mrs. Lion’s agreement not only to purchase it but also to try it on. She’s generally very willing to indulge this.
On occasion, I come across a sex toy for men that looks interesting. Mrs. Lion will often agree to let me buy and then at some point use it on me. Most of my choices haven’t been as exciting as I thought they would be. I expected the Fleshlight to be the next best thing to a vagina. Mrs. Lion used it on me and it felt good, but nothing like the real thing. Oh well.
Sex toys don’t get used much here anyway. Mrs. Lion prefers her own hands and sometimes her mouth for sexually stimulating me. I’m fine with that. So far, nothing has come close to the way they feel.
I suppose anything that is a regular part of life, becomes routine and loses a lot of its excitement. Perhaps we are both a bit blasé about my being a chaste male. Perhaps my penis and the device that encases it are nearly invisible to my lioness. I guess that doesn’t matter as long as she remembers it’s there when she wants to tease me. I also suppose that it doesn’t matter that I’m not even aware I’m wearing a chastity device most of the time. All that means is that I’m so well-trained, my penis isn’t something I expect to play with for sexual pleasure.
We may be blasé about my chastity. We are not blasé about each other and making one another happy. That is what really counts.
