When I began this blog I intended it to chronicle my adventures with enforced male chastity. I didn’t have a clear path defined about exactly what I thought belonged here. I just figured things would take care of themselves in that respect. When you get down to the base of all this writing we’ve done, the star of the show is my penis. It’s hard to believe but well over a million words have been published about that rather small thing dangling between my legs. Like the hero in any story, my penis leads us through twists and turns that bring us in contact with other characters and deeper, more significant meaning. After all, in and of itself, the penis isn’t that interesting. Mine isn’t particularly unique. It’s a typical Western European weenie. I’m very fond of it, especially when it gets hard and makes me feel good.
It’s had lots of adventures and has been in many interesting places. I haven’t written much about that because this blog began when my penis had only one place it was allowed to go and it didn’t have many chances since we began to go there. So, it’s been getting its kicks externally. Sometimes, it does have some inside fun when Mrs. Lion takes it in her mouth and makes it feel very good. It used to produce a prodigious quantity of semen which Mrs. Lion enjoyed as a treat. Of late, very little is produced. I know she misses it. I don’t miss it when she’s in the mood to feed it to me.
Not much has been written directly about our hero. Much of the conversation has been about devices to imprison it. The reasonable amount of material is produced about ways to amuse it or cause it discomfort. Mrs. Lion has always been particularly fond of cock and ball torture (CBT). Over the years I would estimate that at least 80% of our BDSM time has been spent localized in that area between my legs. I’m not complaining. The penis has a sometimes-embarrassing way of expressing its appreciation. It’s unmistakable and extremely visible. It’s difficult to complain about something that’s going on when my penis is sticking up in the air like a flagpole. It always gives away the way I really feel.
Since we began enforced male chastity, I’ve been forbidden to bring myself to orgasm. Mrs. Lion considers masturbation a betrayal not unlike mounting another lioness. She is less concerned about me petting myself so long as it doesn’t lead to an orgasm. Every time I say this, she offers a cryptic comment about not completely agreeing that I’m allowed to do it, but also not forbidding me to touch it. [Mrs. Lion – Actually, I’ve said I don’t want him to give himself an erection.]
Some time ago I did a small survey on twitter to see how women felt about viewing naked men. I asked if they preferred naked male rear ends or full frontal views. About two thirds like to see our butts. The remaining third enjoy viewing penises. To be clear, that doesn’t mean the other two thirds don’t want to see penises, they just like male rear ends better. I asked Mrs. Lion how she felt. She said she preferred penis with the stipulation that it was erect.
That’s an interesting stipulation. I didn’t ask about the state of the penis in my survey. As being someone who has one, I can understand Mrs. Lion’s preference. I think my penis is far more attractive when erect. I think that some women consider an erect penis threatening, or at the very least, impolite. Some believe that an erection represents a demand for satisfaction. They aren’t unjustified in that characterization. After all, an erection makes its owner interested in ejaculating. When I get hard, I’m generally looking forward to some way of relieving the tension my erection represents.
Here’s where enforced male chastity changes me. I’ve surrendered my right to satisfy my sexual urges. Mrs. Lion does make me hard and brings me to the edge of orgasm. She’s done that quite frequently. Almost all of the time those sessions end with no ejaculation. I’ve learned not to associate erection, or even sexual stimulation by hand, mouth, or vagina with ejaculating.
This is a tough association to break. It’s taken years. For six years, almost every day or two, Mrs. Lion has stimulated my penis multiple times to the edge of orgasm. Only one in six days, on average, does she take me all the way to ejaculation. Even on those days, she will edge me more than once before finally allowing me to finish. She doesn’t feel that she succeeded unless she can get me extremely close to orgasm. This process has been repeated thousands of times. I have no other sexual outlet, including my own hand. I’ve had nothing but substantial edging and occasional ejaculation since the end of 2013.
This has changed me. I enjoy being sexually stimulated. I certainly love oral and vaginal penetration. But I no longer associate any of these things with ejaculation. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to come each time. I absolutely do. However, I don’t expect to. There are no hard feelings or resentment when I’m left with precum dripping, my hard penis throbbing, and Mrs. Lion smiling and saying, “Maybe next time.”
It’s all good-natured. It’s what I expect. I would be disturbed, I think, if every time Mrs. Lion took my penis in her hand or mouth she gave me an orgasm. I would think something was wrong. Even during Unlocktober, when the objective was lots of orgasms, we maintained our pattern to a great degree. I suppose if Mrs. Lion wanted to have a period of “lion milking” when she would go for ejaculation every time she held my penis, that would be fine as long as she told me that’s what she was going to do before she began. Otherwise, I would worry and wonder what changed.
I know a lot of this sounds like one of those sexual fantasies you read about on the web. This is no fantasy. This is exactly what happened. I don’t think either of us intended to fundamentally change how I feel about sex. I don’t thing Mrs. Lion consciously decided to break me of any desire to get an orgasm except with her hand or mouth. But break me she did. It’s certainly not a bad thing. Just because I didn’t decide that I would never masturbate or wander, doesn’t mean something is wrong. It means that something is very right.
I don’t own my sexuality. Yes, I can get aroused with or without Mrs. Lion. But I can’t do any more than that. All sexual satisfaction comes from her. It doesn’t matter how horny I am, or how long it’s been since I had my last opportunity to ejaculate, she and she alone decides when my wait is over. I’ve occasionally fantasized that she would delegate this authority once or twice to someone else whose hand would get me off. Obviously, there’s no good reason for this to happen unless Mrs. Lion wants to give me a change of scenery, for want of a better word. I never imagined that any more than being masturbated would happen. Apparently, that’s the limit of my swinging fantasies.
My sexual universe is very small. It’s fully occupied by Mrs. Lion. It’s a very nice universe.