Clues, or a product?

After seven days in the cricket, pictures of women with their hands on their hips are having a very powerful effect on me.

I merely observe, I don’t dare try to explain.

But I wonder whether the cricket acts as an accelerant on ideas and impulses that are already deeply established (and deeply buried) in my psyche, or is it responsible for those ideas and impulses?

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Upon Cricketed Reflection

So many problems for me began with masturbation, and it’s no exaggeration to say that the control of it has renovated my life.  Masturbation isn’t the only issue that the cricket addressed — there was a brief interlude of infidelity for which I’ll never be able to adequately express my remorse or expunge my feelings of guilt — but in the big picture masturbation was the toxic bugaboo that haunted every relationship I ever had, on a daily basis.  I wonder now how much passion I unknowingly robbed myself of over the years by pathetically stroking my own penis to tens of thousands of meaningless orgasms.

Here’s a radical thought: the modern view of accepted authorities de-stigmatizing (and implicitly encouraging) masturbation as normal, ordinary behavior has unwittingly helped foster a society where alienation and narcissism run roughshod over romance, devotion and the natural order of a beautiful world.

Part of me is aware that sounds ridiculous,  but I’m locked in a cricket, and it makes perfect sense to me these days.   With a couple of drinks in me I would feel comfortable making that case live on primetime TV.  (Another side effect of being locked in a male chastity device is the desire at a certain point to let people know you’re locked in a male chastity device.  I’ve yet to put that desire into action, but I told J on many occasions I wouldn’t mind if she told anyone she wanted to.)

The truth is my wife is entitled to my cock only being hard when it’s in front of her.  I want her to have all the cock she wants, whenever she wants.

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snapshots

J is becoming more and more accustomed to the pleasures of life with a cricketed husband, and so am I.  Conversations involving my chastity, or the wisdom of male chastity in general, for example, are now commonplace.

Watching the SAG awards

She:  Look how solicitous Jeff Bridges is towards his wife.  And they’ve been together for something like twenty years.  I bet he’s in a cricket.

Watching the State of the Union

She: What would happen if all the men in congress were in crickets? The world would be such a better place.

Last Night in Bed

She:  I’m not feeling sexual, but cuddle me.

Me:  Oh Yes.  Can I please touch your beautiful ass.

She:  No.

Me:  Oh gosh, that’s too bad.

She:  (laughs)

She: You sound like a high school kid asking to touch my ass.

Me:  I love you, you’re so beautiful.  Can I kiss you good night?

She: Yes.

—–

I’ve never felt better.

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The new device.

-versus-

As of about a week ago, I’ve been locked in the Tickleberry “Spiral Male Chastity Device.”  (How much thought went into that name?  Hereinafter “SMCD.”) Up until that point, the cricket had been the CB6000.  As far as I’m concerned, the results are in, and the Tickleberry is the clear winner, with only a few very small reservations.  Here’s how the two compare.

The SMCD is stainless steel, and is by far the more attractive device.  Since the cage is composed of six rings, I’ve offered it to J as a new and more romantic wedding ring, which delights her.  The SMCD’s ability to serve as a piece of jewelry infused with the significance of commitment is a challenge to those who claim that chastity devices are merely sex toys.

In addition to looking better, it almost goes without saying that it’s far more durable. In the past eight months I’ve managed to crack two CB6000 with the intensity of my early morning attempts at erections.  I feel pretty safe in saying that if my cock is able to damage the steel cage of the SMCD, I’ll have a new job in some sideshow somewhere soon.

One of the advantages of the CB6000 is the wide assortment of rings and spacers that are included.  However, there came a point in my experimentation with sizing where I was locked into a device that had six separate parts, all of which required cleaning, and all of which were potential pinch problems.  The SMCD has two pieces:  a solid ring and the cage.  The ring comes in three sizes, and I was able to correctly size myself based upon my experiences with the CB.

Since it’s a solid ring, getting into the SMCD is a bit trickier than the “wrap around and pin shut” design of the CB.  However, it’s nowhere near as tricky as the Birdlocked, which I was never able to get into.  Additionally, getting into the CB cage without lube was always virtually impossible for me; I can get into the SMCD without any lube at all.

There is a tiny bit more of a bulge with the SMCD than with the CB, and it is a bit heavier, but not enough to matter.  For the most part of my business day I’m unaware I’m locked in anything.  The steel obviously makes it a bit heavier, but not so that I ever notice.  Additionally, there is always a “clip clop” noise associated with the the lock the CB bouncing against the plastic cage.  Noise is greatly reduced with the SMCD, to a gentle “ching ching.”

Sleeping is easier in the SMCD, I think because without the long attaching pins for the ring it’s possible to roll over onto your stomach and not wake up.  Or maybe I’m just getting used to sleeping in a device; it’s possible.

Security is similar in both devices:  escape is not impossible, and is relative to desperation and determination.  Thank goodness, I’m neither.  I don’t want to escape.

Airports are obviously out of the question with the SMCD, and a regular air traveler would need a nonmetallic backup.

The SMCD is almost four times as expensive as the CB, but in the past eight months I’ve had to buy three CBs.  I’m pretty sure this is my first and last SMCD. I just about consider it an investment in the future.

Finally, and not without significance for me, is that stand-up urinating is completely impossible in the SMCD, unless you like to pee in five directions at once.  I was able to manage standing up most of the time with the CB, and having to give that up is an inconvenience I guess I’ll eventually get used to.  Hey, what choice do I have anyway?  THE DARN THING IS LOCKED ON ME.

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I’m steeled.

For the past two days I’ve been wearing the new cricket: the tickleberry spiral steel chastity device, shown in the picture a couple of entries down.  Overall, I like it better that the CB6000.  I’ll have a more detailed review in the next post.

Right now I’m in a rush to get the weekend started, and I just wanted to note that last night J made certain nonsexual demands with a very decided glint in her eye, the clear implication being that she’s becoming vastly more comfortable with what I asked for months ago:  an open acknowledgement between us that I am submissive to her in everything, not just orgasm control and her sexual satisfaction.  What she asked me to do — attend certain social functions with her — were things that I ordinarily would have strongly resisted doing.  How funny and wonderful it is that now I felt really good saying that of course I would go, that I’d be delighted.  The truth is these last eight months have been the happiest time in our twenty two years together, and I’ll go to my grave wishing I’d said something sooner, years sooner, decades sooner.  But I’ll also breathe easier every day forward, now that I finally have.

I’ve never lived without secrets before.  My goal is to shed them all.  I need to stay here.  It’s where I belong.

Have a good weekend!

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Impressions of the 26th Day

Here’s an example of the effect of nearly a month in enforced chastity on perception.

When those of us who can have an orgasm any old time see this:

I see this:

As I cut a swath through busy pedestrian traffic, indistinguishable from the ordinariness of everything around me, I accept the natural beauty and common sense practicality of a culture founded upon the submissiveness of men, and the natural superiority of women.

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every coin has two sides

To the outside world, I’m a confident, outspoken, accomplished and determined person.  I’m a professional, I supervise other professionals, I wear a suit and tie to work.  The discovery that I’m locked in a chastity device would be shocking news to everyone I know.

I mention this only because each time I approach a month of chastity I begin to revel in the humiliation that’s inherent in being locked up.  Make no mistake:  my wife and I tenderly, joyfully, and sincerely love each other.  But in our journey into this mode of sensual expression, I’ve made clear that nothing would make me happier than if she were completely demanding of me sexually, and if she were very strict in insisting that I stay in the cricket and only have an orgasm according to our once per month schedule.

She’s come to love it.  Whenever she happens to see me naked she looks right at the cricket and says stuff like “you are looking good.”

Yesterday morning, as I was cleaning the CB6000, she grabbed my penis and somewhat violently pulled and choked it.  I sprang to erection of course, and for the first time begged — I mean begged — her to let me come.  I swiveled and pumped my hips, my knees bent.  She spoke in a tone that suggested she was speaking to a child:  “No, honey, no.  You can’t come until Saturday.  Now let me see you put the cricket on right here in front of me.”

I stood naked before her and put on my male chastity device.  She snapped the lock shut.  I was out of my mind with horniness and frustration.  I was teased and gently scolded and denied.  I forced my penis into a plastic tube and my wife locked it shut against my balls.  Then I went to work.

Last night I was still very horny.  When we got into bed she indicated that she was tired, but she asked me whether I’l like to lick her for a while.  I said, and I quote:  “oh god yes, please.”  She said I could lick her until she’d had enough and then she’d sleep.

I poured every ounce of myself into licking her, and toying with her with my fingers.  She came.  She kissed me, said good night, and rolled over and went to sleep almost immediately.

I lay there, throbbing, dripping, locked in plastic.  I looked up into the darkness of the bedroom sky.  I listened to her slow and contented breathing.  I felt what I am becoming.

I love this, I thought.

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email last night

You’re sleeping soundly next to me as I write this, my love. I’m wide awake, and my mind is swimming with thoughts of aching wonder at how lucky i am to have you. I had such a sexy, hot wonderful time with you here this weekend, and I want us  to only become closer and more in love.

I love being submissive to you. I love being kept locked in chastity by you. I love having your orgasm at the center of our lovemaking. Please, don’t let us ever stop exploring this joy. Please, be selfish. be demanding. As you were slapping my cock tonight, hard and then harder, I felt wave after wave of love and bliss. Whenever you mount and fuck me, I  look up at your beautiul face, and I feel like I am your wife, and in my mind I try to open myself up as wide as I can for your thrusting, pounding love.

Let me be better for you with each passing day. Let me revolve around you like a planet around the sun. Be confident: my aching cock is as true as a compass, and everything about you is the north. I love you.

Sent from my iPhone

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stockholm syndrome

I am extremely attracted to this image.  Anyway.

When I’m out of the cricket for extended periods I miss it, and feel out of sorts, unmoored.  I look forward to having it on, and my immediate reaction once I’m locked in is one of relief.  I’ve reached a point where I feel more confident and secure in my own skin when  I’m locked in a male chastity device.  Who’da thunk it.

My brain chemistry completely changes after two weeks or so of orgasm denial.  My perception of many otherwise ordinary images and events is — I was going to say skewed, but that’s not right — it’s clearer.  Here, now, at the computer, I hesitate to write the words I know to be true, and that dance drunk with serotonin around in my brain through most of every chaste day.

I get to have an orgasm next Saturday.

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aching = happiness

I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth, I’ve just been very busy.  It’s been 19 days since I’ve ejaculated, and I’m definitely in the red zone.  J loves to suck cock, and I relish being able to provide her with a penis that literally springs to her desire.  Licking her magnificent cunt has become the center of every day.  I’ve begun begging her to fuck me, from the top, between my legs.  I’ve begun yearning for the comfort and identity of the cricket whenever I’m out of it.  I’ll post more detailed impressions and epiphanies soon.  And, as usual, I take comfort from what I read in your blogs, thanks.

It’s amazing how far I’ve come (all right, how much I’ve accomplished) simply by exploring and admitting something I now see as completely natural and normal.

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