Archive for November, 2010

on the fly

I usually spend a lot of time fretting over what to post.  Tonight I didn’t.  My thoughts today, without editing: Be strong.  You’re not alone. You’re not wrong.  You’re right.

I read your comments and what you email me:  I’m with you.  I know this stuff ain’t easy, at least until you get it all out in the open. It’s hard to feel all alone within yourself, and this stuff is hard to talk about.    BUT LISTEN: it’s OKAY to let it out to the person you love.  Visualize yourself saying the words.  Let it go.  Your life is a one shot deal.  In retrospect, it’s actually much easier than you think.  It’s only about love, after all.

You know what?  You, reading this, you, afraid and ashamed:  I was/am you.

Listen: this isn’t not about form:  it’s not about outfits, or roles, or dungeons, or scripts, it’s not about let’s pretend. It’s the opposite.  It’s about let’s not pretend. It’s about substance, it’s about truth, it’s about who you are when you go to bed.  Going to bed is about two people, two human beings together in the quiet and the dark, sheltering each other from the indifference that’s crouched right outside the bedroom door.  If who you are in bed is about pretending or make-believe, something’s really wrong.

Now can be the time to acknowledge how much else in your sense of self is really just make-believe or pretend.  And let it go.  Say it.

I can let that go.

GOOD.  Try to give yourself over to who you are.

You’ll be HAPPY.

All off the cuff.   You dig? Everybody okay?

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Days off — they are like days in.   There are days when for a variety of reasons he is cricketed only in his mind.

It seems I’m more human in his eyes when it’s off.  I watch myself teeter on the edge of annoying.  My scent seems no longer enough to completely intoxicate.  I am simply loved, quietly craved and always included.  I am no longer a cat scratch, a goddess, an oracle.  With the cricket off, I can be wrong.  It’s good to pursue chastity uncricketed at times.

The various levels of intensity are all interesting and interwoven.  The common thread is that through all we see ourselves in terms of each other.

He is my mirror, my axis, my smile, my sleep.

— J

For several weeks since I’ve last posted I’ve been cricketed sans cricket; that is: kept in chastity without the use of a chastity device.  The great world continued to spin.  Nevertheless, here, now, from the vantage point of being recently re-cricketed, I wholeheartedly reaffirm the core principles of this buh-log:  the implementation of male chastity into an intimate relationship doesn’t have to be merely “a sex game.”  A male chastity device doesn’t have to be just another sex toy.  I offer myself up to your scrutiny for the proposition that orgasm control and male chastity in a relationship can be founded upon natural, logical principles, with the end result being not only mindblowing sexual fulfillment, but a life-altering, philosophically and spiritually satisfying relationship with your partner.

I feel better in the cricket, I’m closer to her with it on.  The cricket is a wedding ring that’s just not for show (yet).  It has real significance and meaning for both of us.  It’s an acceptance, an admission, a confession, a declaration of love, a tangible statement of purpose and a proof of identity.  To those who claim, loudly and with a price tag attached, that male chastity is simply a game or a put-on, I respectfully disagree.  My workaday world is where I pretend.  This isn’t a game to me.  I think it’s a viable path to happiness for a lot of people.

The Look.

J has begun giving me a reminding look every now and then.   She doesn’t speak when she gives me this look.  The look says “I love you, but don’t forget who you are.  You’re my submissive husband, and your place is to attend to me in every way, all the time.”  The reminding look runs through me like a comb.  It cuckolds me, sissifies me, humiliates me, and warms me with J’s love.  The reminding look makes the cricket glow.

And as the cricket glows, so glows the world.

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