Archive for the ‘emasculation’ Category

It’s not true that this past year has completely changed me, but it most certainly is true that I’ve stood at the threshold of complete change, that I’ve been brought to the brink of complete change.  In order to understand me — not necessarily male chastity, or submissiveness,  or anything except how those things apply to me and my life with J, you have to understand the following principles we’ve come to embrace, and, tentatively, subtly, espouse to others.  Please don’t take anything here personally or as an invitation to an argument.  I can only speak for me, and how J and I are growing in our relationship.  Also, please don’t get the idea we’ve sat around and hashed out the wording of this.  This is all merely my thinking.  A man in a cricket does a lot of thinking.

1. Women are superior to men: intellectually, physically, spiritually, emotionally.  At first this idea held only erotic attraction to me, but the more I thought about it, the more apparent it became to me, and I now consider it to be a general truth.

2. In any relationship between a man and a woman, the natural place for the man is in subservience to the woman.  In a marriage, the woman should as a general matter be acknowledged as the dominant partner, and the man’s role is to accommodate her needs and desires.

3. Orgasm control is essential for the healthy sexual expression of principles 1 and 2.   A man’s unfettered access to his own penis is cancer to his personal relationships.

4. Men are unable to control themselves regarding their own orgasm, and require a woman’s control in order to abstain from masturbating.

5. Without orgasm control, a man’s thoughts and desires are unmoored and scattered.  With it, his focus remains constant and unyielding on the goal of continually pleasing the woman who controls him.  The dynamic of orgasm control is healthy, natural and beautiful.

6. A man’s resistance to the principles set forth above is rooted in arrogance.  The current standard cultural definition of masculinity is profoundly flawed, and is a product of the insecure arrogance of men.

7.  A woman’s loving humiliation of her husband, including but not limited to the use of a chastity device, will over time act as an antidote to his arrogance.  Masculinity is an illusion waiting to be defined by you.

8.  A chastity device is a symbol of fidelity, a reminder of submissiveness, an expression of love, and a piece of decorative jewelry.   It shouldn’t be forgotten that all of this is fun and erotic and hot and beautiful and lasting and real.

TELL HER TODAY:  I did a little more than a year ago, and guess what?


(details as all this applies to us here and now to follow)


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Guess what, I’m still here!  Sorry for the delay in posting. This is just a quick note to let you know how things are going.  I’m still in the cricket, still discovering, still happy.

We’ve reached a point where I completely identify as a submissive man kept in chastity by his wife.  I accept the truth and beauty of the natural superiority of women.  It’s been a year of living submissively, and I hope we can go deeper. I’m comfortable in my own skin.

I’m hoping I can stay in chastity longer.  I never want the feelings that chastity brings to the surface of our lives to go away.  Our relationship glows with a wonderful soft light.

I’ve begun licking my cum off of her pussy.  It started out very naturally and unplanned.  One night a few weeks ago, while my cock was inside her and she was humping me, I got very close to the edge and pulled out.  About tablespoon of cum leaked out of me onto her beautiful pussy, and I just instinctively knew what to do.  As I licked it off of her, it spread onto my nose and cheeks.  I can’t explain why, but eating my own cum for her is important to me, and I hope it can continue. It reminds me of my correct place: I’m a cum-eating husband.

When she wants my penis inside her, which is every night, she sometimes wants my legs spread and up in the air, with her body between them and on top of me.    We’ve acknowledge that this feminizes me, and I hope we can continue to explore this.  It means what it means, it’s true, and it gives us both an ideal pleasure.  When the time comes to be fucked in the ass, I’ll be ready.

I’ll write in detail about these things soon, I really just wanted to let everybody know that the cricketed man is still alive and well.

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now playing:  the band: music from the big pink (tee hee)

J has been away on business this whole week, and today I had a work obligation in an environment that has a very strict metal detection process at the entrance of the building.  These days the cricket is a steel tickleberry spiral (well worth it, by the way, and far superior to the CB line of products).  So I called her early this morning and asked if I could access to her hidden spare key.  I waited until after I’d showered to make the call.  J understood my predicament and quickly agreed.  She told me where the key was hidden, but told me I had to lock myself up right after the meeting was over.  I told her I loved her, and we hung up.

It’s been more than three weeks since my last orgasm.  When I unlocked myself, my cock immediately sprang to a trembling engorged experiment in inflation.  I touched myself, and stroked myself several times.  But I reminded myself of certain immutable precepts of happiness, and retook control of myself.  I got dressed and went to my meeting.

Upon my return to the empty house.  I was extremely horny and tempted, but I resisted.  I put the cricket back on, and returned the key to it’s hiding place.  Why?

This isn’t just about sex.  It isn’t even just about love, although both sex and love are certainly components of what the cricket is.  This is about a journey toward an honest expression of identity. In other words, it’s important to J, and it’s important to our marriage, but it’s also important to me.  My life without J’s orgasm control and my acknowledgment of her superiority was an unnatural mess.

Once cricketed, my penis quickly became small and docile.  In J’s absence, that’s the way it should be, and that’s the way I like it.  The world spins smoothly and according to plan with her sexual pleasure being my only concern.  As a matter of principle and purpose, my penis should only stand up directly in front of her, and only exists to pleasure her.  I’m her lover when she wants, and a eunuch as far as the rest the world is concerned.  When the time comes, I’ll jump at the chance to go longer than a month between orgasms.  The looking glass beckons!

Have you noticed there’s something about pearls?

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Day 25 of the cycle. J is home and we’re happy.   Last night when I walked into the house she pulled my pants down, hugged me, cradled the cricket in her hand, and sighed deeply deeply deeply into my shoulder. The earth spins like a toy top, and every day is an opportunity to flex new muscles.

Our lives together are hot on the trail of definition, and there’s no end in sight.  We hold each other close under brash kitchen light, with the smell of simple dinner burning, and discuss the merits of going to bed early.  We bring books to bed for appearance’s sake.

The duty to explore my place in the world:  let love rule, let the scales fall from my eyes, let me speak the truth, let the bell never be unrung.

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J gets home tonight after nineteen days away.  The cricket isn’t a gesture, or a symbol, or a toy, it’s simply one definition of many that prove my heart: what’s good is good.  Love conjures the miracles needed for the expression of that good. I thank whatever god you’ve got that I’m learning how to express the goodness of the world.

only love is all maroon

(there is no spoon)

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[teym] adjective, tam·er, tam·est, verb, tamed, tam·ing.

1.  changed from the wild or savage state; domesticated: a tame bear.

2.  without the savageness or fear of humans normal in wild animals; gentle, fearless, or without shyness, as if domesticated: That lion acts as tame as a house cat.

3.  brought into service; rendered useful and manageable; under control, as natural resources or a source of power.

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Day 20 of the current cycle, and as always, the truth seems to ring as clear as a church bell the deeper I’m taken into periods of chastity.  I’ve raised the question before, and the answer to it is either chicken or egg:  are my increasingly submissive feelings created by wearing the cricket for extended periods, or are they pre-existing and simply unearthed and set free by the cricket?  I’m experiencing a rush of feelings the likes of which I’ve never felt before.  Whatever:  life is beautiful but very short; allow me to tell you exactly how I love, and how I love you.  If we should ever need a detective story in the days to come, we have one.

I’ve been locked up since she left more than two weeks ago.  My penis has been kept small, soft and completely untouched for all that time.  And that’s as it should be: the truest love a man can show a woman is to become her eunuch.  A man of the standard sort has a penis that is unfettered, and becomes hard at his own disposal all of the time.  The standard sort of man is also generally a fool, and I speak with experience.  By keeping me in chastity, J allows me that “standard” approximation of manhood only in her presence, and only for her pleasure.  And that’s also the way it should be; that’s the only way to dig the natural beauty of intimacy between women and men.

I haven’t had a penis that comports with the commonly accepted sense of manliness sense since J left, and it’s obvious to me from this vantage point that the commonly accepted sense of masculinity is complete bullshit.  Beauty and truth require men to submit to the desires and control of women.  The more my penis is kept irrelevant, the more comfortable I become in adoring J from this wonderful place.

In addition to experiencing a beautiful emasculation, I’m feeling an almost overwhelming need to exalt, to adore, to worship J.  Allow me to, my love.  I’ll answer the question I posed above.  These feelings have always been there, they just needed an avenue of expression.  Thank God we found the cricket.

All this is as infused with irony as anything else involving male chastity.  By keeping my penis small, soft and untouched for these weeks, my beautiful J has  opened my eyes to what being a true, real man really means.  I’m a eunuch, with an on switch only she controls, I’m the man I always wanted to be, and I love her.

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