As with anyone locked into chastity, I struggle with longings for release and relief, and occasionally find myself fiddling with my cage, fascinated by it, wondering what, if anything, I can get away with – nothing, alas, it’s implacably secure and tamperproof. Not being fortunate enough to have a keyholder to help keep me in line, I’ve been obliged to look after security matters myself. I could, if I really wanted to, release myself anytime I feel like it. There’s nothing stopping me.
So how does that work? Surprisingly well actually. Sure, it would be lovely to have a keyholder to please and romance, but lacking one doesn’t mean you can’t explore chastity and find it as fulfilling an experience. It simply requires a modified approach, reimagined expectations. The rewards are there.
In many ways it’s not so different. Emotionally, there is still a powerful sense of submission, a surrendering of masculinity once you turn the key in the lock and realise that you are locked in. Looking down, seeing yourself restrained in a snug steel cage, feeling its heft and constriction, has an effect on your consciousness no matter what. And although you might nominally possess the key, by secreting it in an inconvenient location, say, in a locked tool box in your garden shed, you can’t just release yourself on a whim. It isn’t practical. Obviously you can be released if there is a genuine need, but then that would be the case if you had a keyholder anyway.
My second (emergency) key I keep in a peppermint tin at the back of a desk drawer – accessible in an emergency, as it should be. When I do remove my cage for cleaning, I never use the emergency key. That key exists only for emergencies. Otherwise it does not exist at all. To be released for the practical reasons of cleaning and hygiene, I’m obliged to go out to the garden shed and have the inconvenience and hassle of rooting around to find it.
Anyway the moments of greatest temptation for release are generally the least practical for achieving at – warm showers when you’re feeling sensual or waking in the night in a lusty frame of mind and rebelling against your cage, these are not moments when it’s convenient or even possible to scamper out to the garden shed. In terms of maintaining chastity at such moments in practical terms you’re as secure as if you were in the hands of the sternest keyholder.
What’s missing of course is the romance of submission. So you look elsewhere, embark on an inner journey – one that is sensual, submissive, mindful of empowered femininity and freed of the mind-clouding distractions of masculinity and self. It’s calming and clarifying, with a feminine emphasis on emotion and feelings rather than raw masculine physicality. The effects are cumulative, building over time to a pleasurable continuum that you don’t really want to fritter away in some sudden spasm that, like a carnival ride is over quickly and leaves you feeling vaguely empty afterwards. And when it's time to remove your cage for hygiene purposes you become eager to replace it again, lest you fall victim to temptation, and no matter how briefly aroused you might become, you experience a sense of relief when, with fumbling fingers, you fiddle the cage securely back into place and the lock clicks home.
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