Or perhaps a web search, most likely involving the terms “chastity”, “orgasm denial”, “male chastity” or “chastity device”, pointed you here.

Welcome.

I don’t use this blog, at least, not with any regularity. But despair not!
This is pretty much just a mirror for the anecdotes and fiction that I’ve posted on my main blog.

For more details and links to various blogs and resources on sexuality, intimacy and relationships, and of course, the hot chastity porn, please click the link to: The Edge of Vanilla

I’m officially on vacation, and while some people use this as a time of ease, if not downright bacchanalian hedonism, I’ve actually kicked my exercise levels up a notch. This is because the scale keeps pointing to lower, and more encouraging numbers.

Anyway, if you can stand yet another shot of me with an exercise theme, this is me after pumping iron for 45 minutes, and then taking a 10 mile bike ride. I’ve literally just walked in the door, which is why I appear to be glistening; that’s not oil, it’s the sweat dripping off of me in the 90° weather.

Yeah, just for the hell of it, I biked shirtless to get some sun. I hope none of the neighborhood women minded.

Partly, we can’t be bothered with rolling dice, or keeping track of days, or doing all the accounting with the points and demerits that some people like to use. Sure, if it makes denial fun for them, then that’s great. For us, it’s just a hassle. We’ve got enough things to keep track of. I mean, I can barely remember to get to the bank and the dry cleaner on the weekend.

But mainly, we don’t have a contract because Mrs. Edge thinks that if we’re going to play with this, then  it should be totally up to her. Enforced chastity is a power exchange; Mrs. Edge thinks that a contract, or a dice toss, or a lotto pick takes the power away from her. Even a point system creates an obligation on her part, should I reach a particular goal. “Hey, I’ll have 100 points after I wash your car; that means you’ll have to let me out tonight!” My point is when we decided to explore this, the thing that made it hot for both of us was to give her 100% of the decision making power. I never know when she will allow me out, or allow an orgasm if she does. It might be a couple of weeks, a month, or several months. But it’s up to her, and that’s how we like it.

She was laying against my side, her fingernails tracing lines up my thighs, stomach, and chest. We had just made love, and were basking in the afterglow. Well, at least she was basking; I hadn’t come — nor had I for the past couple of weeks — and was still aroused.

“I know you don’t like to know ahead of time when I’m going to let you out, but I just wanted  you know that it’s going to be, well, a long time.  We haven’t played at a really long term in a while, and I was thinking that I wanted to try it again.”

I failed to suppress a whimper, and she looked up at me. “I hope you’re not complaining,” she admonished. “I mean, I unlocked you at the end of the summer, and you spent all autumn free as a bird. Winter’s almost half over;  in fact. I can’t remember when you’ve had so much free time.”

It was true; I’d been unlocked for months, but it wasn’t exactly a Roman orgy around here.

“Yeah, but what with both of us getting the flu, plus the holidays, work, and all that, we barely had any sex at all, so it’s not like I’ve been running wild,” I explained. “I mean, for a couple of months, we even thought there was something in our water, since we just couldn’t get excited.”

She shrugged, and lay her head back down on my chest. “Anyway, since I’m going to lock you up tonight,  I wanted to spend some quality time with you; it’s going to be the last time that your cock is going to be free for quite a while, and I had to get enough of it to keep me motivated.”

I whimpered again. Despite not having as much sex as I would have liked, I had certainly gotten used to touching myself whenever I felt like it, and feeling her warm ass as we lay spooning, and of course, being allowed to come pretty much every time we did have sex — as infrequently as it had been. And although we keep talking about long term denial as a fantasy — a really hot fantasy for both of us — the fact is that it’s been quite a while since we played at that, and I wasn’t totally looking forward to actually doing it. Sure, I knew it was only a matter of time before she wanted me back in the chastity device, but as the weeks seemed to slip by, I just fell out of the groove.

Until tonight. . .

Or perhaps a web search, most likely involving the terms “chastity”, “orgasm denial”, “male chastity” or “chastity device”, pointed you here.

Welcome.

I don’t use this blog, at least, not with any regularity. But despair not!
This is pretty much just a mirror for the anecdotes and fiction that I’ve posted on my main blog.

For more details and links to various blogs and resources on sexuality, intimacy and relationships, and of course, the hot chastity porn, please click the link to: The Edge of Vanilla

I brushed away a fine hair that had been tickling my nose and thought for a moment. “Fifty three days so far,” I answered. She had one leg over my shoulder, and I planted several small kisses along her warm thigh, my other hand idly caressing her belly and waist.

I felt her hesitation.

“I, uh, have some bad news,” she said after pausing for a few seconds. “I have to go to Kansas again.”

“Oh, dammit. Don’t even tell me. . .”

“Yeah, it’s going to be late next week,” she replied, almost sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t have any control over when Marketing was going to ask for new staff training.”

I knew that there was nobody else available to go, but I was still disappointed. “You know, you promised only sixty days this time,” I said reproachfully, hoping to rub in a little guilt. “By the time the weekend rolls around it’s going to be sixty four days.”

“Oh, come on,” she replied, “that’s only five percent extra. After two whole months, what’s another half a week?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see you not coming for two months. Let’s see how you’d react if I told you you’d have to go for four days, let alone sixty four.”

She disentangled herself to get off of the bed and pad toward the bathroom. “Maybe I could mail you the key at the beginning of the week.”

I snorted, “Yeah, right. And have it get lost like that other time? No, thanks.”

The sound of water tinkled around the door. “Hey, maybe you could leave it with somebody,” I called out. “Preferably somebody cute, kinky, or both.”

“You son of a bitch,” she sputtered, “you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Walking back into the room she threw a towel at me. “I think you’re missing the point of having your cock locked up.”

“Yeah, somebody cute and kinky,” I mused aloud. “How about that cute blonde that works with you. You know, with the big rack. What’s her name. . . Chris?”

I didn’t hear my wife’s answer because she was beating me over the head with a pillow. All I was able to make out sounded like, “You bastard! I’ll get you for that!”

The conversation seemed to go downhill after that.

It wasn’t until Thursday that she brought it up again.

“So, I gave it some thought,” she said between bites of salad and grilled salmon, “and I thought that maybe it was a bit unfair to ask you to wait an extra four days, especially since I’m not going to be around.”

“No, don’t be silly,” I responded, sprinkling a little more balsamic vinegar on my salad, “Not having you around might actually make it easier for me. And what the hell, it’s only four days.”

She shrugged. “Okay, whatever. I’ll tell Chris not to bother.”

The clink of my fork falling to the plate made her look up with a sly smile. “This wine is good. Have we had it before?”

“What did you say?” I asked slowly.

“The wine. Have we had this before?”

“Aauurrgghh! No, about Chris! What the hell did you do?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I just asked Chris at work about holding the key. You remember Chris, right? Tall, blond hair, works out at the gym. . .”

Oh hell, I thought. I hope that she didn’t tell Chris what the key was for. She wouldn’t do that. Would she? Damn, yes she would.

“Oh my freakin’ God. You told somebody you’ve got me locked up? Are you out of your mind?”

“It was your idea, you big jerk. I told Chris that I had a key for a lock that you would be interested in opening, only for one day. You’d have to give it back the next day. Now, stop hogging that wine and pour me another glass.”

I put my head in my hands. Oh my freakin’ God, one of her friends knows. By next week, her whole freakin’ office was going to know that she keeps my cock locked away, only letting me out once in a great while.

“Oh, and by the way, I mentioned that part of the deal was that you had to be especially nice to Chris if you wanted the key.”

I looked up. “Especially nice? As in, if I weren’t nice I might not get the key?”

My wife nodded, smirking.

I groaned.

“I’ll get the dishes tonight, honey,” she said to me in mock sympathy. “Go take a shower and lay down, you look a little pale.”

“Umm. . . about Chris,” I began. It was Saturday night; we were in the bedroom and she had almost finished packing for her Sunday flight. “What exactly did you tell her?”

“Her?” she asked absent-mindedly. “Oh, Chris. Are you still worried about that?”

I nodded. “Of course I am.”

Smiling she asked “Have you been worried about that for the last few days? Gosh, and all this time I was thinking that you’d enjoy the chance to have some fun with my cute friends. After all, it was your idea.” She pushed me back onto the bed. “And since I’m not going to be around, Chris will determine whether or not you can be unlocked after I get back. Oh, and Pat, too.”

“Pat? Who the hell is Pat?” I demanded.

“Why, it’s Chris’s partner, of course,” she reminded me, “Don’t you remember them from the summer picnic?”

“Oh, sure,” I lied. For crying out loud, there’s a bazillion women working for this company, I can’t keep track of all of them. “Umm. . . so, by ‘partner,’ you mean that Chris is. . .”

“Is gay, yes.” she finished. She smiled a little too sweetly. “You don’t remember them, do you?”

“No, no, of course I remember! Blonde, tall, Chris. Big rack. The one who’s got a partner named Pat.”

She eyed me narrowly. “You don’t remember Chris or Pat, do you?”

“Sure I do. From the summer picnic, right?”

She hit me with the pillow.

Hmm, I thought. All I have to do is be “especially” nice to a couple of her cute friends from work? And if they work out at the gym, they must be at least in halfway decent shape. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

Knowing that we would be apart for the rest of the week, my wife finished up her packing first thing in the morning so that we’d get to spend some quality time before she had to leave for the airport. She teased me by being as vague as possible about the things that I’d have to do for Chris, telling me only that it was entirely up to me as to whether or not I’d be allowed to come – and how. I told her that I still felt a little disappointed; after having been denied for two months, I’d much rather have an orgasm with her – it’s generally much more fun.

“Generally?” she sneered, “You’re just digging yourself deeper and deeper, aren’t you?”

That probably explains how I ended up naked and tied down to the bed. My wife kneeled over me, the key to my chastity device hanging tantalizingly from a chain around her neck.

“So, before you go, are you going to tell me what the deal is with Chris?”

She looked down at me, grinning evilly and lightly scratching me with her nails. “Why, does it really matter?”

“Uhh. . . doesn’t it matter to you?” I asked.

She shrugged. “The other day I told Chris that you would be very anxious to get this key. But after thinking about it for a few days, I decided that this might be a good test to see how badly you really want to come.”

Frowning up at her, I asked “Are you serious? What about your promise to let me out in sixty days?”

She shrugged again. “I changed my mind. I was thinking that this would take us into a new level. ‘Push the boundaries’, isn’t that what you always say?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “What are you saying? How long are you going to keep me locked up?”

She tweaked my nipple, making me gasp. “That will depend upon you.” She put her finger over my lips and continued, “See, that’s the ‘pushing the boundary’ part. If Chris tells me that you’ve been. . .” she paused to consider a moment, “. . . cooperative, then I’ll be more inclined to allow you to come after I get back. If you’re not cooperative, then you’ll continue to be locked up.”

“But. . . for how much longer?”

“Until you’re . . . more cooperative, I guess,” she finished.

This wasn’t too bad, I thought. It sounded like my wife was expecting me to be very accommodating to one of her friends. Chris sounded like a hot number. Hmmm.

“Okay, what’s the catch?” I demanded, suspiciously.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked sweetly.

“It sounds like you’ve given Chris carte blanche with me for the rest of the week.”

She nodded. “That might be a good way to put it,” she replied.

“But, what if she wants something intimate? Like, you know, sex or something?”

She smiled. “You’re locked up, silly, remember?”

“Well, what if she wants oral sex?”

“She? You mean Chris?”

I nodded, not liking the grin fixed on her face for the last few minutes.

“Oh, no problem. Chris loves oral.”

This sounded too good to be true.

“Uh, that means that I might have to, er , you know. . . ” I looked up at her, hoping that she’d catch my drift.

“Are you asking for my permission?”

I nodded again.

“Chris is my friend, so I’d expect you to be as . . . accommodating as possible. Of course, if you want to continue to be locked up long after I get back . . .”

I relaxed and tried to repress my smile.

She leaned over to give me a long, passionate kiss, her warm breasts pressed against my chest. I moaned with desire, my cock stirring in the plastic cage. After a moment she pulled away and cupped her hands around my swollen balls. She flicked a finger against the device, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“I’ve got to get leave,” she said simply, and quickly put on her blouse and skirt. I watched as she slipped into her shoes and walked toward the bathroom.

“Hey,” I called after her, “what about me?”

I started as the doorbell suddenly rang. She reappeared from the bathroom and walked toward the door. “What about you?” she called back over her shoulder.

“Are you going to just leave me here?” I whispered

Apparently so. I heard her walk down the hallway and open the door. I heard some low voices, and then footsteps coming back up the hall. Oh shit, I thought, she can’t be bringing somebody in here now, could she? I tested my restraints, but they held fast.

My wife walked back into the room. She gave me a quick kiss on the lips, and grabbed her bags, and wheeled them back down the hall. A pause, then the low voices again and more footsteps back up the hall.

She popped back into the room, shrugging into her jacket. “Honey, I’ve got to go.” She grabbed the CB-3000, my arousal making it stick out from my body. “But since you’re already tied down and excited, I thought it would be a shame to let all this testosterone go to waste.” She walked back to the door and motioned.

A moment later, her two friends came in.

Both obviously had spent some time working out at the gym. One was a tall blond. With a big. . .

Shaking my head, I started pulling against the chains that held me down.

“Honey, you remember my friends Christopher and Patrick, don’t you? You know, from the summer picnic?”

I brushed away a fine hair that had been tickling my nose and thought for a moment. “Fifty three days so far,” I answered. She had one leg over my shoulder, and I planted several small kisses along her warm thigh, my other hand idly caressing her belly and waist.

I felt her hesitation.

“I, uh, have some bad news,” she said after pausing for a few seconds. “I have to go to Kansas again.”

“Oh, dammit. Don’t even tell me. . .”

“Yeah, it’s going to be late next week,” she replied, almost sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t have any control over when Marketing was going to ask for new staff training.”

I knew that there was nobody else available to go, but I was still disappointed. “You know, you promised only sixty days this time,” I said reproachfully, hoping to rub in a little guilt. “By the time the weekend rolls around it’s going to be sixty four days.”

“Oh, come on,” she replied, “that’s only five percent extra. After two whole months, what’s another half a week?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see you not coming for two months. Let’s see how you’d react if I told you you’d have to go for four days, let alone sixty four.”

She disentangled herself to get off of the bed and pad toward the bathroom. “Maybe I could mail you the key at the beginning of the week.”

I snorted, “Yeah, right. And have it get lost like that other time? No, thanks.”

The sound of water tinkled around the door. “Hey, maybe you could leave it with somebody,” I called out. “Preferably somebody cute, kinky, or both.”

“You son of a bitch,” she sputtered, “you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Walking back into the room she threw a towel at me. “I think you’re missing the point of having your cock locked up.”

“Yeah, somebody cute and kinky,” I mused aloud. “How about that cute blonde that works with you. You know, with the big rack. What’s her name. . . Chris?”

I didn’t hear my wife’s answer because she was beating me over the head with a pillow. All I was able to make out sounded like, “You bastard! I’ll get you for that!”

The conversation seemed to go downhill after that.

. . .

It wasn’t until Thursday that she brought it up again.

“So, I gave it some thought,” she said between bites of salad and grilled salmon, “and I thought that maybe it was a bit unfair to ask you to wait an extra four days, especially since I’m not going to be around.”

“No, don’t be silly,” I responded, sprinkling a little more balsamic vinegar on my salad, “Not having you around might actually make it easier for me. And what the hell, it’s only four days.”

She shrugged. “Okay, whatever. I’ll tell Chris not to bother.”

The clink of my fork falling to the plate made her look up with a sly smile. “This wine is good. Have we had it before?”

“What did you say?” I asked slowly.

“The wine. Have we had this before?”

“Aauurrgghh! No, about Chris! What the hell did you do?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I just asked Chris at work about holding the key. You remember Chris, right? Tall, blond hair, works out at the gym. . .”

Oh hell, I thought. I hope that she didn’t tell Chris what the key was for. She wouldn’t do that. Would she? Damn, yes she would.

“Oh my freakin’ God. You told somebody you’ve got me locked up? Are you out of your mind?”

“It was your idea, you big jerk. I told Chris that I had a key for a lock that you would be interested in opening, only for one day. You’d have to give it back the next day. Now, stop hogging that wine and pour me another glass.”

I put my head in my hands. Oh my freakin’ God, one of her friends knows. By next week, her whole freakin’ office was going to know that she keeps my cock locked away, only letting me out once in a great while.

“Oh, and by the way, I mentioned that part of the deal was that you had to be especially nice to Chris if you wanted the key.”

I looked up. “Especially nice? As in, if I weren’t nice I might not get the key?”

My wife nodded, smirking.

I groaned.

“I’ll get the dishes tonight, honey,” she said to me in mock sympathy. “Go take a shower and lay down, you look a little pale.”

. . .

“Umm. . . about Chris,” I began. It was Saturday night; we were in the bedroom and she had almost finished packing for her Sunday flight. “What exactly did you tell her?”

“Her?” she asked absent-mindedly. “Oh, Chris. Are you still worried about that?”

I nodded. “Of course I am.”

Smiling she asked “Have you been worried about that for the last few days? Gosh, and all this time I was thinking that you’d enjoy the chance to have some fun with my cute friends. After all, it was your idea.” She pushed me back onto the bed. “And since I’m not going to be around, Chris will determine whether or not you can be unlocked after I get back. Oh, and Pat, too.”

“Pat? Who the hell is Pat?” I demanded.

“Why, it’s Chris’s partner, of course,” she reminded me, “Don’t you remember them from the summer picnic?”

“Oh, sure,” I lied. For crying out loud, there’s a bazillion women working for this company, I can’t keep track of all of them. “Umm. . . so, by ‘partner,’ you mean that Chris is. . .”

“Is gay, yes.” she finished. She smiled a little too sweetly. “You don’t remember them, do you?”

“No, no, of course I remember! Blonde, tall, Chris. Big rack. The one who’s got a partner named Pat.”

She eyed me narrowly. “You don’t remember Chris or Pat, do you?”

“Sure I do. From the summer picnic, right?”

She hit me with the pillow.

Hmm, I thought. All I have to do is be “especially” nice to a couple of her cute friends from work? And if they work out at the gym, they must be at least in halfway decent shape. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

. . .

Knowing that we would be apart for the rest of the week, my wife finished up her packing first thing in the morning so that we’d get to spend some quality time before she had to leave for the airport. She teased me by being as vague as possible about the things that I’d have to do for Chris, telling me only that it was entirely up to me as to whether or not I’d be allowed to come – and how. I told her that I still felt a little disappointed; after having been denied for two months, I’d much rather have an orgasm with her – it’s generally much more fun.

“Generally?” she sneered, “You’re just digging yourself deeper and deeper, aren’t you?”

That probably explains how I ended up naked and tied down to the bed. My wife kneeled over me, the key to my chastity device hanging tantalizingly from a chain around her neck.

“So, before you go, are you going to tell me what the deal is with Chris?”

She looked down at me, grinning evilly and lightly scratching me with her nails. “Why, does it really matter?”

“Uhh. . . doesn’t it matter to you?” I asked.

She shrugged. “The other day I told Chris that you would be very anxious to get this key. But after thinking about it for a few days, I decided that this might be a good test to see how badly you really want to come.”

Frowning up at her, I asked “Are you serious? What about your promise to let me out in sixty days?”

She shrugged again. “I changed my mind. I was thinking that this would take us into a new level. ‘Push the boundaries’, isn’t that what you always say?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “What are you saying? How long are you going to keep me locked up?”

She tweaked my nipple, making me gasp. “That will depend upon you.” She put her finger over my lips and continued, “See, that’s the ‘pushing the boundary’ part. If Chris tells me that you’ve been. . .” she paused to consider a moment, “. . . cooperative, then I’ll be more inclined to allow you to come after I get back. If you’re not cooperative, then you’ll continue to be locked up.”

“But. . . for how much longer?”

“Until you’re . . . more cooperative, I guess,” she finished.

This wasn’t too bad, I thought. It sounded like my wife was expecting me to be very accommodating to one of her friends. Chris sounded like a hot number. Hmmm.

“Okay, what’s the catch?” I demanded, suspiciously.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked sweetly.

“It sounds like you’ve given Chris carte blanche with me for the rest of the week.”

She nodded. “That might be a good way to put it,” she replied.

“But, what if she wants something intimate? Like, you know, sex or something?”

She smiled. “You’re locked up, silly, remember?”

“Well, what if she wants oral sex?”

“She? You mean Chris?”

I nodded, not liking the grin fixed on her face for the last few minutes.

“Oh, no problem. Chris loves oral.”

This sounded too good to be true.

“Uh, that means that I might have to, er , you know. . . ” I looked up at her, hoping that she’d catch my drift.

“Are you asking for my permission?”

I nodded again.

“Chris is my friend, so I’d expect you to be as . . . accommodating as possible. Of course, if you want to continue to be locked up long after I get back . . .”

I relaxed and tried to repress my smile.

She leaned over to give me a long, passionate kiss, her warm breasts pressed against my chest. I moaned with desire, my cock stirring in the plastic cage. After a moment she pulled away and cupped her hands around my swollen balls. She flicked a finger against the device, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“I’ve got to get leave,” she said simply, and quickly put on her blouse and skirt. I watched as she slipped into her shoes and walked toward the bathroom.

“Hey,” I called after her, “what about me?”

I started as the doorbell suddenly rang. She reappeared from the bathroom and walked toward the door. “What about you?” she called back over her shoulder.

“Are you going to just leave me here?” I whispered

Apparently so. I heard her walk down the hallway and open the door. I heard some low voices, and then footsteps coming back up the hall. Oh shit, I thought, she can’t be bringing somebody in here now, could she? I tested my restraints, but they held fast.

My wife walked back into the room. She gave me a quick kiss on the lips, and grabbed her bags, and wheeled them back down the hall. A pause, then the low voices again and more footsteps back up the hall.

She popped back into the room, shrugging into her jacket. “Honey, I’ve got to go.” She grabbed the CB-3000, my arousal making it stick out from my body. “But since you’re already tied down and excited, I thought it would be a shame to let all this testosterone go to waste.” She walked back to the door and motioned.

A moment later, her two friends came in.

Both obviously had spent some time working out at the gym. One was a tall blond. With a big. . .

Shaking my head, I started pulling against the chains that held me down.

“Honey, you remember my friends Christopher and Patrick, don’t you? You know, from the summer picnic?”

Week 31: Something changed for the both of us.

For the next few weeks after the night that she tied me down, her libido seemed to increase. After having gotten accustomed to the once a week oral or strap-on sessions, it was a pleasant surprise to have her after me three times a week. Even though she refused to let me out, I felt my own libido responding in kind as I took her with the strap-on or spent a half hour with her thighs wrapped around my head. I’m not sure what inspired her, but I decided to enjoy it while it lasted.

One night I mentioned casually, “I don’t get it. Usually when you’re in the mood, you’re willing to take the damn cage off of me.”

“Well, it’s only been a week or so, hasn’t it?” she replied lazily. While I attributed her lack of precision to the fact that her thighs were wrapped around my head, it didn’t bode well. Usually she’s good about keeping track of the days.

“No, it’s been five weeks now, and I’m really having a hard time.”

“Hmmm. Only a month and already you’re complaining? I should make you go for another month just for that.” Her fingers tightened on my hair and she pulled my face back between her legs. “In fact” she added as I resumed licking her wet mound, “I’m thinking that it’s time to take your training to the next level.”

I managed to lift my head a bit. “Training? What the hell are you talking about? This isn’t training, it’s denial! You expect me to be happy coming once a month?”

Her legs tightened around me, pulling me back into position. “Right now, I think that you’re going to be happy coming whenever I let you, be it once a month or once a year.”

“Once a year?” I exclaimed, “I can’t do that – that’s crazy!”

In answer, she held my head down with her hands and lifted her hips. I got the message. I resumed my slow licking and sucking, all the while listening to her talking – more to herself than to me – about my “going for some really long term training.” The more she talked to herself, the more aroused she became, until soon she was bucking and thrusting her hips so much that I could barely keep up.

Afterwards, she laid across my chest, relaxing. I was still aroused, of course, but not painfully so; somehow being able to give her so much pleasure enabled me to sublimate my own arousal.

“Umm, about this ‘training’ you mentioned…” I began, “It sounds very erotic and all that, but I barely get to come once a month as it is; besides, you’re always saying how much you prefer my cock to the dildo. It’s not going to be easy for you to do without, you know.”

I was hoping to talk some reason into her. She looked up at me.

“I’m sure it’s going to be hard for a while,” she smiled.

Week 34: I find that I’ve lost track of the time.

People talk about “lifestyle” this or that, without really having a conception of what it’s like to live 24/7 with something. Oh sure, they do it for a week, maybe a month, but for most of us, exploring some alternative sexuality is more of a vacation from real life, rather than becoming part of real life itself.

I don’t remember when it changed for me. At one point the idea of wearing the cage every day was exciting; even the frustration of being denied an orgasm for a week or two was arousing in a way. Eventually, though, the reality slammed home – I wasn’t ever going to have as much sex as I wanted; or rather, I was never going to have as many orgasms as I wanted. It took a while to work through the frustration of not being in control of my cock, to have to forgo the pleasures the joyful consummation of lovemaking. I developed a love-hate relationship with the steel cage that I built – I was proud of how well it contained me and how secure it was, but hated having to wear it.

When my wife began keeping me locked for longer and longer periods, I found myself so grateful for the times she released me that I didn’t mind going back in right. Eventually though, even that pleasure was mitigated by her decision that I should clean her with my mouth and tongue immediately afterward. When we discovered a good strap-on harness and dildo for me to wear, it was almost a mixed blessing – I was unlocked even less frequently, but at least I didn’t have to humiliate myself as often. And I realized, that’s what it was – humiliation; I was willing to promise anything for those ten seconds of glorious fireworks.

But at some point a few months ago I realized that I had gotten past even that, and became almost perversely proud of my ability to hold out without begging for relief. Once every month? I could handle that. But two months? Three? I tried to put the thoughts out of my mind. Fortunately, my wife really enjoys intercourse, and we both knew that the strap-on, although pleasant, just didn’t quite have the same feel. Maybe it was the angle, or the shape of the head, or how it was situated on my hips. Sooner or later, she was going to let me out. She had to, right?

Week 36: Silly me – I was supposed to be enjoying this.

A few weeks later I came home early and picked up the mail. There was a small package addressed to her from a company that I recognized as an adult products mail order house. I was curious, but couldn’t figure out a way to open the package without leaving a trace. I left it on her dresser. Later on, after she had come home, I saw that the package was gone, but she didn’t say anything about it. That night, I mentioned it when I was giving her a foot rub.

“Oh, it’s just a little something that I thought would be interesting for us,” she replied mysteriously. “You’ll find out on my next day off,” she said simply, and dropped the subject.

Her next day off was in two more days. Eagerly arising, I fixed her some coffee and toast and I hopped into the shower while she ate. I realized that she didn’t give me the key before I took my shower, but she sometimes likes to tease me by letting me think that she “forgot”. I slipped into the bed, and she was already waiting for me.

“Here, eat me,” she commanded, holding my head in her hands. I proceeded to lick her gently. “No, harder,” she said, “make me nice and wet.”

I thrust my tongue into her, drawing it up her clit in long, firm strokes. She came quickly, bucking her hips. “Oh, that was so nice. You don’t know how much I’ve come to appreciate your tongue these last few months.”

“It seems like you only appreciate my tongue,” I complained.

“Oh no,” she assured me, “I love your cock inside me, too. It’s just that it’s such a hassle to unlock you, let you out of your cage, and then lock you back up again.” She pushed me onto my back. “That’s why I have something for you,” she explained, “that is, for us“.

Reaching under her pillow, she brought out a realistic – a very realistic – looking dildo.

“Oh my God,” I exclaimed, “that’s me!”

She nodded. “I told you that for our anniversary I wanted something different, remember? Did you figure out that I had made a cast of your cock last month? I had it made into an extension for you.”

“It’s a penis extension. You want me to put this on?” I asked, incredulously, “I won’t feel a thing!”

“It’s not just an extension,” she explained, “This is made from the best ‘cyberskin’ for a squishy, yet firm feel.”

Handing it to me, I saw that the front end was solid, but the other end was hollow. I squeezed it – the tip was amazingly lifelike. I saw the familiar veins and ridges – holding it almost felt like holding my own cock. No, it felt just like holding my own cock – just not attached to my body.

“It’s meant to fit over the end of your chastity cage,” she continued, “you’ll be able to wear this when I want some of your nice cock inside me.”

Looking it over again, I said, “If you like my cock so much, then why not just unlock me? Why do we need an extension? “

“Silly,” she replied, “of course you wouldn’t need one – normally.” She took the extension from my hands and leaned in close to my face. She gave me a deep kiss and whispered “But we don’t have a normal arrangement anymore, do we?”

She sat astride my legs and rolled the hollow part up like the end of a sock. Then she placed it over my cage and unrolled it. It fit perfectly, and the tight rubber held it firmly in place. I could see the outline of the steel cage at the base, but otherwise, it looked like I had a full erection – my own erection.

“Oh my,” she said as she stroked it, “it feels so lifelike. I’m sure it will feel as good as it looks, too.” Quickly she positioned herself over it and lowered her pussy onto the shaft. I could feel pressure, but no warmth, no friction.

“Hey,” I complained, moving my hips, “what the hell are you doing?”

She was already pressing her hips to mine in pleasure. “Ooh, honey, it feels just like yours. So nice and deep, too.” She continued to grind her hips onto mine. I reached up to her to fondle her breasts and waist, to hold her ass. I knew we were fucking, but I couldn’t feel it. This was worse than wearing a strap-on, worse than anything I could have imagined. The feeling was absolutely maddening, and I began to pump my hips frantically in order to feel something – anything.

“Oh, yeah, just like that,” she mumbled, oblivious to my own frustration, “I can feel the bumps from the cage inside me, it’s wonderful!” She leaned her head back and shuddered softly as she came. “Oh, that was nice. Much better than having you just stick some old dildo inside of me. I wish I had known about this months ago.”

She dismounted and lay down next to me, pulling me on top of her. Hoping that this was a temporary distraction, I carefully thrust into her. She was so wet that I, that is, my extension slid in effortlessly. Her legs immediate wrapped around my own, and I proceeded to pound into her, half in lust, half in frustration. Before long she was biting my shoulder and pushing her own hips hard into me. We fucked this way until I lost count of how many times she came. Finally she seemed to relax, so I pushed her onto her side so that I could enter her from behind. My wife just closed her eyes and gripped my hand as I plunged into her, filling her deeply. I still couldn’t feel anything but some slight rubbing and the pressure on the ring around my cage. I had hoped that in this position I could make my balls rub on her thigh enough to stimulate me, but after a few minutes it was obvious that there was no way that I could come with this extension on. My wife, however, had no problem coming, and did so a few more times before she asked to get on top again.

I started to complain, but she reminded me that the week before I had come without permission, so I had to accept my punishment. She seemed to get excited by telling me this, and she came quietly. She placed her hands on my shoulders and leaned forward to kiss me. I was a wreck, of course, but she placed a finger on my lips.

“That was wonderful. It felt so real, because it’s just like you,” she said contentedly, “and there’s no danger of you coming before I give you permission. Wouldn’t you say that that is a good thing?”

“Umm. . .”

“And it’s so easy to put on, just half a minute to get you ready, and we don’t have to bother with the straps and getting things in just the right position, like with the strap-on. That’s a big plus, isn’t it?”

I nodded, unsure of where this was going, but sure that they weren’t going well.

“And I kind of miss just being able to have a quickie, don’t you?”

Still unsure, I nodded again.

“I’m glad you feel that way, because I was thinking that lately I might not be too tired to have a nice fucking at night. I miss that, don’t you?” For emphasis, she ground her hips into me.

Again I nodded – this really was not sounding better.

I’ve wanted to have more sex at night,” she continued, “but the problem is that it’s such a hassle to unlock you at night. Then you’re too excited anyway, and you either try too hard to hold back and it breaks my rhythm, or worse, you come too fast, and that’s not fair to me – especially since when I punish you, I’m only punishing myself. Don’t you agree?” She squeezed my balls firmly.

“Umm, yes. . . er, no. . . er . . “This was looking bad again.

She silenced me with a kiss. “But now we can have sex whenever we want. With this nice extension, we could have a quickie, and there’s no unlocking, no cleaning up, you can fuck me for as long as I want, and I’ll never have to worry again about you getting overheated. And best of all,” she continued, “it’s just like you, so I’ll never miss having you inside me! Doesn’t that sound like a great idea?”

“A great idea for who?” I asked with my heart in my stomach.

“And to think that this is all because you wanted a little teasing for your birthday a few months ago. Thank you, darling, for a present that is giving me so much pleasure to give you.” She leaned down to kiss me again.

A few? It had been almost eight months! This was looking decidedly bad. “Um, you mean that we’ll use this to have a quickie, or sometimes at night, and on your days off we’ll still unlock me so I can get some action, right?” I nudged her again, “Right?”

She looked down at me, smiling.

“Silly,” was her only reply.

Yet.

I’m back into something else, though. Wanna see?

A little bit ago I wrote that the whole frenum piercing thing just didn’t work out well with regard to using it with the CB3000. The barbell often pinched my skin in the cage, especially when I got aroused, and the lack of room made it difficult to keep clean, resulting in several infections during the year. I could never wear it for more than a couple of days at a time, which didn’t sit well with the increasingly kinky Mrs. Edge, who over the last couple of years developed a fetish for longer (much longer) periods of orgasm denial.

For me, that is.

Anyway, a couple of months ago I removed the piercing and let the hole close up. That it did so with something approaching the speed of a nano-black hole was also annoying. However, there doesn’t seem to be any permanent scarring, and all’s well that ends well, right?

Knowing that Mrs. Edge was going on a short business trip this week, it was motivation for me to dig out theCB3K and fix some minor things so she could have something to think about while being away. These devices have ventilation holes at the top and bottom; unfortunately, the top holes allowed my skin to swell out rather painfully, so I had filled them in with epoxy. The epoxy yellowed and became loose, so I replace it with tiny bars of acrylic that I shaped and super-glued over the holes. It keeps the skin from swelling through, but allows some air flow and water for cleaning.

Yeah, it’s gear-head talk, but chastity is not an exact science.

I put it on on Friday morning, and ended up wearing it all through the weekend. Family, work, and other obligations kept us from enjoying any intimate time, although we did manage about 10 minutes to look at the new CB6000 model online. It looked that she was going to head off to the mid-west without our getting an opportunity for sex, but Monday night we both managed to get to bed at about the same time. While she was in the bathroom, I donned my strap-on harness and warmed up her favorite dildo (which she calls my “other cock”), and lay in bed waiting.

She crawled in, and after a few minutes started moving her hands around. She felt my other cock and said “But what if I didn’t want this one? What if I wanted your real one?”

“That’s fine with me,” I told her, “in fact, even better, since I haven’t come since last week. I was just warming the other one up so you could have the option.”

We began to make out a bit, and then a bit more, which was nice because for the last few months it seems like we’ve only had time for quickies. A short while later I was lying on top of her, my other cock pressing against her mound and my cage pressing against her ass cheeks. She indicated that she would like some lube, and I reached into the bedside drawer for the heavier stuff that I use for my other cock. My other cock is very lifelike, but the thinner lubes sometimes aren’t enough lubricity to last and will sometimes leave her a little bit chafed.

We settled into her favorite position: missionary, with my hips pressed tightly against hers, angled slightly upwards to allow the curve of my other cock to massage her sensitive spot inside. I have learned to enjoy this position myself, because when I’m not focused on the six inches of sensitive meat, the rest of my body needs some extra sensation. I continued to kiss her while maintaining long, slow stokes, and it wasn’t long before I felt her legs tighten around mine and felt her arch her back slightly. Obviously the idea of me back in the cage warmed her up pretty quickly.

She smiled mischievously. “That damn piercing,” she complained, “wasted a whole fucking year on that.”

I felt badly about this, and told her so. I mean, it was my idea, after all.

She indicated that I should shut up and to keep fucking her.

A few minutes later, she came again, a little harder than previously. She opened her eyes and told me “You know, I should really make you pay for that mistake. Do you realize I’d almost forgotten about this?” I smiled.

“Pay?” I asked, “Like, deny me for a while?”

“Yes,” she replied as I continued my slow thrusting, “like, a long while.” Her breathing grew deeper and faster.

“It was over a year that I tried to make it work,” I reminded her, “maybe you need to make up for lost time with me. Would you make me pay for a whole year?”

She closed her eyes tightly and nodded. A few short moment later her long nails were digging sharply into my ass and she was pressing her hips up to meet mine. A short moan, and suddenly the look of intense concentration on her face turned into a relaxed grin. She opened her eyes and smiled at me.

A quick, mini-fantasy had just played itself out in her head. I wouldn’t mind, but I’m convinced that she has stronger orgasms when she thinks about keeping me locked in for longer periods. I checked this morning, my ass still has scratch marks. “I really was going to unlock you, but now I think I’m going to make you wait until I get back.”

“But… but…”

“It’s really because you do such a good job with your other cock, you know.” She tweaked my nipple and laid back. “It’s late, and I think I’m done for the night.”

I asked her if she wouldn’t mind sitting astride me for a couple of minutes. I love this position because I enjoy seeing her body – even more now that all the exercising has given her a nicer shape. She complained a little, but pushed me over and slowly lowered herself onto me. My cage was pressing against her ass, and I could feel her warmth through the plastic.

We talked for a few moments, she asked me “If I took off the cage and told you that you had only two minutes to come, could you do it?” I nodded. “Two whole minutes? Sure thing.”

“Well, how about one minute?”

“Umm, yeah, I think so,” I replied, not liking where this was headed.

“What if I took it off and said ‘You’ve got twenty seconds to come, and then the cage is going back on’?”

“Oh, that’s totally unfair,” I protested, still aware of her weight on my hips, “I train myself so hard to not come quickly, and then you try to sabotage that by telling me it’s the only way I’d get to come?”

She laughed softly, and rocked her hips back and forth.

“You know,” I confessed, “I sometimes do have fantasies about you teasing me for a long time, stroking me, keeping me right on the edge…” “Yeah?” she asked, her eyes closed, concentrating.

“And then, right at the very end, just when I’m about to come really hard…”

She closed her eyes and leaned forward slightly as I moved my hands from her breasts to her shoulders, and down to her waist.

“… you suddenly stop touching me as I come, just letting it spill out, ruining it.”

She tensed briefly, frowning in concentration, and I pulled her hips down to meet my own. She let out a breath, sighing, and her body relaxed. She leaned forward to lay against my chest. No question that she was now really done for the night.

“You don’t mind waiting until I get back, do you?” she asked, sleepily.

“No, I’m good. I thought I’d be begging to come, but I’m actually feeling pretty satisfied right now,” I assured her. “Thank you for getting on top for that last bit, I really enjoy looking at you.” And truthfully, being able to spend some time close both physically and emotionally really did make me satisfied.

She whispered a goodnight and turned on her side. I got up to remove and clean my cock, and to apply some lube to help me sleep through the night. A few minutes later I was back under the warm covers, spooning against her back.

In the morning, just before she left she noticed me rummaging through the kitchen junk drawer, looking for some masking tape.

“What do you need that for?” she asked. In response, I handed her a pen. She watched as I removed the emergency key to the lock from my keyring and wrapped the tape around it. I gave it to her, and she signed the tape, knowing that if I tried to remove it in order to unlock myself I’d rip the tape and destroy the seal. She dated one side and, displaying some good humor, drew a couple of little hearts on the other side. She took her own key and put it in her purse.

You can see my jumble of keys with the picture of the taped key. Clicking the above picture will bring you to an album with pictures of me wearing it. NOT SAFE FOR WORK or in the same room with younger family members.The camera adds ten pounds, of course, but anyone who’s seen my pics from last year can see that I’ve toned up quite a bit since then.

And even though she said something about “waiting until next week,” I have no idea if she really means it. At this point, I don’t know when she’ll next let me out.