Sporting Equipment

One of the key concepts behind forced chastity is sexual control. This is interesting to me because it implies that without my cage I would stray. Of course I wouldn’t. I haven’t in my entire relationship with my Lioness, and being caged doesn’t change that. However, the purpose of the cage in our case isn’t about a dalliance with a stray lioness. It’s a powerful symbol of control, at least to me. That’s the other key factor: my Lioness isn’t caging me to stake out her sexual territory; she is doing it to help me realize a fantasy/kink for female control. This fantasy and its realization are inconsistent in our marriage. My Lioness trusts me. I know she isn’t a bit worried about me prowling. I am pretty sure she doesn’t really care if I masturbate or not. So my cage is more sporting equipment than security device. We are playing a long-term sexual game.

In this game my Lioness gets to make sexual rules I must follow. She can tease me as much as she wants without release. She can ignore me sexually and watch me stew in my own juices. I get to experience the exquisite frustration of desperately wanting release but being unable to get it. My penis has always been a toy available to me anytime I want to play. It is still there, but thanks to my cage, all it is good for now is urination. I can get myself excited, but all that does is make the cage tighter and leads to no satisfaction at all. I never realized how much I enjoyed simply getting hard; feeling the weight of my hard cock hanging in front of me. I loved the sensation of gently fucking the sheet if I got an early morning erection. That doesn’t happen anymore.

This game is very much all about me. I know that. I wish my Lioness had as much fun frustrating me as I am having as the caged male. But she doesn’t. I often wonder why I like losing something I love. What is it about losing control of my toy that is so exciting? Is it that because my cock is out of reach, it is more enticing? Forbidden fruit. I don’t know.

The fact that my Lioness is willing to devote time and energy to this game is a real tribute to her love for me. I am grateful that I am so lucky. It’s ironic that the fantasy is that my mate gets pleasure and comfort by having absolute physical control over my cock, when the reality is that she never worried about letting me run wild. I am the one getting pleasure out of surrendering control.

This is the key point: forced chastity isn’t so much about my partner taking control away from me as it is about me surrendering control to her. I think that a lot of men who want to be caged would have much better luck with their partners if they approached this as something they do, not something their partners take. This is surrender, not capture.