Due to my kidney stones and the accompanying discomfort and surgery, I had been wild for about three weeks. On Monday night it was time for me to be locked up again in my chastity device. Mrs. Lion locked it on. It just didn’t feel right. It felt too tight. It was uncomfortable when I moved. It was just wrong.
I mentioned this to Mrs. Lion. She told me that I could be wild until the weekend. I decided to stay caged. I fell into an uneasy sleep. The next morning I barely noticed the device, at least for a while. At work, when I had to pee, I grumbled to myself about having to squeeze the cage and my balls through the fly in my jeans, check that the urethra was centered, and finally was able to pee. What a lot of trouble! As the day wore on, I forgot that I was caged. I easily fell back into the changes I have to make in the bathroom. Showering felt completely normal.
I’ve been thinking back to the other times I was wild for more than a couple of days. Each time the cage returned, I was unhappy. Obviously the fit didn’t change. It’s the same Jail Bird I’ve been wearing for years. The difference is inside me.
Over three years ago I asked Mrs. Lion to lock me up. I worked hard to find a device that is secure and fits comfortably. I wanted enforced chastity. Getting used to the device was fun. I was getting what I wanted. The inconveniences of dealing with a caged penis were challenges for me to overcome. I reveled in beating each new challenge.
Being locked in a chastity device is routine. Both of us are used to dealing with the demands it makes on our lives. We accept them because the cage has helped us make positive changes in our relationship. We’ve adapted. Then one day it has to come off for a while. It felt very good to be wild. Nocturnal erections were, well, erections. My balls retracted and got out of the way. It was comfortable and convenient to be wild.
I knew the freedom would end soon enough. Masturbation would no longer be an option. It’s true that I never masturbate when wild; but I could. With the cage in place, I can’t. Staying chaste isn’t a matter of will and resolve. It’s the unyielding steel around my penis that could care less about what I want to do with my toy. It is safely locked away for my lioness. I just carry it around.
You’d think I would have gotten over all that years ago. In the beginning I loved that loss of freedom. Now it is a fact of life. A clause in the contract that defines our relationship. Paws off; period. The cage makes that promise. It doesn’t matter at all if I agree. The cage and its security screw remove my opinion from relevance. I agree that my penis belongs exclusively to Mrs. Lion. That is true whether I am wild or not. But when that cage is on, her possession is absolute and completely out of my hands.
Maybe that’s what made it feel so tight and uncomfortable. It may have been the transfer of control from my resolve to a stainless steel device. When that cage went on, my opinion became irrelevant. It no longer matters how I feel about sex. My penis is effectively in Mrs. Lion’s purse attached to her key ring. Even after years of this truth, a couple of weeks of freedom reminded me all over again of what I have given her.