We are in the final stages of surgery preparations. Well, surgery recovery preparations. The only thing we can do to prep for the actual surgery is to make sure Lion doesn’t have anything to eat after midnight. I have to fix up a few shirts so Lion has something to wear with his sling and we have to change a water filter, and I think we’re pretty much done. Anything else can be done afterwards, or we don’t even know we need to do it yet.

Outwardly, you can’t tell Lion is shaking in his boots. He hides it well. He says I should know he’s anxious. How would I know if he doesn’t show me? Plus, he goes from seeming confident about things to freaking out and back to confident throughout the day. I’m never sure when we’ve crossed the line into anxiety until he tells me. I’ll have to learn to tread lightly.

Apparently, Lion is still reading about the surgery. Some reports say the pain is gone after a few days. Some say a week. Some say the pain is about as bad as before the surgery. Others say it’s worse. I think it depends on the person and the extent of the damage in the shoulder. But Lion is doing what Lion does. He absorbs all information about a subject to learn every aspect. I can’t fault him for that. I do the same thing. To a point. Once I have a good idea how things will work, I stop researching and relax. Does that mean I’m less prepared? Sometimes. But I tend to roll with the punches more than Lion does.

Since we don’t know exactly what will happen in terms of a drugged Lion, tomorrow’s post is likely the last one you’ll see from him for a few days. Barring any weird outcomes, (did they attach Lion’s shoulder to his forehead?) I’ll keep everyone up to date on his condition in my posts. Traditionally, when he’s drugged, he says some wild things. He doesn’t always see the humor in them right away, but eventually he laughs at himself. And my Facebook friends enjoy his comedy act.

I have a list of things I’d like to accomplish in the week or so that I’m home, but I’m fairly sure I’ll be hovering close to Lion for the first few days, at least. I have books to read. I have posts to write. I have games to play. I’m sure I’ll be snoozing next to him at times. Most of all, I’ll be taking care of him and making sure he doesn’t hurt himself by trying to do too much. That’s a full time job all by itself.

“But all you have to do…” These six words are at the top of a slippery slope of non-consensual male chastity. Male chastity, especially involving a chastity device is a male invention. Fantasies of forced sexual frustration abound in the male masturbatory world. I certainly had them.

Some guys feel driven to purchase a chastity device and “try it on.” Yup, that’s me again. Self-imposed, forced chastity is an oxymoron. No matter how you slice it, if you are locking yourself up, you are also able to unlock yourself when you decide to get off. This obvious failing occurs to all of us at some point.

Some of us are lucky enough to have a partner. And a few of us actually ask our partners if they would lock us up. A very small percentage of partners agree. After that first ‘yes”, comes the talk. You know, she asks, “How does this work?” Since most of us are pretty timid about asking in the first place, the very thought of a detailed conversation about how you want her to fulfill your fantasy is enough to make you want to run.

A lot of guys refer their partners to various web sites. Some even are sent here. In fact, the reason I started this blog in the first place was to provide a reasonably woman-friendly website about enforced male chastity. For the lucky few, the baby keyholder does some research and has an idea how to proceed. The cage goes on.

Until now, enforced chastity is a burgeoning shared kink. Alas, most of us can’t leave well enough alone. Faced with the realization of a sexual dream that has no orgasmic outlet, as sexual tension grows, so does the need for more. Emboldened by acceptance of the chastity dream, it’s time for enlarging the scope of her power. Right?

This is the beginning of a non-consensual dominant relationship. Chances are pretty good that the keyholder isn’t particularly excited or motivated by her partner’s cock locked into a little cage. She did it for you, not for her. She probably imagined that locking you up with periodic releases for orgasms is harmless enough. After all, it makes you happy.

But now your testosterone-fueled brain imagines new ways she can exercise her power and increase your frustration. It could be basing your release on a certain number of orgasms she has. Your fevered brain reasons that any woman would love to receive constant sexual stimulation. You are doing her a favor. So you have another talk.

“All you have to do is let me please you day and night,” you suggest. Maybe she doesn’t want to come so much. Maybe she prefers you to want to please her without the carrot of your orgasm hanging in front of your nose. See where this is going? Even if she says yes, is it something she really wants to do? Or, is it something that she believes will make you happy? Ultimately, success at any power exchange requires that both partners are getting something they want from the activity. The capital of making you happy will run out sooner or later.

That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t offer your latest, hot ideas to her. She may be willing to try them and if she likes them, add them to your lives. That’s how it works with Mrs. Lion. She will try what I suggest. If she likes it, we keep it up. If it turns out that I don’t like it, too bad; it was my idea, after all.

It’s very difficult to avoid pressuring your keyholder to go to “the next level”. You can’t do that. You can give her ideas so long as you remember to tell her that it is just an idea and she doesn’t have to do it if she doesn’t like it. Keep your power exchange consensual. Give your dominant partner a break.

For the record, before Lion’s surgery was ever scheduled, I suggested getting a shower seat. It would have come in handy when my knee was hurt. And, since we don’t have any ledge in our shower stall, a seat will be useful for shaving my legs or even just washing my feet without doing the flamingo stand. Lion poo-pooed the idea so I never got one. Now I got one under the guise that it might be useful for him as well. I really do think he’ll need it. Once he’s able to have more than a sponge bath, he’ll still be drugged and potentially unsteady on his feet. Why not eliminate the need for him to stand at all in the shower?

Despite all the talk of a sick room and being handicapped, Lion was actually horny last night. I don’t mean that to sound like it’s been ages, but he’s been sleeping a lot so the horniness has lost out. It had been five days since his last orgasm, he reminded me. Oh, wow! Five whole days? I don’t know how he survived! I’m kidding, of course. First of all, five days is not an extended wait, obviously. But I think he said it more to illustrate that, at the five day mark, he should be horny. So I obliged.

We snuggled a bit and I decided to pinch his nipples. He doesn’t like that at all. I do it because I can. And because he doesn’t like it. And because he’s pinched my nipples in the past and that should never, ever happen. I told him I did it to get his mind off his shoulder pain. Yeah, sure. Then I decided it’s been a long time since my weenie had some quality oral time. Lion loves that. What I love is when my weenie starts out soft and grows in my mouth.

I didn’t really edge him so much as keep him at a heightened level for a while. When I knew he was ready, he started to buck a tiny bit, I decided I didn’t need to edge him at all. Very slowly, I brought him to a point where his bucking increased and then I let him come. He still didn’t have much semen. He’s been a little worried about that. I think it’s because we haven’t been playing like we used to. I don’t edge him every night. There’s no need to produce semen if you don’t think anything will happen. He’s not broken. He’s out of practice. There’s nothing we can do about that right now.

I drove the RAV4 to work today. It wasn’t exciting but it was pleasant enough. The car is nearly vegan. It has pleather seats. Well, the steering wheel is wrapped in leather. But otherwise it is a vegetarian, tree-hugging vehicle. Seems silly for a top tier predator to be driving it.

Sunday night (writing this Monday afternoon) was supposed to feature some fun sexual action. As you already read, it didn’t. Mrs. Lion had barely gotten out of her shower when I fell asleep for an hour. That’s a sure mood killer.

It’s been suggested that I’ve been too wrapped up in planning for my recovery. You could argue that I’ve gone too far, especially when I replaced my Mustang with a (shudder) Toyota hybrid. Maybe I have. It’s my nature.

I miss our normal life. It feels odd to have sex absent. It is a bit awkward around our house because Mrs. Lion seems unsure when she should put her paw down with me. She seems too careful.

I am pretty sure that my posts will be considerably less frequent after Thursday. That’s the day my surgery is scheduled. Mrs. Lion will keep you up to date until I am able to post again. Speaking of Mrs. Lion, she ordered some “sick room” supplies to help me while recovering. They arrived yesterday.

One item is a stool for the shower. We have a very large stall shower so it fits and leaves lots of room around it. It’s depressing sick-room white. But that’s not all. She also bought a toilet seat extender. It’s a white, toilet shaped thing that raises the seat height by about six inches. It attaches under the current seat. I think that device will make it easier for me to sit and then stand up again without the use of my right arm.

Both of her acquisitions are going to make life easier for me. Both remind me that I will be an invalid. We also bought an over-bed table like they use in hospitals. This will be very useful, but alas, is hospital-like. It’s pretty obvious that my ego is causing me some discomfort. I’m not surrendering easily to being handicapped.

It’s ironic that I had no trouble spending the rest of my life in a chastity device that absolutely removes any possibility that I can do anything with my penis. Isn’t the penis the center of what makes me male? Clearly, I am fine with losing control of it. I’m not fine with losing the use of my arm. But, like it or not, on Thursday my right arm will be in a sling and out of commission for some time.

Enough whining! I’ll learn to live with my disability. I’ll also get back my libido. In the meantime, thank you for putting up with me.