Castrated Lion

The other night we were watching reruns of the sitcom “Mom”. Bonnie, mother of the main character, is an amoral sociopath. In the episode we were watching, Bonnie had just reconciled her on-again-off-again relationship with her paraplegic boyfriend. As part of making up, he gave up more of his independence. He commented, “It seems like I’m losing more and more of my body.”

He was referring to his balls. Bonnie made a comment affirming her ownership. Mrs. Lion turned to me and said, “I own your balls.”

At the time, I offered mild agreement. The next morning, I asked Mrs. Lion if she really felt that she owns my balls. With her typical lioness definitive answer she said, “Most of the time.”

Most of the time? I asked her what that meant. She replied that she doesn’t always think about ownership of me or my family jewels. But when she does, she believes that she owns them. She went on to say that meant she knows she can do whatever she wants with me. I had to agree.

I also went on to say that just because the topic of possession of my balls isn’t always front of mind, doesn’t mean that their ownership status changes at any point. Or, does it? She agreed that there is no point in time where she believes I take over ownership. Just that there are occasions when she doesn’t think about it.

I did ask for a little more detail. One important fact is that she knows she can lock me up in a device I cannot remove at any time she wants. She considers this ability a significant expression of her ownership. I agree. Even though I’m wild now since my surgery, I am fully aware she can change that status anytime she wants.

She’s also very aware that she can punish me for any reason she wishes and she can withhold ejaculation at will.

When I think about this, I realize that this specific form of ownership extends to areas that I consider sexual control. My balls are very good symbols of masculine power. By consciously and publicly acknowledging that Mrs. Lion owns them, I am letting the world know that how I feel about any particular action she wishes to take is completely beside the point.

My balls, and by extension the rest of me, has absolutely no vote when it comes to almost every physical activity Mrs. Lion wishes to inflict on me. She recognizes that she can’t control my sexual desires, and as such has given very little thought to them.

This is very different from the depersonalization kind of BDSM a lot of people fantasize about. I’m not an object or a toy. I am her beloved partner and she has complete ownership of my balls. She can still love me as much as she wants. I can be as affectionate as I want. But when it comes to decisions about sexual activity or discipline, I might as well be an object.

This sort of ownership bypasses a lot of the tedious micromanagement associated with much BDSM play. Trumpets don’t need to sound when I’m locked into a chastity device. She is sometimes amused when I whine about being horny. Other times, it gets on her nerves and she lets me know that I will be spanked if I don’t stop complaining.

Interestingly, she never threatens longer waits for ejaculation when she tires of my whining. Discipline is completely separate from sex. This is true even if sexual behavior provokes the punishment.

I can’t claim that this was a plan we worked out. It’s just how things are involved. They work very well, even at times like this when I am severely physically limited