We had to have a tree cut down. The heavy snow brought down a lot of branches and weakened it. It was the tree that grew through the deck. Or would have if the deck builder ever came back to finish the job. In hindsight, I guess it was good the deck wasn’t finished first. We would have had to fix the hole left by the absence of the tree.

I went to work and left Lion to defend the fort. We emailed back and forth a bit and then he was silent. I didn’t get a response when I asked if he was okay. I assumed he was asleep so I didn’t text him. It’s always tricky when I know he’s alone and not one hundred percent. Do I panic and assume the worst? Do I assume he’s okay and stay at work as I did today? Some day whatever choice I make is going to bite me in the butt. Lion was asleep. He ate lunch, felt dizzy and went to sleep. No harm, no foul.

Last night we snuggled for a little while. Lion’s shoulder was sore so it didn’t last long. Plus, we both get uncomfortable from our weird positions and someone has to move eventually. I stayed close and we continued to watch TV.

I’m sure if I pressed the point and told Lion we were going to start playing again tonight, he’d be game. At least he’d try to be game. I don’t know how it would actually go, but he’d try. I just don’t think there’s any need to push it. It will happen when it happens. At some point Lion will let me know he’s ready and we’ll start. I know that doesn’t make for very good reading but that’s where we are right now.

While I’m thinking about it, Lion’s post this morning dealt with cages and how the Nub makes his penis disappear. I sort of like the idea of his being able to see my weenie when it’s locked away. He can look but not touch. It’s just out of reach. In the Nub it’s out of sight, out of mind. Nope. I like him to see what he can’t have. That’s not to say I won’t ever put him in the Nub. I reserve the right to lock my weenie in whatever I want.

ht nub
It’s gone!

Ever since I decided to try a 1 inch long chastity device, and shared my interest with others, lots of new and interesting issues have come up. For one thing, everybody who has tried the Nub comments on how it looks. That might not seem odd, but if you look at reviews of other devices the discussion centers around comfort, security, and ease of cleaning. Aesthetics, if mentioned at all, are very small part of the discussion.

This changes when 1 inch devices are worn. Wearers note that their penises seem to have disappeared. The tone of the writing doesn’t show the erotic excitement usually accompanying penis-crunching conversation. Instead, there appears to be a genuine sense of confusion about the disappearing weenie.

I think this is the tip of the iceberg. In a very odd-but-genuine sense, these very short devices look as though the penis is gone. I would think that this disappearing act would be very welcome. It’s fulfilling the wish of removing the penis as a sexual object until unlocked by its owner.

It’s as though our keyholders can remove our penises and store them away until they have some use for them. That, for me at least, is a pretty disturbing fantasy. But I have to admit that it is the logical extension of the enforced male chastity story.

The Nub in particular, even when purchased in clear plastic, does an excellent job of hiding the presence of the penis. Mine is clear and all you can really see is flesh-colored penis head with the urethra poking out of the hole in the tip. There is no evidence that head is attached to anything more substantial.

My 1 inch Jail Bird has a similar effect. However, since I’ve been wearing it for some time I’ve grown used to the penis disappearing act. The Nub refreshes the memory vividly. I’ve read some people wondering how their keyholder will react to the missing penis. In fairness, most of us want keyholder approval of any device we ask to wear.

When you join the one-inch club, the question of appearance takes on much more importance. I admit I spent some time looking in a mirror studying the disappeared penis. I also felt a bit uncomfortable looking at my disembodied urethra.

The more I think about it the more I realize that aside from the practical advantages of wearing a 1 inch cage, there is a new and profound emotional reaction to my male chastity. When I wear the Nub in particular, I don’t like what I see. I don’t like having to move my balls out of the way when I want to urinate. It just emphasizes a new order between my legs.

Every other chastity device I’ve worn showcases my penis in one way or another. It’s a pretty sort of bondage. Even the 1 inch Jail Bird feels good to look at. The Nub is an entirely different story. It’s all business. It’s not pretty. It’s unmistakably telling me that the penis it hides isn’t available in any way for my pleasure.

Ironically, it’s absolutely comfortable to wear. In fact, I can easily forget I’m locked into anything. The combination of lightweight plastic and very good ergonomic design take away any real opportunity to feel the confinement. It’s exactly as though Mrs. Lion has disconnected my penis and locked it away in her safe.

In the brief time I had to test the device, I don’t recall any spontaneous attempts at erection. Since the device shouldn’t perform very differently from the Jail Bird, I’m pretty sure it will be almost unnoticeable when I try to get hard.

Is the purpose of enforced male chastity to effectively disconnect my penis from any function beyond urination? In other words, is it a violation of being chaste to get visual pleasure looking at my cock locked in its little cage? Since a fascination with my penis set me on the road to chastity, it makes sense to think about removing all possibility of enjoying it on my own. This extends far past jerking off or other unauthorized sexual activity.

I’m not talking about depersonalization of my penis. It is attached to me and serves several important functions. Instead, it’s about following through on my request to surrender sexual control to my lioness. You could argue that there is nothing sexual about enjoying the sight of the penis locked helpless in its cage. I have to disagree.

It’s a sexual thrill to witness bondage that renders sexual pleasure just out of reach. It’s not nearly as much fun to look down and see a tiny box with my urethra poking out. That doesn’t look like bondage to me. Of course I know it is. But it doesn’t ring any sexual bells.

In a way wondering how the keyholder will like the sight of a new, 1 inch device, is an indirect plea to get or give pleasure at the site of your locked penis. Since Mrs. Lion can easily free her weenie when she wants access, even if it is just to look at the flaccid penis, there is no reason for concern about how she likes its appearance when locked away.

It’s a kind of topping from the bottom. It may be that my partner does prefer one device over another. That’s fine. She can lock me in the one she likes best. From my perspective, the one that is most effective is the one that completely takes away any sexual pleasure; visual or tactile.

All this is pretty new to me. I wonder if it’s new to you too. What started out as a way to improve the convenience of long-term lockup is developing into a more profound form of enforced chastity. For me at least, being locked in the Nub, removes any visual sexual pleasure I might have gotten from my lockup. Does that make it a purer form of male chastity?

I went back to work today. It was only four hours but they were a long four hours. It took me two hours just to dig myself out of three weeks worth of emails and physical inbox crap. And then I was ready for a nap.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Lion was on his own. He managed to make it to the kitchen to make his own lunch. His shoulder hurt but he did it. All by himself. It’s necessary to say that Lion hadn’t been to the kitchen since he passed through it on the way home from the hospital. We went out the other door when we went to his doctor appointment. The kitchen is at the opposite end of the house from the bedroom. I stink at estimating distances, but it’s a long way when you’re not necessarily that steady on your paws.

Lion suggested I could work a longer day tomorrow. Let’s not get too carried away. I was planning on getting my sleep pattern back to normal before I did anything, but things were just sort of sprung on me yesterday. I may have to ease my way back into an eight hour day. Maybe Wednesday. Maybe not. There’s something to be said for staying home all day and napping off and on. I teased Lion that he’s had four surgeries recently so I get the next one. When do I get to be waited on?

Of course I’m teasing. Lion takes very good care of me. We take good care of each other. I’ll go back to work full time when I feel more comfortable about leaving him here to fend for himself all day. One lunch trip to the kitchen is fine, but I think he needs a babysitter a little longer.

Since my surgery, I’ve been considerably less interested in sex. Mrs. Lion gave me two orgasms since the operation. Both times, no semen was produced. The first time I was not terribly concerned. I had been taking painkillers which could’ve affected production. It’s been well over a week since the last time I took any. Yet I still come up dry.

I’m not sure why this worries me. The orgasms feel great. Mrs. Lion gave me the second half of my blow job the other night. It felt wonderful. By and large I’m not feeling any pain. However, I still need a walker to get around. I can stand independently and have taken over my basic physical care. In fact, Mrs. Lion returns to work part time starting today.

I still don’t get morning wood. Mrs. Lion’s attention is required for physical arousal. I suppose that’s not surprising. Pretty much all voluntary physical activity is controlled by the spinal cord. While the signs are encouraging, my spinal cord is still not fully functional. I don’t have any medical facts to back this, but I believe that the recovery starts first with grosser actions and eventually (hopefully) works its way to the significant little things like a sense of touch and easier erection.

As I’ve discovered, whether or not I get hard on my own has no bearing on whether or not I should wear a chastity device. Trying to equate suppressing unauthorized arousal with the need for a chastity device is like equating preventing extramarital affairs with wearing a wedding ring. Yes, the chastity device does its job and will prevent unauthorized arousal, but that’s not the point. Just like the wedding ring its significance is deeper and far more symbolic.

I get pleasure out of wearing a chastity device. I discussed one phase of that in my post yesterday. Another, much more significant phase, is its value in providing a concrete, physical presence reminding me that I don’t control my sexual expression.

When I think about it, I suspect the major objection many guys might have to wearing a chastity device is the loss of sexual independence. Even a guy who doesn’t have any interest in extramarital sex or unauthorized masturbation might hate the thought that he can’t control his penis because a device is locked around it.

It isn’t any different than the fear of bondage. Let’s face it, a chastity device creates a very real sexual vulnerability. Some of us revel in this. Others find this a fearsome compromise of personal freedom.

I also suspect that some of the interest we share in trying new hardware is partly a distraction from the naked power we have surrendered. I realize that a lot of guys who wear chastity devices also carry the keys. They know they can remove it easily at will. That’s no different than taking off a wedding ring.

When I returned my emergency key to Mrs. Lion, I got a very different feeling about wearing my chastity device. Yes, I know that with a lot of effort I could pull out, but that’s not the point. When my key went into Mrs. Lion’s key safe, so did my ability to control my chastity.

My vulnerability became immediately and permanently obvious to me. Even after time has passed, knowledge of my vulnerability is never far below the surface of my consciousness.

I realize that Mrs. Lion doesn’t think of my lockup the same way that I do. She understands how profoundly I feel the loss of control. If she forgets to remind me that she enjoys her power, it hurts a little. In another sense, it magnifies my feeling of vulnerability. That device is locked on. It’s not subject to whether or not I feel its presence is well enough appreciated by my lioness.

Fortunately for me, she is acutely aware of my feelings and within the scope of our agreed power exchange, she works hard to support me. We both know she doesn’t have to. I know that regardless of how I choose to interpret the way she plays the game, the game will go on anyway she wishes. That, after all, is what makes it a true power exchange.