The Magic Number Is Ten

We are still waiting for our vanity license plates. The state wrote (in 2020) that the digital plate-making machine broke down. Apparently, it’s still broken. The state sent the registration, stickers, and a temp (paper) plate in April. There’s no sign of the actual custom plate yet. The paper plate expired last week and we went to the Department of Licensing to get a new temporary plate. The old one just had to be taped inside the car’s back window. The new one is printed on plastic and has to be put where the regular plates go. That’s not easy to do because the temps are paper-thin. I ordered double-faced tape to try to mount the new temps.

The lady at the DOL said that one customer has been waiting since July 2022 for his plates. The temporary license plates expire every 60 days. Hoo boy! I’m not going to say what our new plates say. We do need to protect our privacy. Let me just say that they are a fairly obvious reference to our domestic discipline relationship. Mrs. Lion came up with the idea.

We are still losing weight. I’m within fifteen pounds of my goal. Mrs. Lion has a bit further to go. I’m not sure how we will handle food when I’m done losing, and she is still dieting. The biggest reason we are so successful so far is that we are both on the same diet. If I start eating more Calories a day, I think she will, too. That would be terrible. She is doing so well, about 50 lbs so far.

I’m still amazed that I had an orgasm after only six days. As Mrs. Lion said last night, “That’s right inside the range you should be in.” I pointed out that she decided what that range should be (7-14 days). She feels that an orgasm every week or two is enough for me. She’s enforced that timing for ten years now.

That’s one of the main things about male chastity. The keyholder decides the appropriate number of orgasms her man should have. Mrs. Lion seems to favor about ten days as the optimum interval. She doesn’t stick to it religiously, but that seems to be her average. It’s rare when I get to come in less than a week, but occasionally, she gets me off in as few as five days. Most of the time, it’s at least ten.

Even though she says she doesn’t keep track, she’s been remarkably consistent. The key takeaway isn’t that I’m trained to wait as long as she wants. It’s that she pays attention to the frequency of my ejaculations and controls them. This is a radical change in behavior for her. It’s as radical as my change to let her.

Sexual control is an excellent expression of domination. It’s invisible to the outside world, yet represents a profound surrender on the part of the male. We males are used to orgasms on demand. I felt free to jerk off at any time I was horny. Mrs. Lion was generally happy to get me off if I asked. When we started male chastity, we both treated it as a game that used my need to get off as a fun way to keep things interesting.

Over time, controlling when I get to ejaculate became a normal part of our marriage. I know that Mrs. Lion didn’t do any conscious planning when she decided how often I should ejaculate. It just evolved over time. Once she became aware that she had developed a rhythm, she wrote that she was enforcing the seven-to-fourteen-day orgasm interval for me. I wasn’t consulted, just informed.

Mrs. Lion doesn’t read about male chastity or domestic discipline. I do. Over the years, I’ve read pieces by women who control their partner’s orgasms. Almost every single one writes that ten days is frequent enough for any man. They also point out that a longer wait isn’t going to hurt him.

These women appeared to be real practitioners of enforced male chastity. They independently came up with the same minimum interval. Mrs. Lion also came up with it too. Why that particular interval? Is there something about men in general that signals a ten-day wait is ideal? I would have expected that the women would be all over the map, with waits ranging from a couple of days to many weeks. The male partners always seemed to want unrealistically long waits. The women settled on an average of ten days. I don’t get it.

When I look back over the last seven years–that’s as long as I’ve been keeping records–the average wait is ten days. It’s the magic number.

Listen to this post.