Sometimes it’s hard to separate our BDSM fun from our FLRD (Female Led Relationship with Discipline). They can overlap. I think that we are seeing the line much more clearly. Mrs. Lion’s recent ideas about painting my toenails and making me wear panties, clearly fit into the BDSM area. She never uses activities like these to punish me.

But what about enforced chastity? Is that BDSM play or part of our base power exchange? For the longest time I was convinced that enforced chastity is a serious power exchange that could even be described as a lifestyle. I know that many guys think it is. After much deliberation, I don’t. For us, at least, it fits firmly in the BDSM column.

Let me explain. Even though enforced chastity has helped us improve our marriage, it’s still a sort of sexy play. I’m locked up and teased. Eventually I get to ejaculate. I get frustrated and very horny. I get more teasing. Essentially, it’s a game for two. Playing it makes us more sexual and improves our physical relationship.

But it doesn’t influence other areas of our lives any more than painting my toenails or making me wear a diaper. It’s “fun”. Some is more fun for her than I, but it is play. I often like the idea of the play much more than actually participating, but that’s a personal problem as Mrs. Lion likes to say.

Of course, it’s all consensual. I want her to do these things. The idea of being made to endure these tortures is very hot to me. Actually living them often isn’t.
This is in contrast with our FLRD. I have rules that are meaningful to Mrs. Lion. Breaking a rule results in punishment. Unlike the play, punishments are painful events I want to avoid. The goal is to teach me to be better.

Even though in the beginning of our FLRD, we both unintentionally mixed play with punishment, we’ve learned the difference. I can receive a painful play beating. It may involve the same amount of discomfort as a punishment. But I know the difference. It’s Mrs. Lion’s attitude and approach. My reaction is nothing like it is to play.

An outside observer might have trouble distinguishing between punishment and play. But we understand it. I’m never confused about what Mrs. Lion is doing to me. I can’t escape both play and punishment, but I still understand the difference.

I’ve been thinking of something for a while. Actually it’s only when I brush my teeth. That’s when I see the collection of nail polish. About a week or so ago I thought maybe it’s time Lion had pretty toes again. And then I finish brushing my teeth and the idea is gone. Until the next time I brush my teeth.

In all fairness, we’ve both been sick and painting his toe nails wouldn’t have been the best idea. It wouldn’t give him the sense that he belonged to me. He probably would have thought, “Great. I’m going to die from this cold and I’ll have pink toes.” Now that our colds are almost gone he won’t be so worried about dying with pink toes. He’ll still hate the pink toes though. But that sounds like a personal problem to me.

A similar personal problem would be if I made him wear panties again. Pink toes and pink panties? Mortifying! He’d put up with it. He has no choice. But he will not be happy. All the more reason I should do it. We need something to snap us out of our sickness. Why not pink toes and pink panties? Perfect for spring.

Yup. That’s my plan. He may not be caged at the moment but he’ll be pretty in pink. I’m sure he’d rather be caged. Too bad. It’s not up to him. When I get home I’ll paint his little piggies and select a nice pink pair of panties for him to wear tomorrow. And if he doesn’t have pink panties I’ll find something to match the nail polish we have. Don’t worry, Lion. I’m sure we can find a nice pairing.

It’s been more than ten days since I last posted. I’ve been in bed the entire time. This is the first time I’ve spent any real time in a sitting position. I’m still coughing and find myself needing a snooze now and then. I’m not over what ever I have, but enough is enough. I can usually tell when I am recovering: I want to go places and do things. I guess sitting at my desk and writing is a good sign.

My interest in sex generally returns before I have any serious ability to do anything about it. I experienced the first springlike stirrings between my legs today too. It isn’t that I’m ready to ask Mrs. Lion to do anything about it. I don’t want sexual attention. Over the last ten days I had no interest in anything sexual: no horny thoughts and no morning wood. At one point I wondered if my libido had finally died. Apparently it hasn’t.

I knew things were bad when I read Julie’s incredibly hot post featuring her giving her husband a golden shower. It took three sessions to get through her post. I kept needing to sleep. A lion needs sickroom reading! Incredibly, I wasn’t aroused. Now, that’s serious! I love Julie and her writing. The golden shower she describes is a long-held fantasy of mine. I am always turned on thinking about it. But not this time. It had nothing to do with Julie’s writing skill. For me, it was a reliable indicator that my libido was gone.

Her post describes one of my deepest, darkest fantasies. It isn’t that I think it is too kinky. Me think that? Hah! I’ve provided lots of golden showers to appreciative women. It’s something else; something that I wonder if I would hate if actually experiencing it. On the other hand, that, in itself, isn’t a big deal. It’s taken me a long time to willingly accept anal visitors of some size. That hurts. It may have more to do with taste as a part of sex.  I don’t know.

The subject isn’t very interesting to me today. It’s just that when I was completely free of any sexual interest at all, my aversion to turning this particular fantasy to reality, was easier to analyze without any sexual noise. It may have a lot to do with the surrender that this particular activity means to me. It’s intensely personal. Well, of course, all of this stuff is. But the invasion of my mouth and the taboo activity I have to accept makes it hot to think about and equally difficult to consider actually doing.

Anyway, now that my libido is awakening, such analytical thoughts will drift into the mists. However, I believe there is an insight into what my deepest, inner self is protecting. It could be that my mouth is my most fiercely guarded submissive portal. I’m not ready to admit it, but it may also be the mother lode in terms of my ultimate sexual arousal.

Mrs. Lion likes to shake her head and laugh at my desire to play painful games. Despite having a very sore butt by the end of the game, I loved our Super Bowl spanking game. Mrs. Lion’s Box O’Fun offers many painful activities for me to blindly pick. I hate some of the things Mrs. Lion is directed to do — menthol on my balls, for example — but I love that we play this uncomfortable game.

Mrs. Lion tends to favor CBT. A majority of the Box O’Fun activities involve cock and balls. I’m not complaining. It’s fun. I hope she can find her blindfold. I really love when I can’t see what’s coming.

Sexually, it seems to take me longer to get to the point that I can be edged easily. I’m not entirely sure this is organic. Work has been very difficult and perhaps my concern about being successful is affecting my sexual responsiveness. I’m sure that I will return to my former horniness in the near future. I’m very grateful that Mrs. Lion is willing to be patient with me.

It seems that along with her acceptance of the chastity device as a key tool to owning my penis, she has a renewed willingness to do BDSM play. I think it is because of her desire to make me happy. I’m hoping she is also having fun. Objectively, it is funny to see me select my own painful torture. I hope it amuses Mrs. Lion. The humiliation of her amusement at my obviously silly choice is very exciting to me.

The cards in the Box O’Fun represent a catalog of BDSM activities we have either done or Mrs. Lion read about or invented. I don’t know what the box contains. Mrs. Lion created the cards out of my sight and placed them in the box. The box itself is kept locked in the same safe that contains the keys to my Jail Bird.

The cards are all folded in half. When I pick one, I hand it, still folded to Mrs. Lion. She decides if she will let me know what it says. We don’t necessarily play right after I draw a card. We can wait an hour or more before my fate is revealed. Knowing that I may have chosen tiny clothespins applied to the head of my penis, or a thick “racing stripe” of concentrated menthol rub painted from my anus to the base of my penis, I am apprehensive as I await the sensation.

Mrs. Lion is playful as she shows me what is coming. Without delay, she then goes to work. When she applied the menthol rub, the stripe felt cool and mildly pleasant as it went on. Then, over the next minute or so it grew hotter and hotter until the burning sensation is nearly unbearable. The pain goes on unabated for about ten minutes. When I drew that card a couple of weeks ago, as the pain receded, she used a tissue to stir up the thick strip on my balls. This put new menthol in the thick stripe in contact with my balls. Sensitized by the previous ten minute burn, my balls were on fire as soon as the tissue moved new rub against my skin.

After another agonizing ten minutes, the pain slowly faded. Ten more minutes went by before it was reduced to a slight warmth. I obediently lay on my back, legs spread wide during all this. It was difficult not to jump up and wash the painful stuff off. I didn’t move. I just took it.

That’s the way we play. Fun, huh?