Dependent
It’s Sunday night and I’ve started this post at least five times. Generally, I have no problem finding material to discuss. I attribute this current problem to drugs more than writer’s block. I’ve had to take the “strong stuff” to keep the shoulder pain down. Pain does an amazing job turning a kinky lion into whimpering, vanilla cub.
Actually, we’ve been vanilla for some time. I don’t mean that we aren’t practicing enforced chastity and domestic discipline. We have. I mean we haven’t done any BDSM playing in ages. That isn’t a failing on Mrs. Lion’s part; nor mine. Circumstances have gotten in the way. Even though I know I can’t play because of my shoulder, I miss it. I miss fucking too. I’m about to delete this post attempt too. Maybe not.
I don’t want to make my dear lioness feel badly. Our badly out-of-balance libidos make two-person sex unlikely. Sex is a gift that Mrs. Lion gives me. Her disinterest in sex also makes BDSM activity a gift as well. Are you seeing a theme here? Up until now, only sex has been strictly one way. Soon, my surgery will make me dependent in more fundamental ways as well.
Enforced chastity makes the caged male a sexual dependent of his keyholder. Even without enforced chastity, if I am monogamous, I am sexually dependent on my lioness. In relationships where both partners want sex, the keyholder’s desire for sexual satisfaction makes the power exchange more about sexual control than dependency. The keyholder can get sex from her caged male without offering reciprocation.
I have nothing sexual to give Mrs. Lion. She isn’t interested. Sex for me is an act of charity more than anything else. There isn’t anything in it for her other than giving me pleasure. I can’t provide anything sexual in return.
This all came to mind as the reality of my surgery is sinking in. I tried drying myself after showering using just my left arm. I can’t do it; something that basic. When Mrs. Lion goes back to work, should I trip and fall, I will be as helpless as a turtle on its back.
It’s not about Mrs. Lion’s willingness to take care of me. She will. I know that without a doubt. It’s about the fact that I am always the recipient. I know she loves me and wants to give me sex and take care of me. That’s not the point at all. I am tired of having nothing to offer in return. I can see how disabled people can sometimes become bitter and seem ungrateful. I’m still over a week away from the surgery and the impending impact on my life is forcing me to examine how little I have to give my mate.
I don’t want to be pathetic. I can’t stand that. Maybe this is what it feels like to be depressed. Worse, I think my assessment is accurate. Coping isn’t my strong suit.
Is That a Banana in Your Pocket?
Lion was in considerable pain yesterday. Friday night, he must have twisted wrong and hurt his back. A week ago he hit his elbow hard on a door. And, of course, his shoulder is wounded. Throughout the day he took Tylenol or heroin (as he likes to call his opioid prescription) and it was helping. I thought for sure he’d be in no mood for fun. Wrong. He was horny. Very horny.
The past few times we’ve played, I’ve given him an orgasm after edging him four or five times. I figure I never know when he’s going to be horny because of the pain so I have to strike while the iron is hot. Last night I was planning on edging him and leaving him high and dry. So what if he’s not horny today or tomorrow? There’s always the next day. But I went too far. As I let off the gas he told me he was going to come. I had no choice but to keep stroking him. Well, I could have left him with a ruined orgasm, but we both hate those.
He’s concerned that he didn’t have very much semen. He says after eight days he should have produced more and he thinks he’s a broken Lion. I don’t think so. There could be any number of reasons for it. Maybe he didn’t drink enough. Maybe I didn’t get him excited enough. Maybe the drugs played a role. It’s not like he never has a lot of semen. He’s always had fluctuations in the amount. I guess for a man whose body seems to be giving out all over, it’s easy to assume he’s broken.
I’m not ready to trade in my old, broken-down Lion on a newer model. I’ll keep repairing this one until I can’t find parts. Luckily, medicine keeps figuring out how to repair Lions.
Look Ma, No Hands!
We’ve been busy this weekend. Well, not terribly busy. We continue preparing to make our house work for me when I can’t use my right arm. I’m learning a lot about how difficult it can be for someone with a disability. For example, I sleep on the right side of the bed. My right shoulder is getting the surgery. So, reaching the nightstand is very difficult.
I know what you are thinking. Why not switch sides with Mrs. Lion? That crossed our minds. But I need to use a cold machine to chill a pad that goes against the shoulder. If I go to Mrs. Lion’s side of the bed, the hose from the machine won’t make it across my body; not to mention how uncomfortable it will be to have cold, heavy tubing crossing my body.
I love technology. I tried to think of ways I could access my light, for one thing. Then I remembered the “smart” house. There’s lots of stuff out there that uses WiFi to connect to a smartphone or other device. So, I ordered two smart light bulbs and the hub needed to manage them. Now we can control our bedside lamps with our iPhones or iPads. Why stop there? So, we are getting an Amazon Echo so now I can tell Alexa to turn on or dim the lamps.
The Echo will also answer questions, play Jeopardy with us, and play music. Another, admittedly minor, issue is controlling the temperature in the house. We have a programmable thermostat that is fine when we both go to work. But when I’m here all the time, it would be very helpful to control the temperature manually when I want. So, we got a smart thermostat. Our power company offers a nice rebate, so for about $100 we can automate the heat and AC. Guess what? Alexa will do that too. I just tell her what temperature I want.
We are gradually making our environment accommodate my disability. I have a special WiFi access point that puts me on my company’s network. My company laptop has Dragon so I can dictate emails and my posts. Our bed is adjustable so I can make myself as comfortable as possible while recuperating.
All this work is making me feel better about the surgery. Also, I am much more willing to undergo it. In the time between falling and now, I have received physical therapy and two cortisone injections. Each injection is supposed to last four-to-six months. My last shot was late December. The pain returned in February and that’s what prompted me to visit the sports medicine surgeon.
Over the last couple of weeks, the pain has gotten gradually worse. I thought it was because I am so focused on the surgery. Yesterday, it occurred to me that the December injection was continuing to wear off. The pain is returning to what I will be for the rest of my life if I don’t get the operation. I get the point. I’m committed. Scared, but committed.
Speaking of accommodation, I ordered a stainless steel cock ring that will remind me of my surrender when I can’t wear the cage. I may not be wearing a chastity device, but I won’t be completely wild. Along with the physical changes here at home, we are both working toward maintaining our FLR and male chastity.
All is Right With the World
Lion is home. For some reason, I feel like I missed him more this trip than I have before. My theory is that I was worried about him because I know he’s been in more pain. The previous trip, he was able to get an injection to keep the pain at bay. This time he only had Tylenol and pain meds. I’d like to wrap him up in a cocoon until his surgery, but I know I can’t do that.
The good news is that he’s horny. Of course, pain and adjusting back to our time zone will likely quash that feeling. But I take it as a good sign that he’s feeling horny at all. He hasn’t been. He’s not usually when he’s on business trips though. Now he’s home and things can get back to normal. At least the normal that is peri-surgery normal.
On Monday, Lion has his pre-op appointment. We’re hoping to learn a lot about his aftercare. We’ve researched and researched, but there’s no substitute for answers from experts who do this every day. I hope they can put some of his fear to rest. I’m trying to alleviate his fear that I’ll leave him because he’ll be difficult to live with. (That’s why alcohol was invented.) I know, deep down, he realizes that fear is unfounded.
In addition to getting Lion ready for his surgery and recovery, I’ve been busy coming up with ideas to get “us” through it. We both fear losing ground in our chastity/FLR/DD relationship. I know sex will be the furthest thing from his mind for a long time, but that doesn’t mean we’ll throw away everything we’ve worked for over the past three years. Nope. I’ll still be trying to keep him in check. A toddler can only get away with so much before he’s corrected. I think he’ll need that correction even more when he’s in pain. Someone to drag him out of the pity party and back into the real world.
I don’t think I’m being mean when I say that. I think sometimes people need that slap across the face to snap them out of a tantrum. Of course, I won’t be slapping Lion. That would be mean. I think a simple, “Enough!” might do the trick. A virtual slap, if you will. For the most part, though, I’ll be there to hold his hand and help him.
