Welcome

You are probably here because you clicked on a Comment I left on another blog.

Or perhaps a web search, most likely involving the terms "chastity", "orgasm denial", "male chastity" or "chastity device", pointed you here.

Welcome.

I don't use this blog, at least, not with any regularity. But despair not!
This is pretty much just a mirror for the anecdotes and fiction that I've posted on my main blog.

For more details and links to various blogs and resources on sexuality, intimacy and relationships, and of course, the hot chastity porn, please click the link to: The Edge of Vanilla

Time and Punishment: Some dynamics of male chastity in marriage

I often get emails from people asking whether or not Mrs. Edge and I have a chastity contract, or some kind of agreement as to how long I will be locked up. And often, they seem surprised when I explain that we don’t. That’s because we, um… we just don’t. We don’t have a contract, nor do we use games of chance, dice rolls, random numbers, or a dartboard, or even some kind of point system. Yes, I suppose this makes us boring and unimaginative, but that’s how we roll.

Partly, we can’t be bothered with rolling dice, or keeping track of days, or doing all the accounting with the points and demerits that some people like to use. Sure, if it makes denial fun for them, then that’s great. For us, it’s just a hassle. We’ve got enough things to keep track of. I mean, I can barely remember to get to the bank and the dry cleaner on the weekend.

But mainly, we don’t have a contract because Mrs. Edge thinks that if we’re going to play with this, then  it should be totally up to her. Enforced chastity is a power exchange; Mrs. Edge thinks that a contract, or a dice toss, or a lotto pick takes the power away from her. Even a point system creates an obligation on her part, should I reach a particular goal. “Hey, I’ll have 100 points after I wash your car; that means you’ll have to let me out tonight!” My point is when we decided to explore this, the thing that made it hot for both of us was to give her 100% of the decision making power. I never know when she will allow me out, or allow an orgasm if she does. It might be a couple of weeks, a month, or several months. But it’s up to her, and that’s how we like it.

Read the rest of the story at The Edge of Vanilla on Wordpress.

53 Days

"So, how many days has it been, now?"

I brushed away a fine hair that had been tickling my nose and thought for a moment. "Fifty three days so far," I answered. She had one leg over my shoulder, and I planted several small kisses along her warm thigh, my other hand idly caressing her belly and waist.

I felt her hesitation.

"I, uh, have some bad news," she said after pausing for a few seconds. "I have to go to Kansas again."

"Oh, dammit. Don't even tell me. . ."

"Yeah, it's going to be late next week," she replied, almost sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I just didn't have any control over when Marketing was going to ask for new staff training."

I knew that there was nobody else available to go, but I was still disappointed. "You know, you promised only sixty days this time," I said reproachfully, hoping to rub in a little guilt. "By the time the weekend rolls around it's going to be sixty four days."

"Oh, come on," she replied, "that's only five percent extra. After two whole months, what's another half a week?"

"Yeah, well, I don't see you not coming for two months. Let's see how you'd react if I told you you'd have to go for four days, let alone sixty four."

She disentangled herself to get off of the bed and pad toward the bathroom. "Maybe I could mail you the key at the beginning of the week."

I snorted, "Yeah, right. And have it get lost like that other time? No, thanks."

The sound of water tinkled around the door. "Hey, maybe you could leave it with somebody," I called out. "Preferably somebody cute, kinky, or both."

"You son of a bitch," she sputtered, "you'd love that, wouldn't you?" Walking back into the room she threw a towel at me. "I think you're missing the point of having your cock locked up."

"Yeah, somebody cute and kinky," I mused aloud. "How about that cute blonde that works with you. You know, with the big rack. What's her name. . . Chris?"

I didn't hear my wife's answer because she was beating me over the head with a pillow. All I was able to make out sounded like, "You bastard! I'll get you for that!"

The conversation seemed to go downhill after that.

Not the Usual Anniversary Present - 8

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Week 31: Something changed for the both of us.

For the next few weeks after the night that she tied me down, her libido seemed to increase. After having gotten accustomed to the once a week oral or strap-on sessions, it was a pleasant surprise to have her after me three times a week. Even though she refused to let me out, I felt my own libido responding in kind as I took her with the strap-on or spent a half hour with her thighs wrapped around my head. I'm not sure what inspired her, but I decided to enjoy it while it lasted.

One night I mentioned casually, "I don't get it. Usually when you're in the mood, you're willing to take the damn cage off of me."

"Well, it's only been a week or so, hasn't it?" she replied lazily. While I attributed her lack of precision to the fact that her thighs were wrapped around my head, it didn't bode well. Usually she's good about keeping track of the days.

"No, it's been five weeks now, and I'm really having a hard time."

"Hmmm. Only a month and already you're complaining? I should make you go for another month just for that." Her fingers tightened on my hair and she pulled my face back between her legs. "In fact" she added as I resumed licking her wet mound, "I'm thinking that it's time to take your training to the next level."

I managed to lift my head a bit. "Training? What the hell are you talking about? This isn't training, it's denial! You expect me to be happy coming once a month?"

Her legs tightened around me, pulling me back into position. "Right now, I think that you're going to be happy coming whenever I let you, be it once a month or once a year."

"Once a year?" I exclaimed, "I can't do that - that's crazy!"

In answer, she held my head down with her hands and lifted her hips. I got the message. I resumed my slow licking and sucking, all the while listening to her talking - more to herself than to me - about my "going for some really long term training." The more she talked to herself, the more aroused she became, until soon she was bucking and thrusting her hips so much that I could barely keep up.

Afterwards, she laid across my chest, relaxing. I was still aroused, of course, but not painfully so; somehow being able to give her so much pleasure enabled me to sublimate my own arousal.

"Umm, about this 'training' you mentioned..." I began, "It sounds very erotic and all that, but I barely get to come once a month as it is; besides, you're always saying how much you prefer my cock to the dildo. It's not going to be easy for you to do without, you know."

I was hoping to talk some reason into her. She looked up at me.

"I'm sure it's going to be hard for a while," she smiled.

Week 34: I find that I've lost track of the time.

People talk about "lifestyle" this or that, without really having a conception of what it's like to live 24/7 with something. Oh sure, they do it for a week, maybe a month, but for most of us, exploring some alternative sexuality is more of a vacation from real life, rather than becoming part of real life itself.

I don't remember when it changed for me. At one point the idea of wearing the cage every day was exciting; even the frustration of being denied an orgasm for a week or two was arousing in a way. Eventually, though, the reality slammed home - I wasn't ever going to have as much sex as I wanted; or rather, I was never going to have as many orgasms as I wanted. It took a while to work through the frustration of not being in control of my cock, to have to forgo the pleasures the joyful consummation of lovemaking. I developed a love-hate relationship with the steel cage that I built - I was proud of how well it contained me and how secure it was, but hated having to wear it.

When my wife began keeping me locked for longer and longer periods, I found myself so grateful for the times she released me that I didn't mind going back in right. Eventually though, even that pleasure was mitigated by her decision that I should clean her with my mouth and tongue immediately afterward. When we discovered a good strap-on harness and dildo for me to wear, it was almost a mixed blessing - I was unlocked even less frequently, but at least I didn't have to humiliate myself as often. And I realized, that's what it was - humiliation; I was willing to promise anything for those ten seconds of glorious fireworks.

But at some point a few months ago I realized that I had gotten past even that, and became almost perversely proud of my ability to hold out without begging for relief. Once every month? I could handle that. But two months? Three? I tried to put the thoughts out of my mind. Fortunately, my wife really enjoys intercourse, and we both knew that the strap-on, although pleasant, just didn't quite have the same feel. Maybe it was the angle, or the shape of the head, or how it was situated on my hips. Sooner or later, she was going to let me out. She had to, right?

Week 36: Silly me – I was supposed to be enjoying this.

A few weeks later I came home early and picked up the mail. There was a small package addressed to her from a company that I recognized as an adult products mail order house. I was curious, but couldn’t figure out a way to open the package without leaving a trace. I left it on her dresser. Later on, after she had come home, I saw that the package was gone, but she didn’t say anything about it. That night, I mentioned it when I was giving her a foot rub.

"Oh, it’s just a little something that I thought would be interesting for us," she replied mysteriously. “You’ll find out on my next day off," she said simply, and dropped the subject.

Her next day off was in two more days. Eagerly arising, I fixed her some coffee and toast and I hopped into the shower while she ate. I realized that she didn’t give me the key before I took my shower, but she sometimes likes to tease me by letting me think that she “forgot". I slipped into the bed, and she was already waiting for me.

"Here, eat me," she commanded, holding my head in her hands. I proceeded to lick her gently. “No, harder," she said, “make me nice and wet."

I thrust my tongue into her, drawing it up her clit in long, firm strokes. She came quickly, bucking her hips. “Oh, that was so nice. You don’t know how much I’ve come to appreciate your tongue these last few months."

"It seems like you only appreciate my tongue," I complained.

"Oh no," she assured me, “I love your cock inside me, too. It’s just that it’s such a hassle to unlock you, let you out of your cage, and then lock you back up again." She pushed me onto my back. “That’s why I have something for you," she explained, "that is, for us".

Reaching under her pillow, she brought out a realistic - a very realistic - looking dildo.

"Oh my God," I exclaimed, "that's me!"

She nodded. "I told you that for our anniversary I wanted something different, remember? Did you figure out that I had made a cast of your cock last month? I had it made into an extension for you."

"It’s a penis extension. You want me to put this on?" I asked, incredulously, “I won’t feel a thing!"

"It's not just an extension," she explained, "This is made from the best 'cyberskin' for a squishy, yet firm feel."

Handing it to me, I saw that the front end was solid, but the other end was hollow. I squeezed it - the tip was amazingly lifelike. I saw the familiar veins and ridges - holding it almost felt like holding my own cock. No, it felt just like holding my own cock - just not attached to my body.

"It's meant to fit over the end of your chastity cage," she continued, "you'll be able to wear this when I want some of your nice cock inside me."

Looking it over again, I said, "If you like my cock so much, then why not just unlock me? Why do we need an extension? "

"Silly," she replied, “of course you wouldn’t need one - normally." She took the extension from my hands and leaned in close to my face. She gave me a deep kiss and whispered “But we don’t have a normal arrangement anymore, do we?"

She sat astride my legs and rolled the hollow part up like the end of a sock. Then she placed it over my cage and unrolled it. It fit perfectly, and the tight rubber held it firmly in place. I could see the outline of the steel cage at the base, but otherwise, it looked like I had a full erection - my own erection.

"Oh my," she said as she stroked it, “it feels so lifelike. I’m sure it will feel as good as it looks, too." Quickly she positioned herself over it and lowered her pussy onto the shaft. I could feel pressure, but no warmth, no friction.

"Hey," I complained, moving my hips, “what the hell are you doing?"

She was already pressing her hips to mine in pleasure. “Ooh, honey, it feels just like yours. So nice and deep, too." She continued to grind her hips onto mine. I reached up to her to fondle her breasts and waist, to hold her ass. I knew we were fucking, but I couldn’t feel it. This was worse than wearing a strap-on, worse than anything I could have imagined. The feeling was absolutely maddening, and I began to pump my hips frantically in order to feel something – anything.

"Oh, yeah, just like that," she mumbled, oblivious to my own frustration, “I can feel the bumps from the cage inside me, it’s wonderful!" She leaned her head back and shuddered softly as she came. “Oh, that was nice. Much better than having you just stick some old dildo inside of me. I wish I had known about this months ago."

She dismounted and lay down next to me, pulling me on top of her. Hoping that this was a temporary distraction, I carefully thrust into her. She was so wet that I, that is, my extension slid in effortlessly. Her legs immediate wrapped around my own, and I proceeded to pound into her, half in lust, half in frustration. Before long she was biting my shoulder and pushing her own hips hard into me. We fucked this way until I lost count of how many times she came. Finally she seemed to relax, so I pushed her onto her side so that I could enter her from behind. My wife just closed her eyes and gripped my hand as I plunged into her, filling her deeply. I still couldn’t feel anything but some slight rubbing and the pressure on the ring around my cage. I had hoped that in this position I could make my balls rub on her thigh enough to stimulate me, but after a few minutes it was obvious that there was no way that I could come with this extension on. My wife, however, had no problem coming, and did so a few more times before she asked to get on top again.

I started to complain, but she reminded me that the week before I had come without permission, so I had to accept my punishment. She seemed to get excited by telling me this, and she came quietly. She placed her hands on my shoulders and leaned forward to kiss me. I was a wreck, of course, but she placed a finger on my lips.

"That was wonderful. It felt so real, because it's just like you," she said contentedly, "and there’s no danger of you coming before I give you permission. Wouldn’t you say that that is a good thing?"

"Umm. . ."

"And it's so easy to put on, just half a minute to get you ready, and we don't have to bother with the straps and getting things in just the right position, like with the strap-on. That's a big plus, isn't it?"

I nodded, unsure of where this was going, but sure that they weren’t going well.

"And I kind of miss just being able to have a quickie, don’t you?"

Still unsure, I nodded again.

"I’m glad you feel that way, because I was thinking that lately I might not be too tired to have a nice fucking at night. I miss that, don’t you?" For emphasis, she ground her hips into me.

Again I nodded – this really was not sounding better.

I've wanted to have more sex at night," she continued, "but the problem is that it’s such a hassle to unlock you at night. Then you’re too excited anyway, and you either try too hard to hold back and it breaks my rhythm, or worse, you come too fast, and that’s not fair to me – especially since when I punish you, I’m only punishing myself. Don’t you agree?" She squeezed my balls firmly.

"Umm, yes. . . er, no. . . er . . "This was looking bad again.

She silenced me with a kiss. “But now we can have sex whenever we want. With this nice extension, we could have a quickie, and there’s no unlocking, no cleaning up, you can fuck me for as long as I want, and I’ll never have to worry again about you getting overheated. And best of all," she continued, "it's just like you, so I'll never miss having you inside me! Doesn’t that sound like a great idea?"

"A great idea for who?" I asked with my heart in my stomach.

"And to think that this is all because you wanted a little teasing for your birthday a few months ago. Thank you, darling, for a present that is giving me so much pleasure to give you." She leaned down to kiss me again.

A few? It had been almost eight months! This was looking decidedly bad. “Um, you mean that we’ll use this to have a quickie, or sometimes at night, and on your days off we’ll still unlock me so I can get some action, right?" I nudged her again, “Right?"

She looked down at me, smiling.

"Silly," was her only reply.

Back in the saddle again

Well, not exactly in the saddle. We're not into pony play.

Yet.

I'm back into something else, though. Wanna see?

A little bit ago I wrote that the whole frenum piercing thing just didn't work out well with regard to using it with the CB3000. The barbell often pinched my skin in the cage, especially when I got aroused, and the lack of room made it difficult to keep clean, resulting in several infections during the year. I could never wear it for more than a couple of days at a time, which didn't sit well with the increasingly kinky Mrs. Edge, who over the last couple of years developed a fetish for longer (much longer) periods of orgasm denial.

For me, that is.

Anyway, a couple of months ago I removed the piercing and let the hole close up. That it did so with something approaching the speed of a nano-black hole was also annoying. However, there doesn't seem to be any permanent scarring, and all's well that ends well, right?

Knowing that Mrs. Edge was going on a short business trip this week, it was motivation for me to dig out theCB3K and fix some minor things so she could have something to think about while being away. These devices have ventilation holes at the top and bottom; unfortunately, the top holes allowed my skin to swell out rather painfully, so I had filled them in with epoxy. The epoxy yellowed and became loose, so I replace it with tiny bars of acrylic that I shaped and super-glued over the holes. It keeps the skin from swelling through, but allows some air flow and water for cleaning.

Yeah, it's gear-head talk, but chastity is not an exact science.

I put it on on Friday morning, and ended up wearing it all through the weekend. Family, work, and other obligations kept us from enjoying any intimate time, although we did manage about 10 minutes to look at the new CB6000 model online. It looked that she was going to head off to the mid-west without our getting an opportunity for sex, but Monday night we both managed to get to bed at about the same time. While she was in the bathroom, I donned my strap-on harness and warmed up her favorite dildo (which she calls my "other cock"), and lay in bed waiting.

She crawled in, and after a few minutes started moving her hands around. She felt my other cock and said "But what if I didn't want this one? What if I wanted your real one?"

"That's fine with me," I told her, "in fact, even better, since I haven't come since last week. I was just warming the other one up so you could have the option."

We began to make out a bit, and then a bit more, which was nice because for the last few months it seems like we've only had time for quickies. A short while later I was lying on top of her, my other cock pressing against her mound and my cage pressing against her ass cheeks. She indicated that she would like some lube, and I reached into the bedside drawer for the heavier stuff that I use for my other cock. My other cock is very lifelike, but the thinner lubes sometimes aren't enough lubricity to last and will sometimes leave her a little bit chafed.

We settled into her favorite position: missionary, with my hips pressed tightly against hers, angled slightly upwards to allow the curve of my other cock to massage her sensitive spot inside. I have learned to enjoy this position myself, because when I'm not focused on the six inches of sensitive meat, the rest of my body needs some extra sensation. I continued to kiss her while maintaining long, slow stokes, and it wasn't long before I felt her legs tighten around mine and felt her arch her back slightly. Obviously the idea of me back in the cage warmed her up pretty quickly.

She smiled mischievously. "That damn piercing," she complained, "wasted a whole fucking year on that."

I felt badly about this, and told her so. I mean, it was my idea, after all.

She indicated that I should shut up and to keep fucking her.

A few minutes later, she came again, a little harder than previously. She opened her eyes and told me "You know, I should really make you pay for that mistake. Do you realize I'd almost forgotten about this?" I smiled.

"Pay?" I asked, "Like, deny me for a while?"

"Yes," she replied as I continued my slow thrusting, "like, a long while." Her breathing grew deeper and faster.

"It was over a year that I tried to make it work," I reminded her, "maybe you need to make up for lost time with me. Would you make me pay for a whole year?"

She closed her eyes tightly and nodded. A few short moment later her long nails were digging sharply into my ass and she was pressing her hips up to meet mine. A short moan, and suddenly the look of intense concentration on her face turned into a relaxed grin. She opened her eyes and smiled at me.

A quick, mini-fantasy had just played itself out in her head. I wouldn't mind, but I'm convinced that she has stronger orgasms when she thinks about keeping me locked in for longer periods. I checked this morning, my ass still has scratch marks. "I really was going to unlock you, but now I think I'm going to make you wait until I get back."

"But... but..."

"It's really because you do such a good job with your other cock, you know." She tweaked my nipple and laid back. "It's late, and I think I'm done for the night."

I asked her if she wouldn't mind sitting astride me for a couple of minutes. I love this position because I enjoy seeing her body - even more now that all the exercising has given her a nicer shape. She complained a little, but pushed me over and slowly lowered herself onto me. My cage was pressing against her ass, and I could feel her warmth through the plastic.

We talked for a few moments, she asked me "If I took off the cage and told you that you had only two minutes to come, could you do it?" I nodded. "Two whole minutes? Sure thing."

"Well, how about one minute?"

"Umm, yeah, I think so," I replied, not liking where this was headed.

"What if I took it off and said 'You've got twenty seconds to come, and then the cage is going back on'?"

"Oh, that's totally unfair," I protested, still aware of her weight on my hips, "I train myself so hard to not come quickly, and then you try to sabotage that by telling me it's the only way I'd get to come?"

She laughed softly, and rocked her hips back and forth.

"You know," I confessed, "I sometimes do have fantasies about you teasing me for a long time, stroking me, keeping me right on the edge..." "Yeah?" she asked, her eyes closed, concentrating.

"And then, right at the very end, just when I'm about to come really hard..."

She closed her eyes and leaned forward slightly as I moved my hands from her breasts to her shoulders, and down to her waist.

"... you suddenly stop touching me as I come, just letting it spill out, ruining it."

She tensed briefly, frowning in concentration, and I pulled her hips down to meet my own. She let out a breath, sighing, and her body relaxed. She leaned forward to lay against my chest. No question that she was now really done for the night.

"You don't mind waiting until I get back, do you?" she asked, sleepily.

"No, I'm good. I thought I'd be begging to come, but I'm actually feeling pretty satisfied right now," I assured her. "Thank you for getting on top for that last bit, I really enjoy looking at you." And truthfully, being able to spend some time close both physically and emotionally really did make me satisfied.

She whispered a goodnight and turned on her side. I got up to remove and clean my cock, and to apply some lube to help me sleep through the night. A few minutes later I was back under the warm covers, spooning against her back.

In the morning, just before she left she noticed me rummaging through the kitchen junk drawer, looking for some masking tape.

"What do you need that for?" she asked. In response, I handed her a pen. She watched as I removed the emergency key to the lock from my keyring and wrapped the tape around it. I gave it to her, and she signed the tape, knowing that if I tried to remove it in order to unlock myself I'd rip the tape and destroy the seal. She dated one side and, displaying some good humor, drew a couple of little hearts on the other side. She took her own key and put it in her purse.

You can see my jumble of keys with the picture of the taped key. Clicking the above picture will bring you to an album with pictures of me wearing it. NOT SAFE FOR WORK or in the same room with younger family members.The camera adds ten pounds, of course, but anyone who's seen my pics from last year can see that I've toned up quite a bit since then.

And even though she said something about "waiting until next week," I have no idea if she really means it. At this point, I don't know when she'll next let me out.

Not the Usual Anniversary Present - 7

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When Someone You Love is Kinky - 2

This is the second part in a series, describing how I finally brought out my desires and thoughts on kink to my wife, and some of the ways in which it affected our relationship.

What follows is an reworked version of something written for another group, but which seems particularly appropriate to post here. This took place about three years ago, several months after my previous article. We had been in couples therapy for about eight months at the time this was written.

Four or five months ago, I had brought up that I wanted to give Janet Hardy's book to my wife, but I had some concerns that she would use this kind of information as leverage in visitation with my daughter (we'd been separated for the better part of a year). Over the last couple of months, we've been able to get a lot of the issues on the table, including certain issues about trust. I brought up my concerns about her using my desires for some kink and other "sexual creativity" against me in that respect, and it's led to some good conversations.

A few weeks ago, we realized that we were at a point in counseling where we were kind of stuck. I admitted in therapy that I have some issues that I've been hesitant to bring up, and since I really hate it when somebody drops a bomb and just sits there, I figured that I should do something about it. So that weekend, I arranged a sitter and we went out for dinner. We had a nice time, went back to my apartment for a bit, and finally I bit down on the bullet and came out with it.

I explained that I couldn't do the plain vanilla routine any longer, that there were things that I had fantasized about for a long time but have had to keep buried, and how much living a secret life inside my head has affected our relationship. I gave her the book, having highlighted some sections that I thought were relevant.

To her credit, she didn't freak; instead she took a moment to digest things, and I allowed her to ask me questions on that subject. First, she said that she knew that it was something huge that I was about to drop on her, and she had been wondering if
I was going to tell her that I was gay. Then we got into the serious questions. She asked if it meant that I expected to dress in leather all the time, if I liked pain, did I want to involve other people, animals, or what. In other words, she pretty much brought up all of the stereotypes that are constantly displayed in the movies and on TV. I was sweating like crazy by this time, and I did my best to answer things as openly and as honestly as possible.

For the next few days, we talked. And talked. And then talked some more. For me, it was a huge relief to finally get that off my chest, and I answered all questions and pointed her toward as much web information as I could find (I had already marked some of the "softer" femdommish sites, along with other kink information). On her part, she took some initiative and checked out some of the web resources listed in the back of the book, something that I didn't think that she would actually do on her own. Finally, she asked me if she should take a knot-tying course, and after a good laugh we started to get into some serious discussions as to what it meant for the relationship as a whole. As a good part of my kink runs to D/s and female dominant fantasies, I copied several excellent web sites and printed them out for her to read. She took some time to try to understand why I like certain things, quite different from a year or two ago when she was dismissive, if not downright critical. She told me how she felt about things, and I gave her every opportunity to discuss her concerns.

Understand that this talking did not all take place in one night, nor even in one week. This was several weeks of talking between work and children and other social responsibilities. We made as much time as possible to talk, though, which was important to me because for years I had been the one to complain that we never had any intimate time. And I want to stress that probably for the first time since we were married I felt as if she was actually interested in what I had to say, and she really seemed to work hard at trying to understand what I was trying to say. I covered more than just sex, of course, but I tried to express everything in the context of needing a different way to relate, both sexually and intimately.

One night, we were in the middle of making love, and we talked about sexual things - turn-ons, scenes, likes, dislikes, etc., when my wife began to open up and describe something that we had done a few years back that used to push her "hot" button; and for reasons she couldn't explain, even though she enjoyed it in the past, she had always felt hesitant to bring it up again. On my part, since she never brought it up, I figured that she was politely avoiding the issue so as not to embarrass me. As we talked about it, it seemed that it could be a nice introduction into D/s play for both of us. It involved a little bit of equipment (always a turn-on for me), and it involved her taking some control over me (something that turned her on), and something that could be done discreetly enough so that she could ease into it to see if she felt comfortable with the idea. Sounded like a win-win scenario to both of us at the time.

And that's how the next day found me wearing a chastity device.

It was something that I had built several years earlier, having seen pictures of some bulky contraptions on several other websites. Since I own a small machine shop, it was fairly easy for me to build something more customized. We used it several times for anywhere from a long weekend to a couple of weeks, but we never talked about what we were doing or how we were feeling about it, and never went back to discuss what we thought after a period was finished. On my part, since most other discussion about sex seemed to be met with disinterest, I figured that it was just some quirk of hers, and was always too embarrassed to bring it up again. She still can't describe why she wouldn't bring it up herself.

We played with it for a day or two, and in the course of talking, I mentioned that there was a new model on the market (the CB3000 had just come out a few months earlier). She looked at the website and decided that we needed to order one. I got a little embarrassed and explained that I'd already bought one a couple of months earlier, just because it seemed like such a cool thing. It was back at my apartment, where I'd wear it at night or on weekends. "You've got to go get it," she said, and the next day I picked it up after work and showed her how it worked. She seemed thrilled, and kept touching the device, even after it was on.

Suffice it to say that the entire concept of taking control of my/our sex life became a huge turn-on for her, and since then she's been almost insatiable about it. In fact, it's been working so well for her, and she seems to be enjoying herself so much that I have stopped asking if she's going along for my benefit, and started wondering if she's going to outpace me. I'm sure that this won't last, but I'm enjoying the little honeymoon period for now.

That being said, we both understand that there are other issues in our relationship that may not work out quite so easily, however we also understand that we can approach those kinds of issues in the same manner: by being honest and not assuming that the other is thinking or wanting something without checking it out first.

I'm sure that there's a lesson here someplace...

Now, I know that there are quite a few readers who have been in circumstances similar to mine, and who have questions about my wife and I handled this. Understand that I do not believe that everyone would respond in the same way. However, I do want everyone to understand that, especially in a relationship of five, ten, twenty years, that your partner has as much at stake in the relationship as you do!

Go back and read that again. I think that most of us - myself included - have (or have had) a very difficult time understanding this point. We've invested a lot of time and energy into our relationship, which is often whey we're afraid to bring up kink in the first place: we're afraid that in doing so we risk losing the love of our partner. Worse, I think that some people begin to believe that their partner will be all too ready to toss five or even twenty-five years of a relationship out the window; and what holds them back from explaining their desires to their partner is the fear that their partner really doesn't care enough to accept them.

That's a horrible thought to live with, isn't it?

No matter what you think her (or his) reaction will be, once you've finally gotten over the fear of talking about your desires and concerns, it's possible that you will discover that your partner loves you enough to accept those things in you. And if they can't accept them, then it's better for your own mental health to get on with dealing with the solid facts, rather than the ambiguous and indeterminate fears.