Torment and Love

Over the weekend I was working on a project on behalf of my beloved Goddess.  This was going quite well and not giving me too much trouble although given what I was working on there was a constant background hum from my chastity.  That was until I reached a stage where what I needed to think about began seriously turning me on.  Which was a bit more distracting.

Well, OK, if I wasn't locked in chastity it would have been 'a bit more distracting.'  Under current circumstances, and given that my chastity is now so much more effective at communicating its presence at the slightest stirring of excitement, it was maddening.  The transition from being teased a bit to being seriously tormented was almost instantaneous.  One second I was working away quite happily, the next second there was an excruciatingly uncomfortable burning sensation as the skin of my scrotum began dragging on the back ring of the device as my stiffening cock tried to pull it forwards. That was immediately followed by the head of my cock being aggressively teased at the same time as the painful ball squeezing started.

I thought that if I could just get beyond the erotic centre of what I was doing it would be easier on the other side.  So necessarily focusing on the very thoughts that were causing me such torment and distraction I pressed on into the heart of the storm.   Things inevitably got much worse.  After fifteen minutes or so I'd barely made any progress at all; then emotional torment was added to the physical torment.  Under a hail of intense frustration it became completely impossible to concentrate.  I couldn't move.  I was sitting here writhing in a kind of impotent tormented ecstasy, desperate to cum and desperate too for the very thing (the never ever going to happen thing) I'd been contemplating for most of the day.  But now I was stuck in the heart of the storm where things only go in circles.  The relentless teasing and torture of my cock and balls drove my thoughts: my thoughts drove the relentless teasing and torture of my cock and balls.  It was excruciating.  I admitted defeat and gave up the unequal struggle.  I'd go and clear my head and try again.  I made an effort to stop thinking and went and made a cup of coffee.  I sat in the other room drinking the coffee and reading Charlotte Bronte's 'Villette.'  Even then Charlotte had to work quite hard to quieten my cock down   (Sorry, Charlotte, but that's the way it was.)

Later.  OK.  Head cleared.  Go back to work and get the thing done.  But in doing that I had to put myself mentally in exactly the same place I'd been before.  The effect was just the same and instantaneous: immediate intense teasing and tormenting and desperate squirming frustration.  Completely impossible to concentrate again.  I had something else to do though so I forced myself to work on that instead.  Gradually the storm subsided.  I carried on with the other job for a while longer and then returned to my original task.  Within seconds my torture began all over again.  But I had to get this done.  So I tried, I really tried.  For fifteen minutes while the head of my cock was being pitilessly teased, while my balls were being squeezed tighter and tighter, while my scrotum felt like it was on fire, while I was sick with longing and frustration I tried to work.  Any coherent constructive thought was completely impossible though.  Of course it was Goddess Valentine I was thinking about and I was acutely aware that it was Goddess Valentine who was doing this to me.

Or rather it was Goddess Valentine who was doing this to me over and over and over again and had been all day.  I finally admitted I was beaten and while my physical and emotional torment, which I knew came from Her, raged unabated, I looked at the pictures of Her I keep on my desk.  And something wonderful happened.  (No, not that.)  I looked at Her sublimely beautiful face, Her irresistible red lips, and Her beautiful long blond hair, in these pictures on my desk so soft and silky, cascading over Her shoulders, and felt surging through me a great wave of pure love for Her.  It was a love born out of adoration and devotion, completely pure and selfless love with no thought or expectation of reciprocation.  I felt it as intensely as I felt Her tormenting of me which still went on.  I looked at Her while She tormented me and I just loved Her and loved Her and loved Her.  It was the most sublimely wonderful feeling.

The idea of any romantic attachment between myself and Goddess Valentine is utterly absurd and yet this perfectly, radiantly, wonderfully, beautiful and endlessly talented young woman, who made me Hers when She was just 20 years old (the privilege of being enslaved by a 20 year old Goddess!) permits me to serve Her, to belong to Her and to be in love with Her.  And to show me I'm Hers She keeps me permanently in chastity and visits these exquisite torments on me.  How could this not be paradise?

Not masturbating

Sometimes Goddess's generosity overwhelms me.

Last night Goddess sent me the whole photo set for the next Niteflirt PTV She is working on.  They arrived with a heavy dose of irony though...

Well, yeah... since you wont be able to masturbate to the up-coming feature...
I am attaching the pics here so you can... VENERATE... all locked up... and tormented!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So that's what I did - venerated.
And was I tormented!!!!!!

This is one of the games I can play all by myself in chastity.
I put up selected pictures of Goddess and just go with what I feel, riding the wave and deliberately torment myself with them - feeling the intensity of my longing and desire for what I will never ever have, for what I will always be denied no matter what I do; or just feeling the intensity of my love for Her; different pictures have different effects.  The only object of the game is to play for as long as I can stand it.

So I played the teaseandtormentmyselforaslongasIcanstandit game with this series of pictures.
Goddess won.  Naturally.  But then Goddess was playing with a stacked deck.  Goddess has been incredibly generous with me over the years and I have over 2000 photos in my collection but none of them ever affected me quite like these ones.

I'm not going to go into much detail about the pictures - I don't want to spoil anything for anyone - but Goddess is projecting Her erotic power on full beam.

The first picture I looked at I could tell Goddess had been to the hair salon that day.  Her hair looked absolutely gorgeous - so silky and soft and shining and there was masses of it.  That thought was more than enough to get the game started.  There was an immediate response from the naked mole rat and my aching balls.  Having recently had a nocturnal mess-making frustration levels are rapidly building again.  Goddess at the hair salon.  That means someone stood behind Her with their fingers in Her hair, playing with it the way they do as they talk to the client in the mirror to find out what they want.

Hopeless, hopeless, longing - to have my hands in that beautiful shining, silky, soft long blond hair, to run my fingers through it, inhale the fragrance of Her shampoo; Goddess's to-die-for beautiful hair that's expensively pampered in the best salons in Montreal several times a week and always in the most perfect condition (sometimes Goddess will go to the salon just to have it brushed) - the most beautiful hair I've ever seen in my life. 

So I'm sitting there, gazing into the silky depths of this mass of tousled waves and thinking all this while my cock is being cruelly teased and denied in its cage at the same time as my balls are being painfully squeezed and I have the sensation of wanting to cum.  I'm literally squirming in my seat.  And this is only the first picture.  Eventually I'm forced to tear myself away from it by opening the next one.

In my twenties my fantasies settled into a common theme of intense tease and denial at the mercy of the untouchable young goddesses I always found myself (hopelessly) attracted to.  Fantasy eventually led me to finding and being mercilessly look-but-don't-touch teased and denied by some gorgeous young professional dominatrixes.  The emotional and sense memories of those experiences - being restrained by a gorgeous unattainable girl and then having her right in my face telling me what I can't have and making me want it even more - are intensely vivid.

The second picture in Goddess's new series is an extremely 'in yer face' image, provocatively erotic, impossible to ignore, and it exactly coincided with those memories, connecting with them instantly.  At the speed of thought, all those old emotional and sense memories were woken; my emotions shifted from adoration to intense, urgent desire.   The physical effect was just as instantaneous; there was almost a stabbing sensation in my balls and the torment from my chastity got even worse.  I squirmed in my seat and said, 'Oh, Jesus, Goddess!'  I was sick with longing for Goddess to be here; but the desire I felt was not for Her to take the longing away but to make it worse, to restrain me and cruelly, mercilessly, tease and torment me the way those gorgeous young dommes had done; but this time it would be Goddess Valentine, the most beautiful and desirable girl I've ever seen, the Goddess I love like I've never loved anyone else.

So that's the second picture.

The third one...

Some of Goddess's pictures make me love and adore Her, some make me want Her to be happy, some make me want to protect Her, some put me in awe of how perfectly beautiful and sexy She is, some do all of those things but I don't think (well, I'm sure) that none have ever so powerfully made that connection with my experiences of professional dominas.  And the whole series is like that - in your face, provocative, impossible to ignore - every one triggering physical memories of pitiless teasing at the mercy of a beautiful girl and tangling them up with everything I feel about the equally real but even more unattainable Goddess Valentine DeVille.

Oh Goddess!!!!!!

"Here's something else you want, boy. Something else you'll never have. How long is it since you had anything like this? And you know that whatever it is you remember it could never have felt as good as I could make it.  You love Me so much, don't you.  Hahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!"

With each picture something like that was going on in my head and with the sense memory to make me feel it and therefor want it even more...

Picture after picture...

Eventually I tore myself away from the last one as if the thing had burned me.  My balls were aching abominably.  My emotions were in turmoil.  I actually started pacing up and down trying to shake off the overwhelming tangle of love and desire and hopeless longing - and the frustration!  I gave that up and went and got a stiff drink, something I almost never do.  I tried to watch TV and ended up channel surfing and getting more and more annoyed at finding crap or adverts.  When I eventually went to bed my head was still spinning.  It took ages to get to sleep.


Sometimes the teaseandtormentmyselforaslongasIcanstandit game  is not an easy game to play.

A Puppy Puddle in the Panties

Since my shopping adventure or, to put it another way, the humiliation and sissification game Goddess made me play, my nights have been so exquisitely tormented that what happened at 5:09 Tuesday morning was perhaps inevitable.  But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Saturday night - my first pantied night.
It had been quite a long day so I was pretty tired when I went to bed.  My new pink satin panties did feel a bit different to the shorts I normally sleep in.  I couldn't feel anything of the silky satin through the chastity device because of course I can't feel anything through the chastity device.  Most of the material in these panties is around the back and I have to confess I did quite like the feel of it on my skin.  Even so, the novelty didn't keep me awake for long. 

It took a couple of hours for the torment to start.  The tighter fitting on my chastity is only a matter of about two millimetres but it's enough to make a big difference to the effects of night time erections.  The gap between the back ring and the tube is narrower so my stirring cock begins squeezing my balls much sooner in the process.  The back ring is smaller too and that adds to the effect.  Also the tube is now closer to my body which means my cock is deeper into it than before.  What all of that means in practise, as I'm discovering, is that during night time erections, the squeezing of the head of my cock is harder and begins sooner while the squeezing of my balls also begins sooner and gets worse as my stiffening cock, spurred on by the sensations of being squeezed in the end of the tube, pushes the whole thing further away from my body.  In short my cock is teased more and my balls are tortured more.  (Something for everybody.)  And all of that was being driven by what my brain has been quietly kicking around for the past couple of hours which was...

...that Goddess Valentine is the single most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my life, her body is to die for, there is nothing to compare to the sublime beauty of Her perfect face, or the sensual allure of Her glorious long blond hair, so supremely silky and soft; and this stunning beauty, this genuine Goddess among goddesses, has made me Her slave, Her wholly owned property, I love Her like crazy and She's locked my cock and balls up for years to come and today, to show me a glimpse of Her power over me, She made me stand in front of a pretty girl in a department store and humiliate myself buying pink satin panties which were obviously for me which I can feel against my skin now because I'm sleeping in them (or I was sleeping) and I worship and adore Her and love Her more than I can say and...

...and all these erotically and emotionally charged thoughts wake me up with a rapidly stiffening erection, teasing/tormenting my cock and painfully torturing my balls so I'm writhing around in my bed in a mixture of ecstasy and pain, saying Goddess' name ('Goddess,' never 'Valentine') over and over because I have to say something to somebody as I try to wriggle away from my own tormented balls.  And I know it's Goddess who is doing this to me because Goddess knew this is exactly what would happen.  We've been here before, after all.

Eventually the storm subsides and I go back to sleep more or less straight away.  Because I'm knackered and very tired after all that!

Repeat twice more before morning.  And then sleep until 11:00.

Sunday night.
Go back to the third paragraph and read from there, the only difference being that I have to get up to go to work for My beloved Goddess.  The alarm starts bleeping at 6:20.  At 6:35 I drag myself out of bed, turn the computer on, and go for a wash.  That being done I get down on my knees before Goddess' picture on my computer and my Goddess shrine and pray to Her.  Then breakfast.

Then there's a lot of work stuff which is of no particular interest.

Monday  night/Tuesday morning.
Same thing.
Except I was woken at least five times so the torment seemed to go on almost all night with only occasional bouts of actual sleeping.
Maddening teasing and torture over and over and over.
At 5:08:45 I woke up from a weird disturbed dream of satin and soft sweaters and silken hair and irresistible lips and at 5:09 exploded into my panties.

I had to get up to change them, then I went back to bed and managed to get back to sleep.

Paradoxically the orgasm was not as painful as in the looser chastity fitting.  In my previous fitting the end of my cock used to sit back into the tube at night.  Then it would kind of curl up (although not much) with its head against the side of the cage, a bit like a puppy asleep in its basket (or a naked mole rat if naked mole rats have baskets).  That meant my foreskin would fold over the end and then get trapped there as the cock stiffened and shoved it against the wall.  When my orgasms fired there was always a sudden and painful pressure spike inside my cock as the cum backed up before the blast straightened the foreskin out and the orgasm exploded out of me.  In this tighter fitting because my cock sits further down the tube it stays lined up with the end.  (In fact I've usually got a bit of foreskin poking out the end which is more convenient for other things.) So this orgasm, when it finally arrived, was comparatively comfortable.

To compensate for that it felt like someone was trying to pull my balls off!

How I managed to get up for work an hour and a bit later I've no idea.

Panty shopping

There's an episode of the brilliant Irish sitcom 'Father Ted' in which Ted takes a trip to Dublin.  While there he rescues a group of priests who have somehow managed to get themselves lost (some perhaps less accidentally than others) in the largest lingerie department in Ireland.  Fearing discovery at any moment they've been wandering around in circles for hours.  Ted takes command of the situation and in a pastiche of POW escape movies leads them to safety, avoiding embarrassment for the priests and scandal for the church.

I completed my pink satin panty buying assignment this morning and felt rather like the lost priests myself, at least as far as trying to avoid embarrassment goes.  Scandal for my church was never an issue: my church would have thought any embarrassment for me was hilarious.

This morning I got up at the same time as I do for work because I wanted to be in town for when the shops opened.  I didn't want crowds.   More specifically I didn't want crowds in the lingerie departments because I had another task to carry out while I was shopping.  I could have coped with the shopping part with women about but I also had to take photographs to illustrate this post.  A lone male taking pictures in a lingerie department full of women would have been just creepy!  I'd probably have been thrown out.  A lone male taking pictures in an otherwise empty lingerie department would be only slightly less creepy so I didn't want the camera flash going off and attracting attention to myself.  That's why the pictures that document this expedition are of less than professional quality.  Consider their flaws as evidence of their authenticity.

Last night I did some research on the Internet.  I looked on the websites of some of the department stores here to identify what pink satin panties they stocked so I'd have some idea of what I was looking for.  I also wanted to know what size I wanted: 16-18 apparently.  I identified two brands that had exactly what I wanted, one in one store, one in another.  Armed with that information I set off for town, confident that I knew exactly what I was looking for and could go more or less straight to it.  If I didn't find one I still had the other.  I got into town about 8:30.

"Where are all these people coming from?!"

One of my two target shops had just opened so I went in. 

 

I knew what I was looking for but I had to wander around a bit to find it.   The lingerie department was practically deserted...

...apart from these three!

"Oh, no!  I think they've seen me!"

And then there it was, the exact thing I was looking for.  The size I wanted was right at the front.  This was so much easier than I'd thought it would be.  I collected my trophy and was heading for the tills when I realised my mistake.

Bottom right: red, not pink

This was the right brand though and the right style.  There should be four colours including pink.  I went hunting for it.

"Excuse me.  Have you got those in pink?"

But it wasn't there; only red or black.  I searched in here for pink and satin but there was nothing in my size.  Or if there was I couldn't find it.

Well, ok.  I had the other shop to go to.  So I went there instead.  Once again I found the brand but not exactly what I was looking for.  So I had to browse again.

By now it was getting later in the morning.  It was only a little after nine but I was beginning to feel like I'd been doing this for a long time and if I didn't find anything here I'd have to go somewhere else and the later it got the more people would be in the shops.  And I'd still have to be taking photos.  I was beginning to feel uncomfortable.  If this got closer to 10 o'clock it was going to get more and more awkward.  There was sweat on my top lip.  I carried on browsing.  Goddess had told me to buy myself a pair of pink satin panties and that was what I was going to do.

And then...

Aha!!

Eureka!!

I had found what I wanted.  Just to make sure I carried on and found a second pair.  Now all I had to do was pay for them.  I went and found the checkout desk.  I've bought lingerie for a Mistress before but that was bra and panties and sometimes suspender belt and stockings to match and obviously not for me.  But this was just two pairs of panties.  What woman sends a man out to buy her panties?  This had been at the back of my mind the whole time, making me feel more furtive and conspicuous even if I hadn't been taking photos but now I was at the checkout it felt much more significant.  The girl at the checkout was young and pretty - naturally; she couldn't have been some matronly type who had seen it all before.  Nevertheless she was professional, took the security tags off and rang up the items and even remembered to ask me if I wanted a store card.  I didn't because I didn't want a store card and because all that was in my head while she'd been doing these things was how pretty she was and that my cock is permanently locked in chastity and that I'm buying these things to sleep in because I've been ordered to and I can't look her in the eye and the main thing I'm beginning to feel standing here in front of her is humiliation.

All that remains to be done now is to put them on but it's not bedtime yet...

...watch this space.

Later.

So here I am ready for bed in my pink satin panties.

Very girly.

They fit the waist alright but it's very obvious they're not designed to hold anything, especially a locked up cock and balls.

They're quite comfortable.  The feel of the satin is nice but I'm sure Goddess's hair is softer.

So how do I feel?

Well, I'm aware that they look ridiculous but then no one can see me so I feel kind of neutral about that.

I do have the sense of Goddess mocking me though.  And they do make me feel Her power and how completely beneath Her I am.  Goddess is 26, breathtakingly beautiful, irresistibly desirable and here I am, twice her age, sitting in a pair of pink satin women's panties with my cock and balls locked in chastity.  Is there anything more that needs to be said?

And so to bed...and an assignment for the weekend

It's now a few nights since I put on the more secure fitting of my chastity.

I'd noticed over the past several months that my sleep has been interrupted far less often by my chastity.  Nighttime erections have been nothing like as tormenting as they used to be.  And I've missed that.  After all, what's the point of being locked in chastity if it's no fun?  (Well, OK, a lot of the point of being locked in chastity is that it's the physical symbol of my total surrender and submission to the will of my Goddess but some of the point is that it's fun too - in a tormentingly frustrating sort of way.)

So, with the new fitting the problem of undisturbed nights has been remedied.  And how!
Around 5 in the morning of the first night I woke up to find myself thinking (again) about Goddess's lipstick print and how wonderfully sensual and arousing it must be to be kissed on the mouth by such gorgeous lips. I had serious CBT going on (I do now too!) with ball-squeezing and skin-burn, writhing in ecstatic torment in my bed with Goddess's name on my lips.  Subsequent nights have been equally memorable.

And now I have another night time sensation to look forward to.

Goddess has given me a shopping assignment for the weekend.  Very generously Goddess is allowing me to get something for myself - a pair of pink satin panties to wear on top of my chastity device when I sleep at night, "feeling the softness of the fabric, as soft as your Goddess' hair."

(Goddess is teasing me there.  She knows how much I adore Her glorious long blond hair, the way I obsess over how luxuriously silky and soft it is.  No doubt at some stage I'll write specifically about the awesome sensual beauty of Goddess' beautiful hair.)
So Goddess is adding a new and sensuous element to my continuing chastity - the softness of satin against my skin.  And how will I feel pulling on women's panties every night?  Whatever the answer to that is finding out will only come at the expense of some humiliation.  Satin and pink; that's quite specific.  Pink is easy enough.  But then I have to find satin too and then in a size to fit me.  So it's very obvious I'll have to spend time searching through racks of panties, feeling ever more conspicuous, and that even then I may not find what I'm looking for.  I may have to go somewhere else and start all over again.

I guess Goddess is testing me with this assignment.  Well, perhaps not testing me; Goddess knows I would never think of disobeying Her.  Rather I think Goddess is gently showing me Her power now that I'm Her slave, now that I belong to Her completely, now that every aspect of my life is Hers to control, now that Her power over me is absolute.

A double treat, then: a sensuous counterpoint to the exquisite torment of my nighttime chastity experience and the submissive thrill of submission to Goddess' will.

The kiss of the Goddess.

When I was securely locked up again I felt happier and more comfortable and could turn my attention to what had been at the back of my mind throughout the process of getting the pictures - the lipstick print of Goddess's kiss.

I'd emailed Goddess an update and was sitting at my computer desk.  The envelope bearing Goddess's kiss was beside me.  I picked it up and looked at it.  The dark pink imprint of two full soft lips pressed against the white paper.  The shape.  The detail preserved in the print.  This was not two lifeless areas of colour but a living, vital, thing, the sensuous kiss of a beautiful young woman, a Goddess, an unattainable Goddess, the divine and sensual kiss of Valentine DeVille.

My cock stirred in my chastity.  I felt the comforting tightening of the cage around me as my Goddess at once aroused and denied me.

Such a perfect kiss.  Maddeningly sexy.  Because Goddess's lips are maddeningly sexy.  And here they were.  Or as close as I'd ever get to them.

To be kissed on the mouth by those lips!  So full, so soft, and so sensual.  Could any kiss compare to being kissed by these lips?  To feel Goddess Valentine's arms slipping soft around my neck and those gorgeous lips pressing against mine.  My chastity was tormenting me cruelly but these thoughts were too delicious to abandon.  I was aching with love for Her.  A kiss I will never, ever, know.  But some do.  The men Goddess takes as Her lovers have known the sensuous caress of the lips imprinted on this plain white envelope.  Her tongue too?  Almost certainly.  And what other pleasures does this beautiful mouth bestow upon those Goddess deems worthy of them?!

Not for me.  Never for me.  I'm not worthy and I never was.  Even if I were 25 years younger there would be no chance.  From such a perfect beauty, from such a Goddess, I wouldn't merit a second look.

But I have something else.  With what has happened tonight, surrendering control of myself once and for all to Goddess Valentine, and with Goddess's acceptance of my surrender, something I've dreamed about for decades, something I never thought possible - to be the slave of a beautiful unattainable young Goddess - Goddess has made reality.  I'm no longer just a puppy or a paypet.  I am Goddess Valentine's slave.  Owned.  Completely.

I am so happy!!!!!!!!!!!!

Goddess Valentine DeVille's slave.

With that thought, and dreaming about Goddess's kiss, I took myself off to bed.

(Incidentally the kiss that Goddess sent me is the very one that features in Her brilliantly conceived and executed spell-casting Halloween feature.)

Key!!!!

The key arrived yesterday.

When I got home from work there was a little white padded envelope on the mat.  Everything in English and French and addressed in Goddess's own handwriting.  I picked it up and put it reverently to one side.  Here was something deserving my undivided attention, so a bath first, then eat.

And then...

I logged on to my computer and into my email account to see if I had any new instructions for this moment.  I didn't so I went ahead.  The flap on the envelope was stuck too fast to unpeel so I got some scissors and cut through it.  I peered inside.  There was a piece of paper.  I took it out.  It was the white business envelope I'd expected to see.  Anything else?  No, just the envelope.  It was folded in half and in half again, pressed flat from being in the other envelope for ten days.  There was a slight weight to it in one corner - the key.  I opened out the first fold of the envelope. Planted across the crease was the lipstick print of Goddess's kiss - so evocative of Her perfection.

Goddess's kiss would come to haunt me later but for now I had instructions to follow and my focus was on that.  I had to record and document my release and locking up on video to post on this blog.  Last summer on a beach in Wales I spelt out in stones "I worship Goddess Valentine DeVille" and videoed it with my digital camera.  The result was crystal clear and I emailed it to Goddess when I got home.  (This short holiday cost me almost no money and I had Goddess's permission to go.)  I have a little tripod that stands about a foot high.  I set my camera up on that and kneeling in front of it, shot a brief clip to make sure I had everything in shot.  I put it on my computer to have a look at it and it was horrible; grainy, gloomy, and very small, impossible to see what was going on or even to tell what I was looking at.  I tried again with the higher quality setting.  The result was a bigger image but still the quality was no good at all.  The beach in Wales had been in bright sunlight.  Now I was in my bedroom under a low energy bulb.  OK, so that wasn't going to work.  For a week I'd been rehearsing in my head how I was going to do this with everything laid out so I could get at it without moving out of shot - unlock the lock, release myself, put on the new set of back ring and spacers I'd worked out, put the cage back on, and lock it up again.  Finished.  But now I had to rethink.

I was going to have to shoot stills with the flash.  If I had a fancy slr and a decent tripod I could have put it on motor drive and let it blaze away while I did what I'd planned to do.  But I only have this little Fujifilm compact and this flimsy little tripod which doesn't keep the camera still if it's moved.  Goddess wants me to record this moment so that's what I'm going to have to work with.  For every shot I took I had to manually set the camera to timer, point it at where the action was going to be, pause in what I was doing, wait for the shot, check the subject was in shot and in focus (or near enough) and if it wasn't set the camera up again, repeat the action and try again.  The result was that instead of the smooth transition from being locked up to being released to being locked up again in a couple of minutes I ended up releasing and locking myself up again, in fits and starts, about four times.  By the end of it my poor cock and balls were thoroughly fed up with being wrenched and poked around.  So it was a singularly unerotic affair.  But having said that, if I was erotically fired up I couldn't have released myself or locked myself up anyway - for obvious reasons.  Putting the thing on is not the erotically charged part for me.  It's like getting dressed.  What carries the erotic charge is that moment when I snap the lock shut and know I'm not going to open it again.

Anyway, I take the key out of the envelope (flash) and put it in the lock (flash).  Or try to. It doesn't want to go in.  I try again.  After some effort I get it in and persuade it to turn.  But the shot is rubbish.  I don't want to risk locking this lock again but I have another.  I put that on, lock it, put its key in the envelope, and start again.

A couple of minutes later for the first time in over three years I'm looking at my free cock.  I barely recognise it.  It doesn't seem like a part of me.  (It's a bit like trying to recognise yourself in your baby photos.  The 'you' you are now never looked out of those eyes so naturally you don't recognise yourself in them.  You have to take it on trust from someone who knows that it's you you're looking at.)  I've eased the cage gently off my cock and now it's lying pillowed on my balls and I'm looking down at it as if I've never seen it before.  I seem to have no sense of connection with it, as if it isn't mine.  And it looks like some kind of dead animal.  Poor thing.  There's evidently nothing wrong with it.  If there was I'd certainly have known about it before now but it looks so pale and limp, it looks like it belongs underground and doesn't at all enjoy being cruelly exposed like this.  I prod it experimentally with a finger.  This is the first time in over three years I've been able to touch it.  It doesn't feel like me either.  I have no emotional connection to the thing at all.  It all felt very strange.  I pushed it back into my scrotum and eased it under the back ring.

A naked mole rat.  Cute, huh?

I took the bar and the spacers off and then set about hauling my balls through the back ring.  In contrast to my cock which has been protected from the world in its cage and grown small and pale, my balls have had more to cope with being always dangling between the back of the tube and the back ring.  The skin of my scrotum is feels like an old piece of leather, it's heavy and thick.  I drag slack scrotal skin through the back ring and gently push a testicle through the ring and back into my scrotum.  With my cock and one ball freed the other comes through easily.

"Please, please, please, GODdess, I beg You to allow me to lock myself up more securely for You.  My chastity is Your greatest gift to me.  I don't want to be able to release myself without Your permission."

I lock myself up again with the more secure arrangement I'd worked out.

 

This is an animated GIF Goddess made from my stills. Click on it and you'll get the full effect in another window.

And I recognise my cock again.  In its cage it has more colour.  It looks so much more content.  It looks bigger too.  With the cage being clear and translucent I never see its thickness; from outside edge to outside edge it all looks like me.  I feel much better about it looking at it like this.  And here's the curious thing which I didn't fully realise until I'd thought about it for some time.  My emotional attachment  to my cock is conditional upon it being in chastity.  When it was out I felt emotionally detached from it.  When I'd locked it up again it looked and felt like mine.  That was my cock in the cage, not the poor pale thing I'd been handling.  When it was out I had no desire to play with it; I had no desire to masturbate.  I don't think I really wanted to touch it at all.  And with all the performance of getting the pictures taken it was certainly fed up of being handled anyway.  The feel of the cage is so much nicer, physically and emotionally, for both of us.

So the real revelation of this exercise is that I'm totally conditioned to being kept permanently locked in chastity.  Having my cock under my own control is outside my comfort zone now; locked in chastity is where it belongs.

Three Years...

Attached to an email; a video clip of my beloved Goddess.  She is half turned towards the camera, playing with Her long blond hair, adjusting it over her shoulder.  She looks gorgeous and beautiful and sexy and every kind of adorable.  She gives me Her irresistible slow knowing smile.  When She speaks Her voice is soft, seductive and, on this occasion, especially for me.

“Today’s the day, phil.  I am locking you up.  For how long?”  A pause and another knowing smile.  “That’s none of your business.”

(Absolutely!)

This is followed by instructions for locking myself into chastity and sending the keys to Goddess.

That was over three years ago.

I’d been in self-imposed chastity for the few weeks before this just for the thrill of deliberately denying myself to honour my Goddess.  That was fun in its way but once the key – the only key – was in the mail and beyond recall there was nothing to compare with the thrill of submission I felt.  For a few days my cock and balls were at the mercy of some people in the Royal Mail and Canada Post, although they didn’t know it, but I chose not to dwell on that.  (I suppose posting this now gives me an opportunity to thank them, whoever they were, for safely delivering my package.)  About a week after I posted it Goddess acknowledged receipt of the key and then I knew my cock and balls were in the absolute ownership and control of the most beautiful and desirable girl I’ve ever seen in my life, the incomparable Goddess Valentine DeVille.

Sometimes I wish I could have had this experience 25 years ago when my libido was a constant distraction and firing on all cylinders.  I would have been climbing the walls in absolute agonies of desire and frustration; it would have been exquisite torment but what an experience!  I am not decrepit though.  Everything still works.  My experience has been the slow burn rather than the towering inferno.

The background ache of frustration builds gradually but I embrace it rather than fight it or try to ignore it.  Eventually it becomes a constant, delicious feeling; a reminder that I belong to Goddess Valentine, that She owns and controls me.  When I think about that single wonderful fact, as I’m doing now as I write this, or surrender generally to erotic thoughts, the ache can get very intense.  I’ll feel like I’m going to cum at any moment; my pants get soaked in pre-cum and I squirm with frustration and longing, my cock teased and tormented by the restriction of the cage.  But nothing happens.  I don’t cum.  And while all that’s going on I know it’s Goddess Valentine doing this to me; these sensations, these intense emotions, are a gift from Her.  If I were free to masturbate whenever the urge took me I would never experience anything half as intense as what I feel because Goddess keeps me locked up and denied.

Night time erections are a perfect example of that.  The cage of the CB3000 is anatomically shaped to match the shape of the penis.  Before it’s fully engorged the head of my erecting cock fills the space at the end of the tube.  It then feels as if someone is squeezing the head of my cock.  Sometimes it’s a constant pressure, sometimes it’s a rhythmic squeezing like being teased.  Meanwhile the whole chastity device is being pushed away from my body on the end of my stiffening cock so that the ring behind my balls is pulled forwards, squeezing my balls and often dragging on the skin of my scrotum, stretching it and producing a burning sensation.  Inevitably all this wakes me up with the one certainty that this teasing and tormenting, sometimes even torture, is being done to me not by myself or by the device, but by the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, Goddess Valentine.  And that truth produces a cycle of arousal, teasing, torture, and denial which has sometimes gone on for half an hour.

Wet dreams are amplified too.  Orgasms became explosively intense, and exquisitely tormenting, with repeated ejaculations forced painfully through a constricted erection as weeks of denial discharge themselves.  When they’ve been at their best (yes, ‘best’) these have had me writhing around demolishing the bed in torments of tortured ecstasy.  Then the cycle goes back to the beginning.  Except it isn’t really the beginning.  My balls are never completely emptied, desire is not sated; merely the pressure is taken off and feelings of longing and hopeless desire become more acute, not less.  My awareness of and sensitivity to female beauty becomes sharpened and every pretty girl I see becomes a torment, reminding me of what I ache for but am denied.

Over three years this emotional and physical cycle has repeated again and again.  One emotion has increased steadily however.  The longer I’ve been kept locked and denied the more devoted I’ve become to my Goddess.  I already adored Her (She is after all achingly beautiful, amazing to know, and completely adorable) and was already in love with Her but as the months have passed I’ve fallen more and more deeply in love with Her.  Goddess has become the centre of every single thing I do and now I’m totally devoted to Her.  My only driving force is to serve and please my beloved Goddess.  This is why the key to my chastity is now on its way back to me.  I’ve noticed in recent weeks that the fit of my device is much loser than I would like.  Whether this is because I’ve adjusted to it in some way, or because it was never as tight as I thought it was, I don’t know but the most important thing is that I’ve noticed I could, if I wanted, pull myself out of the device.  I’ve no intention of doing this or even of testing the thought, but just the idea that I could free myself from chastity feels totally wrong to me.  I don’t want to be able to free myself.  I don’t want Goddess to free me.  I want to be kept locked by Her, to be totally owned and controlled by Her, to be absolutely and completely Hers and to know it and to always have the physical reminder of it.  Goddess knows and understands this.

So, after much sincere and heartfelt begging and several shopping assignments, the key is being returned so I can release myself, adjust the fitting to something properly secure, lock myself  up again, and send it straight back and continue to be kept locked by the stunningly beautiful and totally unattainable girl of my dreams, the one true love of my life, Goddess Valentine DeVille.