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?
