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.
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.
