Talk of chastity had subsided for a while. The device was not fitting correctly, things were too intense, and nothing was working out the way that he had planned. He jumped in too quickly, wanted his fetish fulfilled, and was uncertain about everything else that went with it. In the end we both learned some very important things, primarily that to him chastity equaled Ownership. It was all or nothing. That’s how we’ve always played this game.
A couple of months had passed. We were going out weekly, enjoying our time together, talking and examining the kinds of relationships people could have, that we could have. On the last night I had him over he was distant. I couldn’t get close to him emotionally or physically. I’d seen it coming but it still didn’t make things much easier when he stared me in the eye and told me he didn’t think he was submissive. I told him it didn’t matter. One part of me was scoffing at him and the other was sad to see him quit. We both knew he had to explore, that there were other lessons he needed to learn, and that was the last I saw of him.
I admit that for a bit I was jealous. Not that he had chosen someone other than me, but because the new relationship was so public. Everyone knew who he was dating, what they were doing together. They were going to huge events. They were playing in public. These were all the things that I couldn’t have, because in some way or another I was a secret. Or he was ashamed of the relationship that we had developed. The first couple of mornings after were rough. I wasn’t sure what to say to him. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep in touch. There were so many things that were left unsaid, unresolved. At the bottom of my heart, I knew that he would eventually be back, but I had no idea when. I couldn’t cling to that though, I couldn’t just wait because it could be years before he returned.
After a few weeks passed, our conversations were still short but they had substance to them again. He had a question here or there about how I thought something in the lifestyle should be done and I felt as though we were done walking on eggshells. I didn’t care that he went off to date someone else; I only cared that I felt I was being shut out of his life. I knew that it was going to happen because he identifies as monogamous but it felt like a door slamming on the greatest opportunity the universe had ever given me and I couldn’t figure out why this one was being taken away. The great Miss Chris told me that I just needed to let it go, the same as she told me when I met him that I needed to just jump right in, and so I listened. I let him go, I let the ideas I had associated with him go, and I let the energy that we had shared between us go, so that I could learn and appreciate this new side of him, a side that I wouldn’t see otherwise.
Conversations were sporadic but I appreciated them. I started asking about how he was doing things in his new relationship, since we were able to relate to one another on another level now. He got to make the decisions, he got to set up the scenes, he got to watch another squirm and wriggle and beg him for things. I believed he could do it and be successful — I believe that he can do anything he sets his mind to. A few weeks later, our conversations grew long again. Where they’d been stopping early in the morning, they were continuing to wind through the late afternoon and sometimes even in the evenings. The talks turned from what he was doing to thinking about chastity. The tides had turned.
Sunday was the day that he dug into his toy bag and removed the chastity device. He told me about the modifications he’d done to it, the sanding that he’d done. He wore it for the night and reported to me in the morning that it was going much better than before. It wasn’t cutting into him like it had before. The pain in the nights wasn’t as atrocious as it had been when we were playing with it before. This was something that he was still curious about. I joked about the chastity carousel that we were jumping onto. That evening, we looked at devices together. Which one was best. Which did I like? He’d left his key at work so that he couldn’t break free that night — but he wanted to. He talked about wanting to try chastity again and I told him that if he was serious, he would talk about the piercing that would allow the device of our dreams to be locked onto his body.
Tuesday was worse. Not as bad as anything that we’d done together, but by the time he got home, key in hand, he was ready to remove and release. I thought he’d been doing a fantastic job so far and didn’t see a reason for him to stop. I thought he should push it further. He told me that he had no reason to keep himself locked up and I told him that he should just put the key away, put it out of sight. Then he told me the key was there for the taking. I contemplated. I considered having him just mail it to me! Eventually, I just gave him the address of my friend’s house and told him to bring it to me…and he did.
I hadn’t seen him in so long. I opened the door and froze for a moment. It wasn’t that I had forgotten what he looked like or how he made me feel, but it all washed over me again when I saw his face. His hair was cut short. His eyes had color. That smile. He came in, helped us make egg nog, and we stood around like awkward teenagers not sure if we should hug or kiss or just fuck right there on the floor. As he removed his coat, he slipped the key into my hand. We had arranged for a play scene on Saturday. I imagined he was going to remain locked until then. We both knew that getting the key back from me was going to be a feat though. He knew it before he handed it to me. I knew it as soon as I had it in the palm of my hand. I had him once before. We’d talked about how if I’d just been able to keep him in a device he would have been my slave. He didn’t say it in jest, or to taunt me, but because that was how he felt about chastity.
That evening we talked. We talked about his relationship, about what he was doing now, about how he felt about chastity, about what we were going to do Saturday. He couldn’t stay long, so a lot of it was done via text later on. He admitted he knew he wasn’t going to get the key back. This time around, chastity wasn’t about the fetish. This time around, he was in it for good. Ownership. That’s where we were headed. He had asked me if he should assume that if I were to own him, that I would want to own him until his dying day. I told him yes and asked him if it scared or comforted him and he said both.
Friday morning I told him we should consider a contract. We’d talked about it in the past. Part of it was arousing to him when we’d talked about it before, because it was getting him to sign something over to someone else — almost like an abduction of sorts. I wanted a contract so we could define our relationship better. We’ve never really done it and I wanted to know what he considered to be Ownership. I know what it is to me. At first he balked. A contract is a binding agreement between two people. He hadn’t been looking for a lifetime relationship. He hadn’t ever considered getting married again and to him this is the lifestyle equivalent. What he said though was that in the end, he was my slave now, and he would sign anything that I told him to. The work for that has started with personal research, thinking about what needs to go into it, and by declaring the four veto rules for the contract that we both agreed upon.
Saturday was our do-or-die day. This was our play day. I had mummification in mind because we had tried it before and he really liked it but I had ways to improve on it. Like restraining his hands above his head to the random bar I have in my kitchen. We’d considered the idea of having him lie down so he could float for a good long time. A hair dryer and duct tape were other tools I wanted to include in the scene. He had to come over early so that I could unlock the metal padlock and replace it with a plastic lock. Upon his return, he was relocked with my lock, my key hanging around my neck again. We needed to do some shopping and then we needed to make a call to see if we had time to get a scene in. When the information returned that the place was busy and there might be a wait, all thoughts of play were put on hold.
One hour. I unlocked him from his chastity device and told him that he had one hour to have an orgasm. If he couldn’t, then he couldn’t, and that would be that. We tried for a while but the pressure was too much. It wasn’t going to happen. I can’t say I was too disappointed. He got himself cleaned up, we packed up, and then we headed out. On the drive, he asked me why this was so important to me. I told him it was because it symbolized Ownership. I asked him why he was so scared of it and he told me it was because it symbolized Ownership. In the parking lot, he asked me if there was anything he could say or do that would make me change my mind. I suppose in actuality the answer would have been for him to run away. Again. If he left after everything now, there’d be no reason to come back. There’d be no reason to own him because I would always wonder what it would take for him to feel secure enough to just stay put. I told him no though, because I don’t think like that. I don’t think about the next time he’ll run away. I don’t think he’s too cowardly to go through with something after he’s given his word. I got out of the car and he stayed. I watched him as he collected himself and then together we went in.
I supervised as he read over the paper and had to sign his name. At one point he had to verify that he was having this done of his own volition and his pen hung above the space where he was supposed to initial and his gaze fell on me. I was the primary reason for us being there, that much was true, but I reminded him that he knew I would do this if he returned and he came back to me willingly. So he lowered the pen and initialed and finished the paper in no time. There was hardly time to process what was happening before we were taken back to the sanitized room. For the second time in a week, he ended up naked from the waist down in front of a complete stranger. He settled himself onto the ‘bed’ and held his hands against his chest. When she told him how the procedure was going to go, and asked him not to jerk or to hit her, I took one of his hands. As the needle went through the head of my cock, he squeezed my hand. Hard. I wanted to watch the needle go in but I couldn’t tear my eyes from his face. The look of pain was exquisite. Then…just like that, it was done and over with. We were out the door.
I did it just for you.
And for you, I reminded him, because chastity was something we shared an interest in. Without the piercing, we wouldn’t be able to use the device that we wanted. By the time it arrives, he’ll be healed enough that we can put it on. That will be another hurdle for him to overcome I’m certain. The fact that a steel device will be locked onto his body, the key given to me, another step on our journey — I can’t wait.
In the meanwhile though, we had new toys to play with. He had just ordered a new hood, one he had asked my advice on. This one was thicker and better than the one he’d been playing with in the past. It was also a little scarier with all the straps across it and only one little breath hole over his mouth. We picked up some different lacing for it and talked a bit about putting him in it. He’d tried Friday morning to play with it a bit and felt panicked putting it on. It’s much easier with two people and we found that with the way the padding is around the mouth, it forces his mouth open so he has to breathe through it.
The other toy that he’d purchased for himself that I was most apprehensive about working was a kennel. It wasn’t the type with a door on top for easy access and I think we were both a little wary of his shoulders fitting through the door. After a quick set up, he crawled right in. With a pillow and a blanket, he had plenty of room to turn around, lie down, and be on all fours.
The final toy that he had to play with was actually his Christmas present from me: a locking cock ring. When we had done chastity before, we blamed the lapse in his mindset to the fact that he couldn’t be locked up for the entire time (because of circumstances beyond my control and because we really should have waited). This time we were a little afraid that without something restricting him, he would lapse again. The steel through the head of my cock might not be enough. I thought this was a good compromise as it would leave him open to clean my cock as he should with a new piercing but it would still lock something on him so that he had that feeling of Ownership, of control, of bondage. We can’t use it quite yet, but it will come into play soon. We also have a new cock cage coming in the mail that should be open enough for cleaning and allow room for the piercing.
The evening was filled with play, from hoods and touching to hoods and kennels and no touching, to impact play so we could gauge just how much pain he could take. After, we turned in, curled up together, and fell asleep. When I woke, it took me a moment to realize where I was, and as soon as I did I was touching him, kissing him, teasing him. I rolled him over, crawled on top of him, and gave myself an orgasm. Then he made us breakfast.
As I sat next to him at the table, looking over into his living room, watching his dog on the sofa, I smiled at him. I told him of all the places that I thought I would be on Christmas, I had never imagined it would be with him. He admitted the same. This time was supposed to be spent with someone else. He’d taken time off work to take a vacation with her. But here we were together, over breakfast, with my cock returned to me and pierced this time, with a contract in the works, with his public declaration of our relationship, with his cuffs locked around his wrists and ankles. We spent Christmas morning together as Owner and slave and I couldn’t have asked for anything better.
