Usually, I only get locked up occasionally and never for more than roughly eight weeks. After my last birthday in early November, another period of being caged began. It lasted through Thanksgiving and Christmas until the first week of January when I was finally released.
I am completely hooked on staying locked. We think it’s due to constant horniness, plus the Lori tube #7 I’m wearing is very comfortable—it feels like a permanent steel pussy for my cock. True, I can’t get fully hard, which changes things slightly; I also can’t have intercourse and remain in a state of continuous teasing. But otherwise, it really does feel just like being inside a steel pussy.
Since I am so obsessed, I try to be mindful of my wife’s feelings rather than constantly pestering her about when the cage will come off. Happily, she suggested putting me back into one again after a few weeks. This started another journey lasting around eight weeks, though it ended more because of a business trip I had to take eastward than because she wanted me out.
I clearly remember the moment the cage was removed: she reached for my shrunken cock and used just two fingers to jerk me off. I climaxed moments after she started, with small dribbles of cum leaking out. I tried explaining that I would return to normal size after about a week of masturbating, noting that I had temporarily shrunk from eight weeks in the cage. Her response was, “Yeah, yeah, like you were little anyway.” That comment made me blush.
Several things happened during this time, including getting our taxes filed. We submitted them on time, but the stress was intense. On Sunday, April 17th, she walked over to me holding our cage and said, “Put it on now!” I was ecstatic about that. In front of her, I undressed, used the captive ring tool to install the first ring through my piercing, then slid both my balls and cock through the base ring. After lubricating my penis, I pressed it into the cage. With steady pressure, my slippery cock slowly entered the full enclosure, allowing me to attach the cage securely to the ring. In our setup, the two parts join together using an Allen screw.
Once joined, a second captive ring fits through my PA piercing and a bar at the end of the cage. This one is thicker gauge #6 with a smaller diameter but still tough. It requires significant force to expand this second ring and seat its bead properly. I handed her the captive ring tool. So happy to be captured again, I had no desire to escape as long as she held the key. If she has possession of the tool, I won’t try to get out. I told her, “Honey, thank you for locking me up again. If this bothers you at all, I’m willing to set it aside, but I truly enjoy it. It feels good to stay horny constantly.”
“I know, and I really don’t mind at all,” she replied. “I like watching you pant and cry when I tease you. Your massages are wonderful, and I honestly prefer them over intercourse. We have the vibrator so I can cum whenever I want, so don’t worry about being caged. It’s perfectly fine with me.”
Smiling inwardly, for once I could relax a little bit. I am always worried that I’ve misunderstood things and my partner is only doing this to appease me and my obsession, secretly resenting it all along. I carry some baggage from my first marriage.
This experience took a slight turn after a few weeks while I was away at a hotel. We were talking on the phone one evening when she asked, “What’s the longest anyone has been kept locked up?”
Thinking quickly, I tried to guess a number she might find acceptable and replied, “Oh, I think I read that some husbands have stayed locked for as long as six months.” “Strange,” she answered, “I would have thought it was longer. I’m sure I’ve seen that somewhere.”
“You know what? You might be right about that. Let me check if I can find something online and send it to you to read.”
“Yep, do that. I’m very curious now.”
I went on a research dive through various chastity websites and Literotica. Eventually, I found an essay by a femdom woman explaining that husbands should all be locked up for at least a year. True to my word, I sent the article to her.
The next time we met, on Friday night, she told me, “Good catch with that essay. You see it says you ought to stay locked up for a minimum of one year.”
“Oh, so you noticed? I was wondering if you would or not.”
“Yep, and that seems like the right thing for us to do, so consider yourself good to go for a full year,” she said.
“I’m thrilled! I had no idea you were even considering this at all. Just saying ‘caged for a year’ has my poor cock trying hard to get erect; it’s completely tingling just from the thought of it. If this is really happening, can we establish a rule where I can beg, ask, plead, and argue but have no possibility of release until the year is up?” I asked.
“I already considered that,” my loving wife explained to me. “It doesn’t need a formal rule because there’s simply no choice for you; it has to be a full year, as the essay makes clear.”
To me, her logic sounded somewhat tricky, but she was very determined, so I wasn’t going to rock the boat unnecessarily.
About a month into this entrapment, I finally gathered enough nerve to ask what date she had in mind for my eventual release. “What day did we start?” she asked. “April 17th,” I replied. “Hmm, then one year would be Father’s Day 2011. Yep, that’s a solid date,” she decided.
Again, the logic behind why that counted as a full year confused me slightly, but I remained very happy and excited to make it work. So recently, October 17th marked the end of my sixth month, leaving roughly eight more months until Father’s Day—a complete year of being locked in.
I suppose it does make sense…