This journey....

It’s far harder than I ever pictured, and has been among the finest (and toughest) periods of my existence. I stumbled upon male chastity a few years back, and from the start, found the concept incredibly appealing. Like many husbands, I struggled to work up the nerve to bring it up with my wife. It wasn’t so much shame holding me back as the knowledge that it would create some genuine friction in our marriage. I clearly recall the evening I casually presented her with a photo of a man wearing a cage. Naturally, it was just a ploy to test her reaction. She saw right through it, looked at the picture and then at me, asking, “That gets you going, doesn’t it?” I had hoped to approach this more indirectly, but I admitted that I found it very arousing, and waited for her response. The response wasn’t exactly encouraging. “There’s no way you’ll ever wear one of those things. What about me? What am I supposed to do with myself?” Over our long marriage, we’ve had a very active sex life. Sure, there were occasional dry spells, but both our sexual needs were generally met. While Beth loved getting frequent orgasms through oral stimulation, she particularly enjoyed intercourse, and here I was proposing to take that away from her. I tried to explain that she’d still get to climax…but I wouldn’t. I didn’t even try to sell it on the grounds of ‘better behavior’; I’ve always been very attentive and consistently made sure to ‘pull my weight’ with household chores…the running joke among Beth’s friends has been ‘who will have him if you die’. I’ve always actively adored my wife. She shook her head, saying, “No way. Forget it.” I knew better than to push; any more immediate discussion would truly kill the idea. Beth has a strong personality, and once she challenges a decision, she seldom changes her mind. Time to withdraw and hope I hadn’t crossed that line already. Apparently, I had planted a seed, because she spent some time reading about MC online; not because she found the concept appealing (she definitely didn’t), but because she knows that once I fixate on something, I probably won’t easily abandon it. She was arming herself for the inevitable return of the subject. She’s certainly no prude, but what she read didn’t much support my wearing a device. Stories of husbands going months without intercourse, and some anecdotal (actually speculative) discussions about potential penile injury, all strengthened her opposition. She found neither prospect attractive. Discouraged, I showed her this website, hoping to convince her that at least one of her fears was unfounded…that I was unlikely to be injured or permanently unable to meet her needs if we just gave it a try. Discussions with some forum members finally convinced her there wasn’t any risk, though still skeptical, she grudgingly decided to relent, figuring I needed to ‘get it out of my system’. It also helped that at this point I was making an extra effort to provide oral satisfaction. She insisted that I first try a trapped ball cockring…figuring that I might find it uncomfortable and drop the whole idea. Wearing that device actually went quite well, and she enjoyed the effect it had on my erections; they lasted longer and stayed distended…and I know she was hopeful I’d be satisfied with intercourse and orgasm denial. It was fun, but very difficult for me; too many accidents, though she came to relish punishing me for my all-too-frequent lack of self-discipline. She’s always had a bit of a sadistic sexual streak. I couldn’t put the thought of a restrictive device out of my mind, and she finally (probably in a moment of weakness) gave in. But permission came with a warning, “If we do this, you’re stuck with it…once you say you’ve had enough, we’re done. It comes off, and that’s the end of it.” Finally, the much-awaited Jail Bird arrived. I’d learned enough on this site, and others, to trust Mature Metal’s sizing instructions, and followed them ‘to the letter’. The snug fit was excellent, and wearing it was surprisingly comfortable…no doubt aided by my trapped ball cockring experience. I knew what to expect with what is often the most challenging mechanical aspect of wearing a cage. The first time period was 48 hours, then it came off for an inspection, and an erection test…a nice blowjob but no orgasm, a very difficult cool-down period, then back in the cage. I went to a week, then two weeks (though I had an accident on the two-week test which resulted in the installation of the spike strip as punishment…I lasted only twenty minutes before begging to have it removed from the cage…its forward spike digs into the rearward portion of my glans, and even the start of an erection is excruciating). We went for a considerable period of randomly spaced releases…sometimes two weeks…anywhere from a few days to a month, completely at my wife’s discretion. If she felt I deserved a reward, I was allowed an orgasm, but often ordered back in the cage after some intense T&D and no relief. Then one day, she decided I was going into what she termed ‘extended lockup’…I think, basically, to push me to the breaking point. This brings me to the rough part of my journey. I’m now at day 75 (though I was out for a bit of PIV at the 30-day mark…with no orgasm, under threat of the spike strip). Beth is now completely confident the Jail Bird isn’t going to have any detrimental effects on my ability to have erections, and seems to truly enjoy my torment (actively contributing to it by engaging in daily tease and denial). It doesn’t take much to drive me up the wall. I love this, and hate it, at the same time. The nights are miserable, not because the device hurts, but because I’m incredibly frustrated, and laying next to a beautiful and nude wife…who is sound asleep, totally relaxed and sexually satisfied. She has probably enjoyed over a hundred orgasms in those 75 days…to my none. At such times I feel like a complete idiot for initiating this predicament. The days aren’t much better. Basically I feel like I’m being continually edged…at the point of near orgasm, but just short of getting there. It’s exquisitely stimulating, maddening, and exhausting. The cage is a constant tactile reminder, instantly grasping the now hypersensitive tip of my cock whenever I experience the beginning of an erection…which are increasingly frequent, and occur at the slightest provocation. I had hoped that this frustration would level out, but it seems to be intensifying…quite literally the feeling of exhilaration one experiences riding a modern rollercoaster. Thrill followed by desperation. I wonder when, and where, this road will end.