Journals and blogs discussion

Welcome back; I’ve missed you. (I didn’t like that last sentence either.)

Contrary to what some around CM might think, I don’t need her constant attention. This time, things hit a breaking point about three weeks after she stopped acting like it and became merely a Mistress in name. The third punishment session passed with many threats but no action. Gradually, my will to perform all the required domestic service was waning. In the last week, I even stopped making the bed—a disaster during ordinary FLR days—but she didn’t seem to notice or care at all. At the end of each week, I would implore her: please just agree to end this charade if you don’t want to participate. She’d say she’s been busy with her new job (which was true) and that things would turn around in the coming week (which proved false). I told her I didn’t need my dick caged to love her; I simply needed honesty from herself and me. Finally, I had enough. I demanded the key back and said I didn’t care if we never locked up again. I was done. Surprisingly, she got a bit angry at me, accusing me of lacking patience or realism. Things degenerated somewhat after that but ended with me unlocking the cage and packing it away for good. Over the next couple of days, lingering bitterness remained between us. We worked through it eventually, and she even acknowledged she had fallen off track. Things settled into a new normal and could have stayed there if we weren’t both so addicted to this lifestyle. I was actually quite happy with things as they were. I started spending more time with my male friends playing golf or poker, sailed more often, and exercised regularly. I gained back 5–10 hours a week of life; who doesn’t want more time? Ironically, she was the one who first brought up resuming our arrangement. At first, I flat-out refused. I told her how hurt I felt when we spent less time together and that I wasn’t willing to risk it again because our marriage truly hung in the balance. She has always been dominant sexually, even before chastity, and began using that history to talk about locking me up and making me her bitch. It excited me; during those moments of intimacy, I was fully on board: "Yes, lock me up, let me serve you." But once we were done, I dismissed it as pillow talk, though the thought lingered. I found myself looking at chastity memes online and even pulling my cages back out to wear for an hour or so. Finally, one night in bed she became more aggressive than usual. After climaxing, she climbed into what I always call her "seat of power." She straddled my torso with her bottom resting on the upper part of my stomach. With my arms at my sides, her legs pinned them there. She began slapping my face, telling me how disrespectful and lazy I’d become. What a trial it’s been for her to tolerate my useless free dick. "I deserve better," she implied. I was caught in that strange mix of heaven and hell. Face-slapping hurts; she wasn’t saying nice things. Yet the humiliation and domination she projected were intoxicating for me. She finished by declaring I wouldn’t cum tonight, would lock up in my smallest cage, and resume serving her as she saw fit. I should have said no. I should have called it a bad idea. Instead, I whispered, "Yes Mistress." Next entry: when the shit really hits the fan.