It's Lock-Tober! I wish I could share my experience of being locked in a chastity cage for the duration of this month, and give a day-by-day update on it. I don't have a romantic partner at the moment, and if I did, she probably wouldn't be into that kind of thing anyway. Which I suppose is partly disappointing and partly a relief, depending on how you look at it. It depends on my own mood. I can think of plenty of people I know in real life I wouldn't mind being my key-holder/Mistress/lifestyle Domme; if they were really into such things...
So, while I've never been cock-locked before, and so I can't speak to the mundane logistical details about the experience (What is it like to ride a bike, for example, with a cock cage on?) I can speak about the time I voluntarily tried not to jerk off for as long as I could- starting in mid-December several years back.
I was, at the time, single as I am now. I was out visiting family for Christmas, for sixteen days, and without too much privacy, I felt like it would be hard to get away with any self-eroticism (though I suppose the shower would have worked.) And even though I planned to arrive back in town a couple days before New Years, I made a pre-New Years resolution: no cumming until after New Years. So I didn't. I ended up going nearly 19 days without cumming.
The first week or so wasn't too bad. After a few days I did start occasionally craving sex, with the desire for release occasionally popping into my mind, but it wasn't too bad. Plenty of other distractions- family, the holidays and all the accompanying obligations, kept my mind occupied on other things.
The second week, after Christmas was over, was a little harder. I woke up with wood every single morning. Although I was avoiding anything "Stimulating" (including, especially, looking at any kind of erotica on Mom's computer, which would be a family faux pas) I nonetheless found my thoughts turning increasingly "Dirty." The more days that passed, the more extreme my fantasies got. I began to imagine all kinds of kinky scenes, always with me in a compromising position at the feet of my dream Domme, subjected to her increasingly twisted and sadistic whims. Hardcore stuff; whips, paddles, extreme humiliation, even toilet play. By New Years' Eve, which I celebrated quietly with a couple buddies the day I got back, these kind of thoughts tormented me constantly. On the drive back, I was in a state of near constant arousal. I thought of those Viagra ads: "Seek Medical Attention for an Erection Lasting Longer than Four Hours." Was this even healthy? Sex, the kinkier the better, was on my mind all the time, as was the thought of what my orgasmic release would be like once I allowed myself to. I toyed with the idea of stopping and seeing a "professional" on the way back, passing through Nevada, but passed that up. It just didn't feel right, and in any case I doubted I would find any brothel girls who were into the fem-domme stuff anyway, which, after two weeks, was all I could think about.
For some reason I waited a couple days even after New Year's Day had passed. Somehow the torment of not being allowed a release was even more perversely pleasurable. It became a game, how long could I hold out, would my own self-discipline keep me in check? I felt hyper-sexualized, almost like fire in my veins. Yet, at the same time I was unfulfilled. I had a super vivid dream the night of January 2, of being dragged into some bushes by a hot girl, holding pink spiked leash attached to my balls, and her repeatedly peeing on me, while mocking me and laughing. I woke up almost feverish with lust at that point.
When I finally did let go, I literally orgasmed in my pants. It was actually embarrassing how it happened. I have mentioned before that I'm not a particularly big fan of strip clubs, for a few reasons. But I let a friend take me to one, a couple nights later. He paid for a private dance for himself, and I thought, why not, I may as well do the same. Maybe it would give me a chance to ask the dancer if she had any friends who were into BDSM and dominance. I asked her. She said no, and then I was kind of embarrassed for asking, wondering if she now thought I was some kind of creep. (Part of the reason I'm not into strip clubs: The girls do actually tend to think that about most of the guys who go there.) The girl, a hot athletic honey blonde, got up on my lap and started grinding against me. Well, under normal circumstances- I had had lap dances before- this wouldn't have been a problem but after nearly 19 days of pent up spunk, it was too much. As she rode me, I orgasmed myself, cumming in my pants just like a toddler peeing himself, to my deep embarrassment. I blushed, and actually apologized to her. She just smiled and said it was okay. I guess that kind of thing isn't that uncommon. I really didn't intend for my self-enforced chastity to end that way, but that's how it went.
In the subsequent years, I've tried it a couple other times and have gone as long as ten days, and as before, the longer I go the more open I am to more extreme forms of BDSM play. You could even call it a sub-frenzy, to use the proper term. So to those of you lucky enough to have a real keyholder/partner, that make it through a whole month of denial and lock-up- I salute you. I can only imagine how docile you must be at her command, and how powerful that release must be once you have earned it.