tomsub Benefits of Shifting My Perspective

@tomsub I first encountered my Dom master during Recon, after numerous unsuccessful tries with other so-called Doms. It wasn’t entirely smooth sailing. We exchanged texts, left voice mails, sent photos and made phone calls before finally arranging to meet. The initial phase felt like an interview; I could tell he had dealt with plenty of dreamers and wannabes. He was polite, direct, and clear about his desires and non-monogamous way of life. I too was explicit regarding my limits: hard ones, soft ones, and those I’m still unsure about. It became evident that some of his absolute needs clashed with my hard limits. This was clarified repeatedly, and I understood he would seek satisfaction for those particular desires elsewhere. We were compatible on many other fronts, such as avoiding drugs, needles, blood, breath play, or bareback unprotected sex, since neither of us was offering total devotion to one another. One area that was less clear to me was chastity. I had heard of it and experimented with wearing a device for a lady friend when I visited her (another story entirely). However, I had never owned my own, and the idea of orgasm denial felt alien even as a sub; it seemed like a god-given right in any sexual relationship that both parties experience an orgasm. There were times guys would cum and leave me unsatisfied, but I managed on my own. So we met for coffee at a Wetherspoons near his home. We had lunch together, and he displayed even more dominant traits than I realized. There was one testing moment: I thought it might be staged, but it turned out spontaneous. As he headed to the bathroom, he noticed an untied shoelace. He just looked at me with a half-smile. I glanced at his shoe, then up at him, and dropped to my knees. Resting his foot against my knee at an angle, I tied it carefully, set his foot back flat on the floor, and started to rise, but he placed his hand on my head. I bowed beneath the pressure. The control radiating through that single gesture was indescribable; I blocked out all noise from the other 30 people in there. He moved his hand away, I looked up at him, he nodded upward with his head, smiled, said nothing, and walked off to the bathroom. I glanced around nervously, sure someone had noticed, but no one did—they just carried on as usual. When he returned, he asked if I was ready—not “would I like to visit,” but simply “was I ready.” The emotional experience of being a full-time chastised dominated man has been mentally stimulating for me. Finding other men with whom I can be myself is relaxing, enlightening, and incredibly rewarding in that “I am finally being true to who I am” sort of way. One weekend stands out vividly: showery yet damp spring weather, with some warmth when the sun broke through. He loved having me outdoors naked while he was dressed, or both of us naked together. The Friday greeting followed our usual routine—a strip at the gate with belongings in a plastic bag—but unusually, he ushered me into the house quickly. He seemed excited to discuss two friends who would be visiting on Saturday: Steve, whom I had met several times before (a guy who came for occasional caning but remained a non-sexual friend; they have steak every Thursday night), and another gentleman Steve was bringing along as his guest—the one he was eager to show off. You see, Steve interacts with several older gentlemen, servicing their sexual needs. He manages this by finding other willing men or women to join them, making him well-known in the BDSM circle he frequents. Gentle soul that he is, everyone likes and respects him. His respected older friends rarely meet others, but the man coming on Saturday wanted to see a real submissive male being controlled in his natural setting and decided if he might seek one out himself. Steve acts as his “companion” during their meetings. The man’s name was Joe, though his subs simply call him Sir. He gave me an overview of his preferences: men of any age with BDSM experience, shaved, submissive types who enjoy being restrained and naked in his presence. He said that was sufficient for now; I just needed to show respect as I always do. I was intrigued but thought it would be fun to display my devotion to my dom before someone else, especially Steve, whom I only see occasionally since he usually visits midweek. He instructed me to eat a small high-fiber meal now, then get clean and drink only energy drinks from that point until after his arrival. He mentioned he’d likely stay with us all day and have the evening meal before they departed. I hadn’t seen him in this particular mood before. He told me to behave as usual but be prepared to do so for him too. He said I must take a deep enema tonight before eating, then another one administered by him tomorrow morning before their arrival around 10 AM. He also planned to wax my back, arms, and legs that evening and use depilating cream on my cock, balls, and ass. This routine itself wasn’t unusual, but doing it on Friday night instead of rushing through his pleasure as usual was a surprise; I complied willingly. He emphasized that I needed to demonstrate through my behavior that I had been used by him. His mix of apprehension and pride in how I served him felt wonderful, and I really wanted to prove how well I could respond for him. He said he would remove my cage for the evening so Joe could put me back into it tomorrow. I fretted slightly, but he stated matter-of-factly, “Don’t worry, you won’t cum this weekend.” That struck me as a stunning realization of what I was becoming—or had become—so willingly that I no longer craved an orgasm; I didn’t want to break the obedient, euphoric celibate high. He inspected me like one would check a secondhand car, looking for any needed work. He was particularly pleased with the visible cane marks and bruising on my ass and a stray mark on my leg—I definitely flinched when he pointed that out! I sat on my short stool eating high-bran cereal from my dog dish, wondering why this mattered so much to him. Trying to figure out if it was personal pride or just showing off (which wasn’t his usual style), I watched him sit at the table finishing his meal. He stopped, patted my head, and gave me all the reasons I needed to ensure his weekend went well. The visitor, he explained, is a mentor from when I was first becoming a dom; he taught me most of what matters in being one. A retired factory owner who used to make engine parts, he is married; his wife knows his behavior intimately and shares his lifestyle. She may visit but tends toward privacy, so she won’t be identified by you if she does—she might not even appear at all or just not within this specific environment. I washed up the dishes, and as I was putting away the crockery, I felt him watching me. Turning to see him smiling, I smiled back; it was such a wonderful moment between us.

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@tomsub I hope this is the correct way to continue my blog. I am still detailing that first encounter with the device, but I want to mention that chastity and orgasm denial have been part of my sex life since I was a young adult. A girlfriend back then made it very clear: any sexual relief when she wasn't around counted as cheating. She also pointed out wisely that even if I found myself thinking about her while seeking stimulation—perhaps through reading or 'dreaming' of someone else—it was flattering but still technically using other means. Back to the blog and this historical account, which I want to bring up to date quickly. I had parked in a multi-storey car park. He walked from his home about a mile and a half away to meet me. Once I signaled readiness, he agreed to ride as my passenger. That was when the control began. At the car, he stood beside the passenger door and told me I needed to open it for him. Despite a slight reluctance, I circled around and opened the door; he smiled as he sat down and thanked me. Feeling appreciated, I got in myself. As we drove toward the exit (I asked for directions), he commented on how neat and clean my car was, noting that he appreciates tidiness both in vehicles and homes. It probably should have been a hint, but I was focused on driving. Arriving at his home—a large semi-detached house with tall fencing around a spacious garden—I parked as directed at the end of the driveway. I walked around to open his door again and offered my hand to help him out, which he accepted. That touch felt electric; he is a strong, powerful man, and I sensed that power flow through me into my soul, reminiscent of deep affection. Once inside via the side garden door—a full-height entrance set in a 10-foot brick wall—he locked us in. We stepped onto a large paved area with hanging baskets, with lawn visible beyond a big shed. "You can strip now, Tom," he said. "You won't need your clothes. Put all your belongings in the box and bring it down to the shed." He turned and walked toward the shed. This wasn't just any garden shed; it contained stocks, a cage, a sling, floor and ceiling eyebolts, and a stack of boxes similar to mine. I set my box down and stood there. An erection came unexpectedly. "Why are you excited?" he asked. "Because both you and these surroundings excite me," I replied. "Good," he said, telling me to start masturbating until he says stop. I began slowly. He touched my nipples, prompting faster stroking. Then he took my balls in his hand and pulled them down, making me go even quicker. "Stop!" I halted; my cock twitched. He applied some lube, grasped my shaft, rubbed the palm of his hand over my glans in circles with moderate force. The sensation made me squirm—unpleasant but bearable—and then I started to lose hardness. He stopped rubbing and worked my nipples again until I was hard once more. "Start wanking again, Tom," he commanded. "Take yourself close, but not too close." He picked up a riding crop, held my balls steady, and tapped them gently as I continued. After only a few seconds, he said stop again: "Concentrate on not cumming, Tom. Think hard about the sensations in your body and mind." I lasted about a minute before feeling like I might lose control. He polished my cock once more; it felt even more uncomfortable this time, but I softened down. "Ok Tom," he said. "Grab that brush and sweep the floor." Confused but compliant, I did so. The floor was spotless already, with very little debris, but I swept every inch thoroughly until I was totally flaccid. "I'm finished," I announced. "Well done, Tom," he replied. "Now start wanking again, this time stop when I tell you to." I thought he might let me cum as I neared the edge; then he said, "Ok, think about not cumming. You really don't want to do that now, do you, Tom?" I slowed down and focused on resisting the urge until my pace dropped significantly.

@Tomsub Enough detail for now; let's move forward a few days. Well, actually, just one more bit about the fitting first. It was a ring cage with a curved shape and hinged base ring covered by a rubber piece over the hinge. It featured a simple post with a hole for the padlock. The small padlock was sturdy and came with its own proper key. There was no room at the end for my flaccid cock, which made staying soft quite a struggle! Once fitted, I pulled my balls around a bit to get comfortable. "Now," he said, "get dressed; we are going shopping after coffee." He had one of the two keys on him, just in case. After drinking our coffee and washing up, we headed to Tesco superstore. I was acutely aware of what seemed like a definite bulge. I wandered over to the clothing section and checked my reflection; you can't actually tell unless you look closely or if I'm standing still. But internally, I felt a strong sense of being controlled. Pushing the trolley, I looked at him with renewed love and respect for deciding to do this for me. Halfway through our trip, I needed to pee. It dawned on me that I might need the key. I asked for it, expecting he would hand it over, but no—no key. "You need to sit to piss now, Tom," he said firmly. "It's who you are now, ok? You'll get used to it." That little exchange gave my cage a bit of a twitch, so off I went and sat down to pee. What a strange sensation! But looking at myself, I took stock of the predicament; it was wonderful, and I felt very relaxed about it. I even used toilet paper to clear up any drips.