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A SNOWBALL DOWN THE MOUNTAIN I sent the links along. I took a sip of coffee, and soon after got an SMS notification confirming they had arrived and were being reviewed. Then came the wait. A flutter of nervous energy buzzed through me; the urge to dash to the bathroom and tug at myself was almost too much, but I held back since there hadn’t been any response yet. What would she think? Perhaps it would just slide by this time as well.

I’ve tried many times over the years to show how important it is for me to be kept in my place, though often with half-measures or failures. I am a submissive at heart, but I have a strong habit of questioning authority. I know myself too well: when reprimanded, I either revolt or fall into line immediately. If the scolding is harsh enough, I might never question that particular rule again because I’ve learned my lesson thoroughly. Yet often my will resists change, and my submission only becomes clear with a degree of domination.

I thought this time might be different because there was empirical data—facts she responds to decisively. She acts on facts when it’s within her power to do so, one of her most charming traits since she truly cares about integrity and truth rather than just fantasy or silliness.

The links explained how an XY chromosome holder can chemically benefit from withholding orgasm to alleviate depression. We own a Lori 18a device; while we can contain my orgasms fairly well, the limitation is similar to most devices: you find ways around it. However, removing such a device requires either the key or power tools and carries significant risk of injury and financial loss. The Lori line isn’t a toy—it’s an expensive, handcrafted tool for penile control. Once inside, there’s no pulling out; it creates serious control.

She had never felt compelled to go further because she found the severity intimidating enough. But these links offered specific examples of exacting BDSM in ways that are easy to appreciate for anyone interested in a dynamic relationship. That element has been somewhat missing between us. I was pierced specifically to wear this device, and given the Lori as part of holiday gifts over many years. We were serious about chastity, but BDSM often felt like an afterthought—a playful side dish rather than the main course.

Life’s realities set in once the novelty wore off. The mystique faded for a while even though the cage stayed put. Repetition breeds normalcy, and with it comes indifference.

When I last removed the device, I resisted putting it back on strongly. Unlocked for weeks, wanking freely and revisiting old porn habits, I wasn’t content being chastised at all. My vacation felt good; each day away seemed like moving further from returning. Chastity doesn’t have to be enjoyable, but something was missing: the passion to please her had dimmed, as did hers in teasing me until I squirmed.

Then my phone chimed—a text arrived just long enough for her to read everything: “please put your device back on” I replied, “can we talk about this in person,” still feeling defiant and enjoying the freedom. No reply came. Later that night, after the day’s commotion settled, we sat down. She told me she’d read the links regarding orgasm reduction benefits—things we already knew—but seeing them presented clearly reminded her of how important it is to keep the device on. She also noted the financial investment in our gear shouldn’t be underutilized.

If I didn’t put it back immediately, she wanted me to start selling it off. “Are we serious or not?” she asked firmly. No games here; very clear. Feeling chastised by her strong suggestions, I lowered my head and agreed to reapply it after a shower. And so I did.

After a long shower, locking the device back in place, I walked meekly into the bedroom where she lay on our bed with her crop ready. She took hold of the key and said, “Now lie face down.” I obeyed. Though not entirely happy about being reinstalled, I was excited that she had awakened something dormant within us. In an effort to be a good submissive who respects both her will and our wonderful relationship, I did as told.

She bound my arms and legs and whipped me until tears welled up—it went further than ever before with such discipline. Unless I wanted to remain ignored indefinitely in chastity, she said I must complete the tasks ahead. Submit without question to spanking and discipline, which benefits us both since I do enjoy it (as noted elsewhere). She sat on my face while using her vibrator until climaxing. Our session ended warmly; she kissed my ear and neck softly, thanking me for putting the device back on again. Chills ran through my body. The next night, post-dinner calm returned, she commanded me to resume lying position on the bed and resumed spanking slightly harder this time. She used her whole collection—floggers, whips, paddles—until I melted into a puddle. Still tied down, she inserted a vibrator and masturbated herself fully again. It was marvelous.

Night Three brought shock as day continued after day. Tied down, gagged, spanked with a hairbrush. She paused to apply baby oil sensually across my back and buttocks before resuming authoritative strikes; the sting intensified greatly due to the oil. Untying me afterward allowed us to cuddle until sleep took us both—I felt like a child yet incredibly satisfied.

Night Four brought novelty: “Tonight try this,” she instructed, asking me to lie on my back with legs lifted via harness. Fully exposed now, she slowly inserted an anal plug deliberately. My cage squeezed tightly around the base of my penis; heartbeat pounding in ears overwhelmed by nervous energy. She explained it was diaper position and wanted eye contact during tonight’s spankings. Legs raised high, walloped until red-faced like a tomato. The burning pushed me into subspace—literally high from pain and discipline-induced bliss visible to her eyes before she released fingers for more stimulation using the vibrator alongside hers.

I complied happily; she smiled widely asking if I wished to cum too—a rare occurrence! Usually my sentence holds firm, but…

It’s been at least a few weeks. I eagerly accepted and asked for the key to be handed over. She gave me another smile, then added with concern that even though I’d have it on, I could still use the vibrator underneath my cage. HOLY SH*T ITS THE SNOWBALL EFFECT!!! The fifth night passed in relative silence. Honestly, I felt quite relieved. However, as we were settling down for bed, she mentioned her hope that I was holding up well because she planned to try a belt on me next time. gulp To be continued.

This shows just how varied we are. While chastity brings us together, our individual experiences with it differ greatly. I'm still wrapping my mind around having a dominant authority figure questioning me as a submissive!