And another thing . . .
Why oh why oh why is that part of the anatomy so variable? It changes from second to second and it is so infuriating because I did not tell it to do so.
One moment, everything is nice and relaxed and well-behaved and comfortable and then suddenly, without warning, with no apparent outside factor to affect things, it decides that tight as a drum is the right way to be.
Honestly, being locked in a steel chastity cage is a bit like having a fight every single day to overcome some kind of animal instinct, indeed, almost to overcome an animal that appears to be a part of my body but which does not obey my instructions.
Right now it is screaming at me. I can hear the words, even – “get it off get it off get it off” – over and over again, echoing angrily through my mind.
And yet just half an hour ago, it is as if the beast were asleep, soft and forgiving, gently drowsing the day away.
I have tried looking this up on the internet, what it is about the male anatomy that makes it so changeable and variable and so damned annoying. And you know, laughably, what the only answer I have found is? Because it is variable.
That isn’t an answer.
Maybe someone else out there knows. Maybe someone can tell me why my scrotum is currently stretched to what feels like breaking point, but everything else is limp and useless.
I am sure it is connected to the NPT I wrote about the other day. It now appears that all I need to is lie down for 10 minutes and it seems to be a trigger for some vain escape attempt.
Maybe I lack self control. Maybe that is why I feel I have to be locked, because I cannot trust my own anatomy to behave. The rest of my body is fine. It does what I tell it. But this thing? Sometimes it feels as if it hardly belongs to me at all.
Any other wild animal would have learned its lesson by now. “Okay, I understand, not getting out. Okay. I will wait until I am allowed.” This is the 9th week of being locked. This is day 58. And yet still it fights.
Of course, it isn’t like this all the time. This is just a bad day and, yes, a particularly sore day. Things will right themselves, I know, once the energy has gone and the realisation kicks in once again that no amount of protestation or complaint will cause the device to be removed.
But it is the sheer lightning-quick change that can take place that has me baffled and annoyed and irritated, just at the point I was feeling so pleased that I had managed to stay locked for so long, and so hopeful that it is pleasing to Mistress. And then the blasted thing starts a fightback.