Why won’t it listen?

I call it a conversation, but in reality it is an argument.

I think this may be a purely male thing. I cannot imagine women would have discussions with their “parts”. But men? ¬†Oh yes, I am quite certain almost every male on the planet has had a discussion with their downbelowstairs at some point.

It is the singularly most disobedient part of a man’s anatomy. It does not matter what he thinks himself, it does not matter that he at all times has the best intentions, it does not matter even if he is just a nice guy. There is always going to be some occasion where that mindless lump decides, of its own accord, that it is not going to behave properly and decorously.

During lockdown, it was caged for 58 days. And it still tried to escape every single week.

This is now the second week of my core lifestyle change (at least, I think of it like that) and it still argues. Out of the last 71 days (75 in reality) it has been loose on just 5 of those days. That is 70 days of locked chastity.

It is not enough.

Only recently, I was writing about how nice things were now, how different it was now that there was simply no longer the option of escape because I no longer had the keys and that things had settled down, almost as if there were capitulation and acceptance of a new state of affairs.

But no, not a bit of it.

Okay, so today’s argument wasn’t particularly outspoken. In fact, it was more like talking to a spoiled brat. (And yes, I do mean I have been talking to it.) It squealed in a tiny voice saying “let me out let me out – or else”. The only reply I could reasonably give was “well, it isn’t exactly up to me, so stop complaining.”

Does anyone else find this weird? Does anyone else think I maybe have a screw loose in that I speak to my nether regions as if trying to have an adult conversation with a child?

The conversation has been going on for most of the day. Not non-stop, I hasten to add. That really would be bizarre. But there have been occasions where I have addressed it out loud, telling it “there is no use making a fuss, you know you will give in eventually anyway”.

And now? Now I have come to write about it? What do you think has happened?

Yes, quiet and docile as a mouse.

It is so infuriating! It is almost like being haunted.

That, then, is my grumble for the day. Nothing serious, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a normal day locked in chastity and having discussions with that most recalcitrant part of my anatomy and just thanking my lucky stars the damned thing is locked up good and proper.

Honestly, if it weren’t for Mistress, I do not know what I would do. And that, of course, is sort of the point.

This path that I am on, this journey, whatever you want to call it, it would never have happened without Mistress.

I don’t know how to thank her properly. I really don’t. All I can do is my best, and keep on trying to my best for her.

I think, perhaps, my downbelowstairs and I are no longer on speaking terms.

 

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