More submission

It is a new morning, and I have tried to start it right, being more submissive. Fixing coffee and breakfast for my Keyholder. Kneeling, holding the tray for her while she eats, and having her leftovers. kissing her feet, bowing before her, trying to take my maintenance caning without flinching. Submission is like a string inside; the more she pulls, the more I give. I only wait for her to pull. I crave it.
My new chastity regimen is (for now) outside the cage, but no touching at all. Only she is allowed to touch my cock. I will only feel pleasure and sensation at her hands. Already, I miss her.

At my Keyholder's Mercy

I write this under the promise that my Keyholder made to me: that she was going to be more strict with my chastity. Last night I pleasured her for a good hour plus, an hour of service and frustration, but also pleasure, specially the pleasure of watching her find satisfaction. I went to bed tired, frustrated, but happy also. Odd, that mix.  As I write this tonight, wearing suction "nipple screws", I try and think what more stringent chastity would entail. It's already been pretty strict, I think...but I know my Keyholder always pushes my boundaries--and my buttons.She has made me promise that I will be more submissive. I'm sure she has the keys at her disposal to do that.

Long day

Today was a long day, with much work that had to be done. I'd been putting off some planting and gardening, and I knew my Keyholder would not stand for another day of delay. So, to the nursery for plants, and to the garden. It was actually a perfect day for it, and I had to remind myself to enjoy the time. Normally, my idea of gardening is run a lawnmower over everything under six inches, and everything over gets to live and grow wild. It was nice to get my hands dirty, and toil in the earth. The only thing missing was my Keyholder. It would have been nice to have her there, sipping iced tea and watching. I know she enjoys menial labor (rather, having me do menial labor); there is a monastic aestheticism that she enjoys (as do I, once I get in the headspace).
A word about the belt: it tended to get in the way today. Riding a bike earlier in the morning: rubbing. Bending and picking stuff up, etc. whilst wearing jeans: my movements had to be measured. The belt decreases the freedom  in certain movements, with certain clothes. Move the wrong way, and you squash Lefty, and your neighbors wonder why your are holding your groin for no apparent reason.
After a long day in the garden, and with everything looking better if not great, I still had to do my training. Training today consisted of moderate weights (make no mistake, its' moderate in name only--it wears me out). I had to push and will myself to do it. Again, the thought of telling my Keyholder that I failed to do this was a motivator; it was easier simply to do it.
So now, I am done with my tasks for the day. Onto writing, and relaxing, and a good book later.
I await my Keyholder's return...

The Bite of the Cane

I had some punishment/correction incoming for failure to clean the boots, if you remember from my last post. I also have been less than snappy in my responses, lately. Lethargy, plus sloppiness equals cane strokes.  Thirty of them, to be exact.
So, nose pressed to the wall, I attempted to take them stoically. In my mind, I always stand up straight, grunt like a man, and take them like Spartacus. In reality, I'm often whimpering by the fifth one, and squirming around by the sixth. To get to thirty really took some willpower. When it was done, there was atonement and submission, not bad things.
Caning is a funny thing. Well, not funny when it is happening. I have a true love/hate relationship with the cane. I hate the sting, the burning kiss it leaves. But, I love the lingering afterglow, and the headspace that it puts me in. This morning, I received my ten "maintenance" strokes, just-because strokes to remind me of my position. My bum is still glowing as I sit and write this hours later.
I am also back in the cage. I have mixed feelings. I have enjoyed the week-plus of freedom, and the thought of the long road ahead is daunting. I know there will be highs, but there will be lows as well. I'll be reporting on both, here.

Boots

It's been a week of freedom. Freedom, in my case, means not wearing the cage. My pleasure still belongs to my Keyholder. It is hard to decide which I like better. The cage is a constant reminder of her, though I hardly need one. On the down side, it is sometimes uncomfortable and interrupts my sleep most nights. Being "free" is nice; it is nice for the ol' kibble & bits to have a break. But, sometimes my comport is less than stellar. This was proven a couple of nights ago.
"Clean my boots," she said. I did, wiping them down, doing what I thought was a good job quickly. I was inattentive. The next day, she left them out for me to clean again. I saw what I'd done wrong--the heels and soles still had dirt on them. Quite a bit, actually. Completely unacceptable job under any standards.
I re-cleaned them until they were spotless. I know there is a correction there coming, at some point. I have to wonder if I'd been in full-on chastity, if I would have been so inattentive....

The Day

Two months it has been. Two months of withholding my pleasure and focusing on her. Two months of near-constant imprisonment of my manhood, and two months of chastity to her. A very good two months. Last night, it was the time -- the day she allowed me release. She edged me for nearly an hour, which was heaven enough. Her feel, the pleasure I (hopefully) gave her, dancing on that edge of self-control, her-control, and my body's limits, was delicious. But, I was nearing the end of my endurance. I think she sensed this also. So, she had decided it was the night. Frankly, I didn't expect it. She timed it perfectly, keeping me on the edge until she was ready as well. When my orgasm came, I barely remembered what they felt like. It was world-shattering--a concussive wave of pleasure that bounced up and down and through my body for minutes. I have never had an orgasm that good. But, more than that, even, was being able to please her, to show her the pleasure she deserved. To squeeze her tight and try to meld into one....
In all honesty, I would have given even that mind-blowing pleasure up to be a better servant to her, to please her more. But I think that what she did brought her pleasure, and for that I am grateful.
I was of mixed feelings afterwards (way afterwards, after the echos of those waves had died down). I don't think it will be as long a road to get back into "chastity" mode. I do feel some of the wind has been taken out of my sails, but I hope to get my energy and strength back to be the best servant I can be for her.
Keyholden, for Keyholder

Distance

I'm far from my Keyholder, yet her grip on me remains tight. I've been travelling, with a plastic lock in place of her steel one. I prefer the steel, the finality of the lock, the key on her keychain. My chastity, though, is not about my preferences. It is about hers.  Truth is, I miss her tremendously. I long for her teasing.  Without it, I am just chaste and disinterested. With her teasing, with her presence, I am in constant reminder of what I am missing--and what I am giving to her.  So, I await my return, having logged more miles and more time in chastity. What I look forward to  is that the extra week I've been without her will make my desire and love all the stronger.

Hers,

Keyholden