This is Big John, and for all my followers and fans, the third and final instalment of my adventures in a cock cage. I did it! I completed Locktober. I spent more than a month locked in a chastity device. Thirty-two fricking days! It should have been twenty-eight, but…
So, let’s start at the beginning. As I believe I said, I am not a newbie to BDSM and bondage. I’ve been there, seen it, done that, and sold the T-shirts. I do not dabble. Only once before had I ever been intimidated by a bondage device, and that was from a pair of genuine prison-issue “short step” ankle shackles. Those things scared me witless and are safely hidden away in the bottom of my study closet.
Did the chastity cage scare me? Nah. But the implications were rather intimidating. To willingly put the purple-headed prince in a plastic prison for a prolonged period… was that kinky or an exercise in sheer stupidity? Or just outright fuckin’ weird? But hey, I’m adventurous! I’ll try anything once, right? Right… Famous last words and all that shit. Hold my beer.
To make an important digression: Here, I have to sing the praises of Miss Carmen of Play With Me. She’s a natural! Miss Carmen had the precise balance between hilarious frivolity to make this adventure a load of fun counteracted by a strictness and gravitas to let me know she means business. She is ‘Miss Carmen’ - and not just plain ol’ ‘Carms’ – for a reason.
So, back to the beginning, then. The locking-up process on day one was simultaneously enormous fun and as serious and intimidating as your final high school algebra paper. Miss Carmen explained her rules to me. She asked me if I agreed. I said I did. She gave me my cage, and I made the way into her bathroom, wrestled meat and two veg through the base ring, put King William in the sheath, connected it all together — delicately — and sealed it with a lock. I was now caged. Uncle Dick packed away in a plastic tube I’m unable to remove without a key.
Back from the bathroom, she made me sign on the dotted line and held out her hand. ‘Key, please.” I gave her the key, and that was it; it was official: I was locked in, and Miss Carmen was now my keyholder. For a week-long probationary period. If I made the week, three more would be added to complete the month-long ‘Locktober’ experience. That week seemed an ocean away! Four weeks? Holy carp, it may as well be in another galaxy. Was I being kinky or utterly fricking stupid? I guess Numbnuts over here is about to find out.
Numbnuts? God, I wish! The first few days, it was decidedly not numb! I was absolutely perfectly aware of this device around my scrotum every minute of the day. But here’s the lowdown for my fellow man who may be considering — should be considering — a similar adventure: the device is surprisingly comfortable! I expected it to be cumbersome.
Uncomfortable, at least, if not outright painful. However, I have to give kudos to the R&D team who developed this cage because while getting it on is a literal squeeze and quite the delicate operation, but once it’s on, it is surprisingly easy to wear! The first few days there was some adjusting and trying different ring sizes (the device came with four differently-sized base rings to which the sheath itself connects before locking together), but once I found ‘my’ configuration, I was surprised by how unobtrusive the device is.
Mostly.
Chilling on the couch catching a game or lying on my bed reading a book, the chastity cage almost ‘disappears’ like a wristwatch would disappear. At times, I literally forgot I was wearing it. Sitting behind my computer working, then I knew it was there. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Quite the opposite. Feeling the device packed around my package in a permanent predicament was almost comforting. This is fun! As a bondage nut, it’s being tied up without the restraint of being unable to move. I can so do this.
After my probationary week and I had to choose if I wanted to sign up for the whole of Locktober, it was a no-brainer. I committed to the full catastrophe: four weeks of Locktober for a total of 28 days.
It was me and Locktober 2024, with Miss Carmen to keep me honest. Let the games begin!
And thus, Locktober: Life goes on. One cannot just sit at home and mope about an untouchable penis. I wore it going out several times. A few beers with my mates at the pub. I went to a concert. A sporting event. Friends came for dinner. I even went to the damn gym locked in the thing! Sorry guys, I have to say there is nothing you can’t do while wearing the device. Well, almost nothing… the one thing you can’t do is the very reason the device was designed for in the first place. But nope, the cage can stay on for all activities. No excuses. Twenty-four-seven, that cage remains in place. Deal with it.
But I said it is ‘mostly’ comfortable. Yeah, keep it flaccid, boys! Keep it flaccid. An erection while trapped in Miss Carmen’s cock cage can range from mildly uncomfortable to a red-hot burning sensation in the ballsack that takes one to the edge of misery. The harder you get, the more painful it becomes. There’s no escape unless I reach for my spare key, and then…
Remember I said ‘gravitas’? Having Miss Carmen as your keyholder is a privilege. Unsolicited unlocking would result in a punishment. And the worst punishment: she would simply withdraw from being the keyholder. If I wanted this, I needed to stick to her rules, and the painful erections required to be dealt with cold showers and imagining my parents having sex. A morning glory has never been this unwelcome. But I kept it locked. That’s the whole purpose of the damn thing. And besides, one would not want to draw the ire of Miss Carmen.
Now, some of you may be asking about hygiene… Yes, this is an issue. Remember I said it’s so comfortable that I sometimes forgot I was wearing it? Well, one time you can never forget is when you go wee! I’m a man. I sit when I pee only when ridiculously hungover. But the plastic prison forces one to take a seat when undertaking urinary action. And then, well, ‘lawn sprinkler’ comes to mind. I went through a metric ton of baby wipes during my adventure. I should’ve bought shares in Johnson & Johnson. Shower time? Yes, you shower with the damn thing on, which is an incredibly weird experience, but cleaning up baby wipes and showers is not enough. Captain Jack is firmly ensconced in an impermeable piece of plastic. It can get, erm, ripe down there with sweat and wee. Especially when the trainer at the gym was feeling particularly sadistic. Which was often.
Hence, a twice-a-week cleanup schedule was agreed upon. I was allowed out for twenty minutes on Wednesdays and Saturdays for cleanup duties. And Miss Carmen wanted evidence! Once the cage was unlocked, I had precisely twenty minutes to report that I was now freshly scrubbed and re-locked. So, in twenty minutes, it’s take off the cage and clean it thoroughly: first, some spray-bleach followed by a mixture of baking soda and vinegar to kill any biological agents that may be on the cage before a solid scrub with good ol’ dish soap. Then, while the cage dries (in the fridge is a good place, trust me!) I’m in the shower, giving myself a good ol’ willy wash and scrotum scrub. After the shower, there are copious amounts of baby powder (there’s them Johnson & Johnson shares again) because you do not want to clamp damp scrotum skin – that would be a rash decision... Finally, the now dry and refrigerated cage gets locked back on: a cold cage really helps Chilly Willy cooperate during the recoupling process! Trust me, when it’s a squeeze to get the base ring on, you want to minimise blood flow! But don’t try the freezer. That could be considered edge play. Twenty minutes to clean up and reattach… It’s not the four-minute mile, but man, it cuts close!
And this is why my Locktober was extended beyond the initial four weeks by an additional four days. On two occasions, I was late with my reattachment. Not by much, by mere minutes, but that was enough for Miss Carmen to issue punishment days. I got two penalty days for each of my transgressions. I had a choice: either I submit to Miss Carmen’s reprimand and take the extra penalty days, or I don’t.
I nodded my head, said, ‘Yes, Miss Carmen,’ and stayed locked in. Why? Because next Locktober, I’ll be at Miss Carmen’s shop with her honorarium in one hand and my cage in the other. I’d do it all again. In a heartbeat. I do not want her to turn me away because she has no interest in being the keyholder to somebody who cannot follow the rules. This is more than fair. If you’re gonna do it, do it right, right? Why go through the time, effort, and financial expense if you are just going to cheat? The point of being locked up is being locked up. All the time. Not just when you feel like it but especially when you do not feel like it. That’s why it’s locked.
I didn’t cheat. Not once. And I can say with absolute certainty that spending thirty-two days trapped in a chastity cage has been one of the most amazing experiences of my life. Locktober was an absolute and glorious mindfuck. An exercise in discipline and self-mastery like almost nothing else I had in my life.
I’m well into middle age, and life has a way of getting away from a man. Dreams die and hopes fade, and life becomes dull routine. One builds Sunday morning fantasies of all the things of what might have been. More yesterdays behind me than tomorrows in front of me.
But getting locked in my chastity cage showed me just how much I can actually do if I put my mind to it. Yes, I’m locked in, and yes, my key is right there, but I’m not going to unlock myself because I have made a deal with Miss Carmen, and by God, I intend to fucking keep it! I have the mental muscle to comply with Miss Carmen’s rules. Those middle-aged dying dreams got resurrected. Discipline got reinstated. If I can have the sheer guts to remain caged no matter what, I can have the tenacity to build things again.
On top of that, I felt in touch with myself and my capacity as a man – and what all of that means – in a way so profound that it was almost spiritual. I said it in a previous episode, but it’s worth repeating: the device may have been invented with the intent to emasculate, but with me, it was the opposite. I never felt more powerfully masculine than I did while caged.
Wearing the cock cage and having Miss Carmen as my keyholder has been one of the most important things I’ve ever done, and I do not say that lightly. I’m a man that can tell some hairy stories. There were days that I thought of my position as a prisoner in a chastity cage and smiled in happiness at the sheer kink of the condition. There were days I was so frustrated and just wanted to get this damn thing off my dick and never set eyes on it again. It was those “get this damn thing offa me!” days that were the most important to me. It taught me that even now, life is there to be conquered. If I have the capacity to keep my cage on when all I want to do is frustratingly flush it down the shitter, I have the capacity to do what needs doing to keep my hopes and dreams alive again.
To all the gents reading this and wondering if I’ve gone soft: it’s a profound experience, and don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. It is an experience I’d highly recommend to anyone. If you have an intimate partner to share it with, great. If not, Miss Carmen has an instinctual understanding of the psychology of being a keyholder and can guide you through the experience with the appropriate amount of discipline spiced up with a touch of humour. To all the ladies reading this: it’s something you would want to do with your man. Trust me. Just do it. Thank me later.
But now Locktober is over, and I’m a free man now. I stand when I pee, pumping iron and doing push-ups; the gym is easy (well, easier), and I can have a wank in the shower whenever I want. But somehow, life unlocked is a lot less interesting, and I can honestly say I miss the damn thing.
Till next time, this is Big John, out!
Gimme back my beer.