When I first slipped on a pair of thigh highs over a decade ago, I learned that the men who came to see Me wanted a strong, powerful Woman. They wanted to place you on a pedestal, and use you like a blank screen they could project their fantasies onto. In order to be a successful Domme, you should curate every little glimpse they see to reflect that ideal. Under no circumstances, should you show any weakness or vulnerability.
For a long time, I believed that would be the only possible fantasy men could buy into, and I had to keep up with those smoke and mirrors.
As time went on and I became to question this ‘Dominant Ideal’ more and more. I wondered whether that was something I even bought into Myself. Not only was I the Dominant, but this was My career… could I make My own rules, and still pay My rent?
‘A successful Domme is the picture perfect image of success at all times.
Steely, traditional, hardcore and relentless…’
As a feminist, I also felt conflicted about being a sex worker… I was actively contributing to a highly sexualised view of women, and I grew more and more uneasy about that.
For a long time, I mulled over whether there was a way to humanise Myself more, but still keep those sessions coming to pay My bills. I wanted My followers to see Me and other sex workers as a whole humans, with lives and personalities which are complex and varied.
My work itself also evolved, and I realised how much emotional labour it really involved. Many slaves who came to see Me were not looking for a quick spanking and an orgasm in the corner. They wanted something more than that. They wanted a space which felt safe and intimate and freeing. With that in mind, approaching My work completely void of any real emotion felt fairly disingenuous.
BDSM should first and foremost be about trust and connection.
Once you have that, it paves the way for those therapeutic, cathartic experiences...
I slowly gained more confidence in Myself, and I began to show a little more personality. Little by little, I (willingly) let the façade slip. I began to write more personal blog posts, and spoke more openly about things I feel are important both in and outside BDSM.
When I did that, a funny thing happened. The more personal My blog posts were, the more popular they became. The more vulnerability I showed, the more that seemed to resonate with people. Prospective slaves began to seek Me out as a result of the thoughts and writings I had began to share. As I began to become more authentic and vulnerable in My work, that seemed to really strike a chord with My submissives.
Showing vulnerability as a Dominatrix can feel daunting,
when there is such pressure to be the perfect, Dominant ideal of men's fantasies...
The calibre of slaves who now approached Me dramatically improved. The more openly I talk about Myself, the more respectful and adoring My slaves became. I received less insulting comments or timewasters. I imagine they had begun to see Me as a whole, real person, and not as the perfect, latex clad, whip wielding indestructible Domme.
I talked openly about the importance of consent, relationship styles and mental health. As I did, I suddenly found My submissives were becoming not only more compatible with Me, but that they were opening up to Me more and more. They confined not only their innermost fantasies, but their own struggles. Many of them told Me they had never confined that in anyone else before. I am no therapist, but I think we can all agree from experience that sometimes just being able to speak aloud about your problems can be healing.
There is strength in being so open with another person, regardless of whether it’s a paid encounter or not. Feeling able to be vulnerable, in My experience, is far more often empowering than it isn’t. Beyond that, it fosters a sense of real trust. Even if a slave and I have never met before, they already feel a level of connection to Me because My writings have resonated with them.
As soon as I began to shake off the myth of the Unshakeable, World-Class Dominatrix,
My work became far more meaningful and real, for both Myself and My submissives...
I’m not a therapist, but I believe to the ground that a connection like D/s can be highly therapeutic for all involved. I love giving that space to My submissives, and developing a real sense of connection and trust with them. In fact, it’s probably what I love most about My work.
If I could give a single piece of advice to any apprising Dominant, it would be to be authentic to yourself, and not to an ideal which by definition is impossible to obtain. Speak freely about what matters to you, be strong enough to show vulnerability, and you’ll find that attracts the slaves you’ll love to play with…
“What happens when people open their hearts?"
"They get better.”
― Haruki Murakami
Manchester Mistress Lola Ruin loves to sensually Dominate her subs.
Delve deeper, and learn more about a Chastity slaves experience under her expert lock and key...
As I write this about halfway through the 25th of December, with carols still ringing about the house, I can say that being locked up for Christmas by Mistress Lola is everything I thought it would be. Without any bit of obsequiousness I can say that every picture of Herself – and I do mean every picture – that She posts on Twitter is enough to have me bulging inside my cage. I'm wondering if this is the start of a wonderful seasonal tradition, albeit one that doesn't lend itself very well to sharing with others. I'm even wondering if I deserve a smaller cage, but that's a conversation I need to have with my Mistress. Well, “conversation" implies perhaps too much negotiating power on my part, but you take my meaning.
I woke up this morning thinking about Mistress Lola leading me around in public by a leash attached to my cage, which feels a thematically appropriate fantasy, as well as a good place to leave this diary entry.
I decided to capitalise on some early morning frustration today and watch Mistress Lola’s video clip right after waking up. Having also watched it just before I went to bed last night, I can say without risk of exaggeration that worshipping Mistress Lola was the last thing I thought about last night and the first thing this morning.
I don’t know if the distraction from my chastity cage of being around other people all the time is a welcome one. There have been plenty of times today where I’ve craved a couple of hours’ isolation just to think quietly about my last session and anticipate O/our next one. I’ll be home in a couple of days, so I’ll soon be able to devote as much time as I like to this sort of rumination.
I keep expecting my sense of pent-up frustration to subside, but it seems merely to have plateaued. Although I have long since learned to ignore the instinct to have an orgasm whenever the desire takes me, and in that sense being in chastity is becoming somewhat easier, the constant frustration is impossible to ignore. Unable even to have a full erection, I can derive a little pleasure from straining inside my cage, feeling the plastic pressing against my cock, but it’s a long way from a satisfying substitute. All I want to think about is Mistress Lola’s fingertips running over my thighs and chest, feeling Her gorgeous bottom pressing against my face, looking up into Her eyes…
At last I’m home after being away for Christmas. Of course it’s always nice to spend some time around the rest of my family – I travel too much for work to see them as much as I’d like – but having got used to the serenity of living alone it’s always nice to relax and unwind on my own.
This year being locked in chastity has added something extra to that, of course. By way of some self-indulgence I’ve just spent an hour or so relaxing with some coffee and, sitting in only my chastity cage, watching some of Mistress Lola’s video clips. With another week in chastity to go until I see Her this may not have been an entirely wise thing to do, but it was certainly emotionally satisfying even if it was physically frustrating.
Yesterday Mistress Lola decided to increase my daily dose of frustration ahead of O/our session. She has instructed me to watch a video clip at least three times a day: straight after waking up, just before bed and at any other point in between. I’ll be bookending my day with the chastity tease clip She filmed specifically for session preparation and choosing another of Her clips to go between them.
If I weren’t already thinking about Mistress Lola holding the keys to my cock cage constantly, I expect this extra homework will make sure of it. It already feels like my cock has been bulging inside the cage all day. I’m about to take myself off to bed, already frustrated, to watch Mistress Lola’s video clip again.
I must have spent about half an hour last night trying to get to sleep lying on top of my hard, plastic-covered cock, thinking about pressing my face into Mistress Lola’s bottom. After waking up and watching Mistress Lola’s video clip first thing this morning I spent about another hour or so in bed thinking about Her again. I like to think about Her dangling the key to my cock in front of me, about Her showing off my locked-up cock to others – that’s the exhibitionist in me talking again – or about Her sitting on my chest while Her fingertips drum on my plastic cage…
I’m really grateful that Mistress Lola is holding the keys to the cage, and there’s no hope of escape without Her permission. It means I can spend the whole day thinking about what Her bestowing an orgasm, even a ruined one, would feel like while I’m sure in the understanding that I cannot have one without Her.
The ultimate Chastity experience in Manchester,
Mistress Lola Ruin loves to keep Her slaves under Her lock and key...
Another morning of frustrated desire. Because today was one of complete leisure it meant I could spend a couple of hours restlessly in bed, thinking about Mistress Lola and O/our session a few days ago. My bruises are no longer painful, but I still have a few healing cuts to remind me of my caning. I press my face into the pillow and think of worshipping Her bottom. None of this is particularly helpful in dealing with my cock straining inside its cage, but of course this is the perverse joy and the challenge of chastity.
Other than when travelling home from O/our session this was the first day I’ve worn the cage out in public during this stint of chastity. As always this feels a little perilous, although that might be just a bit of an exhibitionist fantasy talking.
When being caned it’s difficult to ignore the impulse to keep track of what proportion of my allotted strokes Mistress Lola has given me (halfway there, three fifths of the way there…). I’m now a third of the way through my time locked up, or at least a third of the way towards my next session with Mistress; since She holds the keys literally and figuratively I should not perhaps be so sure…
I’m writing this on my last morning at home before travelling away for Christmas this afternoon. It’s been another pretty sleepless night of high frustration, and it’ll be interesting to see how that carries through into dealing with constant company. This will be not only my longest time locked up in chastity but also the first time I’ve been locked up for Christmas, and right now I imagine it could be something of a relief when I get home and I can deal with my frustration in private, but it might also be that all the festivity acts as a distraction from this predicament to which I’ve submitted.
I was reflecting yesterday that my time in chastity so far seems to have gone quite quickly, but for some reason right now it feels like the (minimum) time I have left locked up is stretching away ahead of me. For all that, I’m struck by no doubt highly irrational but predictable and understandable thoughts like how wonderful it would be to be kept under lock and key by Mistress Lola permanently, only permitted any kind of release in Her presence, and so on. I couldn’t offer an explanation for this, but it doesn’t seem important to provide one, other than to relay the pleasure I’m getting from something as submissive as chastity.
Manchester Mistress Lola Ruin loves to torment you by holding the key to your caged up cock...
Today is Christmas Eve, and despite the distraction of company to keep me from reflecting exclusively on being locked up for my Mistress – combatted somewhat, of course, by fulfilling my nightly responsibility of watching Mistress Lola's teasing video clip – the frustration has been difficult to ignore and quick and easy to trigger.
This being the first time I will have worn my cage for an extended period in such constant proximity to other people, I've had to take the preventative step of taping down the padlock on the cage to prevent it audibly rattling around. It's the sort of Christmas surprise I'd sooner keep un-sprung...
The Queen of Orgasm Control, Manchester Mistress Lola Ruin is about
to lock up Her slave for his longest stint in chastity to date...
Like all O/our sessions this one started with me kneeling naked on the floor of Her chambers, waiting for Mistress Lola. Within a few moments of Her having entered the room I was crouched in front of Her, worshipping Her feet as W/we talked about O/our last session together, and what I’d been thinking about since then.
It’s difficult to describe how much I’ve come to feel at home – as Mistress observed – while kissing Her feet. I can never help exhibiting transparent relish as I get to run my lips over Her instep, Her delicate toes… It always feels so far removed from my time outside O/our sessions, and yet always feels so natural. Even as I write this I can feel my chest swelling with helpless desire.
After a time Mistress stood and beckoned me over Her spanking bench. She was dressed in a purple latex skirt, a section at the back cut out to display Her bottom. I truly can’t describe it or my feelings about it in a way that does justice to either, so it will have to suffice to say that being allowed to worship Mistress Lola’s bottom is perhaps the part of O/our time together I long for and recall most powerfully between sessions, and that skirt in particular is a familiar object of fascination for a reason that I’ll explain in a later entry.
In order to earn the privilege of getting to worship Her, however, as usual I was going to have to go through a cold caning first. One hundred strokes was the minimum target for today, but despite knowing what was ahead of me I couldn’t help my cock stiffening as Mistress strapped me to the bench, her hair brushing over my back as she pulled the straps tight.
As normal the first couple of dozen strokes were by far the hardest, and before long Mistress was already commenting that I was marking up well (as I sit here I can still feel the throbbing pain of those strokes quite acutely…). As the number of the strokes started to climb I began to melt into that mental space with which other slaves will be familiar, losing all track of time and remaining aware only of Mistress Lola and the metronomic thud of Her cane against my flesh.
Once my caning and its aftercare were finished Mistress released me and bade me worship Her feet and legs, up to the hem of Her latex skirt, until I had recovered from my punishment. My shoulders and arms were still shaking with adrenaline when I started, but after a while it subsided and Mistress instructed me to lie down on a flat, leather bench. Within a few seconds I was again strapped down, this time face up, and blindfolded.
I couldn’t say how long Mistress teased my naked body for, caressing me and running her fingertips over me, until I heard the humming and felt the throbbing of Her vibrator on my erect cock. I could feel myself coming close to the edge when Mistress switched it off, and when She pulled off my blindfold I found Her perched over me, Her exposed bottom tantalisingly close to my face.
Instructing me to play with my cock, She began to lower Herself towards me, finally sitting over my face, my eager lips and nose buried beneath her skin. Again and again She smothered me under Her bottom, sometimes perching so that I had to strain against my straps to kiss Her, only to lower Herself again on top of me. Whenever my mind wanders from what I’m doing during any waking hour this is what I think about, and although I think Mistress Lola knows how much I relish these moments at the time and cherish them afterwards, it’s impossible to communicate it here.
Eventually Mistress stood and told me that O/our session had finished. As W/we had planned she instructed me to put on the chastity cage I had brought with me and, frustrated, denied a last release, I did so. I handed over the keys to my lock for Mistress’s safekeeping, still flushed with all the sensations from the session, and looking forward (I think) to all the sensations of the weeks to come…
I’m writing this quite late at night. I woke up with my cage on this morning, and although as normal I became at once aware of my cock pressing inside it, it didn’t feel as alien and out-of-place as it sometimes has in the past. It perhaps helps in that regard that my bottom is still very sore from its caning yesterday (with plenty of lovely marks!), so that the sensation of the plastic cage is scarcely uppermost in my mind.
However, Mistress has devised a cure for that: I am about to lie in bed and watch a custom video clip She filmed for me for these occasions, reminding me that She holds the keys to my cage, as well as how excited I get about worshipping Her (featuring the purple latex skirt from O/our session yesterday…).
You can imagine how effective this is during even short stints in chastity, and with a bit less than three weeks of denial in front of me I suspect its effects will be quite acute, never mind anything else that Mistress Lola has in store for me…
The best experience of Orgasm Control and Chastity imaginable,
Manchester Dominatrix Lola Ruin will keep you locked up for as long as She pleases...
I’ve spent practically the whole morning in a state of unassuageable desire. As the pain of my caning a couple of days ago has subsided, so has the feeling of confinement become harder to ignore. I had already resolved, therefore, to write today’s diary entry quite early in the day, and I’d just sat down to get to work when I decided to browse Mistress Lola’s fan’s site.
I can therefore report proudly (maybe a little too proudly) that as I write this I’m also fulfilling Mistress’s slave task for the day and wearing (if that’s the right verb) a rubber butt plug to go with my plastic chastity cage. I’m certain I would have been erect – or as close as I can get to it while inside the cage – without it, but with the plug inside me that’s assured.
Since it feels consistent with my position for the next couple of weeks or so, I’m going to put up with the plug for as long as I can, and go back through Mistress’s videos and find one in particular I’d been reserving to watch this week, knowing I’d be locked up for it. Time will tell if this is a good idea, but it feels like an appropriate one.
This was the first morning so far that being in chastity seems to have cost me sleep, at least during this period of confinement: I woke up in the very early, dark hours of the morning and couldn’t relax enough to get back to sleep. The cruel irony – although only in the mildest terms, of course – is that normally under these circumstances I could have treated myself to a really great orgasm, the sort that really only comes with that restless, primitive vigour of feeling so full of lust so early in the day. Obviously that won’t be an option for quite a few days yet…
Chastity is one of My favourite ways to torment My adoring slaves. In fact, it was one of the first fetishes I really delved into as a young Domme, and I would often lock My boyfriend of the time up overnight. Seeing My partner wake up in agony next time Me as his CB6000 constricted his painful morning hard on was a satisfying power trip. Most of these mornings began with his begging to be unlocked... A hilarious way to start the day.
My love of it has evolved over the years as I have grown into the teasing, sensual Dominant I am today. It plays so well into all of My other favourite fetishes... Masturbation control, orgasm denial, edging, cuckolding, and of course ruined orgasm!
Not only do I like the obvious of having a denied cock in a cage, but I love how that experience seeps into everyday life for My submissives. Their cage serves as a constant reminder of their servitude, and the power I hold over them. Like a painful, frustrating collar they can't remove. Equal parts physical and psychological Domination... 🙂
I recently decided to lock up a regular serving slave of Mine for 7 days prior to his session with Me, and asked that he keep a diary of his experience under My lock and key. With his permission have published it below for you perverts to peruse over... Enjoy!
There has become a strangely ritualistic method to locking myself in chastity, and tonight was no exception. I wash myself unconstrained by the device for the last time in what is usually but not always a pre-determined period leading up to a session (sometimes Mistress might choose to extend my time in chastity beyond O/our sessions, which tends to be even more frustrating than the prelude), I carefully wash the various bits of the device, and then try to close up the cage and lock it. I say ‘try’ only because it can take both time and patience: the whole experience is obviously quite psychologically stimulating – anticipating the frustration to come, the satisfaction of subordinating my natural impulses to the command of my Mistress, and so on – but squeezing (quite literally) into the disassembled plastic cage has its own physiological thrill, so that becoming flaccid enough to fit inside often involves a bit of a wait. An obvious solution would be to ‘relieve’ myself before trying to put on the cage, but that feels as though it would be flouting the spirit if not the letter of Mistress’s instructions about when I should be locked away. In any case, I think there could be a piece of me that quite enjoys a short period of voluntary forbearance before I use the cage, so that when I do finally lock it shut it feels like a relief not have to rely on willpower alone. Anyway, the cage is now on, and although I know some of what to expect over the next week or so the experience is always a little different, and with a session with Mistress to look forward to it will certainly not be without frustration.
This was my first morning waking up wearing the cage during this stint in chastity. Naturally the first sensation of which I became aware was the press of the plastic – smooth, but very constraining – against my flesh. One of the benefits of wearing it is that it ensures that Mistress is the first person I think of when I wake up; the drawback is that there is little to do with the emotional response that it provokes other than to look forward to seeing Her soon, and try to put out of mind the rather feverish desire to worship Her, feel Her tightening ropes and wrist cuffs, and so on… you can perhaps guess how successful that has been.
Today I wore the cage in public for the first time in this period of chastity. I don’t think of myself as a particularly self-conscious person but it always feels as though any casual observer should be able to tell that I’m carrying something a little extra (with some frustrated emphasis on the ‘little’). Mistress sometimes teases me with the thought of having to wear the cage through an airport security check. Just thinking about it now as I write this is making me blush a little, and I’m sure I’d be mortified if such a private thing were discovered in such a public way. As I observed to Mistress in one of O/our sessions, in the most optimistic scenario it might at least be an odd way to discover a shared interest with a kindred spirit, but much more likely is that the whole thing would just be deeply, deeply embarrassing.
I find sexual longing quite an ineffable, chaotic thing, but I certainly felt that today was the most frustrating so far. I’m used to an initial difficulty right at the start of a period in chastity, when the habit of complete freedom still needs to be broken, followed by a frustration that tends to come in waves. Today was definitely the crest of a wave: even in company my mind tends to wander to my chastity cage, attractive female figures linger more in the imagination, and so on. The worst part is when I forget about the cage, and the urge for a ‘release’ creeps in, only for me to realise that there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m starting mentally to count down the days remaining in chastity rather than the days I’ve gone through.
Apparently the pent up desire from yesterday has not subsided: I woke up this morning absolutely straining against the confines of the chastity cage. I allowed myself a few minutes just staying in bed, thinking about worshipping Mistress (not a bad way to wake up, but it didn’t do anything for my sense of frustration). The aching and throbbing this sort of thing inspires is starting to get difficult to take, and I can definitely feel the urge for release growing. At one point I actually felt an instinct to laugh. I reflected that it would be difficult to make anyone unfamiliar with this situation understand what I’m feeling, and even if I could I should think it would be unlikely I would inspire much sympathy.
Once again the morning was characterised by easily provoked, difficult to contain desire. I don’t know if spending most of this week at home is a good thing from the point of view of putting up with this frustration: although it avoids some visual (public) stimulation, it certainly gives me plenty of time to dwell on the chastity, and to look forward to my session with Mistress at the end of the week (I’m not trying to exaggerate for effect, but the days do really seem to be passing more slowly than normal). In the afternoon I had the distraction of quite a bit of work to do, however, and I thought it would be in the spirit of this enforced period of chastity if afterwards I were to watch a couple of Mistress’s video clips to remind me both of that I’m missing out on and what I can look forward to. Mistress knows that I have a particular weakness for ass worship, and that tends to dictate what I watch outside our sessions too, so you can imagine that – particularly in this state of heightened desire – I didn’t struggle to find a few clips to restore and sustain the sensation of painful confinement I’ve been describing for the past few days.
Today was probably the first of this period of chastity that I felt a little bit of a lull in the urge for a release. I think partly it had to do – again – with having a fair amount of work to keep me distracted, but perhaps the expectation of freedom over when I can have an orgasm is starting to decline. If so that would be quite satisfying from the perspective of having subordinated that desire to Mistress’s command (on the other hand, I try to avoid giving myself too much credit, and it could be premature in any case). I also think I’m starting to get quite used to wearing the cage. For at least the first few mornings there tends to be a moment of surprise and recollection to see and feel it in place, but now it’s starting to feel a bit more like a fixture. I could almost forget I was wearing it if it weren’t for the rattle of the padlock against the plastic; thinking it might reduce the visible profile of the cage, I’ve used a slightly smaller lock than I usually do, and as a result it has a bit more room to move about. I haven’t noticed it making a noise under clothing, but I’m sure it’s going to feel quite persistent and noticeable during my session with Mistress.
Today marks the longest period for which I’ve been locked in chastity. At times it has felt difficult to sustain, although of course the cage means I haven’t had to rely on willpower alone. More importantly, tomorrow I will get to see Mistress; as you can imagine, by now just the thought of Her is enough to have me straining inside the cage. Just writing this is already provoking a reaction, which perhaps serves to demonstrate that my tentative suggestion of some shift in my desire for release was indeed premature. I should think that bodes well for a frustrating, exciting time tomorrow.
I’ve been trying for about half an hour to work out where to start this final update: after what seems to have been an interminable wait (or at least it would have seemed that way, if I hadn’t been chronicling it) today I had my session with Mistress. As I write this some hours later I’m still in a little bit of a daze about the whole thing, not to say physically and mentally spent, but I’ll fight against the inclination to make this merely a stream of consciousness account of the session as fragments of it surface and re-surface in my mind. As always I was kneeling naked on the floor of the dungeon when Mistress entered. I was already bulging inside the chastity cage just from the sound of Her footsteps in the corridor outside, but when She opened the door dressed in a gorgeous, black latex leotard and wheeling a mysterious black case behind Her, I felt all the pent-up frustration of the past week or so come washing back over me. I kissed Her once on each foot and then, as She sat on Her throne and I knelt in front of Her, worshipping Her high-heeled leather shoes, W/we talked about how my week in chastity had gone, how I felt writing these updates, and so on. With the cage still in place Mistress let me worship Her bottom, teasing me as I did so about how quickly and easily I was provoked into audible expressions of frustration and delight. Even with my cock throbbing incessantly inside the cage I could have knelt with Her gently rolling Her bottom across my face for an eternity. As it is I couldn’t reliably say how long this lasted, just that it felt over too soon! Mistress then let me polish Her latex outfit – in my fevered and eager state it seemed like I mistakenly poured out half the bottle of polish into my hands – before instructing me that by way of payment for the pleasure She had already granted me, and that in order to earn my release from chastity, I was going to have to be restrained and caned. I find I can never truly prepare for the stinging, pulsing pain of being caned: Mistress said that W/we would be aiming for at least forty strokes, and there was a moment – I find it always comes at some point – that I wondered if I would be able to make it, but with Mistress periodically letting me worship Her bottom, and running Her fingertips over my neck and back, W/we did. In fact I lost count of how many strokes W/we had got to as Mistress started to cane me on one cheek to even up the marks (Mistress also reminded me that I should be thankful for Her having taken my mind off the chastity cage…).
After a moment to let me have a look at my new stripes in the mirrored wall of the dungeon, Mistress instructed me to lay on the leather surface of the dungeon’s four-poster bed, telling me that although on this occasion She was not going to tie me down, She would do so if I bucked around too much (an ominous warning). She started by gently teasing my still caged cock with a magic wand, before She finally unlocked me, laughing as the cage sprung open the moment the lock was removed. Alternating between the magic wand, Her Venus milking machine and the throbbing, lacerating pain of Her E-stim unit – the mysterious black case explained – She teased me for what seemed an age; after more than a week locked in the rather sterile, almost sensationless confines of the chastity cage, you can imagine how overwhelming all this sudden stimulation was. Finally, perching Herself just over my face, Mistress instructed me to bring myself to orgasm. I would have considered it unthinkable beforehand to take more than a few seconds to manage it given this sort of provocation, but the unexpected relinquishing of self-control and the imperative to achieve the orgasm in the time allotted meant it took longer and more effort than I would have imagined. When it came, though, the orgasm was the most satisfying and the most exhausting one I’ve ever had. For at least a few seconds afterwards I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the sense of release, and my shallow, quivering breath and pounding chest. Rather sub-spaced out, I showered – absent-mindedly taking what seemed like an indecently long time to do so – and was starting to get dressed when Mistress instructed me that I would be wearing the chastity cage home. She had prepared me for the possibility that She might decide to make me do so, but it wasn’t until that moment that the command was confirmed.
So here I am, writing this update and locked up again. For now I feel on too much of a high, with too much to process and reflect on, for the cage to really bother me, but I think the odds are that the morning will bring back the old, familiar frustration.