I love being ādicklessā
One of my biggest miseries in life up to now has been guys whoāve wanted to get at my cock. I know that may sound weird, but itās true.
I donāt put off a sub vibe, let alone a slave one. But thatās what I am, and Iāve got no problem admitting it.
But lots of guys refuse to takeĀ āBro, Iām a slaveā for an answer. At worst, theyāve wanted me to dominate them. At best, theyāve wanted to give me a blow job.
I donāt want a blow job. Ever. I donāt want a mouth around my cock. I donāt want any orgasm that leads to my pleasure. Just no, man. No.
Being caged at all times resolves that issue. On the one hand, Iām forever reminded of my slave status, even when Iām doing the most mundane things. But on the other hand, when I am with my Master, itās clear that no attention is being paid to my dick. All pleasure is focused on Him. Heās going to be the one moaning. His semen is going to be erupting. His orgasm is the one that counts.
Iāve written before about the fantasies Iāve had about worshipping my Master so intently and ravenously while caged. With each passing day, these fantasies have got even more intenseā¦
Last night, for instance, I dreamt that I was with my Master. He was on His back on a bed as I slavishly licked His body from his toes to His neck. And at one point, I was overcome by this incredible and inexplicable urge to fuck Him. I was so worked up, that all I wanted to do was to be inside Him.Ā
But as that desire increased, I could feel the cage around my cock in the dream getting tighter and tighter. So tight did it become that at one point, it totally closed around my dick until there was nothing left of it at all. I was symbolically neutered, and the only Man in that bed was my Master.
At that point, He smiled at me. He tousled my hair. Then He fucked me. Hard and with primal purpose. He came in my mouth. He pissed down my throat. His body was on me, in me and possessing me. There was no ambiguity; He was the Master deriving pleasure. I was the slave there to provide it.
Donāt get me wrong, though; Iām not harbouring any actual castration fantasies. I intend to keep my body intact. But thereās something very powerful going on here. Every masculine shred of my identity is being symbolically broken down, if not by the force of my Masterās personality then by the unforgiving constraints of the Holy Trainer 2 cage.
Andā¦oh yeah. Thereās just one last part to that dreamā¦
After He had used my body and He was lying down on top of me, I could feel my body shrinking and collapsing beneath him. My body contorted and slowly changed shape until I was both flat and spongy, yet also in a strange foot-like form.
Then, without a care in the world and with a broad smile on his handsome face, my Master hopped off the bed. He took me, who was now transformed into a soft, cushiony insert, and casually slipped me into His right suede chukka boot.
Not only had He taken my body for His pleasure. Not only had He subjected my masculinity to His own. But He now was going to step down forcefully onto me all day long for His sole enjoyment and comfort, crushing me beneath His will.
And that, my slave friends and dominant superiors, is the precise metaphor for what this is all about.