By the second half of July, my wife had started calling me “insensitive” because of how I reacted to her constant evasive remarks whenever I tried to reach out to her. Our encounters had become increasingly rare, happening only when I made the effort, usually followed by detached comments and little real involvement.
I decided to take my self-imposed chastity to the next level. I bought my third cage—this time a small, heavier, black metal one—and set a personal record for abstinence. It was tough, both physically and mentally, but ultimately rewarding, as it actually helped to rekindle our sexual energy. Instead of waiting endlessly for her initiative, after more than three weeks of restraint, the fourth week brought us two passionate and intimate nights together.
Today, however, I let myself drift into my own private fantasies, evolving from chastity into a kind of “solo FLR.”
Back in my new cage, I took over the household tasks: walking the dog, putting away the groceries, and folding the laundry. I waited for my wife to return from her fashion shopping trip after work so I could prepare and serve her a late dinner on the sofa. I let her relax, clearing the tray and tidying the kitchen afterward. Later, as we sat together on the sofa, each absorbed in our smartphones, I began giving her a long foot massage while she chatted on the phone, exchanged messages, and scrolled through social media.
