I Am the Jerk Here

If you’ve followed my story (journey), you know that my wife isn’t exactly kinky. She shrinks back in horror at the idea of bondage and despises how I refuse to toss out those handcuffs. Eww.

With chastity, I thought I’d struck a perfect compromise: she would be in charge while I followed her lead, coping with being caged 24/7 to satisfy my need for restraint. This past weekend, after 30 days without seeing the key much less being allowed out of my jailbird-like state, she let me go. Long-term chastity is now our thing; she gets it… though I suspect she’ll start acting mean any day now. It could happen. My fantasy is actually coming true. BCWYWF. Yeah!

She set an orgasm in motion for me that involved her teasing me mercilessly, while my job was to masturbate myself but hold back as long as possible. When she signals the release, I can’t help it; I give in.

“I’ll handle the top, you take care of the bottom and then you’ll lock right back up.”

She had me very wound up, and when arousal hits hard, I love having her talk to me. I truly do. But I messed up. Panting as usual, I asked her, “what would you think if we stopped the whole chastity thing?” You know what answer I hoped for. She gave me a look through raised eyebrows with as much puzzlement as she could manage. I knew what was coming, but then she said, “Well, that’s entirely up to you.”

Dagger in the heart. It felt like an old joke where, during climax, your wife whispers quietly into your ear, ‘white - we should paint the ceiling white.’ I was sorely disappointed and didn’t lock back up immediately. She doesn’t get it. She would give it all up in a minute. She really doesn’t care. Damn it.

I showed no disappointment outwardly; I had an amazing orgasm and fully enjoyed myself otherwise. I let it go and wandered around uncaged this week, keeping my broken fantasy to myself. I seriously wanted to return to the cage the next day but not if she didn’t care about it. I even thought about rubbing one out on my own just because.

In the following couple of days, she has started hinting that she knows I’m not caged. I’ll get a touch on my thigh in bed, catch her looking toward my groin with a quizzical expression, and twice now she’s simply grabbed me. This afternoon, while helping her rub some balm into a sore muscle in her back, she reached back and squeezed my package. “This should be covered in metal.” No questions, no threats of what might happen… she just stated it as fact. I ought to be locked up because that’s what I asked for and she intends to see it through.

Ugh, I’m a jerk. I get so wrapped up in my fantasy that I lose track of how far she has come and what she is willing to do. No, she really doesn’t care if I stay locked or if we stop chastity tomorrow. She wants me to be happy, and if I’m content with a cage around my cock, she’s eager to please.

She ran off to run some errands so I gave myself a close shave. As I press submit on this post, I’ll lock back up in my jailbird and return the key to her vanity so she can hide it again. I’m guilty of holding her to a standard she never explicitly agreed to, and I have to do better at keeping fantasy and reality in their proper places.

Chastity, much like marriage, requires effort from both sides, and I ran off the rails in my own mind.

I love my wife!