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I recall nearly a year and a half back when I first suggested chastity to my wife. I was nervous yet thrilled, seeing it as a win-win for us both. She’d get an adoring husband plus plenty of sex on her terms, while I got the denial I desperately wanted. I expected her to jump right in like ducks diving at a junebug. WRONG. It didn’t happen that way. I’ve read about other couples dealing with similar issues: the husband wants chastity, and the wife agrees hesitantly, but things eventually fizzle or just don’t stick. I know exactly how frustrating it is because I’ve lived through it.

When we first started, if there were any device issues—like soreness or pain—I’d ask to be let out. She would gladly hand over the keys, and then… silence. It seemed like she didn’t care much at all. If I brought it up again, her usual response was something along the lines of, “Yes, go ahead and lock yourself back up; here are your keys.” There wasn’t much enthusiasm behind it. While I was locked up, she’d just carry on as if nothing unusual were happening—no teasing, no discussion about our arrangement. Absolutely NADA. That approach didn’t work for me. I needed her to get me worked up and then deny me properly, which I wasn’t really getting.

So we struggled along, and my desire for chastity began to fade. I started thinking the whole concept was kind of silly. What was even the point? Masturbation continued unabated. It felt wrong, but I didn’t care anymore. With sex being rare between us, this became my coping mechanism. My dreams of a successful chastity life seemed over; at least that’s how it felt.

Then, two weeks ago marked our 13th anniversary. We planned to go out for dinner and perhaps come home to watch a movie without the kids. The evening went well with nice food and time alone since the children were with their grandparents. After the first film, I suggested another one because it was still early (at least in my book). She replied that we should head to bed instead.

I wasn’t particularly keen on going straight to sleep, though she seemed hinting at sex. Sex? Really? It had been almost two months! “No thanks,” I thought internally; “I’d rather watch another movie.” (Though I didn’t say it aloud.) A little argument followed. She complained that staying up late meant dealing with homework and laundry the next day, which she found burdensome. Our parenting styles differ too—I prefer to set clear consequences for not doing tasks, whereas hers involves repeated yelling until compliance is achieved without actual repercussions. The kids have learned they can withstand a lot of noise!

She went to bed angry while I stayed up for another movie—a total disaster.

A few days later, she came home from work wanting to talk. She smiled at me and asked the big question: “Have you been masturbating?” I admitted yes. When did it happen? Specifically on Friday before our anniversary dinner. Her smile widened even more because one of her favorite things about chastity was that it stopped my self-pleasuring—the root of all marital evil! She checked if I still had a device; I said yes and wondered why she asked. “Then put it back on,” she commanded, taking the keys.

Even though my enthusiasm for being locked up had dipped slightly due to past struggles, I remain fascinated by devices and often look for ones that are both secure and comfortable. So I fitted myself into my SteelWarxx tube jacket and handed over control. She said little else regarding the matter at first.

A few days later, while working, she sent a text saying her silky panties were driving her crazy—it felt like wearing none at all. Being busy, I replied with a heart emoji and thumbs up. But those words kept creeping into my mind during work hours, leading to quite an erection! I was embarrassed mostly because someone might notice the bulge in my trousers. The rest of the day passed thinking about it constantly.

I texted her back confirming this state of affairs. Her reply: “Good, that’s exactly what I intended.” Something had clearly gotten into her head, and surprisingly, I liked it too!

That evening she came home early so I could leave for an appointment. As I was getting ready to go out, she asked me to retrieve the Hitachi massager before leaving. “Are you serious?” I asked. “Yep,” she confirmed. “These panties have me all worked up and I need relief. Can you wait until I get home so I can help myself?”

Nope! I couldn’t wait; I was extremely horny!

On my way to work, sporting a tent in my pants (hoping the client wouldn’t notice!), another text arrived: “Taken care of.” Now even hornier. Perhaps this is payback for all that masturbation.