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Ow ow ow

Ow ow ow

Shortly after my last post I began to feel queasy. Soon I had chills, then a high fever. Then I fell asleep and the next few days became a blur in which I can only assume I was being looked after by Mr Kitty, who’s been as supportive and lovely as I could ever wish for. I had the flu. The flu is never fun.

I’m almost back to normal now, with a few niggling pains but that’s to be expected. Naturally, Mr Kitty’s birthweek was cut short and our plans didn’t go as I wanted. Doesn’t matter, I’m picking up where I left off. We had two choices and one demand. Mr Kitty’s choice was to have sex with me using his penis, with no penis sleeves, no desensitising creams, just his hard cock going into me… plus a dildo in his ass that I could play with as he fucked me. My demand was that I wanted to see his embarrassed little self as I tried to insert the biggest butt plug he owned into his ass. I got sick on the day that I was supposed to carry out my demand, so that is still outstanding, but yesterday I was able to do his request.

It went just as I expected. A couple of thrusts, lots of ugnnhhgghggghhh noises coming from him, then some moaning, then it was over. My kitty can’t control himself when his prostate is stimulated. He did make the cutest moans, though. And every time I reached the dildo with my hand to pull it out or push it further into his ass, he became bigger and even harder. Obviously I made him finish me off with his tongue despite the insane amounts of cum he somehow produced. I say “somehow” because it looked like a superhuman amount of cum, but I know what caused it: he was locked up all throughout my illness, with no explicit permission to milk himself. After he finished me off and wiped away the globs of cum he’d smeared everywhere, I locked him back up.

That didn’t last long, however, because he began to get a bit of discomfort. Today I decided to unlock him and check what is wrong. The right side of his penis looks a little darker than usual, as if affected by friction burn. He’s been mostly wearing the same chastity device for years now, with very few issues. It seems strange that he’d start having issues with it now. I can’t see how there would be increased friction either, since he’s the exact same size as before and the cage doesn’t give him room to grow. Maybe a temperature issue? Trapped sweat causing problems? Me having a killer man-eating vagina? All I know is that one side of his cock was tender and a slightly darker colour than the other side. I’ll keep an eye on it but I intend to lock him up as soon as we’re sure it’s ok. I need him locked up and submissive so I can play with that big butt plug of his.

Getting there, but still frustrated

Getting there, but still frustrated

I wish I could track down the asshole who put my hardest exams on consecutive days, meaning that I’m sleep deprived, undernourished and feeling like death. If I had to summarise the week just gone in one word, that word would be: brutal. I still have an exam to go, but thankfully I have a few days off before it so I have time to actually sit down for something other than studying. Yay…

I’ve been feeling very frustrated. There’s a lot of things I want to do but can’t because something more important is taking up all of my time. I guess it’s human nature to want to be somewhere else, doing something else, whenever precisely that something isn’t available. I’ve been wondering whether this also happens with Mr Kitty and his chastity, and I can’t see why it wouldn’t. He certainly seems hornier when he knows he won’t be unlocked in a long time.

The difference between him and me is that when he’s busy he becomes a man on a mission, with no space in his mind for the tiniest of sexy thoughts. Me, on the other hand… my sex drive goes through the roof. I don’t know how it works, but if I’m busy and/or stressed, my body starts begging for sexual release. My fantasies become more colourful and developed too. I could write a book about some of the latest sexy stories in my mind (if they weren’t so fucked up anyway).

Now here’s the problem: we’re both busy as fuck. I’m a horny mess and he’s a happily locked up little kitten with not a single impure thought in his mind. One of my old fuck buddies is back in town so technically I could have called him over, but nooo, I couldn’t because some bitch in the student office gave me an awful exam timetable and I didn’t have a couple of hours to spare.

I knew I’d be horny and time-poor. That’s why I let Mr Kitty stay unlocked and allowed him to do anything he wanted (minus actually cum). I was hoping he would be able to play with his cock a bit, avoiding any feelings of being forgotten by me, and be available when I’d inevitably call him from our bedroom wanting some quick “servicing” before I sleep. This didn’t quite work. He’s turned off the sexy side of his brain. We figured out that we can use his smart watch to check whether he’s sleep wanked. Nope, no wanking. His response to busy times is so weird that he came to me and said “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve relocked myself. It felt like the right thing to do”. What.the.fuck. Meanwhile I’m a horny mess. It’s supposed to be the other way around!

In fairness to him, he has been very good and supportive, even with his own things going on. Despite my rambling in those previous paragraphs, we’ve kept a semblance of a sex life, mostly in stop-start bursts, and always without him cumming (with one glorious exception. Add one to the year’s tally). It’s just that it gets weird when he decides to stay locked up and I’m the one who is frustrated. Not his fault, but still.

I can’t complain though. Even when he’s not allowed to orgasm, and when he’s not even into the idea of having sex (I swear I’m not forcing him!) he puts so much care into giving me pleasure that I end up thinking it just doesn’t get better. But it does, every time. It’s quite impressive. Yesterday at one of our impromptu lower-my-trousers-and-fuck-me-now episodes, I was (apparently) moaning so loudly during my last orgasm that he thought he was hurting me. Not at all. It just felt that good. No repeats of the blood incident for me!

I have one more exam this week but it’s for a nice enough module. Still, I can’t wait to finish it so I can have my lovely squirmy boy again. That being said, I love that when circumstances aren’t ideal for our fun games, he still alludes to them in our everyday life. He left me this note on the kitchen counter the other day, and despite the terrifying drawing I thought it was cute enough to take a picture. I’ll regret posting it here, I’m sure.

I only joked about it!
In my defence, I only joked about it!

I’m making him stay unlocked until after that last exam. I don’t think it’s fair to force him to be locked up when I can’t even resemble a good keyholder for him. Having said that, I also don’t want him locking himself up without it being my choice, especially when I’m the definition of cock-hungry. I think at this stage it’s reasonable to trust that he won’t orgasm without my permission, and that’s all I’m restricting for this week.

Getting there, getting there…



It occurs to me that our way of dealing with stressors might be culturally influenced. His culture is calm and relaxed about life. Mine is a mix of intensities of stereotypical sexy fieriness. I’m not an edgy horny girl: I’m fulfilling my cultural destiny. >_>

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Sometimes it doesn’t work

Sometimes it doesn’t work

I’m getting closer to my final exams, which means that my stress levels have gone through the roof. It also means that my horniness has increased exponentially and I’m what you’d call, ahem… insatiable.

The other day I gave in and unlocked Mr Kitty. I needed cock, and I needed it now. He was only too happy to oblige. I couldn’t make up my mind on whether I wanted him to cum, so I didn’t say anything. He assumed he wasn’t allowed and that was fine with me.

We nearly always start with me on my back before moving positions, mainly because it gives him better access to all the fun bits of my body. This time was no exception, though things moved faster than usual and my instinct was to want everything harder and deeper. Yup, epic sex.

I realised something was wrong when I noticed that he was going balls deep from behind while I was on all fours, yet I wasn’t in pain. That rarely happens and, when it does, it’s after a long time of being veeeery careful. Granted, at that stage I had already had a few orgasms so things were bound to be easier, but even then it didn’t make sense in my head that this felt good, despite not having a slow and gentle stage until my body stops thinking that the doggy style position is evil. He was going deep and hard and it felt good.

We went for a long time and eventually had to take a breather. As I lay on my back next to him on our bed, feeling happy and fuzzy and life was good and everything was perfect, I noticed that his cock was still hard. I was very tired by that stage but I wasn’t thinking right. I had an urge to mount it and bounce on it even though I knew I was all orgasmed out. I got on top of him and bounced anyway, until he came too close to having an orgasm and I decided on the spot that he was definitely not allowed. I unmounted him and went back to being happy next to him, still panting.

That’s when I noticed that his cock was covered in blood. Not just a trickle, but full-on omgyou’regonnadie blood. I wasn’t in pain but his PA was causing him a bit of trouble, so we thought he must have got injured. I picked up some tissue from the bathroom to help him wipe the blood off… and that’s when we saw that I was bleeding. I was leaving a trail of blood. I felt no pain or discomfort, but it was so much blood that I wasn’t sure if I should ring the health services’ advice number or go straight to the local hospital. So much blood. Mr Kitty seemed to think I was going to die. And then the blood stopped by itself, before I made my choice about medical services.

I still had no pain, no obvious injuries, absolutely no discomfort.

The next day, Mr Kitty had a sore penis, a slightly angry PA piercing area, and muscular pain everywhere. I was perfectly fine. A little old blood when I wiped, but apart from that it’s like it never happened.

Another day passed and my uncontrollable need for cock was rearing its head again. I somehow convinced Mr Kitty that it would be perfectly fine to let him penetrate me if he did it very slowly, just to check if anywhere inside me was painful. Irresponsible? Yes, extremely. But I couldn’t help myself. So we did that after I practically begged him. It was alright; still no obvious wounds or sore areas, but I tensed up a little when I thought about the way my blood had soaked through the duvet the last time he had fucked me. I decided to abort the operation even though it felt good.

I’m no stranger to sex injuries. I can get a little over excited. But hell, this was horrific. My previous injuries where the type where there’s a lot of pain or discomfort but barely any visible signs. This was just the opposite! So I hereby declare that I won’t be irresponsible again and I will let myself heal properly before trying again. >_>
I am due for a pap smear next month so I’ll be bringing this up just in case.

Being a girl is fun………..

Feeling sexy

Feeling sexy

Disclaimer: despite the title, if you’re hoping for sexy you’ll have to wait till my next post!

I am 25 years old as of last week. Also known as “halfway to 50”, according to Mr Kitty. Backstory: I think that’s payback for when he turned 27, just after we first met, and I insisted that he was now in his late 20s. Halfway to 50 it is. I feel fine. As far as I’m concerned, I’m not ageing but moving towards what I consider to be a woman’s sexiness peak, which often happens in her 30s. That’s where the youthful looks are still mostly there, but the woman is confident enough to carry herself well.

I still look very young. When my coworkers found out it was my birthday, they asked me how old I was and they simply didn’t believe me. They asked me to specify my year of birth, like bouncers sometimes do outside nightclubs to check that you’re not lying. They thought I was about 18, and no more than 20. When I was 18, people guessed 16 by looking at me, and 23 when I started talking. Having opinions makes you sound older, apparently.

Overall, I feel like I’m slowly improving. Maturing like a good wine, as they say. Except I’m even tastier! I’ve always found it easier to build rapport with older people and people in positions of authority, but I remember many an occasion where I would fake confidence in my contributions while freaking out inside. It used to be a lot harder to keep a steady voice and a composed appearance. I used to hope people would listen to me. These days I expect them to listen; no freaking out required. As it turns out, if you’re not boastful and you respectfully treat people as equals (perhaps under the thin veneer of honorific titles), people tend to pay attention to what I have to say.

This is the first time in my life that I have no planned next step. I’ve always known what I would be doing. I know my life goals. I knew how to get where I wanted and was following my perfect plan. But somewhere along the way, I threw out all the next steps and decided to take a different path. The next few years will be a bit of a gamble, and whether we can keep to our discussed timeline for starting a family is anyone’s guess. But you know what? I’m happier this way. Most people I know don’t have a plan, and they don’t care. I wouldn’t want to be like this my whole life (or even a year!) but, right now, it’s actually kind of nice. I’ll worry about it later, when I finish my masters and realise that I should have applied for an engineering job by now…

I’m excited about the future, probably more than I’ve ever been.

Knowledge and power

Knowledge and power

I think everyone can admit to having wondered what goes on behind their neighbours’ closed doors. I know I have, all the time. It’s not so much that I’m nosy, but that humans are such an interesting species, with such a wide range of quirks, hobbies, responsibilities and everything else, that I can’t help but wonder what’s out there, and where.

Our energy company has been trying to fix some problems with their network over the last few days, leading to intermittent power cuts. The first time it happened, we immediately took to the window to see if it was just us. It wasn’t: everyone else was also in the dark. Heh, at least I know we have something in common with our neighbours.

I think the network issue has been fixed, as no cuts have happened today. That’s great news for us. We can get our work done again and Netflix is back! I like to have something on in the background as I work because I find the black expanse of our tv too intimidating. Call me weird, but that’s what growing up with scary movies does to you. So today I had Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window as my background movie. I’m sure I don’t need to explain the plot here, and no, I don’t think my neighbours have murdered anyone. I did, however, decide to finally take a parcel to the slightly creepy building across the road from us. It was delivered to us because the recipient wasn’t home when Royal Mail called. I probably shouldn’t say it’s creepy. I didn’t think it was until I was climbing up the excessively steep stairs to their front door. It looks like an apartment building, but instead of being divided into flats, it’s just the one family home.

When I got to the front door at the top of the stone stairs I noticed a few parcels hidden away in the shrubs. Unkempt front garden and no doorbell. The front door had a plain glass pane and no blinds to conceal the interior of the building. I could see right through the ground floor, all the way to an also unkempt back garden. In the hallway, there was a baby stair gate, a couple of empty bottles of whiskey and too many letters and parcels to count. The strange thing is that they were neatly placed on the second step of the stairs, so someone had been there to do it (unless the postman has a key to the house).

It made me think about how little we know about our neighbours, and how little they must know about us. They know where we’re from due to the unescapable accent. They must have an idea of what our schedules are like. They know our cat is a murderess. If our next-door neighbours keep an eye out (and I know they do) and if they can hear well, chances are they also know that we’re not the most vanilla of couples.

What are the chances that they’ve heard about male chastity? I might be wrong, but I don’t think they are too small. Could they practise it themselves? Probably not. I quickly added up who knows about our chastity game: my closest girlfriends from school, some of my university friends from my undergrad, a couple of good friends from my previous job. On Mr Kitty’s side, no one. More people know about the allowed openness to the relationship, including some of Mr Kitty’s friends, but some don’t realise that I decide our limits. None of my childhood friends know anything kinky about us. As far as they can see, we’re just a couple with a very strong relationship. Neither does our family, long may it stay that way!

My mother is coming to visit us, for the first time ever, next week. We couldn’t be more nervous. I’ve been hiding our sex toys but also making plans for the deepest spring clean we can achieve with our limited time. My mother has a sixth sense for detecting the slightest of oddities and blowing them out of proportion. I have visions of her stepping into our house and instantly conjuring up mental images of drug-fuelled sexual depravity. Worst of all, she will never tell me whatever she imagines. It might be innocuous. It might be nothing. It might be a display worthy of inclusion on the Marquis de Sade’s toilet paper. And I will never know what image I’ll be forever fighting against.

I’m a control freak and I don’t like unknown enemies.

I should be happy to see my mother. I am happy, sort of. I just don’t like having my fortress breached by a force bigger than my own. Is there such a thing as mummy issues? If so, I should probably look into it.


I’m definitely developing a bit of an obsession with Mr Kitty’s little ass. I’ve always given him love gropes, but I find myself fingering him a lot more often these days. I still haven’t fucked him yet, at least not with the strap on, just with dildos I’ve held with my hands. He makes the cutest of moans and they make me melt. He’s also been docile like a kitten, and has even grown his beard longer than usual because stroking it relaxes me. With his stress relieving ways, my Mr Kitty is probably the best study aid I’ve ever had.

Google Play

Google Play


It’s been a lovely day here and it looks like spring has well and truly arrived. My exams are in a couple of months. Mr Kitty’s important work deadlines are happening this month, which means that all I want to do is make his days as pleasant and stress-free as possible.

We’ve decided that for the time being, we will make an effort to keep chastity as separate from his business work as might be achievable, considering that he works from home. As he chases up businesses and partners for payments and contracts, he must project an image that isn’t very compatible with his cute submissive self. In practical terms, all this really means is that I must be mindful of when he’s working and when he’s free (not as easy as it seems! He tends to walk around the house thinking about work…). Obviously I’m also busy with my masters project and studying for exams, but I’m the kind of girl who will masturbate as a break from study.

I’ve left him unlocked for the last few weeks and the only conclusion I’ve found is that whatever I’ve done to his thoughts and feelings, whatever submission I’ve pushed him into, it’s now irreversible. Case in point: he hasn’t wanked a single time, nor has he felt any desire to. I was getting worried about that (what if I’ve broken him? What if he’s very depressed?) until he showed me that he gets horny only if I cause it. If I touch him, if we watch porn together, if I say sexy things to him or if he thinks about what I might force him to do with other people, he gets horny. By himself, he doesn’t get horny, at least not beyond the usual morning boner, if that counts as horniness.

I suppose I should clarify…
We know for a fact that he hasn’t wanked while he was awake and aware. Whether he has wanked during his Google Play state is anyone’s guess. And here we go! Time for me to explain Google Play…

Google Play: the time when Mr Kitty is still asleep, but looks like he’s awake. The name comes from an occasion when he was in bed pretending to be awake. I tried to have a conversation with him, and I had to ask him something (I forget what it was, but it was important). His reply was “Google Play”. My attempts at clarification just pushed him into this very articulated, well developed explanation about how Google Play works, and how I needed Google Play to solve the problem, and even the steps I needed to take to find a solution. Like a spoken tutorial, but completely irrelevant to the conversation! And most likely not even possible outside of his dream world.

His Google Play state is so strange that one time we had (extremely bad) sex while he was in it. He seemed fully awake. He has no memory of it.

So yeah, we know he hasn’t wanked while he was awake and aware. There is no telling what he might have done while he was asleep, although we’ve found no icky sticky tissues/socks/corners of the bedsheets, and one time he had a proper wet dream.

We haven’t been able to do much sexy stuff for a whole bunch of reasons. Now that everything is settling back to normal on most fronts, I really want to have him locked up again. I’ll let him fuck me once before he gets back into the cage. It’s only fair, right?

Woah, it’s New Year’s Eve already!

Woah, it’s New Year’s Eve already!

Our first Christmas dinner together and without family was a success. Our post-Christmas dinner sexy times… not so much.

As I predicted, we got seriously stuffed and needed a break of a few hours before we could try to do anything remotely physical. To wait it out, we cuddled up on the sofa and watched a TV series. It was really nice to be able to have some quiet time instead of the usual Christmassy family activity that I find so stressful. It was so nice that we both fell asleep. >_>

We did move to bed eventually but we were too sleepy and food-coma’d to be able to do anything sexy, so we left it to the next day. Unfortunately, my body becomes the most unpredictable thing if left to its own devices, so of course I had to get my period! To say that I can’t wait to be back on hormonal contraception would be an understatement. Since Mr Kitty doesn’t do period sex, that option was out. And since I wasn’t feeling sexy in any way, I also didn’t feel like letting him have an orgasm either, ruined or not. So that was that.

Tomorrow (or rather, today, as it’s 4am here) is New Year’s Eve and I’m not sure I’ll end up giving him an orgasm in the end. Four out of five isn’t that bad, right? Should I be feeling guilty? I’d do something nice for him on the first day of the year, but we’re flying out to visit family and it’s unlikely I’ll have any time alone with him until we’re back in a few days.

At least there was teasing. I found out that I can fit both of his balls in my mouth. That made him wet like a girl! He gets leaky with precum very easily, and the expectation of getting an orgasm soon made him get wet way quicker than usual. I’m very impressed with his self-control, considering that he’s been unlocked all this time and yet he’s somehow managed to survive plenty of hard-ons without trying to wank or even touch himself, letting me do it instead. I feel like I’m teaching him well.

It’s looking unlikely that I’ll be able to lock him up as soon as we’re back from our family visit. The ingrown hair he appeared to have in a dodgy place seemed to be going away… before it came back even worse. Due to its placement, the ring of the chastity device would hurt him so I’ll have to leave him unlocked until he gets that sorted. I don’t think it’s an ingrown hair anymore; he seems to be getting similar things in other parts of his body and that can be a reaction to one of his medications. He’ll get it checked by his doctor when we’re back home.

I can’t believe it’s already the end of 2015. I don’t do postmortems but I can say that this was, overall, a really good year. I also don’t do new years resolutions because I don’t like to do things I’m not good at, but I’ll accept suggestions if they don’t involve weight loss or learning a new language!

As far as my online life goes, I’m really glad I started this blog, even if I mainly use it for random thoughts and ranting. I hope someone finds it useful, at least in some tiny way.

Happy new year everyone! And don’t get too drunk!


PS: On reading this post, Mr Kitty’s only comment was: “It seems a bit too convenient that I don’t get my fifth orgasm!”



That’s how he referred to his penis.

Free, but tiny.

Mr Kitty has been unlocked for a long time now.

I’ve hesitated to write about this, because somehow it feels much more personal than my sex life ever does, but I guess there’s no reason not to mention it.

Mr Kitty has an non-fatal autoimmune condition which, for the most part, causes no issues whatsoever. That is, until he has a flare-up. When it flares up he gets to live in constant pain and with limited mobility.

Today is the first day he has been able to walk and move normally without pain since about two weeks ago. Normally he can take medication to try to lessen (but not eliminate) the problems, but due to the nature of the medication, he has to be very careful about not taking it if there’s anything else that might attack his immune system. It’s cold and flu season, and he was getting over a cold, so he had to make do without anything beyond standard NSAIDs and long massages performed by yours truly.

It kills me to see him in pain. It also kills my sex drive. Funnily enough, it doesn’t affect his sex drive because men are weird like that. But even though I am still able to go off and sleep with someone else if I feel like it, I don’t get anything out of that if I know that my boyfriend isn’t going to get any enjoyment from it. As far as I’m concerned, everything in our sex life should involve both of us in some way. Chastity and everything that came with it is a mutual agreement, not an imposed sentence. So neither of us has done anything sexual in about two weeks (beyond the standard groping and teasing, obviously).

Actually, that’s not true. There was that episode – once his flare-up had started, so he was unlocked, but hadn’t yet got too bad – where he took on a dominant role out of the blue. I’m not sure how it happened. We were just chatting in our bedroom when suddenly he was taking off our clothes and moments later I was moaning. It was really hot and unexpected. He is dominant towards me so extremely rarely that it made it thrilling like when you have sex somewhere where you know you might get caught, but that fact makes it even more pleasurable. That brings his count of orgasms to 4 out of 5 until the end of the year. He has one to go, and a month and a week to get that. Not bad going.

I’m so glad his pain has gone away again. Nothing makes me happier than to know that he’s ok.

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