Co-hosting our Chastity Chat space with @thumpermn (and his insightful questions) has really made me deeply ponder why, when I saw my first cage, I knew it was meant for me and why I’ve always wanted to be locked as a submissive, or rather why I have always only submitted to men who want me locked. We’ve explored that question and I think we’ve hit on a number of reasons why I was so drawn to a device. It is wearable kink, it’s portable bondage that you can take to work (as one of our participants pointed out), it causes mind blowing sensations, it changes your relationship with your body, and it changes how you view yourself as a sexual being. There are a few others that really resonated with me and that I have talked about before. But there’s another reason I think was more important for me, especially at the beginning. The cage was a form of protection for my nascent submissive head space from men who either assumed I was a Top (or whom I had Topped) or men who knew I had a popular dick around town.
When you’re with your Dad/Sir and trying to stay in a long term submissive headspace for the first time (and I was in a Daddy/boy relationship where I was submissive, and it was my first D/s relationship so it was new for me), constantly being groped and propositioned played havoc with my head. Even though I knew I had a submissive side, I couldn’t (and still can’t) switch easily between a more Dominant headspace and the subspace I wanted to be in with my Sir. I needed to be one or the other. Submission as a lifestyle was something I had always wanted to do, but had never experienced before. With Dad, I needed to be 100% sub. The only time I could make that sub to Dom switch with Dad was if Daddy wanted me to Top someone with him or for him, or have me show off for him. Dad was always proud of his boy’s cock, because it was HIS boy’s. There were many times he lead me around by a leash on my balls with my hard cock exposed (it WAS San Francisco). I spent all of Folsom in only chaps, boots, and a leash attached to a stretcher around my balls. He liked to stroke me hard in the bathroom or the alley and let other guys see and play with it. He enjoyed drinking his beer while keeping my cock in his hand. As long as enough men surrounded us, the bartenders didn’t seem to mind. But that was Dad doing it, so I felt completely submissive. Dad teasing my cock didn’t make me want to cum as much as it made me want him inside me, and this was a very new experience. Previously, someone stoking my cock was more than likely going to get bent over. Now, I wanted my legs in the air. It was Dad who started me into orgasm denial and Dad who locked me in my first cage and took me out locked for the first time, and it was Dad who locked me when he finished playing with my cock, and it was with Dad where I knew I needed it because I wanted to be his boy both sexually and mentally. I wanted Dad to own my cock, and he wanted that as well. To be submissive, and to stay there, I needed my cock owned.
The leather community was rather tight knit in the 90’s. We were all going through the AIDS crisis together, and since there was no such thing as hook up or dating apps, you went out to the bars, and leather bars were plentiful and popular. You had a favorite bar for Friday or Saturday night and of course the mandatory beer bust at the Eagle on Sunday. So, you actually got to see people every week, and you got to know them, and everyone got to know you, and I don’t care how rugged a leatherman you are, gay men talk, and I was known as the guy with a big dick. As an aside, those nights were amazing, and I really think the continuing loss of that community is tragic. There is something so affirming being in a sea of men in leather where expressing your kink is “normal”, and you have to actually talk to people instead of texting them. Cruising in person is exciting.
Whether or not I felt like a Top, most guys assumed I was by that time. Maybe I radiated a certain energy. I was a little over 6’ tall in boots, had dark brown/auburn hair, a dark beard with just a hint of grey, and a chest covered in fur. It didn’t matter if I flagged versatile (google that if you don’t know…Tops flagged left, subs right, versatile flagged both as a way to signal people what you were into) more people wanted me as a Top, or at least to Top them at some point, and to be fair, I was inclined as a Top, or so I thought. I wasn’t muscled, but I was fit with a body that my gear looked good on, had a 28” waist, and filled out a jockstrap nicely. I found an old picture of me so you can judge for yourself. Sorry about how grainy it is.
I also had a big dick (and yes, the past tense is intentional because, for one thing, it’s not my dick anymore, and for another, it’s 4 inches of titanium). Not porn star big, but maybe porn adjacent. While my unlocked flaccid cock wasn’t and still isn’t that amazing (in fact, it’s fairly average), my uncaged hard cock is and was a different story. While it varies, if uncaged, flaccid I’m typically between 3.5 and 4 inches long and maybe 1.25 inches wide. Of course, if it’s cold out, it’s shorter (sometimes a lot). My cage is pretty much an exact replica of my average soft cock, so that should give you a good idea. But hard (uncaged), I just about double in both length and width. I’ve been with a lot of men, and rarely have I been with someone who was bigger. Despite what we see on Twitter, most guys are 5-6 inches hard. Porn stars are at the far end of the bell curve. Guys with average dicks rarely get 45k followers. Also, I’m big, not huge, so while I was long and thick enough to satisfy a hungry bottom, I wasn’t so big that it’s hard to take, unless you were inexperienced. Mine was not a dick for a first fuck, but mine was a dick that people really liked to ride.
Even after I met Dad, It didn’t seem to matter if I was totally flagging sub and wearing a collar and my “Daddy’s Boy” pin, my dick was popular and the attention people paid to it when Daddy wasn’t around really, really fucked with my submissive headspace. Even though being locked was not well known at that time, or even that popular a kink, if they saw or felt that cage, I felt like my submissive headspace was being protected. They either knew what it was and knew my dick was off limits, or they didn’t, but I knew. If they asked, I loved telling them that my Daddy had locked me and only he could unlock me. It helped keep me feeling what I needed to feel, and I felt so happy that it was locked by Dad. If they wanted my cock, they had to ask him, which kept my head where I needed it to be. They needed HIS permission. I wasn’t locked all that much (those cages were too uncomfortable), but I was locked often enough, particularly when we went out to the bars, that it became a standard part of my gear.
Fucking someone is, for me, a very Dominant act. You are penetrating them with your manhood. And I didn’t fuck slow. I fucked like a Jackhammer, and I could fuck a long time without coming. So, if I fucked you, you were going to walk funny the next day. The only way it wasn’t a Dominant act is if Daddy wanted me to do it. I felt like an extension of him. And if I was locked, the only way to do it was for him to allow it. I never felt dominant that way, and I always felt like his boy.
That’s not really an issue anymore. Over the years, it’s been easier and easier to recognize the powerful need I have to be submissive, to the point that I no longer consider myself anything but a sub. The reasons I am locked now are quite different, but I still only sub to men who want to keep me locked. But back then, it really made a huge difference in my ability to stay in my Daddy’s boy mind, because having people chase your cock because they want you to fuck them is an ego trip and definitely fucked with my head. It just made it so much easier to stay in that submissive space that I needed to stay in. Over time, submission has become natural, but it wasn’t always that way. I’m glad I’m no longer known as the guy with a big dick, but as the guy with a titanium dick, because that is who I am.