Below is a guest post from @cagedrangerguy, a man I connected with in a moment of crisis during the pandemic. Like so may of us, the loneliness was soul crushing. As problematic as social media is, it does allow kindred souls who might otherwise never meet to form a connection. I, for one, am so glad he reached out. If I had any small part in helping, I’m truly happy about that. His journey from exclusive top to locked sub mirrors my own.
Top Life
Before I embraced that chastity lifestyle, I had enjoyed a couple of decades worth of topping, coaching, playing Daddy and Sir. If I had to guess, I was probably 95% top. Always in charge. Leading in the bedroom/playroom/backwoods-campsite with empathy and a heavy slice of kink. Mostly fisting, some bondage, and recently flogging. But those are stories for another day. So how the hell did a decently endowed guy, former forest ranger, fiercely independent, redneck by rearing, end up in a cock cage? Well, it was not straightforward, that’s for sure.
To be honest, which is the point of this post, there was always a part of me that I just let languish. I mean, I enjoyed the (roughly) 5% of the other times during sex where I was a bottom. Lying in bed last night I was thinking of one of my early partners, a bottom, who had unexpectedly flipped me. I ended up having the most momentous orgasm of my life. Hands-free. He had a big dick, too, not that that matters, but again, I’ll revisit that “size” thing later as a psychological device.
This is my third year to be in a cage and doing the whole denial thing along with exploring other ways to shift into sub-space. However, it was a full two years before that which greased my growth wheels. It was this guy, a big ol’ Daddy with big arms-belly-chest-wicked-smile, hair everywhere, and, well, one of my types. But anyway, so this dude ends up talking horny stuff, we were camping together, and with shirts already off, one thing led to another and he was topping me in fairly quick order. The only condition, which I still remember saying in my head “wait, did he just tell me I was not allowed to cum, touch my dick and he would not touch my dick either?” The thought dissipated quickly. It felt amazing and right.
That relationship never got formalized into the Daddy/son scenario I had hoped for but it made me get used to just being a bottom for this guy. Taking orders. Being denied orgasm, not to mention my own genital stimulation. It was a slow and subtle ego-mind-sexuality shift that profoundly hit me once he suggested, offhandedly, that I should check out “chastity devices.” I was like, the Monty Python kind? The answer being no, “smart ass.”
Anyway, our seasons ended but his lessons remained. I bought my first dick cage maybe a month or so after his suggestion. I still remember fumbling with it and protecting my dick and balls from it like it were a ball stretcher made of heavy-duty metal or something. Sleeping with it was torture. But I had committed to an online key holder to do 2 weeks, which became a month, which became, well, you know. Still, it was not a straight path for me.
Switch Life
The biggest thing I struggle with, aside from recovering from the loneliness and depression of the isolation triggered by the pandemic, well, it’s the male ego. My ego. The paradox, however, is that the more I am brought into sub-space, give up control, it feels good. Ego is a great thing, don’t get me wrong. It’s like anxiety in that regard. Both serve a purpose in an individual’s life and how we interface with the environment around us.
It’s funny writing this tonight, and I’m skipping ahead for a moment, I just bought my first chain collar with a lock today. Something I swore I’d never do. Yet, at this point, I understand, just the way I did during the first encounter with my old camping buddy who flipped my switch from top to bottom (gradually). It takes people time to not just undergo change, but to assimilate and permit ourselves to become the people we were either meant to be or work toward being. Permission, in my case, was one of the keys. It’s not a pride thing. Well, maybe a little bit. Seeing my dick caged, feeling it strain every night, and never stroking is now my day-to-day, but even a year ago I was so conflicted about it that it just fell apart. And that after my “big” six-month-locked thing. I have to laugh there. I thought it was such an accomplishment and yet, there was no “reward.” So, I uncaged.
After a bit, and a not so graceful exit from Twitter, I had a moment of SMH. I was missing the cage. Missing the drive to hit sub-space. This is when I realized that my ego, had in fact, grown to the point of enjoying challenges from Dom folks. I already knew what it was like to be flogged, way different thing there because of the spiritual connection I attribute to both that and fisting. The thing that makes a person feel connected to the arc of the Universe as if they were standing out on a mountain cliff, naked in the starlight, during summer in the Smokies. (Appalachian guy here).
That’s right around the time when I accepted my goal of shedding my Dom side and continuing to grow as a (sexually) submissive male. Damn, if I had read this 5 years ago, it may have flickered for a minute in my brain but I would have flat out rejected it. Now? I guess that is the value in making the kinds of mistakes I have made. It’s when we make mistakes, give ourselves to be something different than our expected role, that we can find the seeds that will beget new growth and beautiful things.
Sub Life
Currently, I am working on thinking about staying locked for a full year now. Exploring avenues back into the fisting world. Either as a top or a bottom – because giving joy is giving joy – and as a burgeoning submissive, I want to be the kind of sub that does not dictate things like “I never top” but, says instead, “it would be my honor to fist/fuck/flog” or whatever when called upon to do so. Again, my service includes making sure my play-partner, Dom, Sir, or whatever denominator this person uses me to hit that spiritual plane themselves. Joy is joy. That’s what I want my sex-life to be about. It’s part of why I wear the cage and choose not to climax, among other things. I am committed to this path, even though I know I still have a lot to learn. The journey, I have found, is worth the gifts we give, and the ones received in exchange.
Thank you for your time. I am always blown away by the generosity of the chastity community. It’s been said before, many times, there is no one path. However, if we remain open, we will always have brothers, with locked penises, out there who understand, and if we are very lucky, befriend and coach us.
Peace be with you all.