You don’t need to cum. You can stay locked. I’ll keep you forever.

So it’s settled. I don’t need an orgasm. I can be kept denied. My twitches and spurts serve no purpose. She enjoys the challenge of avoiding them, and keeping me hard. I can slowly pour out, thick and white.

Being unlocked for edges and spills are her gifts to me. She enjoys the control. She likes giving me perfectly ruined orgasms. She had looked disappointed when I had an imperfect ruin - one little twitch and I went softer.

But she never breaks me from just a small hint of orgasm. I’m always ready. I’m eager to please her. But when I go soft, I’m less responsive, so her toy isn’t as fun.

I had asked her the day after she went a touch too far and my hard erection flagged if she was still having fun. I had reacted to her expression.

“Don’t worry. I’m doing exactly what I want.

I was worried since it’s been a while since I’ve played with you that I’d make you orgasm. You twitched a little.”

This made me happy and very nervous.

My frustration amuses her. It’s what she wants. She wants to keep me hard and wanting more. This is “normal” now.

We also established that I can stay caged. Her touching my cockhead is a treat. She scoffed at needing to unlock my cock to have fun with me.

“It’s a small part of you”, she said. “Only a boy would think that’s the only interesting part”

I don’t really even need to be unlocked. I can gush in my cage. It’s happened. She mindfucked me until I gushed a little in my cage. She was thrilled.

One morning I meekly told her “I don’t have to cum”

“Or spill” she added

That slapped across my mind. I asked
“What?”

“You don’t have to spill. I can just edge you and lock you back up”

We’ve had this conversation multiple times. She once told me:
“I’ll keep you like this. Full and creamy. My little creampot. You can squirm and be frustrated”

“Really? You’ll keep me like this?”

“Yes”

“How long?”

“Forever.” (She went to my enduring fantasy) “You can stay locked up in your little cage. I’ll take you out to play with you, for a little bit, and put you back in. You can gush in your cage.”

“I’ll keep you. You’re mine.”

“I’m your good boy”

“Yes. You have to be. I won’t let you be any other way. You’re locked up. You have to be good.” … “You can stay locked. I’ll keep you forever.”

 

To be fair, the chastity device wearing isn’t permanent. The masturbation and orgasm control is. And orgasm denial is limitless. There’s no reason to let me crash. If she wants to overwhelm me with a surprise to catch me off guard, that’s her prerogative.

But there’s no need for me to cum.

She likes taking her toy out and playing with it. The chastity device wearing has been consistent and increasing with time. Her control is tightening. Her authority expanding. Her guilt dwindling to nonexistence.

What’s not changing is her ownership.