7 Ways To Fuck Up Adding Chastity To Your Relationship

adding chastity to your relationship
Don’t destroy your own dreams

I’m writing this as a quick hot take assuming a hetero audience, and likely a lot of nodding along from the femdom side. I know that there’s no shortage of complain lists in kink, so with each point, when it comes to adding chastity to your relationship, I tried to add some alternative DOs as well. Negativity might drive clicks, but ultimately BDSM is supposed to be fun.

Nag

Nobody likes a nag, and coercion through persistence is going to deliver the least fun experience for all of you. Unless she’s specifically into grudging acquisition, nagging to be locked, or after you get locked, nagging for release, are both going to give her a headache.

Instead, take the time to understand her turn ons. She’s more likely to want you out again if she’s horny, than if you pester. Additionally, approach the topic of adding chastity to your relationship with honesty about how much of a deal breaker or not chastity is for you. This will be super hard, but wearing her down to a yes won’t be any better than getting a no up front. Do try to make a difference between understanding her reservations about the activity and pushing past her consent.

Promise her it will make you a better partner

This one is the keyholder bribe-to-play standard. Forums, porn and how to sites are full of people talking about how you will be a better partner in bed or emotionally when you are caged. I cannot stress how much this is a bad idea. Everyone wants to be a better partner, so I can understand how it can make you feel warm and fuzzy to think about being extra motivated. Nonetheless, all she is going to hear is that she needs to bribe you to get her needs met.

Instead, think about your pitch in terms of how it makes you feel. Communicate your arousal or sense of being loved. This has the additional dividend that your partner is more likely to develop the feelings along with it, than if they think this is how you will do the dishes reliably or whatever.

Dive in too fast/heavy

So she said yes! Awesome, as much as we write about this as a fantasy men provide to women, maybe she’s super into it. Maybe it’s even her idea! The mistake you can make here is huge commitments, like long term locking when you have never done it before. Chastity is an acclimation that favours you both building endurance and familiarity.

(So yes, maybe don’t so the full, hard denial Locktober if you have never done this before.)

Ignore custom fit

Not just fitting the device to you, avoid off the shelf fantasies. Don’t assume everything in chastity porn is a fait accompli. Adding chastity to your relationship isn’t a rigid, one true way activity, so assuming you are absolutely obligated to do everything in the porn is doing yourselves both a disservice.

You already know you are supposed to ease into it. While you are doing so, focus particularly on the parts that work for both of you. Porn tends to both cram every fetish it can together to maximize audience size, while depicting the fetishes as rigidly as possible

Unlike a chastity story or porn clip, your relationship only needs to appeal to the people in it. Discard or add anything that works for you.

Assume she hates your penis (or sex)

One of the biggest fuckups would be locked subs make is uncritically buying into the idea that no normal woman wants a guy’s dick. Yes, we probably grew up with the stereotype of the horny man and the frigid woman who needed wooing. This also is a perfectly valid fetish, in its own right. But, and here’s the big caveat, you don’t have to do it if you don’t need that part. By leaning only on humiliation/rejection framing, you reject a whole avenue of being possessed.

I call this stereotype out more than anything else. Along with the chastity for better relationship treatment bribe, chastity because the person finds sex with you appalling is probably the biggest sales pitch barrier.

Sometimes getting her on board is more about getting across that it’s a game of cock on demand and on her terms, not deprivation for her.

You don’t let her develop her own relationship with chastity

I mentioned the problems of assuming she doesn’t like sex, or bribing her by being a good partner. I also talked about avoiding approaching it with the assumption she finds your penis repugnant. With the practical dominance of male voices in communities dedicated to the subject, even though adding chastity to your relationship might be something you are trying to make all about her, beware of accidentally giving her an equally cramped emotional and psychological cage.

Try to be patient if she goes off script from your fantasies, but still seems into it. Be extremely mindful of resources that assume her feelings and make space for her to experiment and tell you what she feels about it. Your keyholder may very well surprise you with plans and fantasies of her own.

Fucking up your framing/introduction

Explain cock cages to the average woman and she might laugh uncomfortably and say no. This isn’t because the idea is inherently worthy of contempt, but because the information is seldom presented in pop culture or porn in a way that makes it approachable.

Your partner is a unique person with her own hopes, dreams, and so forth. You almost certainly know her better than any how to article could. But, what you can bring in common is that first opener.

Telling her that you like a physical reminder of her, and your desire for her via a cage won’t work for everyone, but it’s a definite step up over going straight to talking about your own degradation, if that wasn’t part of your dynamic already. Pitching being submissive to her is similarly more positively done by talking not about what she lacks “could you be more dominant?” but via those traditional I statements “I feel I can trust you and share my fantasy. I like that I can be vulnerable with you.”

In conclusion…

This is not the last word on the subject, and I definitely encourage you to look at other resources. If you get one take away from all this, the paradox of selling chastity is simultaneously to give her room to have her own feelings and desires about it, but also to examine your own desires intimately enough to translate them into the terms that work for her.

Friday Femdom Fiction: Out of Her Hand(cuffs)

“I’ve decided you have too much independence most of the time and that’s interfering with your ability to submit. So I’m going to take that away.”  She gently moved him into the position she wanted him to be in, admiring the lines of his bare back as she stood behind him.

The ratchet made a click every time they tightened. On his wrists, slim as they were, that meant cinching them in close, squeezing the metal, satisfyingly, until his hands were captured behind his back in two loops of shiny steel.

He had held his arms for her, obediently for once, while she locked them into place.  Of course as soon as they were on and she let go he was testing against them, feeling the metal. She’d made him strip to the waist, and she could see the muscles shift under his skin as he figured out how much liberty he had.

“You’re going to spend the next four and a half hours with your arms like that,” she reminded. “From now until bedtime.”

5:22 PM

He looked up at her from the floor, where she’d shoved him down to kneel, expectantly.

“No, this isn’t about me playing with you for kinky fun time.” She frowned, shaking her head.”This is about reminding you that you’re helpless.”

He looked confused, but she shrugged and moved the pillow to the small of her back, making herself comfortable on the couch, going back to looking at the television. Her legs crossed at the ankle, tight, soft black knit rubbing against black knit. “You can stay here with me if you want, or go do something else on your own. Up to you.”

He knee walked over, putting his head into her lap. Her fingers combed through his thick, soft hair, but her eyes stayed on the screen at the other side of the living room. He focused on the feeling of her nails on his scalp, on the warmth of her thigh and the velvet nap of the couch upholstery.

6:13 PM

“Can we please take these off?”

“Are you safewording?” She looked at his face to gauge his level of discomfort, checking to see if he was genuinely in distress or simply irritated. “Think about this. Do you really need me let you go or are you just sulking because you want this to be about you?”

He seemed to consider it, weighing his tolerance to the consequences. “N…no.”

“Then tough it out.” There. That was the hard part, that little bit of guilt that not letting him have fun would have repercussions for her, the other half of the lesson she was teaching herself with at the same time she reminded him of his place. In the spirit of that, she pushed those thoughts aside, and the trailing resentment that went with them, focusing on the moment. “Submit.”

He looked ashamed and she smoothed out her skirt, reaching for her laptop and thumbing the lid open. He watched her click the keys, halfway between touch typing and two fingered button pushing.

6:58 PM

“What shall we have for dinner? Hm, is it takeout night or am I going to cook something?”

“Uh…” He looked uncomfortable about being asked. He never liked to directly pick what they ate, always preferring that she made a suggestion. “Whatever you want is fine.”

“A big plate of spaghetti for you to bury your face in? So you get covered with sauce?” Her finger lightly caressed his cheek. “Smeary red?”

He hesitated again, thinking about the texture mashed into his skin and how it would smell.  She watched his expression, still admiring his bare chest and the way he flexed his shoulders, still uncomfortable in the grip of the handcuffs. She smirked.

“How about pork fajitas? The pork needs to be used up.”

“Okay, but I want you to help me, you’re the one who knows how to make it better.”

“You could just uncuff me and I could make dinner…”

“No, I don’t think so. You can kneel on the kitchen floor and I’ll ask you if I have any questions.”

7:36 PM

She kept him there while she put together dinner, crisped pork shreds wrapped in cornflour shells,  garnished inside with confetti-fine shreds of lettuce and spicy, sweet salsa and green and garlic sharp guacamole. He’d felt fidgety and frustrated, watching the outline of her ass and the way the slight stretch in the fabric of her pencil skirt cradled it.

He thought about other things to go do, picking up his phone and poking at the screen or curling up with his computer, but both weren’t options.

“There, two for me, three for you, with a squirt of lime.” She turned, crouched and smiled. “Come on, we’ll eat on the rug.”

She sat mermaid style, and he knelt, trying to figure out how to eat the food she’d put in front of him. He leaned forward, trying to take a bite and succeeded in making the tortilla unroll, spreading the blended contents on his plate and getting guacamole on his nose.

She giggled and took a bite, savoring the crispness, and the mixed flavours. “Having trouble?”

He frowned and she reached out with a finger, scooping the green off his nose before popping it in her mouth and sucking. “Mmm…”

“I can’t eat like this.”

“Well, that does sound like a problem. You’re going to be hungry if you don’t think of a solution.”

“Can… can you help me eat this?”

There was a satisfied smirk, as if she was waiting to hear that, and she picked up the fajita, retucking it together and holding it in his reach. He took a big bite.

 

Friday Femdom Fiction: You Can’t Get What You Want

Nature made her curvy and gave her the will to make men weak. In a kinder world, she would have been as yielding and plaint as the supple softness of her body. Instead, she’s learned that she loved the way it let her lead and torment. She fed off them, desired their desire, often more than she wanted sex.

Sex, after all, was a messy process, occasionally rewarding, but her body demanded being handled just the right way and so few met her standards that she had gotten used to failures. It was, in her private mental estimation, easier to make them suffer for her and take that as a more nourishing food for her libido. Tonight, she was on a date. He was sweet, and funny, but tonight she felt like seeing him beg and saying no.

The dress she wore wrapped around her, skimming but never squeezing, tailored in imitation of the contrasts of her body. The walked together, arm in arm, him supporting so that the spikes of her heels wouldn’t trip her on the cobbles, feigned fragile need for him, like a lure. From time to time she’d brush up against him, sharing her warmth.

He wanted her, but they had done little more than kiss, and once his hand had crept over the top of her ass, enjoying the way that the taper of her waist made it a natural gesture, but he didn’t dare push further.

Instinctively, he seemed to know she dropped boys who were pushy: “Please, I’m going to fuck you!” They would threaten, and then she, seeing the game was too much for them would gently ghost away. She considered herself kind, and would tell them forthright, “I like to tease.”

She liked him, in her way, liked the line of his shoulders and the masculinity of his walk. He was the right mix of hesitancy and desire and desire for her, at least to be one of her victims. He’d earned that right when he had, one night three weeks ago, edged up against her at the party.

So she started her campaign to destroy him with little touches, not enough to seem anything other than innocently interested. In her opinion, men didn’t get touched enough, and it was another weakness. Pet them, massage them and they folded.

He took her home, dutifully, up to the walkway before her apartment building. They kissed, and she gave a playful laugh. Her mouth strayed from his, to his chin, then his ear, tongue tip testing when she saw him tense.

Those curves shifted as she squirmed her body, rubbing against him. It turned her on and made her wet to see the change in his breathing as her hip found his crotch, bumping gently. A few wriggles and she noticed she was making him properly hard.

The yellow glow of the light beside the door gave everything a warmth. His grip on her got tighter, and she made a slight move to pull away, only to turn so her back was to him but he was still holding her. She arched her spine, and made a small noise of contentment as she began to grind against him.

The same trick of nature that made her soft of body and hard to please had also made her sensitive. She was teasing herself as much as she teased him, feeling herself get more and more into the connection they were building together. It was just a simple thing, rocking, right-left, the writhing coming from a pivot at her waist and a flex of her slightly bent legs. She gave another deep sigh, focused on him and how he was starting ot have trouble staying upright.

Then, as she expected he broke first. “Please… please can I come upstairs?”

“No.” She smiled and kissed him one last time, pulling away, fingers brushing him over the front of his pants. “I’m sure you will be thinking about me later.”

~~~~

This one was 3/4 finished, so while I am not the happiest with it I still packaged it up to post. In reality there’s a part of this story that’s very true- grinding up against men is a favourite activity of mine and I do adore teasing. I could probably do it for hours 

Like what you read? Want your own femdom stories? Click here to order a custom erotica story.

 

Lipstick, Tease & Denial

So I recently discovered a lipstick fetish, and I’ve been having a lot of fun with it.

Smear!I put on lipstick because he doesn’t like it. Not as a torture, but because I enjoy the duality of my mouth made more sexualized by a slash of red, and yet un-sexualized by locking it down under a coat of paint- as much as we use lipstick marks for a kiss symbol, it’s the least  sexy mouth option in practice.

It’s a bit of a surprise to find myself smearing faintly flavoured red paint on, because I very seldom wear makeup. It’s a tool for me, but right now it’s really playing into the chastity aspect of tease and denial.

I’ve talked before about the problems with managing desire by other people- for example the obvious interest of the guy in charge of my driving school does not thrill me the way that captivating a room can. I like that my sub is attracted to my body, but knowing there’s physical fetishes of his that I don’t fit does not trouble me unduly, because they are things that are not earned or done, but come naturally to a woman. Actually, for Strong, this has unsexed my mouth.

But the lipstick… it smears across my lips, creamy, first the thickness of the bottom lip and than twice darting to the highest points of my top lip. I press my lips together, and push left to right, right to left, pressing the pigment. Sometimes I blot it until a clean, precisely folded tissue blushes, reapplying thin layers to build up a brightness, and sometimes I leave a single bold coating. You can feel it after, if you think about it, like paint that never dries perfectly.

But I like that it’s false colouring, an angler fish lure. It demands to be looked at and yet… my lips are sealed.