Yes, I’m in the cage again, and I’m not even mad. So there. And listen, you don’t get to judge me either. I know what you’re thinking: what kind of guy lets someone lock up his dick in the first place? Well, let me tell you something, I’m not the only freak who gets off on it. Just check Tumblr if you don’t believe me.
There’s a whole world of guys with their cocks in a cage over there. Twinks and bears. Even straight guys. I know because I’ve done some one-handed surfing, which is ironic since I can only beat off to locked boy porn when I’m not locked myself, which is not a lot these days. But even when I’m locked, I like to scroll through the pictures. Reminds me I’m not alone, gives me inspiration, puts me in the right frame of mind for when Graham gets home.
And you, Mr. Judgey Guy, why are you reading my blog in the first place, huh? Because you’re jealous, I’ll bet. Maybe you want a locked boy of your own or maaaaybe you want to be locked. That’s the truth, isn’t it? You’d give anything to have your cock in a cage and a keyholder like Graham. So drop the attitude.
OK, now that you’ve admitted that you’re a total voyeur perving on my kinky love life (I hear those chants of ‘lock him up’), you can ask me what you really want to know which is why’s it been so fucking long since I dropped you a new post? You’re in total Alex withdrawal, right?
Sorry, sorry. I haven’t posted in a while ’cause it was a lot of more of the same—in and out of the cage, punished and then freed, fucking up, sometimes because I couldn’t help it but a lot on purpose and kind of hating myself for it but needing it so bad too. Needing the cage. Because life’s good when I’m in the cage, but that thing I accused you of a second ago? Of thinking only a freak would let his dick get locked up? That was really me accusing me.
It’s a long step from admitting I love this new way Graham’s found of punishing me to admitting that I want lockup to be more the rule than the exception.
Graham’s the one who had to work that out, when he’d had enough of my bratty behavior one day and finally called me on it, told me if I wanted the cage to just fucking ask for it.
Well, that took me aback. Wanted the cage? Did I want the cage? I loved the cage, sure, but want?
So I asked him if he wanted the cage and he just said ‘Allie’ in this really resigned way like he should’ve known better and put me in the cage.
“I love this cage,” he told me once I was all locked up again. “And I love you. And I love you in this cage more than I ever thought I could love anything. I love it so much I’m tempted to never take it off again.
“Permanent punishment? How’s that fair?”
“What if it’s not punishment? What if it’s more, like, discipline?”
I understood where he was coming from. It was exhausting, this emotional seesaw we’d been living on. A few days of harmonious bliss, lots of good sex (well, good for him), the excitement of release day and then the next day nothing but a major letdown and some leftover nervous energy. I’d end up jerking off, more afternoons wasted on the internet, then the arguments would start, and if none of that got me locked up I’d commit escalating acts of super-brattiness until I finally found myself back where I wanted to be.
I understood why Graham didn’t want to live like that. I didn’t want to live like that either. I just hadn’t figured out what the alternative was. But I liked that word discipline. For sure, I was way more productive when the cage was on. Cooked dinner, ran errands—anything that’d put Graham in a fucking kind of mood when he got home.
I’d even worked out some of those days, only in the apartment ’cause it’s not like I’m going to the gym with a cage on my dick, but still a workout is a workout. All of that with the cage on. With the cage off … masturbation.
“Discipline,” Graham repeated like a light bulb was going off in his head. “You need it, don’t you?”
I could only nod at him, too embarrassed to admit out loud that a man my age couldn’t manage his own life without somebody holding his dick hostage, but Graham covered me in kisses and told me never to be afraid to ask for what I needed.
See, punishment is like lust, all angry and hot. A guy needs that sometimes—the angry throwdown when the gloves come off and passions roar free—but it gets old too. It’s not for every day. Discipline, though. Discipline is like love—steady, patient. Discipline’s still there in the morning.
So, you’ll be happy to know the cage will be on a lot from now on. From Monday morning until Graham gets home Friday night, every week, whether I’ve done anything to deserve it or not. Because I need it. Because we’re both happier with it. During the week, I’ll be all super-productive, laser-focused and then, gentle reader, if I’ve been good, the cage comes off and your boy, Alex, gets to have a little fun.