Careless and Castrated

I had just finished my Ph.D. in December and found myself without any potential employment opportunities in the near future. As luck would have it, a company near my hometown was advertising a position near my hometown. It was my mother who had sent me the newspaper link to the job. Her and my step-dad were getting older and she insisted that I apply for the job and move back home with them so they would have someone to help them maintain the ranch. After applying for the job and getting an interview, I was hired. Now after years of independence, I was moving back home with my parents while I worked to pay off student loans and catch up on credit card bills.

The job was good. I enjoyed the company and the people I worked with. Returning home was awkward for me but there were no issues. I had my own room. Mom made dinner and washed clothes. I spent weekends working on chores outside. My step-dad worked while mom stayed at home. All-in-all, the arrangement was beneficial to both of us.

I had always known that I was gay but never shared that information with anyone other than the random guys I would meet online. I never dated girls and always used my studies as an excuse. After I left for college and lived by myself, I became a chronic masturbator. Mostly, I jerked off to online porn until I discovered the eunuch website and started reading the erotic stories. It wasn’t long before I purchased an elastrator and began to experiment with banding myself while reading the stories. Bear in mind, I had no intention of ever being castrated-I just enjoyed the stories about others being castrated.

Now that I was at my parents house, I was no longer able to masturbate whenever I felt like it so I decided to purchase a chastity cage in the hopes that it would curb my desire. To be honest, it did help quite a bit. The cage was a small steel 1 1/2” Attica Hell extra short model which wasn’t even a tight fit around my flaccid cock. For several months, I would wear the cock cage for two weeks at a time before unlocking it and masturbating. After I had cum, I would put it back on and begin the countdown to my next release.

Now that I have prefaced my story with a little background information, it’s time to explain the rest of the story. It all started after I viewed a pair of pink crotchless panties on Amazon and order them. A little over a week later, the tracking app alerted me that they had been delivered from China. Imagine my surprise when I got home from work and discovered the panties were mailed in a clear plastic wrapper with a description of the panties on one side and my name and address on a label on the other side. Of course my step dad gets home before I do and always retrieves the mail for my mom so they both saw my order. I vowed at that time to never ever order anything from China again. When asked about the panties, all I could do was confess that I had ordered them but that I had done so as a birthday gag gift for a friend that was always whining like a girl. I thought I was convincing. Mom helped wrapped the panties as I carried out the charade. A few days later she asked if I had given them to my friend and if he liked them. I told her I did and everyone got a laugh out of it. Of course I had secretly stashed them away in my closet along with my elastrator. That was strike one in May.

My second strike came less than a month later when mom asked to use my laptop to shop e-bay. I didn’t think anything about it and let her, knowing all my porn was hidden deep within fake file names. There was no way she would discover anything incriminating. What I didn’t count on is that when she opened the internet browser and typed “e” for e-bay in the google search, eunuch.org was returned. No doubt she saw my panic stricken face as she stopped typing and looked at me with disbelief. I explained that google automatically offers suggestions for random websites as you type since it is a search engine. I told her to type “b” and watch as google would return another website suggestion. She did and so did google. I knew google like to offer suggestions for recently visited sites but I was hoping she didn’t know enough about google to know that little tidbit.

While I can’t recall the exact dates of my first two careless acts, I surely remember my third careless act occurred on Saturday, July 15th. I had been working outside all day and drenched in sweat and covered in dirt. When I came inside, I was looking forward to a refreshing shower so I went to my bedroom and stripped naked, tossing my dirty clothes in the hamper in the corner.Coincidentally, this was also my weekend to masturbate so I also decided to remove my cock cage and give my cock and balls a fresh smooth shave while I was in the shower. I tossed the cage on the foot of the bed and took my shower. Masturbation day was typically Sunday morning while my parents went grocery shopping so I dutifully put myself back into my cock cage. It wasn’t until the moment I heard the padlock click that I realized the key I had left in it when I removed it was no longer in it. I frantically looked all over the bedroom and bathroom for the missing key but could not find it anywhere. Strike three. When I looked in the hamper for my dirty pants to see if I had left they key in my pocket, there were no dirty clothes. What I didn’t know was that while I was in the shower, my mom had come into my room to get the dirty clothes and throw them into the washing machine. She spotted the cock cage and the bed and she took the keys.

I had two choices: either confront her to get the keys back or remain silent and locked in chastity indefinitely. One the one hand, I was an adult and if I enjoyed chastity then that was my prerogative. One the other hand, it wasn’t a subject I cared to discuss with my mom. I chose the latter option figuring she would bring it up and then I could explain how it was none of her business. In the meantime, I could figure out a way to remove the cock cage. Point of fact, neither of us discussed it and I found it was impossible to escape from this cock cage.

It wasn’t until the first week of September that I had finally managed to cum again. While reading a hot story on the eunuch website, I was frantically shaking my cock cage while fingering my asshole. I must have hit the right spot because cum began to ooze out of my cock. The sensation was new and unique. My balls gave no indication that I was about to cum nor did my body tense up. If it wasn’t for the puddle of cum, I would not have known that I had an orgasm. Nor did I know that I just cum for the very last time. I often close my eyes and remember that moment. My parents had gone grocery shopping and I was outside on the patio naked. The story I was reading was about two boys lost at sea who were rescued but later castrated by the captain of the ship that rescued them. My cock was hardening, straining to be freed from its tiny cage. As I shook the cage, I could feel the metal slap against the head of my cock and it reacted by straining hard against its confines. I put my finger in my mouth to moisten it with spit and slowly inserted it into my ass. I withdrew my finger and started to slide it back in. The cum oozed out of my cock, dribbling down the shaft of my cock but remaining within the cage until finally reaching my balls. I cupped by hand below my balls and waited for the puddle of cum to form as my seed slowly oozed down the shaft of my cock. My cum was thick and plentiful and tasted like nectar as I licked it from the palm of my hand.

Since I had been in total chastity since July, I hadn’t banded my balls. I tried once but it was too difficult to slip the band over my balls due to the short cage nudging against the locking band. There was just no way to get the prongs of the elastrator over my nuts to the base of my balls. So the elastrator sat in my closet, hidden, unused and forgotten. That is until the end of September. I don’t know what mom was looking for or why she was looking in my closet. All I was to learn later was that she found the elastrator. At the time, nothing was said. I already had three strikes against me: 1) the panty order; 2) the eunuch website popping up on the computer; 3) the cock cage on my bed. Now the discovery of the elastrator had occurred. I suppose it doesn’t take a genius to draw a conclusion. The conclusion may not be correct but the pieces of the puzzle fit together.

It was abnormally hot on the Saturday of October 7th. I had spent most of the day clearing brush along the fence line and replacing damaged sections of the fence. Mom came out to see how I was doing and commented on how nice it looked before asking if I wanted something to drink. “Sure, bring me some lemonade,” I replied. A few minutes later, she and my step-dad returned with a tall glass of lemonade. Being parched, I drank most of it in one gulp. The effects of the large dose of muscle relaxant medication she mixed into the lemonade were almost immediate. My head began to spin and my knees became weak and wobbly. In no time, I collapsed to the ground in a paralyzed state. Conscious but dazed, I was helpless as my step-dad lifted me up and leaned me against the wooden fence. Mom had the rope she used to tie me spread eagle up against the fence. I wasn’t sure what was going on but knew it had been planned. I tried to protest, to demand to know what they were doing but could barely manage to mumble a few syllables before my eyelids grew heavier and closed.

I’m not sure how long I was out but it was pitch black dark when I came to. I immediately realized that I was completely naked and alone. The cold night air sent shivers throughout my body. I tried to call out for help but my mouth had been taped shut. My balls ached immensely, like a bad toothache had migrated to my groin. I was still tied to the fence and tried to struggle free. Some of my strength had returned but I was still too weak to struggle long. I could feel the throbbing pain shooting through my balls as I struggled to free myself. I wanted nothing more than to stop the pain in my balls. I had no idea what was causing the pain.

That night was a living hell for me without any exaggeration. Being tied spread eagle to a fence was extremely uncomfortable. The cold night air chilled my naked body to the core. My imagination ran wild with every noise I heard coming from the wood line. Then there was the intense pain coming from my balls. After all the stories I had read on the eunuch website, I couldn’t help but fear that I was being castrated. When the sun came up, I would see a green band around my dead balls. At this very moment, while I was tied to the fence, my balls were slowly being strangle. I could envision them changing color as they had done so often when I used to band myself. I tried to reassure myself that my parents would never do that to me but began to wonder why they would castrate me. No, somehow the chastity cage was causing the pain. The sun will rise and I’ll see everything is okay. I can attest, being alone in the stillness of a dark night definitely stirs up the imagination.

The pain in my balls intensified over what seemed like several hours. I wished I could close my eyes and sleep through the pain but there was no way that would happen. Then all of the sudden, the pain began to dissipate. I tried to think about it but I couldn’t help but to realize that my balls were totally dead. Time seemed to pass ever so slowly. I thought the sun would never rise but eventually I could see the red and gold hue of morning on the horizon. I was reluctant to look down at my balls but curiosity got the best of me. I was hoping for the best but expecting the worse. The first thing I saw was my cock cage. I was lying on the ground. Instantly, I knew that was not the source of the pain. Lying next to my cock cage was my elastrator.I looked down at my balls. My flaccid cock drooped down over my balls but I could see they were black as shoe polish. Three green elastrator bands were wrapped around the base of my nutsack. I tried to choke back the tears but it was useless and I was soon sobbing like a child.

By the time my parents came out to see me, the sun had dried out the morning dew. Neither of them said a word and of course I was unable to say anything to them with the tape over my mouth. One by one, they each felt and tugged on my balls, both smiling to each other. Mom simply nodded to my step-dad after that. He had come prepared to finish the job. I know he had castrate animals before but I wasn’t an animal and began to fear this would end badly for me. I could only watch helplessly as he proceeded to emasculate me. He held my balls in his hand as he stuck a safety pin through my scrotum sack and closed it. The safety pin was inserted directly below the first green band closest my body. I didn’t feel so much as a pinch as it went in. Next, he took a tube of superglue and began to apply some to each side of the same green band then waited for the glue to dry. Mom picked up the filet knife as my step-dad held onto my balls. I knew there was nothing I could do. Aside from being tied to the fence, I knew my balls were dead. It was way too late to change that. The only thing that could be done know was to cut off the dead balls before they rotted and caused more problems. I remained motionless as my step-dad pulled down on my balls. Mom took that as her cut to begin cutting. I watched as she made one long slice through my nutsack. Just like that, they were separated from my body. Despite the immense pain I had experienced the night prior, there was hardly any pain associated with my castration. I felt the knife slice through my sack but it wasn’t painful at all. I can still remember seeing my own severed balls in my step-dad’s hand. He clenched them in his fist as he reared back and threw them deep into the woods. He had thrown my balls in the direction of the sun. I did see them leave his hand but that was the last time I saw my manhood. Off in the distance, I heard them crash through the leafy tree canopy.

In the days after, we never talked about the incident. My parents never told me why they castrated me and I never asked. It was like nothing ever happened. I just like to pretend that they did it out of love to make me happy. In all honesty, I am glad that I am a eunuch. The day they removed my balls has become the day I became free to be myself. My castration fantasy had become reality. My masturbation problem has been solved. Mom bought me several pair of crotchless panties for Christmas and I still enjoy reading castration stories on the eunuch website without the need to be sneaky about it. I’ve learned to embrace my sexuality and have met several wonderful men on the eunuch website who adore me for what I have become. I don’t need a hard cock or the ability to cum as long as I have a man who gives me his hard cock and cum.

Levels of Commitment

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I’ve decided to answer several questions I’ve received through my inbox at one time.

I’m doing this for a couple of reasons:

  1. When I started this journey a little over 2 years ago, I thought I knew everything I needed to know. I quickly learned that was not the case. I became thirsty for knowledge, and I wish there was a resource which could have guided me though what to expect. One of the goals I have with this blog is to hopefully provide some answers to others who may be seeking the same knowledge I am.
  2. I receive many of the same questions, and I’ve noticed that it’s pretty handy to be able to point someone to a specific post to answer them. (OK, so I’m lazy)
  3. At some level, making my experiences public provides documentation. In my current life, I’m a web designer, so I’ve learned to think a lot like a lawyer, and having things in the public record sometimes just seems prudent.

I’m starting with what I’m calling “Levels of Commitment”. Essentially, it lays out how I’ve come to understand things. I’m sure there are those who will disagree with me, and I invite the conversation, it will help everyone.

As I mentioned, I started this journey a couple years ago, but in reality, I’ve been on a series of them my whole life. I can remember way back to my first “hard on”, when I was convinced I broke my dick. I didn’t have a father figure to talk to, and I wasn’t going to ask mom, so I just ended up figuring things out on my own. Rather quickly, I found that I really enjoyed typing myself up. At the same time, I somehow developed a “hatred” of my balls. They just kept getting in the way, Interesting to note that my entire teenage life, I never once masturbated. That didn’t happen until the spring semester of my second year in college. I grew up in a REALLY small town, and there were no gay people, so it never even crossed my mind that attraction to a guy was possible. I think that’s why I never really thought to explore the sexual parts of me, and concentrated on the bondage.

Going back in time a bit, to my first semester in college, I somehow got really bold, and asked one of my roommates to tie me up. It was the first time I’d even had someone else do it. Unfortunately, the method we used wasn’t the best. My arms were duct taped to the rafters of our garage, and I was left to “dangle” there, with my arms bearing my entire weight while my roommate went to class. I had to choice but to hang there until he returned. It was incredibly painful, and for about a year, the thought of bondage in any form no longer crossed my mind.

A trip to the local farm supply store, however, opened my eyes to the world of animal castration, and I secretly bought the supplies and kept them hidden in my room, with the idea that at some point, I would do it to myself. In the end, I never ended up using any of it, and I honestly don’t know what happened to it.

Through the years, I did little “experiments”, and often enlisted the help of some very understanding friends who helped me try everything from chastity belts to mummification. At one time, I had a buddy who stayed with me, and locked a collar around my neck, attached to a chain which was attached to the wall. He locked me that way every night, and it felt so natural.

There was one “fantasy” I never was able to try, and that was that I wanted to try being locked inside a cage for an entire week. I assumed that the experience would be so horrible that it would “cure” me of my constant thoughts of bondage. It wasn’t until I met Aaron that I got to try it. I met Aaron on his 18th birthday, when I was around 39 years old.

Even with the age difference, we hit it off right away. We met in June, and by the end of July, we had convinced each other to try the “cage thing”. He was excited to have control, and I was excited to give it up. It was the first time I had to commit to an extended session. Up to that point, I’d never been tied up more than a couple of hours. When the time came, Aaron had me crawl into a dog kennel we’d purchased at the pet store, and after locking a couple of padlocks, I was locked inside the cage, and there was nothing I could do about it. We happened to have a spot in the basement where there was nothing but sand, so I was able to relieve myself by simply pissing out the side of the cage.

When it came time to handle the other end, Aaron would lead me by a collar to the toilet to relieve myself, and while he would sometimes return me to the cage right away, he’d usually tie me up in other ways, and he explored his own fantasies, he especially liked the Cat O Nine Tails. he never used it hard, but definitely used it. I thought I’d hate it, along with the hot wax he’d poor over me as he had me shackled to the wall, but, I learned to deal with the pain well. I know that that level of pain (hot wax) is probably considered child’s pain to some, for me it was just at the threshold I could tolerate. When he was done, he’d put me back in the cage until the next time he was ready to “use me” again.

The entire goal of going through the experience was supposed to make me hate the idea of bondage, but in the end, when he came to release me for the final time, and notified me that I’d been locked up not for a week, but for two weeks that I realized that all the thoughts I’d had my whole life were because I was doing what I was supposed to, and it was such a normal thing that I somehow never noticed that he’d kept me twice as long as we’d agreed.

Through the rest of the summer, he kept a chain locked around my neck, and when we’d go out, he took great joy in leading me around on a leash and collar and showing me off to his friends, and I felt honored to be his property.Something which had originally scared me suddenly seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

We spent the summer nights, quite often all night long, sharing our hopes, dreams, and innermost secrets with each other. And I told him things I’d never shared with anyone else, including the stories of my castration fantasy.

On day he told me that when my birthday arrived (it was my 40th, so sort of a milestone) he was going to indulge the fantasy I’d had since I was 19. My 40th birthday present was that I’d lose my balls. We ordered the supplies online, and waited for the day to arrive. The day my birthday arrived, Aaron never showed. He had chickened out, and couldn’t go through with it. I started the day so excited (yet terrified) and ended it disappointed.

Somehow that was the end of our master sub play, and we just became regular friends after that. When I first me him, I wanted more than anything to have sex with him, but the bondage play was the closest we’ve ever gotten. Just because the play time had ended didn’t mean our friendship did, and for the last couple of years, we’ve been best of friends.

I never got that summer out of my head however, and the taste of giving up complete control stuck with me. I knew I wanted more, but I’ve always been a “realistic” person, and knew that fr me to get what I was looking for, I had no choice but to eventually spend the rest of my life in bondage. Since my longest experience has been just two weeks, I tried to come up with the right amount of time for me to “try” long term commitment, and to this day, i still can’t decide how much time exists between forever and 2 weeks to take the next step, but in the process, I came up with one of my coolest ideas, the dice game. I won’t go into all the details, but essentially, a simple roll of the dice determines how long I’d be locked up. My “master” would lock me up, and then roll the dice. The results of the roll would determine if I’d be locked up for as short a time as three weeks, or if I would spend the rest of my life in chains. It adds a unique twist.

I knew I had to try the next step, and spent about a year searching Recon for someone to play the game with me. At the same time, I scoured forums like the Eunuch Archive, and FetLife.com. I spent countless hours on the Nifty Archive reading erotic stories. I have met people who have never been masters, but wanted to tackle the challenges of the dice game (remember, no one knows until after we’ve both committed to let the dice decide how long it will last). I knew if I wasn’t ready for a lifetime commitment, that someone who had never even tied someone up before certainly wasn’t ready for that potential commitment.

I talked with people I’d met along the way who were actually living master slave lifestyles. I talked to possibly hundreds of potential partners, and learned pretty much every single way I could be taken advantage of. I learned how things can go wrong, and how things can go right.In the end, I learned that life doesn’t always end up as you planned, so prepare for it, and that the most important thing in actually making a master slave arrangement work are respect and chemistry. Both parties must be willing to meet the other’s needs, and both must know that the other party will respect their limits. They will grow and explore together, and push boundaries, In the end, everyone wins.

The ironic bit of a successful dom / sub relationship is in realizing that a slave (or sub) ultimately knows that what they really need to do in life is to take care of someone else, while the master (or dom) needs to be taken care of. It seems backwards on the surface, but makes a lot of sense to those who truly understand.

Ultimately, a consensus came from those actually living the lifestyle I dreamed of, and they all agreed. In order to truly know if this full time, 24/7 master slave thing is right, you must actually live it for a year. At that point, the answer will be clear.

So, I know one thing only. My next step is a one year “trial” period. In some ways, it’s difficult to do a trial that lasts that long. I’m lucky enough to have a small recurring income that’ll last for many years into the future without my input, but that income isn’t large enough to keep my current life in “stasis” for a year just in case it doesn’t work out. It doesn’t really make sense to pay rent for an apartment I would never see, as in order for me to truly know, I must commit fully. From minute one until the end of that year, I will exist only for my master.

Whichever master takes me as his property must be willing to make the same commitment. When we make the final decision to officially start (which I picture as the moment master locks a collar around my neck) we must both commit to the full term. Unless it becomes overly obvious that it’s not working for both of us, we must honor the commitment we made for the sake of the other party. So, it’s entirely possible that an hour in, I realize I’m completely miserable, As long as the situation is working for master, I have no choice but to find a way to make the best of the full year.

There are many who will say that if I’m miserable, or master is, that we should end things right then. While that makes sense on the surface, there’s two major factors in play. First, every person I’ve talked to who actually is living this lifestyle tells me it requires a year to be able to make an informed decision. I’ve learned to trust that type of wisdom, especially when repeated by several sources. I might suddenly find, 11 months in that I find joy in what used to be misery. That point might be the beginning of what becomes the most satisfying experience of my life. If I quit early, i could potentially be giving up the very thing that would make me happiest.

Almost equally as important, I must honor my commitment to my master because of his commitment to me. In order for me to spend an entire year as the property of someone else, and do it in such a way which I feel is genuine, I must make several trade offs. I’ll have to terminate my lease, quit my job, put my stuff in storage, place friendships and family relationships on hold, and spend that year serving master. As a part of the decision process to make those trade offs, I must know that master has made a similar commitment to me. There is no way I could justify doing all of that for anything less than a year’s commitment.

Most difficult for me will be leaving Aaron. We discussed the possibility of attempting to recreate the magic of that summer and simply try again for a longer time. He says he thinks he can do it, but I keep thinking back to my 40th birthday, when he couldn’t go through with the castration. While a part of me is happy it didn’t happen, a part of me is still disappointed. He says he couldn’t do it because he didn’t want to hurt me. There’s no way I can be upset with him for that, but it tells me he’s not ready to make they type of commitment needed to go the whole year if things aren’t perfect for him. Plus, he’s still young (just turned 21) and I can’t ask him to spend that time exploring my needs at a time when he should be exploring his own and figuring out who he will ultimately be.

Master does have one advantage in this arrangement. He maintains to option of passing me to another if he is unhappy. I must trust that master will choose an appropriate replacement, but by allowing master to lock that collar around my neck, I will be willing giving up the right to make choices. It will not be my decision what happens to me during that time, and so I must consider as a part of my decision to become the property of this particular master, that he would ensure that no harm would come to me.

I called this post “levels of commitment” because I’ve realized that all of these things doing magically happen overnight. There’s an idea many people have that everything is going to work out as we plan. The fantasy bits make us think it’s always going to be perfect. Life doesn’t’ work that way, but that doesn’t mean it has to be a bad thing, just something we need to be prepared for.

As we begin the process of engaging each other, and eventually (and hopefully) we meet someone who we think we share a connection with. As a sub, it’s the one I feel a desire and need to serve. The one who I feel I want to fulfill all of their needs. The one I feel will respect my limits, yet help me push those boundaries.

I mention that I desire a lifelong commitment, To get there requires a series of smaller commitments. I learned this through reading erotic stories, and there are three which have really stood out to me, and illustrate how a series of smaller commitments can lead to a larger one.

Those three, in no particular order are:

  1. Craigslist Slave

  2. Permanent Bondage

  3. Becoming a Piss Slave Forever

In each, the master and slave meet online, and at some point, a small commitment is made. Most common, master sends slave a chastity belt, which slave locks on, showing commitment to master.

While this is a big commitment, it’s a pretty simple one, and each party is essentially agreeing to meet in person, with the INTENTION of it going further. If they meet, and it doesn’t’ work, the belt is removed, and each returns to their former lives.

Next, the slave agrees to allow the master to tie him up or at the very least, both enter a “pre-decision” mode. It’s where expectations are discussed, and it’s one of the most important parts of the process. Some may choose to sign contracts, while others are less formal. For me personally, I view this phase as the last opportunity I will have to express my desires, the last chance to state my limits, and the last chance to “leave” if I feel uncomfortable.

It’s important that this stage is handled with the respect it deserves. The gentleman I’m connecting with most in my search believes in a one year trial commitment before agreeing to a lifelong one, and that makes sense with all I have learned. It’s this stage which will determine a lot about how that year will unfold.

Finally, there’s what I call the point of no return. for me, it’s the moment master locks a collar around my neck. Once that collar is secured, both parties have a commitment to uphold everything discussed in the previous stage. The one year trial arrangement seems appropriate, and what is essentially being agreed to is that all limits will be respected, and all commitments will be honored for (in my example) the coming year. In my case, I would be agreeing that when the collar is locked, that I will have given up my right to make choices for the coming year. It will no longer be about my wants, only my masters. For master, it means recognizing I have placed my previous life on hold, so it will not interfere. He agrees to honor that, and ensure that I will remain a slave the entire year. Ultimately, master should ensure that emergency contingencies are in place. You never know when a tragic accident, or a job loss could affect master’s ability or desire to continue, so it never hurts to have a “back up” master who will take the slave as his own in those situations.

For me, the final stage involves the ultimate level of commitment, it’s the moment where each party decides this is truly something they want to do. The answers should be obvious for each at that point. If we decide to move past the one year trial, I would be agreeing to make a total commitment. Master would have the sole right to make decisions in how I am treated, and I (of course) would be allowing master to take those choices from me.

Each of the stories I mention above has various interpretations of these commitment levels, but they all share the common theme. The piss slave story stands out a bit in that there is no “trial period”. Once the slave is locked into his cage, with the piss hood locked on, he has agreed upon a lifetime commitment.

That is my ultimate desire. While technically the moment where master locks the collar around my neck will involve a one year commitment, it really means that master has the right to terminate the arrangement at the end of the year. Master can choose to continue from that point, but I choose (from the beginning) to not be allowed to choose. I choose to not be given the choice to end after a year.

I fully believe that if master wishes to end the arrangement because it is not working for him, that he should have no problems in finding another master willing to take me as his slave. As master’s property, I could of course be sold, given away, traded, etc. I would have chosen from day one that this possibility could unfold.

So in the end, we arrive on lifetime commitments through a series of smaller commitments.

  1. The commitment by master to send something like a chastity belt, and for slave to lock it on, ensuring each is committed enough to meet in person
  2. The commitment to try things on a temporary basis
  3. Finally, the ultimate commitment.

I am hopeful that things work as planned between either the gentleman I’m communicating with the most, or another who comes along soon.

I’m ready to get to know someone and be able to trust them enough to agree to do something like lock a chastity belt on myself while they hold the key. I hope that once we meet, that we continue to connect in a way in which I would feel comfortable allowing them complete control over my life.

I have desired this for over 30 years now, and it’s time to make it a reality.