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There is nothing quite like a “real” chastity belt. I have a model similar to this, and I have to say my relationship to it is unlike any other toy I own. You could call it “love-hate”.
It screams raw masculinity, with its sports protective cup shape and the way it is made of heavy steel with ratcheting locks. It looks like a piece of athletic gear, and it doesn’t seem out of place on the shelf along with my football shoulder pads and hockey pants.
Weeks or months will go by without me thinking about it, but then I’ll spot it and suddenly I’ll have an intense craving to put it on.
It was constructed to custom fit not just my pelvis and waist, but the curved steel tube inside was made to match the thickness and length of my cock. I’ll long for that feeling of cold curved metal wrapping around my manhood, holding it in just the right way to prevent me from getting any further than half hard. The way my balls are tucked inaccessible inside grated metal pockets. That incredible sound of the locks clicking securely into place. I imagine how the whole contraption will feel held snug on my cock and fitting comfortably tight around my waist.
I’ll recall how after ten minutes or so the metal will adjust to my body temperature. How when I grasp that warm metal cup, no matter how I pull it or try to shift it around, it won’t move more than a few millimetres. How once it is locked on, nothing I do will provide me with any relief.
I’ll think of how much I love that feeling, and all of those ideas will draw me in, and I’ll find myself reaching for it, stripping nude, lubing up my half hard cock and sliding everything into place, and then locking it securely and handing the keys over to my partner.
After several hours of wearing it, I am still half-hard, dripping a steady stream of pre-cum. I’m mad with desire and as horny as I can possibly be. All I want is to be out of it. To have that infernal thing unlocked and to have my cock free to be completely hard…to feel.
But now it is too late. I’m denied. It is a prison I placed myself into and I’m at the mercy of someone who has locked the keys away in a safe, for a day or a week, or maybe longer. I know that eventually I’ll agree to do almost anything in order to feel the relief of my cock again.
And I absolutely hate it, and I swear I’ll never wear it again. But all the time I’m hating it, I’m still dripping.