Hello, world! Meno here, and this is my blog Locked Eudaimonia. I will be mostly blogging about chastity and other kinks of mine surrounding it. Occasionally, I may also share my thoughts on movies, books, and—for the twisted-minded—sex toys perhaps. Today, however, I just wanted to introduce myself, discuss why I started this blog, and briefly share my upcoming trip.
I have always had a rather intricate relationship with chastity, I think. I don’t quite know how to put it in words in an accurate and informative manner, at least not yet. It is, after all, rather intricate. But one—perhaps the main—motivation behind starting this blog is precisely to force myself to be more reflective of that aspect of my sexuality. Another, relatedly, is to encourage myself to be more honest about it, with the world and with myself. To see why, let me back off just a little bit.
It was no more than a few years ago, I believe, that I discovered chastity. I knew immediately I wanted to try it. To be sure, I vaguely remember, before that, my now-husband, M, had mentioned what “cock cages”—that’s how he liked to call them—were to me. Perhaps twice, even. But I was never intrigued. As to why, I don’t know. Perhaps I wasn’t yet as sexually awakened as I later came to be. Or, perhaps I just really needed to see with my own eyes what chastity meant. Whatever the case may be, as I’ll elaborate below, there is a certain kind of irony in the fact that, technically, M introduced chastity to me.
So I got a device for myself. It was a cheap, metal one. You know what I’m talking about—the one that looked clumsy, its base ring way too big, and its tube way too long. You know it because you had one just like that. Everybody had one. Everybody should have one. And just like everybody else, I put mine on and did not take it off until two weeks later. That was, of course, in part due to M’s encouragement.
I was traveling by myself, and I told him that I’d got myself a “cock cage”, among a few other toys. To my surprise, he immediately instructed me to keep the cage on until I returned home, which, at that point, was about two weeks away. My surprise was of course partly about the length of time he’d wanted me to remain chaste—for him, for that long. “You must not pleasure yourself without permission,” I remember him saying specifically, “or you will be punished”. But I was also surprised by the fact that he didn’t even ask me if I had tried putting on the cage yet. He just assumed I’d had. And he was correct.
The following two weeks with the cage on weren’t exactly difficult. I don’t remember ever being woken up in the middle of the night. Not even did my morning wood bother me very much. Yes, I still had to occasionally adjust the position of the cage during the day every few hours. But overall it was a rather easy “task” given to me by M. The more difficult part, obviously, was not being able—not being allowed, I should say—to masturbate for two weeks. I was not a sex addict by any means, nor even someone with a particularly high sex drive. But being physically away from M, and especially being instructed to remain chaste for him during that time, made me uncharacteristically horny. A locked boy with nowhere else to turn to, I accidentally discovered the magic of combining chastity and anal play—I remember spending the majority of my awake hours sticking things in my butt during that time. I didn’t think too much of it, though. It was just something I was told to do, and it felt good.
“Reunited and it feels so good,”
except of course I had to take off the cage in order to not invite any unnecessary trouble during security check at the airport. I didn’t ask M beforehand if I could. As a matter of fact, I was so used to the sensation that I didn’t think about it until I arrived at the airport. And by then, it would’ve been too late to ask him anyway given the time difference. But I also knew mentally I was still being chaste for M, and that it was what mattered. I was being a good boy.
Twelve or so hours later, M picked me up from the airport. After we got home, I couldn’t wait to show him all the sex toys I’d collected from the trip, most importantly the “cock cage”. To my disappointment, however, M did not appear all that excited by the “cock cage” at all. Perhaps he was upset that I’d taken the device off at the airpot? It wasn’t that. Perhaps he found some of the other toys more sexually interesting? It wasn’t that, either. So I was disappointed, but also confused. After a two-week build-up, in my mind—perhaps naively—I was sure of a supremely satisfying ending to my very first chastity experience. But then, there wasn’t. As of today, I am not even sure whether or not M remembered that phone conversation he had with me in the summer of 2015. But I would later come to realize that M was never that much into chastity play, despite the initial impression I’d gotten to the contrary. I would also later come to realize that my rather intricate relationship with chastity is, most likely, a reflection of my rather intricate relationship with M.
Despite that initial discouraging episode with M, I continued to develop interest in chastity—on my own. I began to buy more devices (I now own more devices than I care to admit). I began to make friends and chat with like-minded people online; on Tumblr (RIP), on FetLife, and later on Twitter. (I am currently on none of these platforms—I’ll explain why in a future post.) I began to experiment with chastity for extended periods of time (e.g., three months). I began to look for keyholders in real life. So on and so forth.
Crucially, however, I don’t think I was ever truly satisfied. I don’t think I was ever truly happy. With chastity. With my progress. With myself. And that is uncharacteristic of me. To be clear: overall, chastity has been a wonderful journey. But at the same time, it always felt like something was missing. Sometimes the dissatisfaction could seem like it was due to the lack of a keyholder. Other times exactly what I was dissatisfied with was more elusive. And most of the time, I think I was rather lonely.
There are more stories to be told, for sure. It is my intention to tell at least some of them, if only for the sake of re-living them. But today I am going all the way back to where I discovered chastity for the first time to make and—more importantly—to contextualize a rather simple and personal point: I’ve decided to take a deep and close look at my inner self, and that is ultimately the reason why I decided to open this blog. Eudaimonia through self-examination. It’ll be an ongoing process. It’ll at times, if not always, be exploratory and aimless, perhaps in an utterly uninteresting way. There may be obstacles. There may be pains. And the process may not eventually lead to anywhere concrete or worthwhile. But on this Friday night, as I’m sitting here in my bedroom—locked—and revealing my vulnerabilities, I am convinced it is necessary. Tomorrow I will be flying to San Francisco to meet up with M for Folsom. Come to think of it, this will be our second Folsom trip (the first one also featured me locked in a cage, but that’s for another post).
A couple of weeks ago, M told me to bring with me a chastity device or “face the consequences”. I’m honestly not sure if he still remembers saying that. But I will be bringing one anyway—because I am convinced it is necessary.