the key is on my nipple ring

Becoming Equally Invested January 6, 2011

As has been noted on many blogs and forum posts, it seems that in the vast majority of cases, it is the man who first discovers chastity and brings up the idea to his wife/girlfriend. Ab and I are the exception—it was my idea. I know there are other couples out there like us—women have written to tell me so. I wonder if there is anyone where the idea occurred simultaneously where the light bulb went off over the man and woman’s head at the same time? It seems sort of doubtful but I thought I’d throw the question out there to see if anyone says yes, that’s what happened to us.

I bring this up because I know one things couples struggle with—it is certainly on my mind—is the notion of the “introducing partner” being more interested and invested in chastity. This can result in a certain level of insecurity, ie, will the day come when Ab says, “Dev, I don’t want to play anymore”? In fact, at the beginning of our chastity exploration we agreed that we’d try it until the end of the year, then that date got extended until March. For now, we’re playing by the rule that as long as we’re having fun, we can keep going. That is working for both of us and no end is in sight. This is good.

Even so, I still feel twinges of insecurity. I’m not exactly sure why since Ab is playing along completely by the guidelines we’ve established. He has his daily break but other than that, he’s locked up. I haven’t seen an unlocked cock since Christmas. My slight anxiety certainly has a benefit for Ab in that I work to keep sexual interest and attention high—that translates to lots of teasing, lots of intimacy, and lots of making love—albeit sans orgasm for Ab.

For the male-introducing couples, I know that men struggle with feeling like they are pressuring their wives or whining or begging for orgasms too much. They also worry that their wives will feel like chastity is “one more thing”—one more thing to worry about, whether that is teasing or paying attention. Locked men don’t like feeling neglected and asking for attention cycles back into pressuring. I can appreciate that it’s a fine line to find the right balance.

I had an interesting twinge yesterday. We had a particularly hot lovemaking session (it rated a nickel into the orgasm glass) at our usual 4:30 am time. Ab seemed more frustrated than I sensed before—more moaning, more groaning and he even mumbled, “Can’t I take this off? Can’t I have a turn?”

For introducing-men, they tell their keyholders that they want to be denied—don’t give in to their begging and pleading. But what about me? Does Ab really want to be denied or would he rather that I acquiesce to his request?

For the record, I didn’t. But afterwards, as we lay together and drifted off for a few more minutes sleep before the day began in earnest, I heard several loud, audible sighs. Were these sighs of frustration? Annoyance? Should I have pulled out the screwdriver and taken the Watchful Mistress off?

Two hours later, worry that I had “done something wrong” was further reinforced when I came into the kitchen. As I have mentioned before, Ab leaves for work quite a while before I get up. Every morning he leaves me a glass of grapefruit juice on the kitchen table next to my computer. He’s done this for years—way before chastity came into our lives. But yesterday—no juice. “Shit!” I thought. “Is he really pissed at me? Should I have let him come?”

This was on my mind all day. I didn’t want to text him or discuss on the phone—if this was a really big issue, I thought it was best that we have a face-to-face conversation. So I managed to contain myself until I got home—but I also managed to get myself home a little bit earlier than usual.

When I arrived, everything seemed completely normal. Ab was locked up and puttering around the kitchen. He poured me a glass of wine and asked me about my day. Finally, I screwed up my courage and said, “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you? What makes you think that?”

“You didn’t leave me a grapefruit juice this morning. That’s the first time in ages there hasn’t been a glass on the table.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.” He looked surprised.

“I thought maybe we were out of juice but then there was a carton in the refrigerator so I thought maybe you were mad.”

“If I were mad, would I have spent 45 minutes giving you a fabulous orgasm?”

“You seemed to enjoy it too…”

“Of course I enjoyed it. I enjoy all sexual attention and interaction. That’s a given.”

“Well, okay then…”

I paused, wondering what to say. The grapefruit juice was just forgotten, not a spiteful sign of anger. What about the post-coital sighs?

Meanwhile, Ab was telling me about his day—his ongoing frustration with a damaged UPS delivery and some other production problems. Then it hit me. He wasn’t sighing because of non-orgasmic frustration, he was sighing in anticipation of a difficult day ahead. I have to remember that sometimes, it’s not all about me.

I let the conversation go at that point. Maybe I should have brought up my concern that he really wants to come but wait a minute—that’s my job as keyholder, right? To keep that level of frustration at its horny peak. Perhaps what I am struggling with is that this is the first time I’ve really heard the frustration. All these months he’s been quite sanguine about the whole thing. Yesterday was a different experience.

Different, and once I got past my confusion and understood what was going on, very good.

And maybe, just maybe, we are getting to the point of being equally invested.