Google “How to be locked in chastity for months” or “comfort in long term chastity”, or really anything about “how to chastity”.
You’ll find hundreds, if not thousands of anonymous bloggers with advice. You’ll also find scores of women, ruthless vixens, demanding tribute and speaking of years of denial and dripping. We’re here to tell you more of that’s bullshit than the average Trump tweet. To be sure, a definite fetish exists. Much like sky diving or robbing a bank, many have spoken but few have played. The vixens, are they so ruthless? Perhaps. I would be if I’d tapped into a niche market so well targeted and defined.
Oh, you thought those brats know something about suffering? No. They. Don’t. I know what suffering is now, and Goddess has shown me how to drink this exquisite wine. We sip, together, from the chalice of my denial. I want to share this fine wine with others, to those who are truly on the air plane but can’t quite get out the door. It’s an apt comparison: sky diving naked from an airplane, with a fucking dragon chasing you.
But first, you have to understand a few things young seeker, if you truly want to kick start your heart and feel lightning run through your veins. That’s what it is. It is not denial. You are addicted to your dick and don’t even know what it holds you back from. Did you know every time you spank it you’re inching yourself closer to depression and self-loathing? It’s a scientific fact. If you’re not locked up you’re walking through life deaf, dumb, and blind, a slave… chasing that dragon instead of it chasing you.
Okay… what? Isn’t it about my dick being small and useless to women? I want to be a slave, don’t I?
No… not exactly. Well, I mean, if you say so… that’s your prerogative, who am I to judge? Let’s re-frame this a little. Let’s talk about animals. Do you want to be a wild animal? Your senses: electrified. Like, undead nuclear thunder, a constant walking hate fuck of all the bullshit and zombies around you? A total and utter nightmare with big clanking balls. The Hunter?
That’s right… let’s take a walk down the blood line of this modern era of mediocrity. Ever wonder what happened to the hostile men, the dark apostles and black riders of yore? You know the guys I mean. No, not rambo. Look in the mirror? What child do you see there? A lion? A spartan? A space marine? Yes, that’s right. That guy.
The thing is, you’re not that guy, are you? It probably didn’t work out. You aged… you got older and more pathetic. Mr. Pink wasn’t named Floyd and you can’t play guitar, let alone make it weep. You probably think you’re no use to women, so you seek out those vixens who seethe… mock you… drop you… And we know you just want to be loved, dear heart. We know that… and it’s so pathetic you don’t even know what love is, because you don’t love yourself. You let your best friend die… you let your God die, forlorn and forgotten, a legend adrift wondering if Neverland ever truly existed.. You’re not sailing through life, you’re crashing and banging through eldritch arbors in quest for discarded angels eyes. Are we approaching a level of understanding?
This is a place of perpetual ascension. If your comprehension is low, leave the room now…
So what happened?
Oh… are you still here cupcake? Maybe you should leave the universe. The airlock is right over there… it’s easy. All you have to do is jump. Or did you need something first? Oh, right!
You want to be locked up, denied, dripping, enslaved… a mindless ball of need, pain, desire… you want to leak puddles at the feet of your goddess and lick it off the bottom of her dirtiest shoes after she’s gone through a stroll in the park…. don’t you? That’s right….
So where did all those Hunters and Gods of yore go? What ever happened to the likes of Churchill or Patton? Were Hector and Arthur mere myths? What about Achilles? Surely, personalities as powerful as they could never have been real. They would be Gods amongst men. They would do things like change the face of international trade, redefine money, lead nations, and transmute the very lightning: they would seize the philosopher stone.
…. how pathetic…. you see…. they are real. WE are real. What are you? Perhaps a brief word from Maya can help you relax, take in what I’m putting down for you.
No… I’m not trying to dominate you. I don’t know how to dominate you. I’m not here to tear you down. You already did that to yourself, and yes.. my boy there may be some trauma. It may hurt a bit. It’s okay…. I am a Smith… think of me like your Doctor. It’s okay, that’s right.. you need a doctor…. not just any doctor, but The Doctor…
Okay… what really happened?
Hold up, are you a panting, raging animal? Are you dripping, aching, dying to prostrate yourself before that hot little tart next door…. ready to just run with the pack and howl at the moon? Get out. I only allow Humans in my Hall.
Let me tell you where you fucked up. Oh no, don’t beg. I don’t want submission that way. I don’t accept it. That’s how you want to worship. You’re an animal, and I only allow Humans into my hall.
You forgot about the Goddess. Hold on.. I don’t mean that one. Not the one that makes your dick hard. That’s your reptile brain speaking to you. But you’re Human, not man, not animal. Let me teach you brothers with some wisdom from 65536 BC. I am Lightning and you will hear me, my son.
Some people have called me Hermes, Thoth, Tahuti, Vishnu, Odin. It’s really whatever, the general theme is I’m a general that tells stories that drag you along, pick you up, set you down right. A Smith. The Doctor. If you can’t quite follow then… that’s right.. you know.
Let’s get all set and understand who we really serve. Deep down inside there’s a Goddess lurking, and until you respect Her you will go nowhere. Personally, I agree the specially illuminated dunces offed Kennedy because he put it simply: “Ask not what your country can do for you — ask what you can do for your country”. Your Goddess is your country… right?
Wait, is this a sausage party? Why are we so focused on men? Does this mean…. does this mean you need fucked, like a little bitch? Do you need me to spread your legs and ram my Lightning up your ass while your wife watches? Do you even have a wife? Do you need to drip and moan, and pant…?
You pathetic monkgeigh… only a God can serve a Goddess, truly. You’re not even Human. No son of mine would wet the soil like that. Am I a sadist? Oh yes, dear… yes I am. A sweet, sweet sadist, but I won’t fuck your ass. You’ll do it for me, for My entertainment, and my Goddess will sell it. …and if your dick is hard you’re still not getting the point. But we’ll get there, real slow like, let the Lightning trickle charge, seep, ooze into your tiny brain. Slicken you up.
Here is your first meal, little one, open wide
What was the first thing Arthur did? Yes, that’s right, that Arthur…. Pulled the sword from the stone. You see the philosopher stone isn’t something that’s created. Its repaired. Reborn. It’s the Phoenix force. You have to pull the sword out of it. Ahh…. now you’re getting down on my thickness.
And lest we forget…. what happened to Arthur?
Let’s see whose memories run down into the deep drums like mine… he went into battle without his scabbard, believing his sword would protect him, and he died. Believing himself strong and worthy. Forgetting both the sword and the scabbard had been bestowed by the Lady of the Lake. It was a package deal, no substitutions: such is the formula.
On the field that day his face, eyes shining bright with unspilt tears, looked upon those wasted years. The Unintended Sun, the Black Sol of legend: Mordrid fruit of his temptation, the Apple of Sodom. I’d spoke to him, cautioned peace and reconciliation, the black and the white must balance, equivalent exchange, equanimity and balanced disdain. Then time struck. That damn serpent, a confused adder I believe, lept at a hapless, random soldier, touching off the powder keg that closed off Avalon, and with a roar of confusion brother killed brother. Arthur bled and Avalon fled, his were dead and mine off with their head.
Yes, open wide little one, there’s no use trying to hold it off… welcome to my metaphor labyrinth. That’s right… you’re starting to understand….
Seriously, wearing nothing but gray and living in a fucking phone booth because my house is being assaulted by robot zombies… just because some dude couldn’t keep his dick in his pants? Give me a fucking break!
You see, it was the scabbard that protected him from wounds, allowed him to shrug off blows that would kill a mortal man.
We don’t need a bigger knife… Cousin, we got guns, we got puns
We’re killing life, learning wife, and filling strangers, spilling angers… so we thrill the ones that we love. I wanna warner you, it was a lot darker when I bet him Cantonese was spoken in my home town. Rusty dusty, go, down, as red as your dirt. Thanked, Appalled, be enthralled, you are called: we’re better fun.
So… what about this Goddess. It is about Her, right? What’s this cooperation have to do with you, my suns?
You slow, winding round, willing dangers… hanging…. mind filling, coiling…
You know… any woman can wipe her feet as well another. If you see chastity as a fetish, and you want a woman to drag you through the mud and wipe her feet on your face… you better make Her want to do that. Trust me… be a God and you will find a Goddess, all the road blocks will fall away, and She’ll be there. She’ll cage you, direct you, put reins on her favourite horse. You won’t have to ask. But remember: in the mother cultures, the golden ages from the dawn of time: women ruled. Goddess was All, Maiden, Mother, Crone.
Do not, suns break that treatise. Serve Her. For I am also thrice great. I am a deadly animal, a fearsome general, and a lightning god: salt, sulfur, mercury, but I am nothing, no-one, and nameless without Her. I am you without Her.
…but this had nothing to do with my chastity fetish…
Yeah, dude. Do you really want me to lock you up? Jump out of the airplane already and prostrate yourself before my Goddess, Goddess Maya Loux.
Okay, so now some real talk: safety and comfort
Yeah. You want to be safe and comfortable, right? If your head is full of whatever kind of milovana bullshit there’s a pretty good chance you don’t really know what you’re doing. Don’t worry brother, it’s like jazz. It’s more about what doesn’t, what isn’t. You don’t need an expensive cage, hinges are bad ideas, and if you feel like you need to lube it constantly you’re doing it wrong.
To be fair, everybody is different. I too, went by some of the random advice online. A lot of it was from people talking about how to be comfortable for a week. No joke, I have been in chastity about 90% of the time since I don’t even know when, perhaps October? Goddess would have to confirm that.
I have a cheap stainless steal cage from China, and that’s what we’ve used for the better part of a year. I use E45 lube, just lightly around the ring once a day. If you get sweaty, take care of your damn hygiene. Otherwise, you’ll get a rash. If you do get a rash, deal with. Health comes before the fantasy. I fucked around, thought I was smart. Yeah: so did an actual doctor. That was a really fun trip, I’ll tell you.
Take cleaning seriously. I use lysterine mixed 50/50 with water in a squirt bottle. If it burns as soon as you spray it on, that means you have abrasions or cuts you aren’t aware of or can’t see. That is a totally valid reason to take it off and inspect or heal.
Expect to feel strong feelings. I don’t even mean lust, frustration, or even humiliation. Expect to find your shadow.
Chastity is not a race. You will hurt yourself if you rush. Goddess knows this. We’ve learned together.
The main point of this article is you have to actually want your Goddess to own you. That’s right… you need her to own you, in her own way… It can’t be about a fetish, impressing her, or anything like that. If you truly decide you want to give yourself to her, whoever she may be, you won’t need guides. My scabbard started working when I stopped googling and just went with what my body was telling me. Let your body talk. And that’s the thing. That’s what I meant about addiction. There’s a good chance you’re chasing that dragon between your legs so hard you can’t even hear what the rest of your body is saying.