He lay in his bath, relaxing in the warm water and looking down at the steel tube locked onto his penis. He gave it a gentle tug as he'd done many times before. It's not coming off, he told himself.
It had been ages since he'd had a bath without his 'security', as his wife liked to call it. He barely remembered looking down at his member without its steel encasement. In the privacy of the bathroom, he used to savor the pleasure he'd gain from slowly massaging his manhood. He longed to feel that delight again, the thrill from each stroke of his erect phallus, the intense joy of climax and the fluttering shiver of orgasm spreading through his body. He missed those times. Bath-time used to be the highlight of his week. It was preferable even to intercourse, which he considered over-rated. The action of his hand had been ideal, comfortable with just the right pressure. Those times of sexual freedom were long gone. He only had himself to blame of course.
It all started many years previously. Sex with his wife had been good, when they were newlyweds. It wasn't brilliant but good enough. Truth be told, they'd both found it awkward and only just managed. Their sheltered backgrounds paid them little dividends in the bedroom. As the years passed, their attempts at intercourse become less frequent and were often disappointing. He never knew when she'd be interested in intimacy and far too often she wasn't. His occasional indulgence in self-pleasuring developed into a regular habit. He often felt relieved when his wife preferred sleep to sex and he rarely initiated any intimacy himself. Being already spent, he knew his performance would be poor. When she complained about his lack of interest, he decided to do something about his solo-sex.
Abstaining was no easy task. He lacked the will-power to overcome his urge and being able to get away with doing whatever he liked in the bathroom made self-pleasuring all the more tempting. He did succeed for a while by distracting himself but it was at the cost of his general sexual desire. While searching the internet for guidance, he discovered the practice of male-chastity. The thought of having his sexual ability controlled with a bondage device turned him on. He imagined himself enjoying the exquisite pleasure of denial, like a dog straining at the leash with no need of self-control, self-discipline or moderation in his desires. When he was sure it was what he wanted, he suggested it to his wife.
'Chastity? You can't be serious,' she said. When he showed her pictures of chastity- devices, her mood darkened, 'What a load of disgusting, perverted rubbish.'
His fascination continued unabated and the thought of never experiencing his strongest fantasy drove him to speak to his wife again. 'I do it on my own so often,' he said. 'I'm not doing it with anyone else but I am doing it when you're not with me and I feel that's almost as bad. I feel I'm cheating on you, in a way.'
'It's not cheating and I don't mind you masturbating occasionally,' she said reassuringly.
He winced. He didn't like the 'M' word and coming from his wife and relating to him, made it all the more potent. 'It's not just occasionally, it's every day,' he confessed. 'There's a limit to how many times a man can do it in a day and when we go to bed I have little left for you. You really shouldn't tolerate it at all. It's affecting our sex life, our relationship and our marriage.'
'Why don't you just stop doing it?' she said. 'If that's how you feel.'
