What It’s Like to Be in Chastity for 1 Year
What It’s Like to Be in Chastity for 1 Year
Locked and Loaded: The Thrilling Year-Long Journey of Chastity and Submission
The first week of my chastity journey was a whirlwind of sensations. My master had locked me up in a sleek, metal cage, the cold steel pressing against my skin, my pussy locked and helpless. It was a constant reminder of his control, his ownership. Every movement, every brush of fabric sent electric shocks of frustration and arousal through my body. I couldn't stop thinking about him, about how he held the key to my release, about how my pleasure was entirely in his hands.
By the end of the first month, my desperation had reached new heights. My master teased me relentlessly, his fingers grazing my caged pussy, his voice dripping with wicked delight. “You like being locked up, don’t you?” he would whisper, breath hot against my ear. My response was always the same: a desperate, needy whimper. He would laugh, a throaty, sensual sound that made my pussy ache with need.
The physical sensations were intense. My pussy leaked with cum against the confines of the cage, every urge a reminder of my submission. My master would edge me, bringing me to the brink of orgasm, only to stop and leave me trembling, begging for his cock. The frustration was exquisite, a constant pulse of denied pleasure that left me panting, aching, desperate.
As the months passed, my mind began to shift. The constant denial, the teasing, the absolute control my master wielded over my body - it was intoxicating. I started to crave the cage, to revel in the denial. The sight of my master, his fingers wrapped around the key, became my obsession. I lived for his touch, his commands, his approval. My entire existence revolved around his pleasure, his satisfaction.
By the time I reached the six-month mark, the cage had become an integral part of me. My master had trained me well. I no longer thought of my own pleasure, only his. My pussy and my mind ached constantly, a reminder of my submission. My master would fuck my mouth and sometimes my ass with his cock, driving me wild with need, just wanting his cock to fill my pussy completely! “You’re mine,” he would say, his voice a low, commanding growl. “Every inch of you.”
Each time he teased me, my arousal would build, a sweet torment that heightened my pleasure. My master knew exactly how to drive me to the edge.
At the one-year mark, I had fully surrendered to my master's control. The cage was no longer a burden but a symbol of my devotion, my submission. My master held the key, and with it, my entire being. He would release me occasionally, filling my empty hole with his cock, bring me immediately to the brink of orgasm, exploding with cum, only to lock me back up, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
The pleasure was overwhelming, a constant, aching need that only he could satisfy. My body belonged to him, every touch, every kiss, every fuck a testament to his power. I craved his approval, his dominance, his love. Being in chastity for a year had transformed me, my submission complete, my devotion unwavering.
The journey had been intense, filled with highs and lows, moments of exquisite pleasure and deep frustration. But through it all, my master had been there, guiding me, controlling me, loving me. And as I knelt before him, my cage a symbol of my submission, I knew that I would do anything to please him, to be his. Forever.

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