Locktober Reflection #22
The question I get asked most often – as someone living a self-locked chastity lifestyle without a Keyholder, Sir, Dom, Master, or Mistress – is this: “Don’t you ever feel tempted to unlock and take care of yourself when the arousal becomes too much?” A fair question, and one worth exploring – which is why today’s reflection is about self-discipline.
I can’t help but smile a little whenever I see that word in connection with chastity, because, ironically, since the beginning of this lifestyle, I’ve never really felt disciplined about my cage at all. Becoming permanently locked – and entrusting the control over my orgasms to someone else, or even to the cage itself — never felt like something I had to train myself to do. It was simply the logical continuation of an inner process that had already begun long before.
As I’ve written before, chastity never felt like a burden or a punishment. Once I found the right device, it became an expression of how I perceive myself and where I stand in a hierarchy. It clarifies my place, reminds me of it, and marks me as submissive – both to myself and to others.
Only now do I realize how closely chastity and my discovery of my submissive nature have always been linked. Although I had been fascinated by chastity for more than twenty years, it wasn’t until I connected with various Sirs, Doms, and Masters that I truly understood what a cage could symbolize.
That realization also marked a turning point: fully embracing myself as a submissive allowed me to rediscover chastity not just as a kink but as a lifestyle. I kept searching for the label that felt right – was I a lockee, a locked boi, or a locked sub?
Today I use all of them interchangeably, depending on my mood. In some moments, with a hypnotist, I surrender completely into my submissive self; in others, I’m simply a lockee; and sometimes, with a Dom or Master, I become the locked boi they bring out in me. I love that fluidity – that I can move between roles without pretending. Each facet is a part of me, and depending on the situation, one shines a little brighter than the others.
So what does any of this have to do with self-discipline? I’ve come to believe that my cages don’t just reflect discipline – they generate it. They serve as constant reminders of my purpose and role in life, of where my fulfillment truly lies. Because of them, I can set aside instant gratification, trust in patience, and allow others – when the time is right – to take what I’ve so carefully preserved.
Even when I barely feel it anymore, the cage remains a quiet signal beneath my awareness – a steady prime that activates a certain state of mind: obedient, calm, centered, focused. Psychologists might call it priming – a physical cue that triggers mental clarity and consistency. And perhaps that’s why, since living locked, I’ve been training harder, eating better, and living with greater mindfulness. What began as denial evolved into direction.
Over time, the will to obey, the courage to stay emotionally and erotically open, and the acceptance of self-discipline as my compass have merged into something whole – a living rhythm that guides me through every day. They keep me steady, give me strength, and remind me that surrender can be both strength and serenity. And maybe that’s what I cherish most: finding freedom in the structure I once thought would confine me.