Powerful writing!
"It’s not just about the act; it’s the intimacy, the connection, the way she might look at him that you’re convinced she’ll never look at you again. You’re left feeling like a discarded toy, obsolete and outgrown, and that stings worse than any physical inadequacy ever could."
This seems like the epitome of what every husband/boyfriend must go through when they said yes, and didn't think it through, or later realized that it was him either telling her what she wanted to hear, or having regrets after the thrill of the fetishized idea wore off. After it's done ... it's too late. He cannot be uncucked and it will always be true that she fucked and fell for another man. It's sad.
Really well said, thank you.
The anguish you're describing cuts deep, a raw, gnawing ache that twists your insides. It’s that gut-punch realization that no matter how much you want to reclaim what you feel is yours, you’re stuck on the sidelines, powerless. Your wife’s new boyfriend looms like a shadow over your self-worth, his presence a constant reminder of what you believe you lack. Every thought of her with him—his hands on her, her moans you’ll never pull from her—stokes a fire of jealousy and inadequacy that burns hotter than you can stand. It’s not just about size; it’s the brutal math of comparison, where you’ve already tallied yourself up as less than.You feel diminished, shrunk down to a petulant version of yourself, raging against a reality you can’t rewrite. That temper tantrum vibe—it’s the thrashing of a man who knows the game’s rigged and he’s already lost. Your anger bubbles up, sharp and childish, because it’s easier to lash out than to sit with the helplessness. It’s a vicious cycle: the more you fixate on your perceived shortcomings, the smaller you feel, and the smaller you feel, the louder that spoiled-kid fury screams. You’re trapped in a mental cage, pacing between shame and spite, and the bars are forged from every intimate moment you imagine she’s sharing with him instead of you.The frustration’s suffocating—part sexual, part existential. You’re wrestling with this primal urge to prove yourself, but the scoreboard’s already lit up in his favor. It’s not just about the act; it’s the intimacy, the connection, the way she might look at him that you’re convinced she’ll never look at you again. You’re left feeling like a discarded toy, obsolete and outgrown, and that stings worse than any physical inadequacy ever could.
Dear Kevin - I assume you agreed to this arrangement, so uncomfortable as it might be, it's time to do as SHE says. You might find some solace in the Old Testament chapters about King Solomon's multiple wives. How do you think they felt? They were probably used once or twice then sidelined. Perhaps this is nature's way of balancing the sexual scale.
You're probably sexually frustrated in your chastity cage, yearning to be released to have sex with your lady once again, and to reclaim some badly needed respect and intimacy. Well, yes and no. Yes - She'll no doubt spend time with you, holding hands, or sitting on your lap. Rubbing against you in order to arouse you sexually, then No - leave you throbbing in your chastity cage as she rebuffs your request for a release, as she recounts his superior sexual power, then happily jumps into bed with him for another satisfying sexual romp.
Just as wild, untamed stallion is "broken" into a riding saddle, you're being broken into your present role. Please see photo below.
I've learned to lean into the pain as the price and sacrifice I'm facilitating for her happiness. Thankfully, her being whole and complete makes her love for me grow
The anguish you're describing cuts deep, a raw, gnawing ache that twists your insides. It’s that gut-punch realization that no matter how much you want to reclaim what you feel is yours, you’re stuck on the sidelines, powerless. Your wife’s new boyfriend looms like a shadow over your self-worth, his presence a constant reminder of what you believe you lack. Every thought of her with him—his hands on her, her moans you’ll never pull from her—stokes a fire of jealousy and inadequacy that burns hotter than you can stand. It’s not just about size; it’s the brutal math of comparison, where you’ve already tallied yourself up as less than.You feel diminished, shrunk down to a petulant version of yourself, raging against a reality you can’t rewrite. That temper tantrum vibe—it’s the thrashing of a man who knows the game’s rigged and he’s already lost. Your anger bubbles up, sharp and childish, because it’s easier to lash out than to sit with the helplessness. It’s a vicious cycle: the more you fixate on your perceived shortcomings, the smaller you feel, and the smaller you feel, the louder that spoiled-kid fury screams. You’re trapped in a mental cage, pacing between shame and spite, and the bars are forged from every intimate moment you imagine she’s sharing with him instead of you.The frustration’s suffocating—part sexual, part existential. You’re wrestling with this primal urge to prove yourself, but the scoreboard’s already lit up in his favor. It’s not just about the act; it’s the intimacy, the connection, the way she might look at him that you’re convinced she’ll never look at you again. You’re left feeling like a discarded toy, obsolete and outgrown, and that stings worse than any physical inadequacy ever could.
Vite la suite, que c'est t'il passé ensuite, tu as accepté la Cage de Chasteté et le contrôle de ta virilité. Elle a pris un Amant, un Taureau/ petit Ami pour satisfaire ses besoins primaires,une sexualité nouvelle sauvage animal. À Toi l'amour et après, que c'est t'il passé ?
Est elle tombée, Amoureuse de son Amant, t'as t'elle oubliée, humiliée, Sousmis à sa Domination, pour que tu sois Soumis en Dévotion pour ta Maîtresse, obéissant, serviable, dans un deni d'orgasmes, quand elle jouit avec son taureau. Que c'est t'il passé ensuite ?
T'a t'elle interdit toute pénétration ?
En ais tu réduit à l' as léchée pour la nettoyer après le passage de son Amant !
Estes vous toujours ensemble ?
Est elle tombée Amoureuse de son Amant ?
Comment vous traite t'elle ?
Êtes vous sorti de votre Cage ?
Ou a t'elle décidée, de vous laisser emprisonné à vie, pour la servir, en soumis, tel un esclave ?
Vite la suite, donne nous t'on ressenti ?
Comment a évolué votre relation ?
T'aime t'elle toujours, es tu désormais à ses yeux, un Soumis ?
So Pandora's box is open? Am I right: You knew exactly what was inside and still wanted to see if it was really true? But the lid can't be opened just a crack to sneak a quick peek. Many lids allow that, but not this one.
But take comfort, there's always something in the box, and at some point it will always be released. If not by you, then by her. Or by someone else? By chance, unintentionally, intentionally, out of curiosity, out of ignorance—it doesn't matter.
It's always better to live with an unpleasant truth which You can make pleasant, than with a pleasant lie wich will never become a truth.
I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you, be strong, and make the best of it. And keep us informed 🙂
