How I Became A Locked Up Slut

My Mistress loved the idea of me starting up a slave blog – so much so that she decided it would be a regular thing! This is now a full-blown record of my sluttery – expect posts at least once a week.


Today’s topic, as “requested” by Mistress Charlotte – how I became a locked up slut.

(Editor’s note: this ended up much longer than I expected, so if you’re not into that and want to save some time, just think the words “Morgan is a slut” to yourself a few dozen times and you’ll get the general idea)

Now, at first you might think “well, this won’t be much of an entry” – and, yeah, I’ll admit my first draft was “Mistress said it’d be hot, and then my brain turned off”. But… well, that’s not really very much fun, is it? Not very interesting, not very… exciting. And chastity is all of those things, to me. So let’s jump back to the start, and just go from there!


Immediately after saying that, though, we’re actually going to be jumping back to BEFORE the start. See, on the 27th of May, Mistress Charlotte made a tweet about how much she loved giftcards, tea, books, and freaky sex, in that order. Naturally, I thought the best thing to do would be to send a giftcard for tea and books – three out of four isn’t bad, right? But then she messaged me, saying that I would have to provide the freaky sex after all.

Starting when you wake up tomorrow, you’re going to edge yourself for five minutes every hour. You should be able to manage that, given that you’re working from home. This ends when you fall asleep.

You have one opportunity to request release through the day, which I may or may not grant, and which may or may not have strings attached.

Use it wisely, slut. 😘

Mistress Charlotte, issuing a task which would have huge ramifications down the line.

So that… was an adventure. Five minutes ended up feeling like both an eternity and not nearly long enough, and I definitely lost my mind somewhat towards the end. The morning after, though, once I’d calmed down somewhat (“somewhat”), she informed me that for the next two weeks, we’d be playing a little game.

This might be fun. For the next two weeks, no orgasms. At all. None.

And then you’re going to edge for me, just like yesterday. And you’re going to keep it going as long as humanly possible. Think of yesterday as… practice.

It will either make you or break you. And honestly I’m fine with either. 🖤

Two weeks of no touching, nothing whatsoever. THEN the game begins.

Mistress Charlotte, being somewhat reckless with her property.

As you might expect, going from The Day of Edging to two weeks of no touching at all was… Well, let’s just say I was plenty distracted during those two weeks. Mistress Charlotte, being the thoughtful and considerate owner that she is, made sure I stayed that way, with plenty of teases, making me listen to her hypno files, having me invent an occult ritual about her… You know, the normal stuff.


Eventually, though, the linear passage of time won out, as it always does, and we neared the end of the two-week period. Mistress very kindly shared with me a fantasy she’d had where I was tied down and incessantly pounded by a fucking machine, while she sat and watched from across the room, casually sipping her tea.

The next day, after I informed her that the phrase “fucking machine plowing into me relentlessly” had run through my mind approximately six million times, we talked about how hot the contrast between unruffled, detached Domme and slutty, babbling mess of a slave was. And it is! Seeing a huge amount of self-control in one person, while another has had theirs completely obliterated, their body wrecked through need and wanton lust… It’s great.

And then, this happened.

Mistress Charlotte seals her slave’s fate by finding something hot (2021, colourised)

This was, quite literally, all it took. It’s not like this was something I’d been pushing for for a while, or secretly hoping for but never dared to bring up – up until this point I’d never really had any interest in chastity devices. But a handful of words from my Mistress, and… well. That’s it. I’m done for.

So I found a good model at a decent price (the CB-6000) and went ahead and ordered it. I also asked if there was anything she wanted me to have while I was shopping (shipping across the world means it’s good to do as few orders as possible 💀), and she came up with a few things that I happily added to the cart. They’re not really relevant to this, though – perhaps in another entry…? 🐶

What was also important about this model, though, was that instead of just being locked by your standard padlock, it could also be locked using numbered ziplocks, like these:

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Exactly like these, in fact!

Because, as fun of the idea of literally mailing her the key is, we’re about as far apart as it’s possible to be, and emergencies can happen. Instead, I’m to send her a check-in photo of the lock, morning and evening – if the number’s the same, all good! If not… somebody’s been naughty (or, y’know, one of the aforementioned emergencies cropped up). So far, so good!


On June 15th, my parcel arrived. And after I told Mistress, I received a text containing the six hottest words every slave wants to hear:

Say goodbye to your penis, slut.

Mistress… I don’t really need to caption this one, huh? Kinda speaks for itself.

After… more of a hassle to get the damn thing on than I expected (excitement + lube + one teasing, evil, wonderful, terrible Mistress = an exercise in frustration) I finally succeeded, clicked the lock closed, and sent off the first of many check-in pictures. And received in return, a message I still look back on with great fondness:

Your dick belongs to ME now. And I will allow you access to it at my discretion. Understood?

Mistress Charlotte telling her property that it’s property.

That was around 45 days ago. Since then, I estimate I’ve spent around 3 days total unlocked, between standard hygiene stuff (unlock, take a shower, clean myself + the cage, grab a new lock and click it on, snap a pic for Mistress) and one minor concern (it was fine). The rest… locked up. Click. 🔒 .


Phew! Now you’re all caught up to the present. This is where we change tracks from Becoming a Locked Up Slut to BEING a Locked Up Slut.

I said as much in a tweet, but it really does surprise me that, rather than turning me pure and, uh, chaste – being locked up has really only made me feel like more and more of an absolute slut. The cage is always just… THERE, always present, always dragging my thoughts back down to it. And when it does, when I start thinking about the type of unbelievable whore that needs to be physically prevented from touching their dick all the damn time, the type of whore that I am for my Mistress…

…well, let’s just say the cage makes itself even MORE clearly known, in a slightly-painful-but-also-kinda-hot-because-restraints way. This creates a fun little feedback loop – a slut gets horny because he’s locked up, being horny while locked up forcibly reminds him that he’s locked up, which gets him more horny, which gets him more locked up… Eventually I just have to take a walk away from my PC and think about something else for a bit.

(Guess how many times I had to do that while writing this?)


In general, I find myself thinking more and more filthy whore thoughts. A lot of fantasies – some of the “Mistress’ conscious object” kind, some of the “passed around, used, and mindfucked by her and her friends” kind, far too many of the “fucking machine plowing into me relentlessly” kind. I’ve definitely spent a lot more time as Mistress’ puppy slut as well, although that may be more to do with the OTHER contents of my kinky parcel… 🐶

But it’s not just fantasies that cross my mind. There’s a lot of gratitude to Mistress Charlotte, for all the time and energy she shares with me. A lot of slutty non-fantasies – reminiscing on whorish things I’ve done or said. A lot of appreciation for just how fortunate I am to be here, where I belong, on my knees at her feet… I admit that one does often lead back into more mindless fantasising.

Speaking of filthy whore activities (technically anything I do is a filthy whore activity, yes it counts) – obviously the number of photos I’ve sent Mistress’ way has increased dramatically with the check-ins, but there’s also been an uptick in general slutty pics and videos sent to her. I won’t include them here (you’ll have to ask politely!) (ask HER politely, it’s her property after all) but it’s been a lot of playing with toys, fun poses – recently I sent a selfie I could only describe as “broken-brained whore”! The kind of things you get embarrassed to see in your photo gallery the next day.

The most beautiful thing about chastity, though, is the way it reconfigures my priorities. Literally every time I think about that dick, I’m reminded that it’s locked up, because my Mistress thought it would be hot. Any attention that would have been sent cockward is now focused entirely on her – on her desires, on her pleasure. I’m doing this to please her, because she wanted it this way. And because she wants it, so do I. Isn’t it wonderful, that it can be that simple?


She made me this way. What else could I do but love it? ❤🔒


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