My chastity play begins with my voice. As your keyholder and phone domme, I make you listen while I describe the lock clicking closed. Locktober isn’t about denial—it’s about obedience. Every command, every moan, every breath belongs to me.

I talk you through it, low and sultry. ‘Feel the cold metal pressing against your aching cock. Imagine the tiny circle, a barrier to your most intimate desires, and my will imposed upon your body.’ My words paint a vivid picture, each syllable a command, a promise, a threat.

The lock snaps shut, metal on flesh, a sensual punctuation mark. ‘That’s right, my pet, you’re locked up tight. No more fumbling, no more indulging those filthy fantasies. All you can do is listen, and obey.’

I relish the submissive whimpers that filter through the phone, the helpless groans as your cock twitches, trapped and pent up. ‘Don’t move, don’t touch,’ I hiss, ‘or you’ll be punished. You’re mine to control, body and soul.’

Throughout Locktober, our sessions are a ritual of dominance and desire. I extract your fantasies, your darkest urges, and twist them into a means of furthering your obedience. Each time you think you’ve reached the breaking point, I push you a little further, into the depths of your own depravity and my ultimate control.

And when at last the lock is opened, it’s not release you crave, but the privilege of serving me. For in the end, true freedom lies not in the absence of restraint, but in the unyielding submission to my every whim.