- Posts
- 5
- Joined
- Jan 1970
We are right in the thick of Mardi Gras season here in New Orleans, LA. It’s a time for parades, Balls, heavy drinking (and other indulgences), and uninhibited sexuality. Basically, polite society rules go out the window during this period.
Our home is just half a block from the parade route, so we are smack in the middle of the action. Last night, after the parade ended, my lovely wife/KH headed back inside while I stayed behind to tidy up (fitting, isn’t it?) and secure our viewing spot with its benches and chairs. As I was walking back toward the house, a young woman who looked quite drunk approached me. She had never been seen before, but she announced right away, “Hey, want my phone number?” Then she put one hand on my shoulder and the other on my crotch, clearly surprised when her fingers met my cage. “Cool,” she asked while massaging it and leaning against me to help myself stand upright. I decided honesty was best. “It’s a chastity cage. My key holder has me locked up.” She paused for a moment before replying, “Wow, that’s awesome! So you’re basically a sex slave?” “In a way, yes,” I answered. Then she asked, “Can I play? I’ll come home with you.” I told her my key holder calls the shots on those matters. She immediately said, “Take a picture of me and send it to her for permission.” And then she struck a pose right there.
I could see she was about to collapse or pass out at any moment, so I politely turned down her offer. As we parted ways, she remarked, “So cool—I need to get myself a sex slave…” I wished her luck and predicted she would find someone for the role, then watched her wander off into the night. A perfect blend of Mardi Gras fun and chastity life.