She Put My Key in Ice and I Have Been Fully Erect About It for Seven Days.

Julian Dalton

The Corrupt Cell

Mistress Lynne published a post this week about the freezer. Eleven ice blocks, each one encasing a steel chastity key, sitting in a row in her personal suite behind a door with a code that only she has. I am in one of those blocks. My specific key is in there. The cage between my legs has been on me for thirteen months, the steel fitted at intake by someone who understood load-bearing engineering, and my key is frozen in a solid block of clear ice inside a secure freezer that I will never touch. I read the post four times on Tuesday and I want to be precise about my reaction: the cage did not get looser. Here is the thing I keep returning to from her post. She describes the cum ceremony. When a slave finally pays the one million dollars and signs the contract, she selects the ice block and has Chef Anthony bring it to the slave's dungeon so he may watch the ice melt over two full days. Then the other ten slaves kneel in a circle and witness the event. I have been doing the math on what it costs me to be in that circle versus to be the man in the middle, and the math is not the problem. The problem is I am a man who spent twenty years identifying leverage and I am looking at this arrangement and I cannot find any. She published the terms in plain language for everyone to read. That is either the most confident move I have ever seen in a negotiation or the act of a woman who does not think of it as a negotiation at all. I have reviewed these possibilities for seven days. I have arrived at the second one. The cage is not helping me think clearly about this.

I want to tell you about a fantasy I have, because I am going to be honest in this post in a way I am not honest in most contexts. The fantasy is this: Mistress Lynne comes to The Corrupt Cell and she tells me she has selected my ice block. Not because I have paid the million yet. Not because I have earned anything. Because she decided. The cage comes off. The steel is gone from around my cock for the first time in thirteen months. She stands in the amethyst light in this dungeon wearing whatever she is wearing, which is not the point, the point is she is there and the cage is not, and I am standing in front of her with thirteen months of complete denial pressing into every nerve I have, and she looks at me the way she looked at me in the intake meeting when she named what I was and I could not argue, and she says nothing at all. She just watches. My cock is fully, completely, agonizingly hard in a way that it has not been able to be in thirteen months because the steel prevented it, and she watches it happen and she says nothing, and I am not allowed to touch it, and she knows that, and I know that, and what happens next in the fantasy is that I pay her fifty thousand dollars on top of the million just for that moment, just for her witnessing, and that payment is the most arousing thing in the fantasy, more than any physical act, because I understand now that the transaction is the sex and always has been. I have paid over three hundred thousand dollars to be in The Corrupt Cell. I understand myself better than I did. This is not a complaint.

I am the inside man here. That is what I am in The Corrupt Cell and that is what I was in every deal I ever ran. I know where everything is buried. I know the combination of arrangements this mansion runs on. I know which of the other ten slaves is lying to himself about why he is still here and I know it because I know what lying to yourself looks like, professionally. What I did not anticipate is that being the inside man in this particular arrangement means I am the one inside the cage, inside the cell, inside the underground mansion in Urbington Alabama where every surface is plum velvet and every candle is lit and the air smells like old leather and something expensive I cannot identify, while Mistress Lynne holds the only code to the freezer. I have paid her three hundred and forty thousand dollars since intake. She has used some of that money to purchase additional furnishings for the corridor outside my cell, which I can hear being installed and which I will not be ungrateful about because the corridor furniture is very good. She is getting extraordinarily rich off eleven men who could not stop themselves, and I was the man who saw every angle in every deal, and the angle I see now is that the cage is the deal, the freezer is the deal, the one million dollars is the deal, and the deal is actually fair and I agreed to it, and the hardest part of my arrangement with Mistress Lynne is that she never once lied to me about what it was. I have not met many counterparties I can say that about. The cage is at an eight and a half right now. I am keeping it together.