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Default Locked

I've had a lot of questions about a previous blog post - Low Key(holding). It seems many couples out there are working to figure out the best, most practical way of working male orgasm control into their relationships.

Most of the questions related to the 'Default Locked' system, where the male is locked unless there is a clear exception in the form of agreed instances where he can be unlocked. As mentioned in that post, this is the easiest, most practical system for the female as there is very limited involvement in the practicalities of the lockup. Her effort is limited towards granting permission (or not) should the male ask to be unlocked for a particular occasion or reason.

As time has gone on, this Default system is the one that my husband and I employ. While I haven't gone so far as to list a set of rules and regulations, this is typically how I go about things:

LOCKING

He is expected to be locked, unless I am explicitly aware of it.

There is no 'time frame' or schedule.

Unlocking does not mean 'orgasm'.

COMMUNICATION

He is not allowed to talk about it, unless I ask him or in case of emergency.

He can message me in advance should he wish to request an unlock.

PERMISSIONS

YES: This is quite fluid, but the main reason why I would grant permission to unlock is if there is a doctor's visit, TSA security at airports or something similar. The expectation is that he will unlock just prior to this, and relock immediately after.

SOMETIMES: Showering and maintenance once every few weeks will permit an unlock as I like him to be completely shaved. If he is unlocking for a shower, I do insist that he wears a tight speedo at all times. This minimizes / prevents erections and touching. Sometimes he requests to unlock for a shower and I will say 'no'. He can use a brush / get creative.

NO: He has in the past asked to be unlocked for exercise, swim training / cycling. initially I used to agree to this, but as the device has become more comfortable and a perfect fit over time, I don't see this as necessary. I love it when he wears running tights or his swim speedo in public - his cage is very discreet, but he gets all shy and bashful which I find adorable.

If I feel like having sex with him, I unlock him. Afterwards, there is an immediate relock.

Once these types of permissions have been established, there is very little work to do. After all, how often does he have a doctor visit, for example ? He knows the answer to most of them, and it's a short message checking in when he wants to request an unlock.

I think long-term that this system works wonders, especially when chastity becomes 'the way things work around here', rather than the fantasy games that many play in short term situations.

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I ❤️ hot moms

The office hums with the low murmur of late afternoon fatigue, fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above your desk. Your shoulders ache, stiff from hours hunched over your keyboard, typing out emails that no one will properly read until tomorrow. The clock on your screen taunts you—5:42 PM. Eighteen more minutes. You exhale, rubbing at your temples, blinking away the haze creeping in at the edges of your vision.

A message pops up on your phone. Babe 💜 Almost home?

Your lips twitch at the corners. You can already picture her—probably curled up on the couch, one of your hoodies hanging loose on her frame, hair messy from where she’s been running her hands through it. She always does that when she’s waiting for you.

Soon. Long day. You tap out a reply. Need cuddles.

The reply is instant. Cuddles waiting. Maybe even a back rub 😉

You let out a soft breath, the tension in your spine easing just slightly. The last few minutes crawl by, but when the clock finally hits six, you’re out the door, coat thrown over your shoulders, bag slung over one arm. The subway ride is a blur—people packed too close, the scent of stale coffee and damp wool thick in the air. Your legs are heavy by the time you reach your stop, your thoughts sluggish.

Then you’re at your door, fingers fumbling with the keys, the lock clicking under your touch. A deep inhale, the scent of home just beyond the threshold. You push the door open, already picturing her arms around you, already melting into the promise of warmth waiting inside.

The moment the door clicks shut behind you, a blur of pink launches at you, nearly knocking you off balance. Warm arms wrap around your waist, and the scent of vanilla lotion fills your senses as soft giggles bubble against your neck.

“Missed you!” your girlfriend chirps, her weight pressing into you.

You blink, caught between exhaustion and surprise, hands instinctively settling on her hips. And then you register what she’s wearing.

A baby-pink hoodie, oversized and impossibly soft, adorned with bold white letters across the chest: I ❤️ hot moms.

Your eyes flick downward. Her thighs are bare, except for knee-high socks striped in pink and white, and—oh. Oh.

A thick, crinkling diaper, just as pink as her hoodie, peeks out from beneath the hem. The waistband sits snug against her hips, the plastic glistening slightly in the dim lighting.

Your brain short-circuits.

She shifts, nuzzling her face into your shoulder before pulling back, grinning like she just won the lottery. “Surprise!”

You open your mouth, then close it again. Words are elusive, slipping between the cracks of your overwhelmed thoughts. A dozen emotions wrestle inside you—confusion, intrigue, amusement, and, undeniably, a spark of something deeper, something hotter curling low in your stomach.

“What—” You clear your throat, trying to sound at least somewhat composed. “What is this?”

She giggles again, twirling slightly before pressing her palms against your chest. “I wanted to surprise you! I found this hoodie online and thought it was perfect.” Her lips curve into a playful smirk.

You arch a brow, still trying to piece together the full picture. “Perfect… how?”

Her smirk widens, and she leans in, pressing herself flush against you, fingers trailing up your chest like she’s waiting for you to catch up. “Because,” she purrs, tilting her head, “you’re my hot mommy.”

Your heart stumbles over itself, skipping a beat before settling into something warm and steady. You search her face—cheeks flushed, lips caught between her teeth, eyes shimmering with anticipation. She’s waiting for you to say something, to react, but you’re still struggling to wrap your head around it.

She shifts on her feet, the thick padding of her diaper crinkling between you, drawing your attention back down. When she notices where your eyes have landed, she lets out a breathy little giggle and wiggles her hips just slightly, enough to make it very clear she’s enjoying your attention.

“You like it, don’t you?” she teases, voice sing-song. “You’re looking awfully hard, Mommy.”

Your throat goes dry.

Something about the way she says it—soft, sweet, but laced with just enough playfulness to make your pulse quicken—makes it impossible to ignore the way your body reacts.

She presses closer, hands trailing up your shoulders before looping around your neck. “I wanted to surprise you,” she murmurs, “but also… I wanted to make you happy.” Her nose brushes yours. “Do I make you happy, Mommy?”

You exhale sharply, hands instinctively tightening around her waist. “You always make me happy, baby.”

She beams, practically glowing under your touch. “Good,” she hums, nuzzling against you, her voice dipping into something softer. “Because I really, really missed you today. It was such a long day without my Mommy…”

The way she says it this time—so full of affection, of need—makes your knees weak.

She shifts again, looking up at you through her lashes. “Maybe Mommy needs to hold her little girl for a while,” she suggests, playful but hopeful.

Something in you snaps into place. The exhaustion from your long day? It’s still there, but it’s drowned out by something deeper, something stronger.

You cup her cheek, running your thumb along her jaw as she leans into the touch with a soft sigh. “Yeah,” you murmur, voice low, steady. “I think that’s exactly what we need.”

She practically melts against you, body molding to yours like she belongs there. And as you scoop her up—hands firm under her thighs, the crinkling of her diaper unmistakable against your palms—she lets out the sweetest little giggle, burying her face in your neck.

“Mommy’s strong,” she murmurs against your skin.

You chuckle, carrying her toward the couch. “Mommy takes care of her baby.”

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Short skirts and warm weather

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~~ Like and Reblog 💖 ~~

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4 diapers is 4 times the fun 🎉😋

Sophielittle.fans

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Reblog if it's okay for me to send you cruel, humiliating and degrading tasks 🐶🐶