Saturday, November 26, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
With a whoop, Charli yanks the hand break and hauls at the wheel until her hands cross. As Lena screams, the sports car whirls onto a side road and we pick up speed again.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Lurkers are the Internet's voyeurs - you just like to watch, well, read, without commenting.
That's OK, actually. But comments can be anonymous, and I'd love to hear from you all.
Wednesday, November 09, 2011
The conductor opens the slave van door. She barks, "All out for Saint Eves." I dodge past her and jump down to the platform.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
The truth is, there's no trick or magic bullet which is going to get you what you want. You have to ask for it, and be prepared to take the consequences, whatever they may be....Meanwhile, Fursissy has a well-informed series about the "economics" of Femdom:
The other thing that you have to think about is that, if you are at the stage of being ready to ask for this, then you have probably overcome all your initial reactions long ago, you know the whole 'I shouldn't find this exciting but I do' thing... but SHE hasn't. As time goes on you become more relaxed with everything.....
I think aiming for a little at a time is perhaps a good strategy, baby steps gives her time to get comfortable with what you are asking for before you drop the next fantasy on her. Remember that old saying 'it's only kinky the first time', it's bang on the money that is. Trust me, there's always going to be more you want and you're never going to get it all in one go, and your more likely to get some of what you want and keep a happy wife if you let things move at a pace that suits her ....
I decided to theorize about a few things that really explain a lot of the inequities of the D/s lifestyle (beyond the lifestyle itself).Read the whole thing - for those of us who don't exist in the BDSM community, it's a reminder that really the grass is not greener, nor the latex shinier, on the other side of the bars. Robert Anthony's world of Femdom within a marriage suddenly looks all the more attractive.
Femdom relationships, most noticeably the courting process and raw numbers can almost all be explained through economic theory. I'm not sure if this is really useful to anyone, but it should hopefully shed some light on things especially for subs seeking Dommes and for Dommes seeking subs and weeding through the applicants.
He demonstrates that it is at least sometimes doable, but only if you approach it sensibly and honestly, more or less what I describe in the my Femdom manual.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Monday, September 05, 2011
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
On the one hand, being locked into a chastity belt with no chance of release gives you a tremendous sense of invulnerability.
|You can go on all night, but can she?|
It also turns you into a sex god - armed with a prosthetic, you have all the staying power of silicon rubber. The only limit is your endurance and her capacity for pleasure.
On the other hand, having no access to your genitals makes you utterly vulnerable.
Being turned on doesn't quite hurt, but there's a risign sense of panic as you build up this head of steam with no safety valve. You're drowning in your desire, easily controlled, used and discarded.
In fantasy land you become the ultimate disposable one-night stand. Infinitely willing, unselfish by definition (since your only real pleasure is an echo of hers), the ultimate in safe sex, and yet so obviously missing what's needed for a long term relationship that nobody will think ill of her if she doesn't give you her phone number in the morning.
There is always a deliciously bleak moment where she's sated and ready for sleep, and you lie there still turned on, like a vibrator left on a low setting.
All evening, you know it's coming... like the moment when you must get up from the fireside and tramp off into the winter night.
And when it does come, it's always a shock what you've gotten yourself into. But there's a certain glory in taking your place in the darkness.
You'll be back. (And, if you do your job properly, so will she.)
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Every time she turns the page, or sighs, a pulse goes through my chastity cage.
At last she yawns and stares off to the side, not really seeing me - I'm just a slave, after all.
In a moment, she'll have me unroll her stockings, fold away her dress, and I'll glimpse her white flesh and take that afterimage to my basket on the kitchen floor to toss and turn all night, yearning, wanting.
But before then, there's just a chance she'll use my tongue.
Slowly, her legs uncross, and the pressure builds up in my chastity belt and--
Tuesday, August 09, 2011
Tuesday, August 02, 2011
First come, first served*
*Though if you read the book, you are unlikely to be coming when you are serving :)
UPDATE: OFFER NOW CLOSED :(
Monday, August 01, 2011
It is my distilled wisdom on getting your wife or girlfriend to take you as a sex slave (part-time), without making an ass of yourself.
Of this more later. But here's the thing from the back of the book:
Wouldn’t it be nice to get the vanilla woman you love to enjoy sexually dominating you?
Sorry, you can’t change her.
All the persuasion and pleading in the world won’t turn her into an all-strutting, all-teasing latex super-bitch!
The good news is, you don’t have to turn her into anything. You just have to sell her a part-time slave – you!
This book takes you through offering her what she can’t and shouldn’t get in your real-life relationship, and how to manage the results – yes, you’re the one who has to do all the work.
You get to be authentically enslaved, and she gets to be a “Vanilla Dominatrix.”
Read on, and find out how.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
A hot Mediterranean day in a ruined Roman city and I've got the place to myself. I slip off my sandals and walk barefoot over the warm, worn flagstones of the main street. I mop the sweat from my eyes. It's easy to imagine myself two thousand years in the past. I'm a slave on an errand for my mistress... a luscious black-haired Roman girl with olive skin and a fiery temper.
White flashes off to my left.
I blink. It could have been the swirl of a flowing gown. It could have been her.
I turn off the main street down an ally between the foundations of ancient shops and houses. Ahead, there's a high wall of crumbling brick. A sign in Turkish and English says "SLAVE MARKET ->".
My groin gives a lurch. I turn to hurry in the direction of the arrow and the grit punishes the soles of my feet.
I stop to put on my sandals and notice a hole in the wall. I peer through.
It leads into small room that must be a slave cell. The Department of Antiquities has been at work - a gate of wooden bars is bolted shut across the doorway. Beyond the bars something moves.
I push my head through the hole, into the cool of the brick chamber and hear voices calling out like Turkish street vendors, but in Latin - "Serva pulchra! Ecce! Serva pulchra!" Through the gaps in the wood, I glimpse naked flesh - a breast or buttock, a furry pussy or flaccid penis and balls, in skin tones from white to ebony - and swathes of fabric catching the sun as Roman men and women peruse the human merchandise.
Somebody's making a movie!
The place must be closed. I start to withdraw, but then I see it; a bronze slave collar just lying on the straw on the floor of the cell.
What if I slipped in and took it? It's just a prop, they'll have hundreds of them.
I shuck off my rucksack and wriggle through the hole. I have to walk my hands through the straw before I can get my legs down.
The collar is icy cool to the touch. Erection growing, I lift it to my throat and close it. There's a "snick!" and it's clamped around my neck.
My heart leaps into my throat. Gasping for breath, I fumble around the metal band, feeling for the catch. But there is no catch. The panic subsides and I realise that it's not designed to open. Perhaps at the hostel, with a safety pin...
A naked girl passes the gate. The wood only lets me glimpse slices of blond hair and honey skin. Now I want to press up close and see the scene - be part of the scene.
Crap! I'm wearing camo-pattern cargo pants and a "I love Ali's Kebabs" T-shirt. They'll notice me in seconds. I strip off down to my briefs--damn! Red Y-fronts with black trimmings. Hell, half the actors are naked anyway...
I bundle my clothes into the corner. Naked now except for the bronze collar, I crawl up to the gate and press my face to the rough wooden bars.
Butterflies gather in the pit of my stomach. It looks real!
They've restored the front of the buildings. It's just a big open courtyard, no columns, no shady little roofs like you expect from the books. Instead, naked slaves stand outside their cells in the sweltering heat while men and women in togas - though I'm sure that's not the right name - inspect their teeth, squeeze their biceps, breasts or buttocks.
There's a sob from nearby. The blond girl is off to the side, standing in front of the next door cell. Her skin is stretched over powerful muscles - she has the body of an athlete - but she slouches, shoulders hunched away from me. She sobs again.
She can't be doing it for effect, because I can't see any cameras. "Cheer up," I say.
She half turns her head, and a yellow braid swishes over her bare shoulder. "I'm just not used to this," she says in what sounds like a German accent. "I'm not a slave."
"Well, it's who you're being right now," I say as brightly as I can. "If you're going to be a naked slave, be a proud one. You don't want to look as if you're destined to dig turnips."
"Whats a turnip?" She shrugs her shoulders. "But you are right." She draws herself up and stands there like an amazon.
A man barks, "Right then! Right then! Out with you!" My gate swings open. A burly man with a stick towers over me. "On your feet boy!"
"S...sorry," I stammer.
He taps my flanks with the stick. "Just get up and stand next to the girl." He coughs then calls out, "Handsome male Celt, luscious female German. Buy both for a good deal!" He must think I'm one of the actors.
Relieved but nervous, I stumble into the sunlight and force myself not to turn and stare at the blond. I can feel the reflected heat from her skin, smell her animal scent. Instead, I play my part and try to keep my eyes front.
We're near corner of the courtyard. Just across from me, to my left, is another actor. He's not entirely naked - he's wearing a silver hip belt and some sort of cage over his groin.
He meets my gaze with hopeless eyes. I blush and slowly look away, pretending I'm just glancing around the slave market.
There's still no sign of the cameras and the rest of the city rises up behind the courtyard - towering temples, six-storey apartment blocks - must be some sort of collapsible set mounted on the roof-
-except that I can see people moving on the apartment balconies.
I twist around to look behind me. The clothes are still bundled in the back of the cell. The jagged hole frames the ruined foundations of the city. But when I look up, over the roof of the slave market, there's another apparent block, with an old man leaning over the balcony watching the market.
This is real!
I caught in a time slip and I'm a slave. Anything could happen to me. Anything...
There's a sharp thwack and my left buttock seems to explode in pain. "Eyes front, boy!"
I turn obediently. There's still time to make a break for that hole in the wall. To hell with my clothes. If I'm quick--
--it's Her. My fantasy Roman mistress, strolling under the shade of parasol. She has a train of slaves, but I barely see them.
She's as I imagined; petite with a mountain of jet black hair piled onto her head, wide dark eyes lined with kohl. Her white gown flows as she walks, the swishing hem giving me glimpses of elegant feet wrapped in the leather straps of sandals.
My penis rears up in greeting.
She doesn't seem to notice, but her taller friend - an older looking woman with hennaed red hair - giggles. "Cordelia, I believe this one has the required virility."
Cordelia's dark eyebrows lower. "I'm still not sure, Livia."
"Just you wait until he has a seadpod fitted!" With a giggle, Livia releases her arm and steps up to me. "Boy?"
"Yes..." Yes what? Mistress sounds corny. "...lady."
"Can you read and write?"
"Are you a virgin?"
I blush and my erection shrivels. I want to make an excuse, explain about the years studying but...
"Can you give a massage?"
I nod again. I got quite good at that with Mary - not that it got her knickers off.
"See?" says Livia. She moves to the blond girl. "What about you?"
"I can read and write, do accounts, I know how a dinner should be served and hair dressed..."
The pulse in my ears drowns her words. The German is built like a cat, all sinew and muscle, with pert conical breasts almost as an afterthought. Livia is chattering away to her, unaware of the danger.
I glance around.
Cordelia is in conversation with the slaver. She nods and an older male slave hands over three silver coins - is that all I'm worth. "Come on Livia, I want to go to the baths."
Livia giggles. The pair of them link arms and sweep off across the courtyard. A couple of the slaves follow with parasols.
The older slave just grunts. "You two, come with me." He leers. "We're stopping by the jewellers on the way home."
Still naked, the German blond and I set off after him and into the streets of the living Roman city.
Though I don't look back, I'm aware of that hole into the 21st Century getting further and further away. The bronze collar warms in the sun, until it feels like it belongs.
(First let me say that HH seems to be a real male dom, and not, for example a Syrian lesbian. We’ve chatted online, and he comes across as normal, not bombastic or full of BS. His “war stories” are self consistent and the book itself has the ring of truth and good sense about it.)
Since I am a male “sex slave” (part-time), the book was rather odd reading. It was also interesting, because HH has covered the opposite corner from the one I’m working on.
My “The Vanilla Dominatrix” is for submissive men already in a relationship. HH’s “How to Find Your Sex Slave” is for dominant men looking for a relationship (or a series of encounters).
Like mine, HH’s book doesn’t set out to tell you how to manipulate others, or try to sell you on secret mind control techniques. Nor does he encourage any sense of entitlement or espouse a cod-philosophy - this isn’t a Gorean dating manual.
So what does he offer?
Think about the sensible but ethical vanilla dating advice an experienced friend might offer you: where to look, and how; how to be yourself, but present that self effectively; how to handle online dating without blowing it; the truth about crazy chicks and gold diggers….
Now translate that into BDSM. HH is that experienced kinky friend you wish you had. He’ll guide you through the perils and pitfalls of online kinky dating, so you can attain the real offline pleasures of the bedroom.
I think the book could go a little further. I’d like see a little practical philosophy, something on distinguishing between vanilla and BDSM roles, and more on dating safety protocols (even though HH demonstrates that this is less of an issue than you’d think). Also, the book gets you to the point where you agree to meet. It strikes me that guidance would be useful to set you up for that first coffee. And beyond that, some resources for inexperienced doms would be good – at least a note on the need to research safety.
However, these are all ways that the book could be even more useful. It already supplies what – judging from the forums – a lot of male doms need; a good guide for making genuine connections with female subs, without beating about the bush.
If there’s a submissive lady out there for you, this book should help you cut through the crap and get to the point and get talking to here in real life. I suspect some men may find the process frighteningly easy....
Find the book at: www.find-kink.com/thebook.html
Sunday, May 08, 2011
Instead, I'm putting together a how-to book I'm calling The Vanilla Dominatrix. It's about how to sell yourself as a part-time slave to your partner, without changing who she is, and without nagging or manipulating.
The concept is; what would she act like if you really were her slave, and she felt OK about that?
What got me started on this, was the fascinating discovery that some Ancient Roman ladies, really did use their male slaves for more intimate purposes.
Male slaves obviously offer some unique benefits to non-fetish, i.e. vanilla mistresses. The trick then has to be to make sure that the benefits outweigh the cost to her.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Look at the fresco from Pompeii - she's at her leisure, naked, but he's wearing clothes. I think it's a dead cert he's her slave.
And, guess what? I found some interesting quotes:
Is your slave's prick the only true one?
--Martial (Roman poet)
Martial also gives a hint that even in mixed baths there could be "women's recesses" (7.35.7: feminei recessus) of uncertain function
--Fagan “Bathing in Public in the Roman World
---Younger “Sex in the Ancient World”
A small percentage of Roman ladies could do pretty much as they liked. Some of what went on must have resembled my darkest femdom fantasies.
Look at this slave. Is he taking breakfast to his mistress? What else will she want? And, under that kilt, is he sporting a theca?
I don't envy him his life. But I'd love to swap places for a month or so...
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
But, I like the idea of a fabric-based CB.
My own device uses polypropylene webbing, plus a DIY hard cup.
The innovation here is the mesh penis tube, which really would let you wear the thing 24/7 - assuming it didn't make mince out of your cock!
However, I'm not convinced that this would stop you getting off by simply massaging your cock through the mesh. This design is probably of more interest to TG/TV types than denialists.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Since I write mostly for kicks, the whole editting process is a bit of a drag. For this reason, I've put the final version of the erotic story of male chastity up on Smashwords as an ebook.
If you want to read the souped up version, and find out what happens at the end, you're going to have to chip in to buy me a pint of beer...
I stood there in the snow and thought, What if it splits and the keys fall out?
And suddenly the chastity belt felt too tight. A mailed fist seemed to clutch my imprisoned groin. My cock swelled to bursting point and I hunched forward, as if punched in the stomach.
It was then I saw her boots; well worn black leather laced tightly around her calves, beaded with drops of water.
“Excuse me,” she said in an out of town accent.
Above the boots, black fishnet stretched over shallow curves like a wire-frame computer graphic. She had one leg turned out slightly, so I could see the inside of her thigh. Was that a glimpse of stockingtop under the hem of her miniskirt?
The girl stood in the half light from the streetlamp, winter coat gaping, tight top leaving her slender midriff bare. She was… impossibly tall.
“Excuse me,” she repeated.
I looked up and saw her lips were blood red and her bobbed hair a natural black with a dusting of snow flakes.
“Do you know any good night clubs?” chipped in her friend, appearing from behind her. The second girl was a walking hourglass. Her winter coat was open and she also favored black, but was short, with heavy breasts overflowing the top of a burgundy velvet corset, almost a corset. A long gypsy skirt hid her legs, but I glimpsed shiny leather Victorian ankle boots below the hem.
“We’re from out of town,” said the tall one.
“I’m not sure...,” I said. It was hard to think when I couldn’t stop my gaze flickering from bust to leg and back again. “There’s Wet and Rocky. It’s on Low Street.”
The two girls advanced until they were just a little too close for comfort. Now I could see down into the shorter girl’s cleavage. My cock heaved against its steel tube and I felt light headed.
“We don’t know where that is,” she said.
“You’ll have to show us,” said the leggy girl, over her shoulder.
I suppressed a groan. Picked up by two beautiful girls, and it had to be the night I’d trapped myself in a chastity belt!
“OK,” I said, dimly aware that this was a Bad Idea. It wasn’t as if I even knew when my key would bounce back, “Address Unknown”. A week perhaps?
“I’m Larch,” said the tall girl as we set off.
“And I’m Rose,” said the other, throwing me an appraising look.
“Fraser,” I said a little nervously. We walked in silence, my cock throbbing with each clack of feminine boot on damp pavement.
There was a queue outside Wet and Rocky – grungy rockers, flamboyant Goths plus some steam punk types – flying goggles for the boys, crinolines for the girls. I opened my mouth to say goodbye, but just then an entire stag night left the club. The queue surged forward and somehow I found myself hemmed in by bodies, the two girls dancing around me.
Larch towered over me, her arms above her head, and undulated, like a ribbon fluttering in slow motion. A ripple flowed up from her boots, over her endless, fishnet-wrapped legs, her flat bare stomach, and into her long arms to set her fingers fluttering.
My cock strained against its tube and I swayed dizzily.
Then I felt hands on my waist and hot breath on my ear. “I’m glad we bumped into you,” purred Rose. She wriggled, nudging her corseted breasts into my back.
I squirmed, too turned on to pull away, but too embarrassed to relax.
“This is fun!” cried Larch. The tall girl writhed closer until her small breasts brushed my chin. Then she slid against me and the world pulsed in time to the throb in my captive cock.
An electric current seemed to flow between the two women, prickling my skin as it passed over me...
...and I wanted to weep. Any moment and they’d discover my chastity belt. I tried to slip free, but Rose’s grip shifted up from my waist to nip my nipples. The pain made me shudder, but it also sent electric pulses into my chastity belt.
I whimpered and something squirted from my captive penis.
Larch didn’t seem to notice. “Let’s go!” she said with a squeaking giggle.
And somehow, drunk on lust, I found myself staggering outside and into a taxi. It was only as we entered the hotel room that my head cleared.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
For everyone that gets turned on by a scenario, a handful have a fetish for the activity and the majority have a fetish for the situation surrounding the activity. I think that many subs may feel like they have a larger kink-interest base than they really do because of this.If you read the rest of his post, you'll find he means that the fetish can be for...
- ...the act or situation itself - let's call it a True Fetish.
For example, I have a chastity fetish. I like being locked in my chastity belt (sort of). I also like being mildly whipped (sort of). Furcissy likes humiliated by being feminized (but hates it).
- ... the situation implied by the act - let's call this a Hazard Fetish.
The fetish act that kicked off this line of thought was "being ignored". One several occasions, Furcissy spent several hours kneeling in a corner, and was most likely forgotten during this time. He came to the conclusion that it was nice if this was a possibility, but not if it were a main activity.
I, like many others, crave roles in which a whipping is a constant hazard. I don't really enjoy the actual pain, but I do enjoy the sense of powerlessness, and the sense-enhancing fear implied by the possibility. Of course, I need to be whipped from time to time to make the thing real, but I wouldn't enjoy "games" in which all that happened was me getting flogged.
- ...the sense of horror associated with an act or situation - call it the Horror Fetish (duh).
This is all to do with using fear to heighten arousal, and very little to do with what you'd actually want to do in real life. The fantasy usually doesn't stretch much further than the act, or the moment of entering the situation. Into this bag go most castration and cuckolding fantasies.
True and Horror can look similar, because both can involve a lot of aversion. The only obvious difference is that the True focuses on the after, whereas Horror is all about lead up.
True and Hazard, meanwhile, are separated by degree. The problem is that fantasies tend to drift towards the intensities of Hazard at the expense of more livable True - e.g. it's easier to imagine being whipped until you bleed, rather than a quiet day as a slave.
Why does this matter? Because you need to be very careful what you wish for...
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
1) Female Immigration - For women on Vesta, what are the practical differences between being a tourist, a resident alien with papers, and a citizen?
Tourists can't own a man. However, in some colonies, they can rent one.
2) Galactic Class? - So, is the main university of New Athens the interstellar equivalent of the Ivy League, Oxford, and Princeton?
Yes, or perhaps one step below. Plenty of financial backing gives them the capacity to bring in major professors for one or two years. A bit like Vegas.
3) "Incest" in Femtopia - Can a woman in Femtopia own her brother/father/son's contract?
Yuk. Let's not go there. (Suspect the software would prevent this.)
3) International Contracts - Can Femtopian males be owned by non-Femtopian females & legal entities? Could a Minervan business student buy a couple of bondsmen for a start-up? Or could Interstellar Expeditions (of Arcturus 7) own a couple of males to serve as local tour guides?
You can carry ownership with you between "slave" colonies, but you can't own a "native" man unless you're settled there. For this reason, not sure I should let corporations own men. In general, a strict rationing system prevails, preventing a small number of rich women or companies owning all the men.
4)Males Owning Males - Can a Femtopian male own another male? Can he found a company to buy his own contract?
I think the legal system makes this impossible, in some cunning but unspecified way. Obviously, off world wealth could make all sorts of de facto arrangements possible, but I think the penalties would be nasty, e.g. perhaps being sold to Amazonia.
5> Spaceport/Station Policy What are the rules of the main Vestan spaceport? Does it adhere to purely Minervan rules, or is it the sort of place where each colony-nation's semi-apply (and thus incoming Minervan freshmen might rub shoulders with an Amazonian and her half-naked slaves)?
I think it's quite an exotic place, where people tend to carry their cultural rules with them. However, there aren't many reasons for an Amazonian to be there with her slave unless they're shipping out for good.
And a couple of random thoughts:
A)Male Masturbation in Neutralia - I think you want to impose limits on male masturbation in Neutralia - at least solo masturbation. If Neutralian males have unlimited orgasmic privileges, it seems to take away from the general feel of a "chastity planet" - and the focus on the women of Vesta.
Simply rule a Neutralian male's cup closes when not in proximity to another resident of Vesta would do the trick - and help enforce the idea of a unisex utopia (since even another male would work). Or, more complex, you could state that a Neutralian male's cup closes whenever his hands approach it, unless overruled by a Neutralian female's ring.
Good point. The ring is probably the best idea.
I have been tinkering with the idea of having at least one colony where the cups are only openable for brief windows each month.
B) "Fixed" Females - the possibility of women experimenting with feeldo/cup combinations gives a whole new meaning to "gender studies", dosen't it?
Probably not what I'd write, but entirely possible within the world. The female cup wouldn't be alien tech though.
C) Vegan Feminist Hippies - Out of curiousity, are there any women on Vesta who aren't feminist (if not outright female supremacist)? Somehow, I have a hard time picturing any of the four colony-nations tolerating male chauvinism.
Some of the students at New Athens come from quite conservative worlds, and are there - like young Mormans sewing their oats - to have a wild time, but come back virginity intact. Femtopia has the feel of the old fashioned battle of the sexes, but with women in the ascendency.
D) Gender Balance - Keeping Amazonia and Neutralia gender balanced (50/50 mix) is going to be hard. It still seems like there'd be a lot of male interest in Neutralia (unlimited orgasm & potential for lesbian orgies)?
Neutralia doesn't have the funding that Minerva has. It's also a bit too gender bendy for most males. Some men probably start off there and then rush to transfer to somewhere less disorientating.
Conversly, Amazonia looks like it would have a hard time competing with . . . well, any of the other colony-nations for males.
Yes. Apart from hardcore male fetishists, it partly relies on paying big bucks. Remember, most of the action isn't wild BDSM - the male slaves mostly act as butlers/maids/assistants. I'm sure a certain amount of fishing goes on as well - the with pretty Amazonians going to other locations to lure men in.
A 10:1 male-female ratio... [might be better]
Not the vibe I'm after.
E) I'm not sure you want to impose a sucks-to-be-male cup configuration on all males leaving Vesta. I was picturing it something like the old "Damned" caste - something miserable and painful, and that would motivate males to work to get things back the way they were. And imposing it on all males abroad would interfere with recruiting (a nice, broad -if closed- cup is so much more attractive than a tight/evil format)
I mean, if you leave before your tour is over, you leave your collar behind, and all the attached functionality. So you're just down to an inert cup in tight or broad format. I don't think anybody will be flashing theirs around...