Day: May 15, 2009

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Tube talk

Seems like we’ve been talking a lot about sex and emotions and shit lately. I’m feeling the need to give the chastity nerd inside me a little love…

Remember the hair experiment? I can continue to report that keeping a nice, smooth, hairless area around the ring circumference maintains a significantly more comfortable experience than not. I haven’t had any issues with razor burn or stubble. I shave it every other day or so, always with lubricated skin (soap, shaving cream, or just the silicone lube I use to keep the device moving around easily) and a well-used yet still serviceable razor (learned that lesson the hard way). So far, I give close shaving a thumbs-up.

I’m kind of in a weird area now where the 1 7/8″ A-ring on the CB-6000 is a little too big but the 1 3/4″ ring is a little too small. I can wear the 1 3/4″ ring without issue during the day, but find an annoying amount of testicle pain at night (and not pinching of the scrotum, actual testicular pain from my balls being crushed…wait, don’t I like that?). Also, I find the inevitable erection seems to back up behind the ring and cause more internal discomfort. What I need is a size somewhere in between – the Goldilocks ring – but it doesn’t exist. It continues to surprise me how big an impact such a small relative difference in size makes. In any event, I switched to the 1 3/4″ ring this morning and am going to leave it on for the duration of this stint. It feels more secure than the 1 7/8″ ring, doesn’t hang as low, and in general makes for a smaller feeling package to carry around.

I’m not sure what all the variables are, but I can remember when the 2″ ring was too tight and the 1 7/8″ ring was barely wearable. I know one of the things that changes during wear is skin on the scrotum, so maybe I just need a little more stretching there to fully adjust to the 1 3/4″ ring. The 1 5/8″ ring is insanely small, so at some point, the junk just don’t fit. I cannot imagine ever being able to wear that second-smallest ring, even for a few minutes.

I’ve also started wearing the smallest KSD-G3 all the time now. It does increase security, but I find the ancillary effect of it holding the penis down into the tube to be a bigger benefit for me. It helps with lining the urethral opening up with the slot and, even though I’m unable to pee standing up due to the PA piercing, that helps with cleanliness (which I’m a bit of a nut over). I do find that it occasionally will cause superficial “cuts” that don’t break the skin on the top of the shaft, but so far during this stint, they’ve been nothing I can’t deal with.

Speaking of peeing standing up, I recently acquired an external, “Texas” style condom catheter. Basically, it’s a rubber with a short tube at the end and some sticky stuff on the inside to keep it from leaking or falling off. I haven’t put it on yet, but I’m wondering if that will be my ticket back to vertical peeing. I worry about what keeping it on all the time will do to my skin and I’m also wondering what the hygiene implications are. In any event, I’m thinking of trying it out during my next confinement. Anyone else out there ever play around with one of these?

Finally, I can’t forget to ping Tom’s excellent Birdlock review. It’s a very thorough account of the device from an expert point of view that any enforced chastity fan will appreciate. He basically answered my biggest concern regarding the likelihood one could squish and squash oneself to orgasm while wearing it. Turns out, yes, you can, so my fascination with it is essentially over.

There. I feel better now that I’ve gotten all that chastity nerdery off my chest. Our regular programming will resume shortly.

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Pink punishment

I have been punished. Well, at least I feel like I’ve been punished.

Last night, Belle said I was going to rub her feet, which is all well and good and very expected since she just had a pretty terrific orgasm the night before, but before I got started, she asked for Pink, the little vibe that could.

“Get that smile off your face. You’re not going to be involved in anything,” she said.1

Really? … OK.

So I got Pink out of the toy chest and handed it to Belle in much the same way a dog might hand its master a rolled up newspaper if, in fact, dogs could do such things. Then I rubbed her feet for 20 minutes as we watched AC360.2

When the rubbing was done, she was pretty relaxed and, had I not handed her a vibrator 20 minutes earlier, I would have expected she’d be drifting off to sleep. In fact, she looked like she was drifting off.

“What are you going to do with Pink?” I asked, as if I was inquiring about the day’s weather forecast, trying to sound disinterested.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” she replied sleepily.

Gah! What!? Why!? Jesus, let me! I didn’t say those things, but they all leapt to mind simultaneously. I didn’t even know where Pink was. She was still in her nightclothes, covers pulled up over her breasts, all cocooned and sleepy looking. No outward indication that she wanted to get off at all.

So, back to AC360. He was saying something about something3, but I wasn’t paying much attention. Too distracted by the mysterious and unusual thing happening next to me. Then, about three minutes later, I noticed a little motion under the covers in the general vicinity of her crotch.

“You’re doing it right now!” In front of Anderson!

“Mmm-hmm.”

I turned off the TV. With it out of the way, I could hear the muffled thrumming of Pink on its lowest setting. Louder, then quieter, louder, then quieter as it was moved up and down, in and out. I started to feel the oh-so-familiar pressure between my legs while I divided my attention between the rising and falling motion of the covers and her face, brow furrowed, eyes closed, mouth half open.

It took much longer than I thought it would. If it had been me doing it, I’d have had her off in half the time, but she wasn’t working her nipples and, while I knew that would help her, I didn’t move in as I wasn’t allowed to be involved. I just laid next to her, eyes darting up to her face, then back to the covers, gripping my pillow and feeling the throbbing inside my tube.

Her breathing turned to shallow pants and the thrumming of the vibe became more insistent as she kick in it’s highest setting. Her hips started to gyrate and the rising and falling of the tent became more noticeable. She was really starting to fuck herself with the little vibe and her whole pelvis was getting into it. She turned her face away from me and started to arch her back and neck. Her heavy breathing became mixed with quiet, rhythmic moans as she got closer to the edge.

I whined, scrabbled at my confinement, and felt totally powerless.

The little rhythmic moans became little rhythmic “oh, fuck”s as she spread her legs open more and, I assume, shoved the little vibe all the way home for the finale.

She came, while inside, my boiling desire howled in protest.

Afterward, I felt…weird. In the past, when she’s masturbated in front of me, we were both naked and I had some involvement. This time, I wasn’t even a spectator. I was less than that. I was immaterial. She was fully clothed, totally covered. She wasn’t putting on a show for me, she was getting herself off in much the same way she would had I not been there. It was 100% about her.

My head was buzzing. I was so turned on, but knew there was nothing to be done about it. I couldn’t use her pleasure to bleed of my excess pressure since she had blocked my access to it. It was done. And all I could do was lay there and churn. She was spent and satisfied and I was ten times hornier than I would have been had I been the one to make her that way. It was torture.

Her hand came out from under the covers and she handed me Pink, wordlessly. Where I had once been the jockey who rode the races, I was now the lowly stable boy left to tend to the tack after the race was won by someone else. The vibe was deeply warm. I resisted the urge to lick it, to suck off her essence. I simply held it and contemplated how well this event demonstrated her position over my sexuality.

I got out of bed to wash her toy and replace it in it’s case in the toy box before climbing back in. She never moved.

“Did you enjoy that?” I asked quietly.

“Oh, yes,” she purred.

“Why did you do it yourself? Why didn’t you want me to help?”

“Look, don’t give me that whiny crap–”

“I’m not whining! I just want to know, that’s all.” I felt extraordinarily submissive to her at that moment. I felt tiny and expendable.

“It’s my decision and that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want you involved.”

“OK,” I said, meekly.

Yesterday, I suggested it would be tricky figuring out how to punish a masochist. Today, I know how. This is how. Deny my totally. Nothing for me, everything for her. That’s punishment. Cruel and effective. The mere suggestion of being put through this again will keep me in line.

As sleep approached, I felt disconnected from her. Normally, I spoon into her as I fall asleep, but I couldn’t. She was laying on her back, arms and legs out, in a position that made spooning impossible and, since I still wasn’t sure to what extent I was allowed to engage with her, I didn’t try to put my arms or legs over her. Snuggling felt inappropriate, as if I’d be intruding. Her entire attitude, even in how she laid there, sprawled across the bed, more than a little asleep, was self-centered. I even had to shift my position to make room for her legs on “my” side of the bed. Her embrace of the dominant high ground was striking.

This morning, I’m fucking wired. The sub energy is humming inside – to such an extent that I still feel like I can’t touch her and have a hard time looking her in the eye. She, however, looks at me in an admiring, appreciative way suggestive of a jockey/horse, gearhead/hotrod, master/slave relationship. She owns me. She owns my cock, my sex, my heart, and she owns my soul. And, she knows it.

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1 As usual, all dialog is approximate yet accurate with regard to intent.↩

2 So what about that Anderson Cooper? Gay, right? He’s like a cute little gay elf you just want to put in your pocket.↩

3 Saying something bad with his mouth, but something good – oh, so good – with those steely blue eyes.↩