i saw your steelheart blog and decided to get one. Got it last week and love it. But i have had it one for two days now and i seem to hur just a bit near head of penis and pa ring, did this happen too you. If so did it go away after a few days. i really want to keep it on and dont want my partner to take it off for a while so please let me know what you think. i found you on facebook and sent you a message there also. i just sent my email to follow your blogs. Enjoy reading them. Thanks, mike

Is it like a rubbed raw kind of thing? That can happen from time to time. The last time I had that problem it was because I was wearing the larger of the two A-rings we have which caused the tube to sit a little lower and rub a part of the penis it usually didn’t.

You need to take to a new device slowly. I know how much you want to keep it on right now, but you also need to listen to your body and let it adjust. Ignoring those signals will cause you more pain and a longer time out to recuperate. My advice: Take it off for a day or two until the part that hurts stops hurting, then put it back on. Eventually, your dick will accept its fate.

What i don’t realize is in fact how you are no longer actually a lot more well-appreciated than you may be now. You’re very intelligent. You realize thus significantly when it comes to this topic, made me personally consider it from so many numerous angles. Its like women and men are not fascinated until it is something to do with Lady gaga! Your personal stuffs great. Always handle it up!

It depresses me to think someone might read that and think it’s real.

Ive been reading your blog on and off again for a couple years now.  Great reading.

A question for the steelheart: does your pa ever get caught between the tube and the retaining bar?

I’ve owned a cb3k and switched to the 6k a while back. I have the security cable from keptforher and when I used as instructed, it caused some bleeding from my pa not being able to move when flaccidity set in. So I thought, put the cable in the inside. Works okay, but as the ring rides the cable down and I get hard again, sometimes it will catch around mid tube and as I keep growing it can be painful. Lately I’ve just been putting on more lube and it works.

I’ve had my eye on the steelheart when i read about it on your blog. Wife loves the look of it. Just haven’t taken the leap to buying one. Don’t want the back and forth to Germany if something goes wrong.

Thanks for the blog. Insightful.

Short answer, yes, there is occasional pinching. Since I can’t see what’s going on in there, my guess is that some portion of foreskin remnant and/or the little strip of meat between the PA and penis slit get’s trapped between the bar and the tube wall. This is most annoying in the early AM hours since it’s all too compressed to do anything about, but when the internals are depressurized, usually all it takes is a pull and a twist (in one direction or the other) to sort things out.

My experience with cables is much the same as yours, though I never bled. I also experimented extensively with different types of cables and varying lengths and even putting it inside, but it was never good. I think the biggest diference between the cable inside a CB6K and the bar inside the Steelheart is that there’s just more room in the Steelheart tube. It’s cylindrical rather than oval and things can move around in it more easily. As you’ve found, the ability for it to move along the fixing and not be stuck at the end of the tube is critical.

The going back to Germany thing is a pain, but the end result is really worth is. You may want to consider Mature Metal if you’re concerned about the back and forth, though they don’t have a model equivalent to the Steelheart. Which is a nice segue to the next question…

I’ve been following your blog for some time, and am using the CB3000. I do feel like swapping out to the steelheart like yourself.

Should I base the dimensions on my CB3000 fit? I’m not sure if I make it too small, and when my buddy turns super horny?

Can you give me some suggestions?

If you haven’t already read Steelheart vs. CB-6000, you should. There’s all kinds of stuff in there for people in your position.

I ordered my original SH according to my CB6K fitting and it turned out way too big. Both the A-ring and the tube. I eventually got a smaller ring that would have been nearly impossible to wear had it been multipart plastic. I can’t explain this definitively, but I suspect that the combination of how the steel interacts with skin (less grippy) and the less severe shape (not squared off) make the SH ring significantly more comfortable (the same would be true for any steel device, not just the SH).

For me, the difference was 5mm in the A-ring. I wore the 45mm combination in the CB6K and have a 40mm ring on the SH. I think you could easily knock 3mm off from your plastic fitting. With regard to the tube, it’s not so easy. That’s a more customized thing. I think the best measuring advice I’ve seen is on the Mature Metal site. Remember that a tube which allows for less growth of your erection is, in my experience and as illogical as this sounds, more comfortable.

Princess Annie (whose blog you should check out), asked in an email:

Thumper, this is one of my central questions. How do I know if my boy, my pet, has ejaculated without me? He could lie – you could’ve lied. I can act like I will know… but I wouldn’t really. hmmmm…

Tricky. My answer is, if he’s a good actor, you can’t know. Absent a secure device, there’s just no telling. You have to trust him and he has to commit to accepting the control he’s presumably give to you. There are times when he’ll be weak and will succumb to temptation. We’ve all been there. If and when those times happen, he will need to be honest with you and admit them as soon as possible. If he doesn’t, then he’s not a good fit for that kind of relationship.

Practically, you need to be a keen observer of his personality. What is he like when you know he’s been chaste? What is he like after you let him come? That kind of thing. Other than that, I’m afraid I don’t have much for you.

This one was submitted via The Portfolio:

Hey Thumper. I always enjoy your Portfolio and I have wondered about the mix /selection of pictures as it relates to your chastity lifestyle. Do you know the ratio of heterosexual images vs. homo erotic images? Do you find that you post more homo erotic images the longer you are locked up? Or do you find that the less attention that Belle is able to give you the more you fantasize about guys and pegging and the like. – Just Curious

Regarding the mix of hetero vs. homo imagery I post from day to day, to be honest, it really depends on what I find on my dashboard in the morning. I follow 366 372 different Tumblrs of all kinds and some days the mix is heavier on the boobs and beavers and some days it’s more cocks and hanging nutsacks. I try to keep things mixed up, but I only have so much time in the day to look at porn (alas). I don’t know the exact ratio, though it’s probably slightly more gay than straight. For whatever reason, gay porn has always been more stimulating to me than straight so I’m sure it gets favored over time. However, with the addition of the Pit Stop, I’ve found some male images going there rather than on The Portfolio (meaning the female ratio should be going up).

Regarding how my chastity affects what I post, I know it does, but I’m not sure I can tell you how exactly. I post more the hornier I am. I think I usually post more graphic images when I’m really in the soup than at other times when I might favor more arty compositions. I think I end up feeling more crude and base. I’ve written before that being locked up makes me more fascinated with pictures of cocks. I get kind of entranced by images of guys jacking off and I’ll watch a whole video only to see the shooting at the end (though I try to never post an image of a guy coming on The Portfolio). I always vacillate in the middle of the Kinsey scale, so I don’t know how I feel is different or the same as other guys, though anecdotally, it seems as though chastity and long term denial can make nominally heterosexual men more interested in images of other men (which supports my contention that all people are, if only a little, bisexual).

I have this neat scale that connects to the internet and keeps track of how much I weigh on my iPhone and iPad. As you can see from the above image (top graph), I’ve managed to lose about seven pounds since I started going to my personal trainer on the 16th. That’s not quite as much as I would have hoped, to be honest, but the trend is pointing in the right direction (the bottom line shows how much of my weight is fat).

In practice, I’ve found that while still a thorough ass-kicking, my sessions don’t leave me feeling as though I’m about to drop dead. Also, the aftermath is much less of a problem. For the first ten days or so, I was a giant mass of sore muscles unwilling to allow me to conduct such frivolous maneuvers as turning over in bed and walking across a room. Now, I feel the work out, but the muscle soreness is much less.

With regard to the steel device locked between my legs, I continue to find that the compression shorts do an admirable job of keeping things in check. I’m pretty sure that it’s been visible while getting stretched out stretched by the trainer, but that happens at the end of the session and I’m honestly too wiped to give a shit about it at that point. My attitude continues to be that while I’m not going out of my way to advertise how I live, I won’t feel especially embarrassed about it. As I’ve written before, the device mostly feels as though it is me. I want it to be there much more than I feel the need to hide the fact that it’s a fundamental part of my existence.

An excellent way to irrigate one’s chastity device is to remove the shower head from its flexible hose and stick it right down in there. Be careful not to have the water turned up too high or you might flush out more than you want.

You can also reverse the flow by holding the end of the hose against the opening in the tube, but that takes too hands and is more difficult to photograph while showering alone. Obviously.

Previous HNThumpers here. Read all about Half-Nekkid Thursday over at Osbasso’s.

Dutchbound said:

Hey Thumper – I’m very excited to hear that you got a trainer and look forward to reading more. Now, we can look forward to, and benefit from, Thumper-analysis (Thump-alysis??) of what it is like to not only workout frequently while locked but also how to manage the bulge in workout gear in a public setting. I’ve been working hard to manage those logistics myself.

I start the routine tomorrow so I can’t yet speak more than I already have to that, but I can add some insight into the “bulge management” situation.

Part of me want to say fuck it and bulge naturally, but perhaps a modicum of discretion is required. This morning, I was stretching in the workout pants I’ll be wearing while training with a “fashion” jock on underneath. I say fashion because it was sold though one of those underwear sites that has all the buff dudes modeling them and is as much a soft-core porn experience as it is for shopping. This particular pair I like because they have a generous pouch (to give that “no underwear” look) that’s not too constricting. They are definitely not concealment wear.

Anyway, during the leg stretching, the jutting steel bullnose was amply visible. While wearing my usual best concealment underwear when with the trainer was an option, they’re all high and tight cotton briefs and didn’t seem right to get all sweaty in. Therefore, a trip to Dick’s Sporting Goods was in order (yeah, I know).

What I settled on was a couple pair of Under Armour compression shorts. Note that there’s a couple different styles of these, if you’re thinking of getting them. One style — the kind I got — is made of the same super-stretchy material throughout while the other has a more breathable (and less compressing) crotch panel. Those didn’t seem to do a thing to help conceal. The more concealing style, as you can see, isn’t exactly the sexiest things you’re ever going to find me in, but that’s not what I got them for.

Once home, put them to the test. I put them on along with my workout pants and went through the stretching motions. I found that the visible bulge of the Steelheart was reduced by about 50%. There’s still a little bump there that’s not entirely natural looking, but it’s far less noticeable than it had been earlier in the day. The proof will be how they are to work out in. They push the whole package down and that puts extra pressure against the otherwise abused and disrespected nutsack, but it’s hard to know if it’ll prove to be too much. I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.

I’ve decided to start seeing a personal trainer since, over the past couple years, I’ve allowed myself to get to a point physically that I’m just not very happy about. I’ve also noticed, now that I’m solidly into my forty-fifth year, that things don’t work as well as they used to. I’ve lost strength, stamina, and flexibility and I’m just feeling old. I’m too young to feel old. And yes, while it is January and all kinds of bullshit resolutions are made at this time of year, I can say that had little to do with the timing of this decision. I’ve been thinking about it for some time and simply finally got around to it.

So I met with the guy Friday morning. He’s the proprietor of a small gym near our house and our first meeting was so he could evaluate my sorry condition. The guy is massive. Not big like a muscle bound linebacker, but proportionally huge. As if he’s been genetically manufactured to be a new kind of superhuman. He’s a former basketball player and has got to be at least 6’10″ tall. Being from West Africa, his skin is very dark. He’s bald and has arms as big around as my thighs. Practically. Either way, he’s an intimidating specimen. Being six feet tall myself, I’m unaccustomed to being around people significantly taller than me, let alone guys I need to crane my head up to look at.

Of course, it’s like he walked straight out of some cuckolding wank story. I admit that the question of his endowment was often in my mind. But that’s me. A pervert.

Anyway, this was just a short evaluation session, but it still kicked my ass. He had me doing lunges, squats, jumping jacks, leg presses, and this sit-up-catch-and-throw-a-ball exercise. All that after he told me I had the hamstring flexibility of a 300 pound guy. Nice. And yes, all this was done while locked up.

I was’t sure if I would need to be unlocked to work out with him so I didn’t ask Belle to let me out. The only time it may have been visible was when he had me flat on my back and was holding my leg straight up and pushing it forward in, I assume, an attempt to rip it from my body. I’m fairly certain a somewhat out of place bulge may have presented itself then and I may have even seen him glance at it, but honestly, the searing pain of the ordeal has clouded my memory. There were no issues after that, though, so I’ve decided to continue on without special access to the penis and see how it goes. Besides it becoming visible, I don’t think there will be a practical reason to remove it. It won’t get in the way of any exercising I can think of and wasn’t at all uncomfortable during or after. Asking for access to the key would be all about vanity and that doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to me. I’ve decided that being locked up is who I am and how I live so I won’t let something like an occasional unusual bulge change that.

While this is a sex blog, not a workout blog, I have to imagine that as this new endeavor unfolds I will bring it up often. I will be seeing the trainer (either the massive black guy or his more reasonably-sized assistant who just happens to share my first name) three times a week. The device may or may not become an issue, so that would be a germaine DT topic. Plus, as I get into better shape, my body image may return to a point where I would feel comfortable sharing HNTs of something other than the penis and its steel tube.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Between now and then, it’ll just be nice to have a place to whine and/or talk about how I’m less of a giant white lump than I used to be.

I got Belle a new vibrator. Buying new sex toys for her has not been without risk in the past. So far, this is the list of things I’ve brought into the bedroom that have stuck:

• Pink – Her traditional go-to vibe (so good, we bought another when we thought we lost the first)
• The Steelheart
• Various pinchy nipple things

That’s it. All the other stuff I’ve bought, like the rabbit vibrator or any of the various hitting implements or bondage accessories, basically sit in the toy box (which itself is inside a hamper and buried by a bunch of other crap). But I thought this new vibrator, the Liv by Lelo, looked promising, so I took a chance. It was “pretty” (Belle likes her sex toys to be pretty) and was longer than Pink but not too fat. Turns out Belle doesn’t like to play with things that are too big (which may explain her fondness for the penis). It showed up yesterday (I found it on Amazon for only sixty bucks — in a lot of other places it was $100 or over). I plugged it in to charge its battery and waited for Belle to get home.

Later, once we were settled in for the night, Belle told me to give her the new vibe. She held it in her hand, felt the silky smooth surface, and generally fondled it while I watched (and my tube tightened). She told me to turn off the light and get naked (since I can’t sleep that way without permission from her) and I got kind of excited. I really wanted to get her off.

My excitement was premature. She didn’t want me to participate. Belle intended to christen the Liv all by herself so all I got to do was lay there and hear the thrum of the vibe’s motor do its business over her clit. Eventually, she told me to suck on her nipples, so it wasn’t a total loss. After she came, she passed the still-warm-from-her-pussy vibrator to me to deal with as she rolled over.

“It has potential,” she said.

Whimper.

UPDATE: I neglected to say this is far more spam than I usually see. Like, 1,000 times more. It’s highly unusual and I don’t recall anything like it happening in the three+ years I’ve been blogging here.

I rest my case. I mean, just look at those fuckers.

I followed a few tumblrs that were dedicated to male pits, but they don’t really do it for me most of the time. It’s not just any pits that make me wobbly, after all, and the editorial thinking for a lot of them seem to be, “Oh, there’s an armpit. Done!” So, in keeping with the web’s model of empowering self-publishing the work of other people, I decided to start my own site dedicated to just those pictures that show just the kind of armpits that get me going. It’s called Thumper’s Pit Stop.

There are still a few things I’m working out. Like, do I put an image I like on both tumblrs? I probably will if I like it for reasons other than the pits but also in addition to them. There are some images I leave off The Portfolio right now because they don’t fit its raison d’être (whatever that is — it seems to change from day to day and can only be interpreted by unlocking my deep reptile brain), so now an image that is nothing more than a gratuitous Portfolio-inappropriate pit shot has a place to go. Also, it will not always be the case that the pit or pits is/are the main focus of an image featured there. Only those that spoke to me in that fuckinghellletmeputmyfacerightinthere kind of way.

Anyway, if you dig dude’s pits, check it out. If not, skip it.

–

¹ I like girls too, of course. Let’s not forget. ↩

I don’t quite get permanent denial. I’m not saying it’s fiction only, just that it’s not for me. Perhaps it’s just my inexperience with chastity talking, but part of the fun of the whole process and not knowing when you’ll be allowed out or allowed to orgasm. The perpetual drive to be better and the emotional changes seem to be linked to the idea that “maybe if I’m a good boy, she’ll reward me with an orgasm”.

If you are permanently denied, that mystery or trump card is gone, because you’ll always know what the answer is.

That may work for some, but I’m not sure it’s up my alley.

Of course, everyone’s different. And it’s possible with the knowledge that there would never be another orgasm ever again that a certain edge would be removed from the practice, but for me anyway, it takes so long to get to a point where I actually crave an orgasm over the feeling of being denied one.

Take this morning, for instance. I knew when I put my hand on Belle’s hot, wet pussy that I wasn’t going to get in there, let alone make it a gooey mess. It is an established fact that I’m months away from coming again. What I find is it’s only that knowledge that really allows me to get into it. See, I do not want to come. Not one bit. I want to want to come, but I don’t want to come. If that makes sense. And this is in the face of absolute knowledge that it will not happen. With the possibility of orgasm removed, I’m more free to enjoy having sex with her.

Not every guy is like that. Most men are entirely driven by their desire to squirt. That’s OK. It’s “normal” and culturally acceptable. Other men (a smaller number in practice, but I suspect there’s a much larger unrealized number out there) like to have their orgasms controlled and even limited. An hour, a day, a week. Whatever. Take it as far as you want, at the end they want to come, even if they don’t know when it’s going to happen. I can get to this place, but it literally took me three months last time. Then there’s a third type. The type I think I may be and the type Sarah’s John may be. The type in which it is all about the chase, never the capture. Unending, unquenched desire. The absolute end of orgasm.

But I’m not really in that position and am unlikely to be as Belle shows no interest in it, so it’s impossible for me to know exactly how living with the understanding that I have come for the last time in my life would work with me. I do know, since I just finished a month where she let me come nine times, that I like the denied me more than the sated me.¹ Sure, I liked (most of) them. We’re wired to enjoy the feeling of orgasm. But I did not enjoy the wasteland of sensation that followed the afterglow. The near-constant state of being sexually charged and frustrated has apparently changed my basic psychology and/or brain chemistry. At least, I think it has. I can’t really know, right?

In any event, the juxtaposition of this comparatively ejaculate sodden month to the newfound near-certainty that I’d like to stop coming forever is not entirely lost on me. I don’t think this is the hormones talking. I think this is as rational an insight as I can achive.

It’s obvious to anyone who does it that this whole orgasm control, denial, chastity thing comes in many flavors and styles. If it didn’t, we wouldn’t need all these damned blogs, would we? As with so many other things in life, the right way is the way that works for you for as long as it works for you. Maybe that’s the root of the issue people have with permanent denial. Forever is a really long time.

–

¹ Pretty sure Belle like the denied me better, too, but not, ultimately, better than she likes the feeling of me coming inside her. ↩

I really want into Belle’s pants right now. Pants? Fuck that. I want into everything she’s got. She knows it, but she’s not in any hurry. So, as she went to sleep last night, I was feeling a bit of pique. As usual, I wasn’t tired so I ventured out onto the interwebs to console myself and got sufficiently worked up to keep sleep perpetually just out of reach. It would flit by like a firefly only to blink out of existence as I reached for it. Then some scenario or image would intrude into my thoughts and the penis would strain against the tube. Then I’d wait for it to go down.¹ Then the little firefly would flutter timidly back. Rinse, repeat.

At some point in this process, I started to feel bad about getting miffed at Belle. I was thinking about my previous post and the spirit in which it was written and couldn’t quite reconcile it with what I had been feeling. Funny thing is, DD accentuated the very thing with a comment she made at about the same time I was thinking it:

I am so glad you appreciate the fact that if she owns it she gets to decide what to do with it, including having it out to play when she sees fit.

Good bunny.

In truth, I really like the feeling of being powerless with regard to sex. I prefer to see it as something she totally controls regardless of how it makes me feel at any given moment (and, in last night’s moment — once I had my head back on straight — the idea that she had left me high and dry was just one more thought that filled the tube and kept me awake). I have always struggled with losing site of this fundamental principle of our dynamic (and makes me question how truly submissive I am).

In my copious free time, I came upon the idea of a mantra. Something I could repeat as a way of centering myself (aka, pulling my head out of my ass). I worked on several versions, but this is the one I settled on:

You own the penis. I gave it to you.
You control our sex. I asked you to.
Your pleasure is my pleasure.
This is how I wished things to be.
Thank you, Belle Fille, for making it possible.
I love you.

The first couple of tries sounded too me-centric. That’s part of the problem, isn’t it? So I worked more of us and her in there. Also, recognition that it’s only through her cooperation and ability to put up with me that this works at all. The critical component is the reminder to myself that I was the one who brought us down this path in the first place. And that even though it was my idea, by embarking on this adventure, I relinquished sole ownership over how it developed. No, I’m not her slave. We’re still partners. But I am clearly the minority stakeholder and need to remember that she has the controlling vote. And, after all, I really don’t want it any other way.

We’ve had mantras before. Simpler ones that she’s ask me to repeat occasionally. But this one seems to tie together all the salient attributes in an unambiguous way that my brain can’t wiggle out of. I hope she likes it and I hope she decides to make me say it to her every single day.

–

¹ Funny thing is, whilst locked up, erections are more fleeting. It takes a lot of concerted effort and/or some really intense stimulus to keep a boner boned. They spring into action quickly and deflate just as fast. The physiological equivalent of a fruit fly. ↩

We are def­i­nitely lean­ing towards per­ma­nent orgasm denial, but we do have some con­cerns, none of which are to do with John miss­ing out on them (it’s really more about what I’ll per­haps miss out on, but that’s another story).

I think that neatly summarizes the issue for us, too. A lot of men assume that when they orgasm it is an experience all their own when in reality most women also seem to get a lot of enjoyment from the event. The ones that don’t are typically fictional (though I’m sure there are some real ones out there, too).

Honestly, this is something I didn’t really understand until I stopped having orgasms, but Belle likes it when I’m inside her and also, I’m pretty sure, likes it when I come there. My assumption had always been that women weren’t especially into the mess since it’s practically entirely up to them to clean it up afterward. Personally, back in the days when the occasional man would fuck my ass, I didn’t especially enjoy the aftereffects. I mean, there’s no place for it to go (and it didn’t really have much of a reason to be there) so it had to come out eventually and I just found the entire thing kinda gross. For the record, only three men got to do that without protection and only one of them was iffy, but that was like twenty-some years ago.

But anyway, as undeniably hot as the idea of never being allowed to come again is for me, I’m not sure I’d ever want it unless I was confident it was what Belle really wanted, too. Our recently concluded month of relative freedom was, I think, more about Belle pining for some old fashioned bunny loving more than anything else. I have no reason to expect her appreciation for that kind of sex will ever change, so I have no reason to expect she’ll ever really and truly end my orgasms.

Yesterday evening, as we laid in bed, I was curled up into her and craving her pussy. I pressed my hand to it through her pajamas and, with my face near her breasts, it was all I could do not rip her clothes off. She wasn’t having any of it, though, and told me she quite liked to see me miserably desperate. She also said I should expect the kind of sharp contrasts like I’m going through now in the future. Hard denial followed by relatively lavish releases. Nine times in one month. That probably doubled my entire output for the year.

So I went to sleep pretty horny. Interestingly, when the morning wood woke me up, it didn’t feel at all like someone had kicked me in the nuts. There was intense pressure from the tube, but I liked it. Instead of trying to get rid of it, I flexed the penis so it would be more intense and even rolled over on my stomach so blood would rush to the area. I didn’t expect to adjust so quickly. Next step will be sleeping through the wood. Once that happens, I’ll know things are back to normal. But I digress.

I guess what I’m getting at is that male chastity and orgasm denial might, on its surface, appear to be mostly about male orgasms. But it’s not. And as badly as I want to hear her say someday that I will never come again (and I do, really), there’s no way I could live with that situation unless something big and drastic changed with Belle and I knew for a fact that she would still be able to get whatever it is she wants from sex (even if that thing happens infrequently). There are many trade-offs in a relationship where the man doesn’t get to come, but in the end, asking her to ultimately sacrifice something so important to her is unacceptable to me.

One, this is just fucking gorgeous. Want. It.

Two, I had forgotten the…er, joy let’s call it, of nut-crushing morning erections. I was up three times between 4:30 and 6:00 walking it off.

Three, even though I’ve been out for more than a month, I am so back in now. Loving it. Totally in that “why would anyone live any other way” place. It’s got to be fairly psychosomatic, but my whole perspective on Belle has changed. I’m really zoned in on her. For instance, we just had a short and rather mundane sort of phone conversation, but as soon as she answered the phone I felt a funny tickling thrill in my kidneys just from hearing her voice. I’m still a little giddy. I really, really like her voice.

That is all.

1. Liked links – The most popular thing on my blog is a list of other blogs.

2. CB-6000 tips & tricks – Thank you, Google.

3. Chastity devices – A post of posts.

4. About the bunny – I really should get around to updating that.

5. Steelheart vs. CB6K – There’s Google again.

6. Thumper’s CB-6000 tips and tricks – Curse you, Google. This is the post that was later revised and extended as the number two most popular page on the site.

7. Gone virtual – Finally! An actual post from 2011!

8. HNThumper XXVIII: Caged – A picture of me wearing the Jail Bird. I’m surprised it wasn’t an HNThumper that was the most viewed post. They usually do pretty good in the page view department.

9. HNThumper XXVII: Clean as a whistle – In which I show you how I clean the Steelheart whilst wearing it.

10. Steelheart Short – Shorty’s coming out party.

A few other 2011 tidbits…

• Denying Thumper started its fourth year on October 12.
• The post with the most comments was “The year of the rabbit”, but I don’t want to talk about it. I wish it was something else.
• The sites I sent the most clicks to (besides The Portfolio) were Chastity Forums and Keyheld. The blog most clicked-to was cricketed’s.
• The top search terms people used to get here (besides variations on the name of the blog) were cb6000 (in various flavors), male chastity blog, steelworxx, birdlock, and jailbird chastity. Shocking, I know.
• The number of spam comments I received was 14,161, of which 708 were not automatically caught and destroyed. Twenty-four were missed and six non-spam comments were identified as spam anyway. That’s an accuracy rate of 99.8%. Nothing to complain about there.
• Top commenters were Rougue Bambi, Tom, Dev (no, not that one), Mykey, and Celtic Queen. My peeps.

We now return you to our regularly scheduled orgasm denial…

Yesterday, I was told to stay out of the device until today since she might want to have use of the penis one more time. That didn’t happen as it turns out, so I went to bed feeling a little hornier than usual (but not too horny considering I had just come the day before).

This morning, the day had arrived. I woke up with a boner pressing into Belle’s ass, cognizant that it would likely be the last for several months. She told me I was going to stay locked up until our Spring vacation at the end of March. We got to drowsily laze in bed since she has the day off. The boner didn’t subside, partly because I was naked and next to her warm body, partly because I knew the luxury of waking with a fully realized erection was about to end.

In the bathroom, I took the Steelheart Short out of its fuzzy sack for the first time in weeks. I had neglected to give it a proper cleaning before storing it away, so while I showered, it soaked in vinegar (which eliminates the scale that develops with weeks of wear, either from my urine or our relatively hard water or some combination thereof). After soaping myself up, I indulged in some final stroking. I took the big PA ring out since it’s not the one I use inside the device so I was jacking like the old days, all the way over the head and back. I felt the thin, pliable skin of the shaft stretch and flex over the firm meat, the thrill of electricity as my fingers grazed the coronal rim, the sympathetic sway of the scrotum keeping time with my pumping fist. Sensations at once so familiar but also so out of place.

Now, the penis is back in its home, swelling against the confinement even as I write this. In our bedroom, Belle turned the key through my parted bathrobe. Then we kissed. I do love her so much.

In response to yesterday’s post, Celtic Queen said:

It’s not so much the absence of orgasm that drives my hub but the control he has handed over and the randomness with which he is allowed to orgasm. He says he feels “lost” without the device, uncentred and unhappy and hates the feeling of his penis re exerting control over him.

Of course, it’s going to be somewhat different for everyone. I agree that the lack of control aspect is key. I don’t know that I could (or would necessarily want to) do this by myself. Belle is clearly the controlling partner when it comes to the penis and what I get to do with it and that’s pretty awesome. I suppose control and denial are not welded together and that either are valid dynamics alone or in combination with other aspects. Yesterday, I was only addressing the denial part since it’s the thing that’s been missing for the past month. Obviously, I’m happiest when they’re served together.

Speaking of which, I know there must be many men reading this blog who wish they were being controlled and denied by their partners (or, conversely, some women who wish they could talk their men into being denied and controlled). I think that limiting a man’s sexual release to only those times he’s with his partner (or has explicit permission by them to do it himself) is a really valid alternative to chastity as Belle and I do it. While I’d lose interest in the dynamic as soon as I came, it was only a matter of a few days or so before I was interested again and, therefore, interested in her. While I was still coming, I was still dependent on her for the pleasure. I think a guy who hasn’t been able to get his wife interested in control and denial would be well served by living as if he was anyway. That is, don’t come when you read the chastity porn. Reserve that for when you’re with her. For a woman in a similar situation, this kind of arrangement might be less intimidating for her guy.

Anyway, I also totally get CQ sub’s point about feeling lost without the device. I’ve written several times how I feel incomplete when I’m not wearing it. I haven’t worn it for like six weeks and I’m really ready for it to return. I suspect it’ll be tricky readjusting (and not just mentally), but I’ve missed it. I thought about asking for it yesterday, but she said Sunday so I didn’t.

What day is it again?

She observed last night over dinner that I didn’t seem to like being out as much as I like being in. It’s true. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed the orgasms Belle’s let me have (especially the last couple), and being able to feel the penis whenever I want has been nice (as has been the uninterrupted sleep). But that’s not how I’m wired anymore. Now, I’m in it for the want. For the not having. For the everything but.

Over the past month, I have had periods of feeling desire and frustration, but they’ve been short-lived. A few days at most before Belle and I fucked or she let me take care of myself (only two of the nine have been by my own hand, thought I might get another that way before tomorrow). Yesterday morning, she woke me up by stroking the peachy fuzz on my ass where its cheeks and my legs come together. I rolled over a bit and she fiddled with the penis. One thing led to another and soon she was coming hard on my fingers. The penis was as stiff as it gets and I was cleaving to her side in a very familiar way, surging with the need to fuck her. I knew it was going to happen, but at least as much of me wanted it not to. For her to leave me that way. She didn’t and I came really well.

There must be a term or set of words to describe this feeling. When one decides they don’t actually prefer the destination as much as the travel. The unending trip to the mall looking for the unfindable perfect ski jacket. Traipsing through the woods with your rifle and never finding a deer. Forever connecting though airports and never arriving to the vacation. I guess that’s me now.

Sitting here at the fulcrum point between the ebb and flow of my own sexual desire, I can say with all honesty that she could never let me come again and I’d be OK with it. More than OK.

So, yeah, she let me come. Two times in each of the last two weekends. I know I reported here before that she was going to let me do essentially whatever I wanted to do with the penis, but the rubber’s hit the road and she’s told me I can’t come without her being present.

And, honestly, I’m perfectly happy with that. In fact, the other night I was begging her never to let me come without her again. She cautioned me to think about what I was asking for, but I was all rapturous and liked how her hand felt around the very stiff meat and maybe wasn’t thinking too terribly deeply about what I was saying. Regardless, I meant it (and still do).

Therefore, I am not, at the moment, Thumper denied. I am at best Thumper restricted. I can pleasure myself and fiddle around with the penis but orgasm can only happen when I’m with Belle. So far, that’s meant in Belle, though I don’t know for sure if that’s part of the rules I’m working under. I’d like to feel an orgasm of my own doing, but she hasn’t let me.

The orgasms she’s let me have were interesting in that they were all different. The first, after ninety-nine days of denial, really wasn’t all that good. How could it have been? It was more like sneezing after feeling one coming on for a long time but being unable to make it happen. Not so much pleasurable as it was just a release. The next day was number two and it was a little better, but still just OK. Then everything cratered. Belle went to NYC and I lost any and all interest in sex or sexual thoughts. Even this blog curdled for me. I couldn’t think about it. It embarrassed me. So I ignored it. I also sank into a shallow depression that probably wasn’t entirely driven by the sudden change in my brain chemicals but couldn’t have been helped by it. I was pretty miserable.

Then the next weekend came around and my libido stirred like a sleepy cat in a sunbeam. I came twice more and cratered again, but only briefly. At least these two orgasms were pleasurable. By Wednesday, I was feeling horny again (which was quite the rebound). It’s amazing how low I go now after I come. My sex drive doesn’t just drop to zero, it goes into negative numbers. It creates a vacuum.

Yeah, so anyway, this shift in the rules isn’t at all what I thought it’d be. I’m very happy to find I’m not entirely free to do as I please because I don’t ever want to live like that again. I’m also pleased that Belle seems to be getting whatever she wanted out this little experiment. I’m sure she’s missed getting fucked by an apparently normal male and I’m also sure a girl likes her guy to squirt inside her every once in a while. But, if I’m honest, I’m also looking forward to the day we can go back to “normal”. After two weeks, I still can’t get used to this squishy floppy bit of meat between my legs. It’s just not right. (The DCR, BTW, hasn’t been on that much. Belle hasn’t wanted me to wear it.) And while I like the idea of coming, the aftermath turns me off (literally and figuratively). I’m actually kind of afraid of it.

I don’t know. I’ve been so far away from normal for so long now that even this not normal approximation of normal leaves me feeling off kilter. I’m still controlled and there are still rules and I like that, but it’s not the same. I’m not complete without that steel tube. I miss its company and crave its confinement. I want to see my reflection looking up from my crotch, not a pink prick. I’ve thought of locking myself up during the day just to feel it again, but have resisted. I will remain as I am without complaint for as long as Belle wants me to, or course, though I look forward to the day she puts things back they way they should be.

In not unrelated news, it’s remarkable to me how long I can jack off now and not come. I have become amazingly well tuned to the stages of orgasm and know within a hair’s breadth where I am from actually going over the falls and squirting all over, how long to let it chill before going back in for more, and when even breathing on the head will cause an eruption. Also, that I can essentially walk away from it even though I’m thoroughly juiced, primed, and ready to blow. “Oh, look at the time.”

The other morning, I was looking down at the penis, all greased up and nestled into my fist, and could practically see it begging me with it’s silly sideways mouth. Sometimes, jacking off is just a thing you do to another thing for a particular purpose, but other times there’s this circuit made between the cock, your hand, and your brain and they become one functioning, pumping unit looping feedback between one another. That’s what it felt like when it looked like it was begging. “Pleeeeeease!?” it seemed to be asking. But no. I was going to abide by the rules.

Perhaps Belle could sense how close it and I have become lately because last night she laid down the law. First of all, when I come, it will be in her. She wants to catch it all. Oh, and by the way, she’s on her period, so no, it won’t be for a few days. Also, I’m to stop touching the penis. No more yankie the wankie until after she says it’s time for me to come. Regarding that timing, she jets off again in a few days, so the window of opportunity will be small before then. If I have to wait until she get’s back, then it’s about a week from now. If she leaves on the trip without allowing me to come, I will beg to be locked up.

The double cock ring continues to be on me and, indeed, feels to be just as much a part of my body as the Steelheart can at times. I’ve found that the inside of the penis ring is not smooth like the rest of the device. It’s rough and somewhat unfinished feeling. Not sure if there’s a way to polish it up, but I may try and find out. It’s not a problem, but I can feel it and it bugs. Other than that, I have no complaints. Sleeping, by the way, is cake. If I happen to wake up with an erection, I can feel it filling the rings, but it doesn’t wake me up by itself.

Well, that’s about all I got. Today is ninety-eight days. Tomorrow, ninety-nine. Almost there. I hope.

The earliest I’ll be allowed to come is day after tomorrow: December 1. However, knowing my Belle like I do, I’d bet she’ll make me wait until the weekend. Saturday will be 99 days. Will she make me wait until Sunday for the even 100? Will she allow me to be out of the Steelheart until then? As I mentioned yesterday, she let me out of the tube on Saturday. Since then, I’ve literally rubbed the penis raw in frustration. Is it any wonder I prefer to be locked up? Do you have any idea how long it takes me to get out of the bathroom in the morning like this?

As an aside, I may need to come up with a better term then “locked up” since the double cock ring also has a lock, the key to which is not in my possession. I am, technically, still locked up, but not at all in the way I am in the chastity device. 

Speaking of rubbing, the new Steelworxx double cock ring (DCR) has forced me to modify my technique. As I pointed out yesterday, when fully erect, the skin on the penis isn’t as loose with the DCR in place. Based on my own first-hand experience with other erect male penises, the skin on “mine” is relatively pliable. I hardly ever have had to use lubrication when jerking off. One guy I know with a particularly fine specimen had to lubricate. When he was hard, it was all monolithic and tight (and so wonderfully hefty). I have always suspected this difference was due to how our individual circumcisions took place (i.e., how much did the doc cut off), but I’ve never been with an uncut guy to verify.

But I digress. My point is, the rings keep things tight down there and that’s partly why I’m raw. I didn’t use enough lube. The other factor is how the skin on the shaft seems to get more sensitive after it’s been locked away for a long time. The other other factor is overuse. Plain, simple self-abuse. Having not been told by Belle not to do it, I have been indulging myself repeatedly.

Besides that, the other new wrinkle the DCR has added to my style is how it’s effectively reduced the length of the penis’ shaft. The penis, as I’ve said here before, is, when fully hard, a perfectly average 5 5/8″ long. The DCR takes about an inch of pullable meat away. Then, on the other end, is the PA ring which can be tricky to masturbate over. Typically, I rub up to it and let my fingers open so they go around. Too much pushing and pulling on the ring can make the hole sore. Take that into account and I’m left with less than four inches of beatable meat. My palm is about 3.5″ across. You see my predicament.

Which, of course, I like. I am, technically, free. And in December, I’ll be even freer since Belle has said I’ll be able to come whenever I want. But the DCR complicates that a bit. I can jack off but it’s awkward. I can get pleasure, but there are still some boundaries and issues. I’m all about boundaries and issues.

I’ll close this post by thanking Tom for the nice call-out the other day on his blog:

Thumper is one of the few — very few — “chastity blogs” that has managed to stay fresh and interesting. I don’t always agree with him; hell, I don’t even always understand him. But there’s no question that Thumper is writing from a special, deep place, and you simply can’t doubt his honesty and emotional openness.

At first I was like, “Aw, that’s nice,” and then I was all, “Wait, doesn’t always agree with me?” and then, “Doesn’t understand me!?” before thinking, “Am I disagreeable? Am I that weird!?” Which, of course, is one of the things about me I’m sure Tom doesn’t understand. In any event, I truly appreciate the props. I’ll do my best not to obsess over the agreeing and understanding bits. As I said…boundaries and issues. That’s me.

1. Blogging is communal: In 2008, I wrote that “blogging is not just an act of publishing but also a communal activity. It is more than leaving comments; it is about creating connections.” That is the single biggest lesson learned of these past 10 years. Every connection has lead to a new idea, new thought and a new opportunity.

I have enjoyed making connections with the readers of my words more than I would have expected when I started. I also like being in a community of others who write about what I write about. One of my favorite parts of blogging is being able to bounce off something another person wrote (either on their own blog or in my comments).

2. Being authentic in your thoughts and voice is the only way to survive the test of time.

Maybe the best of his tips, and especially applicable in the particular seedy back alley my blog inhabits.

3. Being wrong is as important as being right. What’s more important — when wrong, admit that you are wrong and listen to those who are/were right.

Yes. If I were ever wrong, I’m sure I’d admit it.

4. Be regular. And show up to blog every day. After all you are as fresh as your last blog post.

This one, I suppose, could be somewhat controversial. I think one should only blog when they have something to say, but I also agree that blogging once every three months is not the best way to do it. I know as a reader of blogs that irregularity can be somewhat disappointing.

5. Treat others as you expect yourself to be treated.

That’s just good advice all the way around. It’s especially a problem on the web.

6. (In 2006 I wrote this and it is worth repeating) Doc Searls once told me, and it has been one of the guiding principles for me: blog if you have something to say and respect your reader’s time. If you respect their time, they are going to give you some time of their day.

As a blogger, the line between writing for myself and writing for my readers is not always bright and clear. It’s true that I’ve sometimes thought about hanging it up (or, at least, felt like it), but seeing all those little eyeballs showing up every day has motivated me to keep going. That said, it’s also the case that I’ve started a lot of posts only to kill them before they see the light of day because they’re pointless (chastity blogging in particular can get repetitively dull after a while and blogs on the subject seem to burn brightly yet briefly in general). Blogging, I find, is like working out. The more you do it, the more you want to do it. If you take a break, it can be hard to get back into the swing of things. On this blog, if I write, it’s because I wanted to. The challenge is finding something to write about that I think is worthy of your time to read. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. Hopefully, when I don’t, I recognize that and you aren’t forced to wade through it.

7. A long time ago, Slate’s Farhaad Manjoo asked me for some tips on blogging and here is what I told him – Wait at least 15 minutes before publishing something you’ve written—this will give you enough distance to edit yourself dispassionately.

Good practical advice. I often let a post sit for a while before publishing it. When I don’t, I invariably wish I had. I also read them several times, both in the editor and in preview. And still there are typos…

8. Write everything as if your mom is reading your work, a good way to maintain civility and keep your work comprehensible.

Well, obviously, I can’t do this, but if we lived in some alternate reality where a mom could read her son’s sex blog, I would hope that I’ve followed the spirit of the statement.

9. Blogging is not about opinion but it is about viewing the world in a certain way and sharing it with others how you look at things.

I love this one. It summarizes how I approach my blogging here perfectly. It’s an attribute of all my favorite blogs I had never realized before.

The tenth lesson comes from Kevin Kelleher when he was writing for us back in 2010. In his post, How the Internet changed writing he noted:

Many bloggers tailor headlines and posts so that they’ll surface at the top of search results, making them at once easier to find and less enjoyable to read. And this decade, a lot of other bloggers mistook a strong writing voice for caustic irreverence. But most eventually learned that writing with snark is like cooking with salt — a little goes a long way.

If anything, avoiding that trap Kevin mentioned is the biggest lesson of them all.

Well…it worked for Bitchy Jones, didn’t it?

Last Saturday, I got back home from the annual Thanksgiving family trek (mother and her husband in tow, but no Belle who stayed an extra day) and found a small parcel from Deutschland sitting on my front stoop. The Steelworxx Double Cockring had arrived. Having been set free of the Steelheart Short the day before, I bundled it off to a secluded spot to check it out and try it on.

Steelworxx Double Cockring with integrated lock

My initial impression was that the gap between the A-ring and the penis ring was enormous. When ordering, I didn’t even think about that, to be honest, and gave Dietmar no direction regarding that measurement. I know I would have asked him to make it smaller had I considered it and, after wearing it, I’m glad I didn’t. While it’s a much bigger gap than on the SH-S, it’s also a very different device. While the SH-S is meant to suppress full hydraulic pressure, the double cock ring has to operate with all systems go. In a sense, they’re purposes are opposite. The Steelheart is meant to compress, restrain, and stifle an erection while the DCR is designed to embrace and perhaps even enhance one. In any event, the penis ring is the same beefy steel used for the A-ring and makes for a much more muscular look than I was expecting. This is a device that seems to celebrate a hard-on rather than squish it into submission.

DCR versus the Steelheart

I spent some time worrying about the penis ring sizing. My plan is to wear this device whenever Belle leaves me out of the SH-S and that means it needs to be big enough so that shit doesn’t start turning purple on me. In the past, I had measured the penis to be ~40mm around at its base and wanted something that was snug and noticeable yet not too constricting. I wasn’t sure how the A-ring would affect the plumpness of the erection, though, and wasn’t in a position to figure it out (being all locked up when I bought it). Originally, I ordered the penis ring at 38mm since that was the closest option on the page, but after some consideration, I asked Dietmar to make it 39mm (note that he can make sizes not listed as options on his site – just ask). The A-ring is 45mm (versus the SH-S which has a 40mm ring and 35mm diameter tube).

The result is just about perfect. When hard, there’s just enough constriction. I definitely know it’s there yet blood seems to be able to flow. The A-ring bites enough to have some teeth when the penis is really hard and, not unlike the SH-S, causes some of the erection to back up behind it (which, oddly, has become a normal and almost comforting sensation for me). The two rings cause the skin on the erection to be pulled tight making it less pliable. Even though I can get fully hard, the tightness of the skin and biting around the base of the shaft still provide me with a sense of being constrained. Due to the tightness of the skin, jacking off practically requires lubrication.

The flip side to that is when the penis is in its most flaccid state. Then, the big steel penis ring makes it look even less impressive and even somewhat pathetic. Like a little old man wearing a linebacker’s padding. Regarding security, yes, just like with any other trapped-ball device, this one can be backed out of, though there’s obviously not much point in doing so. The gap between the rings, while greater, is not nearly big enough for me to slip my nuts though, so I would not be able to get  it entirely off.

After the jump, you’ll find the obligatory in situ picture (which, while perhaps not as graphic as recent entries, is what makes this an official HNThumper entry – number 40!).

Me in the DCR, semi-chubby.

Previous HNThumpers here. Read all about Half-Nekkid Thursday over at Osbasso’s.

Using the Flipboard iPad app to browse your Tumblr dashbord is fantastic. The perfect porn consumption combination. Highly recommended.

UPDATE: I take “perfect” back. It only seems to load a finite number of posts. It would be perfect if it kept loading them infinitely. Still. Very pretty.

“What are you doing down there?”

“Where?”

She lifted the covers and saw my hand wrapped around the stiff penis.

“There.”

“Nothing. Just…nothing.”

“You’re jacking it.”

“Only a little.”

“Maybe it’s time to put you back in.”

She got the device and brought it to me. I waited until the erection had subsided enough to push it all through the little ring. Each testicle, swollen with desire, went grudgingly before popping through with a twinge and a yelp. The penis, in that transitional state between plump and stiff, pliable enough to push through if I thought about anything else than what I was doing in front of her and at her direction. I put the security fixing though the PA ring and stuffed it and the still-chubby penis into the tube. I had to force the tube and the ring to join, compressing the swelling contents so the pieces would align. I held the package up to her and she slid the small brass lock into place and turned the key.

“There, that’s more like it. That’s how you should be.”

She placed her hand on the package, but I only felt her finders on my balls.

In my chest, I felt a wave of emotions. Regret that access to the penis was gone, relief that it wouldn’t be a distraction anymore. Satisfaction that my status was no longer in doubt (had she forgotten about me? did she have plans for it?). But mostly just a warm blanket of love and affection for the woman who kept me this way. I sank quickly and deeply into the comfortable fuzziness of my submission.

“Thank you.”

All greased up with the silicone lube, but don’t worry. The lidocaine was in use and I couldn’t feel a damned thing. Didn’t even dribble.

Previous HNThumpers here. Read all about Half-Nekkid Thursday over at Osbasso’s.

First up, researchers have discovered a link between those men who have sex with animals and their incidence of penis cancer.

Of the 118 penile cancer patients, 45 percent reported having sex with animals, compared with 32 percent of healthy men, who visited the medical centers for benign conditions, check-ups or cancer prevention. Fifty-nine percent of men who had sex with animals did so for one to five years, while 21 percent continued the behavior, also known as zoophilia, for more than five years. The subjects reported a variety of frequencies for their sex acts, ranging from monthly to daily.

Two things. Penis cancer!? Great. Now I have that to worry about. Also, it’s a good thing that in all my animal sex fantasies, I’m the bottom.

Second up, it is now possible to see what a woman’s orgasm looks like inside her brain. You can even see a video of an orgasm as it develops if you follow the link.

To make the animation, researchers monitored a woman’s brain as she lay in a functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) scanner and stimulated herself. The research will help scientists to understand how the brain conducts the symphony of activity that leads to sexual climax in a woman.

So how long until a portable version of this is developed to help men know when she’s faking it he’s doing it right?

Next night didn’t work because (duh), football (she’s the fan, not me) and then it was Monday and yet another football game (and besides, it goes without saying that Monday is not the night anyone has sex) and now it’s Tuesday and she’s at work dinner thing and, well, so it goes. All the while I’ve had to deal with a free penis. Like, four whole days. This is excruciatingly difficult for me since, as they say, the flesh is weak. It’s especially weak 82 days since it last had an orgasm. I usually get my mornings to myself and yesterday the penis and I had a pretty good time (check back on HNThursday). Too good a time, actually, and I eventually covered it in the handy lidocaine so it’d stop bothering me. This morning, I went right for the stuff and slathered it all over to help blunt the distraction. Belle said something about needing to lock me back up soon, but I don’t know when that’s going to happen.

What I do know is I’m only about two and half weeks from an orgasm and a promised “break” in which I’ll get to come whenever I want for a while. I’m fixated on this. Whenever I think about the penis or get turned on by Belle or whatever, my mind goes straight to how it’ll feel to finally get to have an orgasm. And not just one. As many as I like, apparently. It sounds ridiculously indulgent, even as I write it out. As many as I like. Imagine getting to sit down as soon as you’re done trick-or-treating and eat the whole damn bag of candy. That’s what this impeding spurtathon feels like to me.

Several weeks ago, I ordered a double cock ring from Steelworxx. I just got notification today that it’s been shipped which means it should get here right in time. I bought it because, the truth is, I just don’t like how it feels not to have anything at all around the penis. Totally natural feels unnatural now. I also like that it locks and even if I get to do with the penis whatever I want, Belle can still hold my key. That’s important to me.

As you can see, pull all you want, there’s no way out of this thing.

For the overly geeky in the crowd, this video was produced entirely on an iPhone 4S using iMovie.

For me, the Steelheart Short is like a stainless steel alarm clock nestled between my legs. After wearing it for weeks, I will sometimes only wake slightly from it, but I will always wake up at least a little. That didn’t happen as reliably with the first Steelheart, but its tube was much bigger and its A-ring was 5mm larger.

Yeah, so anyway, every stinking morning, weekend or weekday, at some point give or take 15 minutes from 5:30 AM, the magical tumescence reaches its zenith and my eyes open. Every. Day. Except for this morning. Today, being essentially the first real morning of Standard Time, the penis woke me up at 4:40. In the morning.

Apparently, my circadian rhythm hasn’t fallen back yet.

Here’s how bad it’s gotten. See that floor tile? It’s from our bathroom. Specifically, it’s the floor right in front of our toilet. I get to look at it a lot since, as most everyone know, it’s easier to pee into a toilet sitting down when wearing a chastity device (some of them require it).

Anyways, I’m sitting there looking at this tile and all of a sudden I see something I’ve never seen before: the form of a reclining nude woman. I can see her breast, her stomach and right leg. Even her bush. And I’m like, what. The. Fuck.

The phenomenon of seeing meaningful shapes in otherwise random patterns is called pareidolia, though I’ve never heard of it being driven by hormones.

This morning, we were rolling around in bed (read: I was holding on to her while I rolled around in frustration), kissing her face and putting my hand on her ass and generally going mad. I got pretty worked up. So much so, that a little later I had one of those patented long-term chastity precum eruptions that ran out the tube and was all cold, sticky, and wet down my left leg. There was a gooey patch on the inside of my pajamas and the tube’s end got all crusty as the fruit of my frustration cured.

How long has it been? August 25th was the last day I came. So thats…seventy-two days. And at least twenty-six more to go. Will she make me go an even hundred? Conveniently, the first Saturday in December would be exactly that.

In talking about her decision to let me go free once December rolls around (as in, free to do with the penis whatever I want whenever I want to), we agree that we’re both a little nervous. Part of me hates the idea. Not so much the coming a lot part, but the lack of all that coming being connected to her. If she told me she wanted me come every night for a month, I’d be cool with that. If she said I could come whenever I wanted as long as she was present, I’d be cool with that, too. For the past three years, I’ve essentially lashed my sexuality to hers. Pushing off from that will be hard. And somewhat sad, to be honest.

Then again, there’s another part of me (the part that’s so fucking horny) that can’t wait for twenty-five or however many days it will be so I can come again. As soon as I knew the plan, it felt like the penis was pushing against the inside of the tube wanting to get out. Everyone knows what’s coming now. The stasis field has been broken. Come on, already! But no, Belle says I will wait. So here I sit.

The other day, while tending The Portfolio, I found what I think is a picture of the world’s most perfect cock (with this one being a close second). Unsurprisingly, it is not entirely dissimilar to this one yet is totally different than the one currently secured in my pants. It inspired me to reignite a fiction project I had been working on involving my sexual fantasies. I had, in a sense, found my leading man. I’ve mentioned before how hot and bothered stories involving cuckolding get me so, of course, that’s what this is basically about. One of the main issues I have with written porn (besides the numbing redundancy of so much involving chastity and denial) is when it veers into the unbelievable. I get that it’s fantasy and all so a certain suspension of disbelief is required to enjoy it, but when it gets ridiculously silly, I lose my interest. So, in coming up with my story, I decided to try to lace just enough reality into it to ensure the reader can empathize with the happenings. Also, for me, what the characters are feeling is almost as important as what they’re doing. Maybe more important.

And now it’s gotten a little out of hand. I have so many scenarios and ideas in my head and am spending so much time trying to put myself in the shoes of each of the three characters, it’s become less a short story and more a novella. There’s a chance it’ll never get done, of course. The problem I’m facing is when I write a scene down, I get so turned on doing it that I have a hard time focusing my thoughts and making my fingers type the right keys. I may be too horny to write porn. Regardless, I posted a small (yet critical to the story) snippet to The Portfolio last night.

It’s interesting to me that I can post pictures of my junk online but writing down my fantasies like this makes me feel more vulnerable and nervous. I guess that’s because it’s a peek into my head while all the HNT in the world doesn’t give you much more than a surface view. I know that the story is from the part of my fantasies that will remain firmly planeted in Fantasyland, but maybe that makes it even harder to reveal.

“Yeah…?”

“November’s your month.”

“No it’s not. You said December was.”

Pause. “I did?”

“Yes! You said December!”

I pulled up the relevant blog entry on my phone and showed her.

“Oh,” she said, “You’ve still got a ways to go, don’t you?”

Fuck.

–

We were out Saturday night on a date when that exchange took place. We saw a movie and were having a late dinner (by Midwest standards). Apparently, she forgot I was being punished. Had I just gone along with it, I’d be coming in a matter of days. As it is, 30 more days before it’s even an option.

After we had that misunderstanding resolved, she surprised me by telling me that once I come in December, she plans on leaving me out for up to two months during which time I’ll be allowed to do whatever I want. She says she recognizes I’ve settled into a nice place living without orgasms and she likes what I’ve become, but she wants to see what I’ll be like if I go back to living like I used to. As if I’m Pinocchio and she’s the Blue Fairy come to turn me into a real boy. Regardless, she says I will be locked up and denied again at some point and she expects me to be whiny and complain about it when it happens but that I will have no choice.

This news has left me with mixed emotions. On the one hand, as soon as she told me her plan I wanted immediate release. Why wait, I asked. Let’s just go now! But no, I have 30 more days, like it or not. Knowing that I will not only come in about a month but likely come a lot has got me so horny I can feel it in my teeth. She’s perfectly happy watching me squirm over it.

Then again, I admit to also feeling a sense of loss at the prospect of regaining this element of my life. When you live as I do with a deep well of desire never far away and a piece of equipment immovably affixed to your body, there’s a certain sense of specialness that goes along with it all. The device and my denial demonstrate that someone cares for me enough to take on the responsibility of tending to my sexual release. I’m not like the other boys. Once it’s off and I can squirt away to my heart’s content, I become like any other guy who can masturbate in the shower and come weakly whenever he wants. After living as I have for the past three years, I don’t ever want to go back.

Which, of course, is not to say I don’t have the raw desire to jack off daily. Of course I do. That’s nature. It’s my lizard brainstem pushing to execute its programming (and right now, it’s pushing pretty hard). But enveloping that is the belief (perhaps enhanced and perpetuated by the very hormones it produces) that being denied my orgasm has made me a better person. Once I come (and I will, a lot), this sense of “enlightenment” will evaporate. That’s the thing about denial. It’s like a perpetual motion machine. Once you start, you want to do it forever but once you stop, you barely want to do it at all.

I think what Belle wants to know is if any of my “better spouse” mojo will stick after three years of building it up or will I revert to what I was. I think I know what will happen. Knowing that she’ll eventually force me back to where I am now is a comforting thought.

Belle let me out of my confinement last Wednesday night in anticipation of our family trip to New York the following day. I had been encased for two solid weeks at that point, but I didn’t get much chance to enjoy my freedom since we were up late packing and the alarm went off in the wee hours of the next day so we could catch our flight. Then, three nights with the four of us in a Manhattan hotel room didn’t exactly lend itself to any penis play time.

But that’s not to say I didn’t get something out of it. Like any great city, New York is all about walking. Having not seen the light of day for so long left the head of the penis extraordinarily sensitive. As I’d walk, the motion would cause the penis to move against the fabric inside my pants and I’d find myself very distracted. What’s more, I’d eventually develop a raging boner, all from nothing more than incidental contact with my clothing.

We got home very late Sunday night and Belle told me I’d go in the next night. Monday morning, I found myself edging in the shower. It’s been two months since I came and I’m too weak to keep my hands off when I have the opportunity. Getting out of the shower, I decided to conduct an experiment that would provide me with practical information and make sure I didn’t spill any seed.

I’ve played around with lidocaine cream in the past and found it to be a really good way to temporarily deny myself the ability to orgasm even without a device in place. Recently, I’ve read several accounts of men in my position who’ve used it to allow their partners full penetrative sex while removing worry that it’d make them come (like this one). I told Belle this and she seemed somewhat interested in the idea since the most limiting factor of my denial is her enjoyment of riding the erect penis. Also, I have felt guilt in the past in not being able to give her this activity that she likes so much.

So, I bought a new tube of the stuff, this time at a 5% strength versus the 4% cream I’ve used in the past. What I wanted to find out was A) how long would it take before the penis was numb enough to safely use, and B) what parts of the penis could I leave with sensation and still not be concerned with orgasm?

First off, this stuff ain’t cheap. I got a 2 ounce tube (this one, marketed as an anorectal cream – sexy!) and paid $50. I don’t recall how much the 4% cream I got last time was (and I can’t find it on Amazon any more), but it wasn’t anything like that much. The 5% version is more expensive, but I figured it’d also be 20% faster/longer lasting. Good news is, it doesn’t take much of the stuff to do the job so we should be able to get many session from the one tube.

The reason I wanted to know how long it took for numbness to set in is, of course, I don’t want to leave Belle waiting. Plus, I wanted to know how much advance planning it’d take to use. Turns out, I was sufficiently sedated after about 10-12 minutes (which is a bit faster than the 4% cream). I could still feel a little, but not enough to come. I applied it only on the head and maybe 30% of the end of the shaft, making sure to use the PA ring to get it down inside the urethra, too. I left some of the shaft with sensation since I’m worried that total lack of penile feeling would make keeping an erection difficult. Interestingly, once it had taken affect, the penis felt warmer than it had before. I assume this is because its skin couldn’t feel the air around it anymore. In any event, that was my clue that it was ready to try. I washed the remaining cream off and towel-dried the meat.

I jacked off pretty intensely for about 10 minutes. For most of that time, I had the sensation of wanting to come (my nuts even drew up as if I was about to), but I could never quite get there. It was like having a sneeze ready to come out, but never being able to get it out. I could feel the lower half of the penis pretty good, so my brain knew what was happening, but all the nerve endings in the business end were silent. After maybe 15 minutes, I started to feel like an orgasm was about to happen and I found myself edging again, even with a mostly numb dick. Unlike last time I tried this, there still was sensation in part of the shaft and that seemed to be enough after a long while to move the internal machinery in place. Next time, I’ll make sure to apply the cream further down the bottom of the shaft as feeling in that area seems to be integral in achieving orgasm even when the head has none. Also, if I have the time, I might also apply a second coat.

I think Belle wanted to have sex last night, but it was not to be. She told me I could stay out one more day, but I find being unprotected to be maddeningly distracting. Especially after two months with at least one more to go. Based on that, she allowed me to lock myself back up. After she fell asleep, I did (though not before giving the penis one last round of wanking). If she wants to use it tonight (or whenever), I can get it out quickly enough. If she gives me 15 minutes of warning, I can even make it safely fuckable.

I woke up at 5:00 AM for the first time in days with the incredible pressure of a secured erection. It was intense, as always, but not in a way bad. The discomfort was actually comforting. It’s a feeling only a happily denied man can appreciate, to be sure. The feeling of not being tempted by the annoying penis and there being zero chance of accidentally squirting. It felt safe and secure and perfectly natural.

Shot with an iPhone 4S and manipulated in a variety of applications. And yeah, I know, I could use a trim down there.

Click for a ridiculously large version suitable for framing, wrapping fish, or making into your desktop background. The runner-up to the version of this picture I went with can be viewed here.

Previous HNThumpers here. Read all about Half-Nekkid Thursday over at Osbasso’s.

The plan was for the family to go camping with another family we’re friends with at a local state park. Not real camping since there would be electricity and a bathroom nearby (with real running water), plus about a hundred other people in neighboring campsites. Not at all like I’m used to. But, in a tent with a fire so it would kinda sorta feel like camping. Earlier in the week, though, Belle had returned from a business trip with a cold that did nothing but get worse until Friday rolled around so it was just the boy and I who went.

The Steelheart came along, too. Belle had forgotten about it. There were several times I thought to say something, but I never got around to mentioning it to her. So I was still locked (as I have been for two straight weeks). I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do about it. It wasn’t like being in the device would get in the way of any of the activities we were doing and it was only for two nights. My biggest concern was one of hygiene. Turns out there were hot showers there for the “campers” so Saturday morning I was in there swishing myself clean. Well, cleanish.

I observed something interesting, though. As any guy who is often locked up knows, it’s not always spring fresh down there. And what I’ve discovered is how long it’s been since a good cleaning isn’t necessarily a correlating factor to how it smells. Urine is, after all, distilled continuously and from constantly varying sources. Sometimes, it’s apparently odorless and not unlike hot water while at other times it’s not (as in the morning, for example). What I found was, as contrary to common sense as this may sound, peeing is one way to freshen up one’s steel tube, especially if it’s done after recently drinking a lot of fluid.

So anyway, I came back in reasonable working order and have been feeling pretty randy since Belle has recovered from her illness. She very subtly drove me crazy a few nights ago night by stroking my head and resting her hand on the device, finger tips brushing lightly against my tight scrotum. The next morning, we had some aggressive snuggling that left me feeling a little light-headed. I’m pushing eight weeks since my last orgasm and have only been out of the device for maybe 7-10 days total. I’m minimally seven weeks away from my next orgasm, though it’s hard to say since I’ve only been told “Decemeber”. It could be longer than that.

Anyway, I was moderately turned on this morning but not as frothed up as I can be. So I was surprised to find that I had passed quite a lot of thick, ropey white goo during my morning leak. Not only that, but I kept leaking all morning long, even after my shower. That slick n’ slippery stuff just kept drip, drip, dripping out of me. Plus, I have to say, my nuts felt absolutely massive to me. Fat and swollen as I groped them in frustration.

Last night, she finally let me get her off. Her pussy was so wet and so hot that just touching it made me moan. It’s remarkable how just feeling her there can electrify me. In the past, it was just a junction to get past before inserting the penis. Now, I crave just that. When she came, I had two fingers in and felt the post-orgasmic spasms perfectly. For me, more moaning and an overwhelming desire to bite something. For her, bliss.

Once we had settled down to sleep, me spooning into her from behind, she rapped her knuckle against the device which was at about the same spot as her hand.

“I just love that steel tube,” she said.

*wimper*

Today is the third anniversary of Denying Thumper.

• 627 posts
• Half a million words(?)
• 8,923 video views
• 2,753 comments
• 37 HNThumpers

Still going strong.

Had I more time, I’d get all introspectively Thumpery, but I’m rushed today. Couldn’t let the day pass without a post, though.

I admit to never having purchased from them, but they were in the UK and the shipping charges were prohibitive. Plus, most of their stuff I could get from a US seller. Anyway, I’m sad about this.

Poor Tickleberry. Ye shall be missed.

Thumper, this sounds like a trite question (it isn’t meant to be) but are you happier as a person now?

Put another way, did control of your sex make you unhappy?

Then Chaz added…

You state that your OK with it. I think those that say you are trained might offer congratulations, yet I get more a sense of resigned acceptance from this post. It almost has a BCWYWF feel to it. I would echo CQ’s comment. Are you happy? You say you have changed, I would like to ask is it change for the better? Are you a better husband lover friend father? “BROKEN” as a title I would take to mean your will, but could it refer to something that needs to be fixed?

As I started to formulate a reply, I realized I might need a little more room, so here we are.

Starting at the end and with the title “Broken,” that was just a play on words. I used the “broken horse” metaphor in the post to describe how I was feeling about my sexual urges and it was a reference to that. Also, as I alluded to in the post, “broken” might have been how I would have described those feelings at an earlier stage in our dynamic. I wasn’t trying to say I was broken or my sex drive was (hell no!) or we were or anything ominous like that.

With regard to resigned acceptance, I guess that’s not an inaccurate description. What other option do I have? I could rail against my confinement and the generally low level of sexual activity we’ve had lately, but to what end? To put extra pressure on her? To make her feel guilty? To suggest I want out of the device and from under the dynamic? I don’t want any of those things. Hell yes I want more sex, but the timing wasn’t right and no matter how horny or frothed up I get, there’s nothing I can do about it. So yes, resigned acceptance. Acceptance that being the object of long-term enforced chastity isn’t always a crazy pornfest type of existence. Sometimes, things don’t work out how you’d like them to. You might be able to characterize resigned acceptance as negative, but you might just as well call it a healthy frame of mind and more productive than moaning and pissing about my grievances.

With regard to the “be careful what you wish for” vibe, yeah, totally, I was going for that. I can remember how incredibly turned-on the idea of chastity made me even when I was actually in that kind of relationship. I can remember how surreally horny I used to get and hopped up on hormones I’d be. This, though, is perhaps what the long tail of chastity looks like. Once your body adjusts and the new device smell goes away, you have to figure out a way to live with it. Be careful because sometimes it’s not all that hot. Sometimes, it’s freaking boring.

Am I a better “husband lover friend father”? I would really have to let Belle answer that, but I think I am a better husband. I think I was already a pretty good lover, though now I’m not able to use the penis on her in the way I know she likes. I was already very attentive in bed. I’d say that’s a push. Better friend? No, we’ve always been good friends. Better father? I’m not sure any of this has impacted that aspect of my life much at all.

Now, am I happy? That’s a bit trickier.

CQ asked, “Did control of your sex make you unhappy?” In a way, yes, because control of my sex led me to cheat on Belle. But, larger than that, control over my sex also led me away from her as it was easier and more convenient to pleasure myself than to seek that pleasure from her. I’m not making that “masturbation addiction” argument as I think it’s crap, but had I been able to jack off at will over the past few weeks, I wouldn’t be at all drawn to Belle for my needs. And isn’t that pretty much the entire point of enforced chastity? To bring a couple together so they can enjoy sexual intimacy only with each other and not by themselves? That morning we finally had sex was fantastic even though I was fucking horny as hell and left literally dripping with desire afterward.

No, I won’t say control over my sex left me unhappy, but having her control my sex does make me happier more often than not. Nothing in this world in perfect. There are no silver bullets. Living as I do is the same. There are good days, there are bad days. There are fucking amazing days, there are god awful days. In balance, though, I am where I want to be.

So, as a coda to my previous post, I should say having that one sexual session has changed my attitude remarkably. I’m feeling much hornier and more connected to my desires than I was before. Even to the point that holding the device in my hand as I clean it makes me think so much about what it means to have it on that it fills up with chubby penis meat and I can’t flush water through it. I’ll find myself fingering the hard ring under my waistband and, again, the stupid penis will try its best to plump out.

I am denied. My sex is totally controlled. And I am so fucking turned on by that.

If you’ve read this blog for a while (or from the beginning), you’ll know what I’m talking about. The number of nights I’ve laid in bed frustrated and angry at Belle for ignoring me and my needs have been numerous. I submitted to Belle in body only. My mind and spirit wanted more.

You might be wondering why things have been quiet here and it’s because things have been quiet here, in the real world, as well. Due to travel and nighttime work obligations and whatever else, we haven’t had sex for at least two weeks. Instead of being petulant or grumpy or in some way pressuring Belle, I just sort of cruised. I didn’t feel angsty inside. I didn’t feel much of anything. It was like my sex drive had been taped up in a box and put away somewhere out of reach.

Sure, I wanted her. I wanted all kinds of things, but I didn’t dwell on it or let any of those feelings back up on her. There was a sort of zen-like calm over me. Had I been out of the device, I’m sure I would have been rubbing the penis at every opportunity, but I didn’t have access and it was like it wasn’t even there. Before, not only would this have been hard for me to imagine, but I would have hated the very idea. Not having a great urge for sex and not really missing that urge would have been a state of mind I would have actively resisted.

Be that as it may, here I am. I’m not unhappy about it. I should be. I would have expected myself to be, but I’m not. How is it possible that I’ve gone over six weeks without an orgasm and have been denied access to the penis for nearly all that time and am not pissed off over the lack of sex? I dunno. If you were so inclined, you’d say I’ve been successfully trained. That the spirit of my inner male has been broken and the animal that once resisted control has now taken to its tack and saddle with equanimity. I think that’s about right. I am not, fundamentally, the same man I was three years ago. Not even one year ago. The experience of infrequent orgasm and nearly perpetually locked manhood have deeply affected me. Sometimes, I don’t even feel like a man anymore. I look like one and sound like one, but I’m not one. I’m something other. And, against all expectations, I’m OK with that.

We did eventually have sex, though. Yesterday, she let me feel her and suck her and finger her to orgasm. When it was over, I was quite hard and packed tightly into the tube. I wanted more. She started gently fingering my nuts and I opened myself to her, silently begging for more of her attention. Instead of more gentle caressing, she slapped me. Smacking my nuts instead of what I really wanted. I didn’t say anything. I just took it. She’d stroke and caress then SMACK! Inside, I was begging her to stop that and only be gentle, but whenever the words got close to being said, I felt them get trampled by the heavy boots of my domination. I don’t have the right to tell her what to do with those nuts. If she wants to make me feel good through them, she can. If she wants me to feel pain though them, she can. If she wants both, she can do that, too. And, while it hurt, it also really turned me on. And it made me appreciate all the more those moments of gentle caressing.

“Fuck, I want to be inside you,” I moaned on all fours, her body beneath mine.

Smack, smack! SMACK!! I cringed. It was as if she was reminding me of my place and punishing my impertinence.

Gently caressing the tight nutsack, she said, “Not now, Thumper. Soon. Maybe. It’s better for you to wait.”

Of course. She’s right. I should wait.

Later that morning, as I walked around the house in my baggy pajama bottoms, I could feel cold sticky strands of precum dripping down my inner thigh, getting caught up in my leg hair. Reaching inside, I could feel the end of the tube slick and covered with the gooey byproduct of my position. Bringing it to my face, I inhaled its subtle aroma and sucked it off my fingers. And I moaned.

And yeah, I know it’s not Thursday!

Previous HNThumpers here. Read all about Half-Nekkid Thursday over at Osbasso’s.

An update: I’ve been wearing the CB6000s for a few days now and it is a tighter fit for sure…

I bet! I never got a CB6Ks tube because I misunderstood why one would want it. I would ask if it was better or not, but then you said…

But my erections now seem to just push the entire device fwd so that the A ring slides up the shaft and pushes the balls forward. It’s uncomfortable to wear the device when the ring is not at the base of the cock but riding up it instead.

Is there a solution for this? Is it likely that the cock ring is too big? I’m using the middle sized ring and second to smallest spacer… I can fit into the next ring down but its rather tight and I can’t wear it for long… it can be painful at times and feels too tight

Do you have any secrets for keeping the ring in place and/or readjusting when it slides up?

Are you using lubricant at night? It doesn’t work miracles, but lubed is vastly better than not. How long have you been wearing a device? I don’t think you mentioned in your first note. Based on my experience, I’d say your scrotum hasn’t yet adjusted to being an anchor. As I’ve said in the past, my scrotum stretched over time. At the very beginning, the stress on my nuts was very painful (exacerbated, I think, by the sharp edge on the CB6K cuff). Now, they’re much more “relaxed” and the erection doesn’t pull on them any longer.

But does that mean your ring’s too big? Hard to say. If you can’t wear the next size down without discomfort even when flaccid, then you’re in the right one. You should be able to hook your pinky in there when soft. Remember that over time, the smallest ring  you can wear will change. It kinda sounds like your ring is a tad too big, but if the next one’s too tight, you have to wait until your body changes enough to allow you to wear it. This doesn’t go on forever, of course. There is an absolute smallest size you can wear and it’s probably not the smallest ring that came in the box.

Recently, I switched to the larger of my two Steelheart rings. My usual one is 40mm, the big one is 45. Since then, I’ve found that the device rides lower all the time, which would be expected, and is surprisingly more noisy (what with the PA ring clanking around inside), but I seldom wake up due to erections. In fact, the entire sensation of being hard in it is quite mild. Confined and nicely tight, but not uncomfortable. In the smaller ring, the erection is constricted more and the erectile tissue balloons out behind the device inside my body. The upshot of that is that it then tends not to pull on my balls as much. In the larger one, I get something much closer to a proper stiffy and find about 2/3″ of erection outside the device behind the ring. It still bulges a bit inside my body, but not as much. Long way to say, if your device has too big a ring, I might expect it to fit more like mine (and it sounds like it does), but I’d also expect it to be more comfortable. All bodies are different, especially when one’s been locked up for three years and one hasn’t, and the CB6K is not going to sit the same way the SH-S does.

I know this all makes fitting a device sound incredibly complicated, and I guess it is to a point. There’s only so far one man’s experience will get you before your own specifics get in the way. If only I had a lab full of men to test on.

Hmm. Now there’s a thought.

Thanks for everything… your blog is a great resource.

We aim to please.

My situation in many ways resembles yours. Except I have a wife AND a girlfriend that both serve as keyholder.

Whoa there, pardner. You have two women locking you up? You know what they say. Pictures or it never happened. Minimally, you need to provide more details about how that works.

Via Dan Savage.

So, before I continue, yes, this is going to be one of those self-referential blog posts about the blog. We all get to do them from time to time. I thought, in the spirit of posting something when I don’t actually have much to say on my own, that it might be interesting to tell you where most people who visit Denying Thumper through other sites come from. Here are my top five referrers from the past 30 days.

1. Keyheld

Keyheld was the brainchild of blogger Dev who wanted it to be the “go to” site for all things male chastity related. Apparently, she’s succeeded brilliantly. Keyheld is almost always my number one referrer on any given day and over the past month has sent me almost twice the clicks than that of my number two referrer. On the rare occasion that she features DT there, the clicks are even higher. It has certainly become the Chastity Blogroll to Rule Them All.

2. Femdom Resource

This one kind of surprised me. Yes, I see Femdom Resource in my list of referrers every day, but never would have guessed it was number two. But is it. I now feel so guilty about getting all that traffic from there totally unreciprocated that I’ve added the site to my own page of liked links. I had thought about it a couple times but never got around to it. In any event, it’s a very nice site and a great hub for many things related to femdommery.

3. Jane’s Guide

The newcomer! As I mentioned the other day, I’ve only recently been listed on the all-around swell adult review site Jane’s Guide. Day to day, it’s duking it out with Keyheld as my main source of links, but I suspect that may slow down once their review of me slips down the What’s New ladder.

4. Male Protection

This is the stumper. Male Protection describes itself as “a photocaption/
photomanipulation blog with original stories about enforced male chastity, boyification, penis reduction, mounding, age regression, erotic fashion, cfnm, femdom, role-reversal, cuckolding, asfr, transformations, and more.” And more! As if that’s not enough! I’m not even sure what “asfr” is.

The blogger over there with the broad and varied tastes goes by the name Chirenon and is actually quite good at the whole photocaption/photomanipulation thing. Some of the stuff he comes up with gives me an uncomfortable tube, to be sure, but what I’m stumped about is how very unlike our two sites are and how much traffic I get from his. It’s almost entirely made up of the fantastic while mine is the exact opposite. I’m not complaining or anything. Like I said, some of his stuff nicely flips my switch. He even coined the word “protector” in reference to chastity devices and  I know I’ve let it slip into my own writing from time to time. In any event, if you’re into photomanipulation (or any of the 56 other things his blog’s about), check it out.

5. The Kristen Archives

Number five is actually The Portfolio, but I’m disqualifying it since it’s part of the Worldwide Thumpermedia empire.

I’m not exactly sure why the vast collection of written porn called The Kristen Archives ranks so prominently. At the very bottom of their home page is a list of top referrers and DT is on that list, though I barely send them any traffic. To be honest, I think the list is broken. There was a couple weeks where, after I mentioned them in a post, my readers clicked over, but it’s dropped to a trickle. In any event, a respectable number of people seem to avoid clicking on any of the hundreds of salacious things above my site’s name way down the page and find themselves here. Hi, pervs! Nice to see you!

Rounding out the top dozen or so are a handful of blogs not unlike this one. Locked Husband leads that pack followed by he who begat us all, Tom Allen and The Edge of Vanilla. Then there’s The Wife Led Husband (even though his URL says he’s a secret chastity husband) and the Naked Husband. So many husbands. Husband, husband, husband. That’s a weird looking word if you read it too many times. Husband.

Mixed in amongst the blogs, there’s Reddit (which I admit to never having used nor can I even understand why it’s there), some Twitter clicks, and Chastity Forums. Then there’s the long tail of numerous other blogs and search engines stretching away into infinity, including, waaaaaaay down the list, a new year old blog about female chastity (there is such a thing!?). All that being said, the vast majority of people who read this blog come here directly and not through any other site. More than ten times as many people, apparently.

So there you have it. Now, since I obviously don’t have anything on topic to talk about, maybe you should click on one of the links above you’ve never seen before and check them out.

There’s really not much else to say around here. Belle was having her period for a while and then I had a very minor medical procedure that nonetheless messed me up for a day due to anesthetic. There’s hasn’t been a lot of action to report. The one thing I can say is that any speculation on the interwebs about long-term chastity having an adverse affect on the size of a man’s erection should cease. There’s one or a couple bloggers who suggest that keeping a guy locked up for a long time shrinks erections once they’re allowed out and, I suppose, there’s a sliver of logic at work in thinking that. In reality, however, it just doesn’t happen.

As I mentioned last week, I was out of the device for a day and a half due to some irritation. During that time, I found myself with a hard penis in my hand (purely for research and reporting purposes, of course – I’m always thinking about my readers) and decided, since it seemed like it was about as hard as it gets, that I’d check to see how things were going. I got the measuring tape and verified that Belle’s cock is every bit the 5 and 5/8s inches it has ever been, even though it spends almost all the time locked inside a very short steel tube.

I’ve said before I thought all this “chastity makes dicks smaller” stuff was wrong, but it’s worth saying again, I suppose. The root of this talk is two-fold, in my opinion. First, even something as small as the Steelheart Short seems relatively gargantuan when compared to the average flaccid penis. I know while I was out how shockingly small Belle’s seemed when it was soft, especially with a 4 GA circular barbell through the end of it, but as I said, it was exactly the same size as always. Free meat always seems amazingly uncomplicated but also much less substantial and put-together somehow. Second, I think at least some men who have come to the point where they’re kept in a device nearly all the time have also found themselves in a place very unlike that of other men. Specifically, their sex life and the satisfaction of their lover very often has little or nothing to do with their penis. It’s relative importance becomes less and the oversized role it plays in their sense of self diminishes. Some of them could start to wish their dicks were less significant because it plays into the nullification kink they might also be getting off on. They start to want a little penis, it feels smaller when it’s out, therefore, chastity makes it so.

No, ma’am. I’m not buying it.

Can’t see the denial working. Belle doesn’t like that control not being hers, as you’ve found when trying fixed long periods before.

If I had suggested the denial extension and Belle had said, “Oh, yeah, good idea. We’ll do that,” then I’d agree with you. It’s why I’m hesitant to suggest these things. Whose idea is this, anyway? But, Belle told me last night that “option four” was one of the ways she’s been considering that I be punished, so it’s not my idea. Also, since she came up with it and has chosen how much extra time will be added to my denial, it is her control. Before when we’ve done “extended denial” the periods were always somewhat arbitrary. Not so this time.

She told me this morning that I won’t come again until December. That’s about a one month extension, but since it was only “November” before and now it’s just “December” we could be looking at up to two extra months, depending on timing. In any event, it’s possible I’ll only come one more time this year. If it happens in the middle of December sometime, then I’ll have gone four months between orgasms. The longest I’ve gone before that was a hair under three months.

I mentioned yesterday that I moved back to the 45 mm cuff ring due to a nasty hot spot under the 40 mm ring. There is, of course, no difference at all with regard to security since the device is still affixed to me by my PA piercing and cannot be removed, but the looser ring makes it feel as though it’s not as secure. Getting it on was a total breeze. I am now able to report with certainty that my testicles are bigger around than 40 mm but smaller than 45 mm. In fact, they more or less fell through the larger ring. No wincing whatsoever. I was interested in how it’d feel overnight, but I can’t tell you. I wasn’t awaked at 4:00 as usual. Not even a little. I slept through all the nocturnal hydraulics. I guess that’s a good thing, but I have to admit that it kinda feels like cheating.

The healing is coming right along so I’ll stay in the 45 mm for the time being. Who knows. Maybe it’ll be the way I go from now on.

Back in bed and unable to sleep, I prompted a discussion about the recent series of posts and the revelation that if I was allowed to break the most basic tenant of our dynamic without consequence, then what did it mean to either of our commitments to that dynamic? Long story short, she’ll be deploying a series of punishments for the offense (as she thinks of them, I assume) and I have promised to reaffirm my commitment to never having an orgasm again without her permission. We’re both reaffirming this arrangement.

The first part of my punishment is not being allowed to sleep naked. It’s not that big of a deal, on the face of it, but I really like sleeping naked and have been very good about respecting that rule. Only Belle can permit me to be naked in bed. If she falls asleep before giving me the green light, I sleep in pajamas. Period. Well, kinda period. That’s something else that’s slipped in the past few weeks. I’ve slept naked under the assumption that she’d let me, which is not at all the same thing. So, as of now, I’m not allowed to be naked in bed. Not even when I’m pleasuring her, which I did this morning. I was entirely covered while she was exposed. Part of the punishment.

During our talk, she prompted me to tell her how she might punish me. It’s often been a challenge for her. How do you punish someone who would otherwise like all the normal tactics? It’s hard for me to tell her how to punish me because it seems like cheating somehow. I do tell her things I genuinely dislike, but the act of telling her turns me on. So anyway, a few ideas (only the first two I said at the time) are:

• IcyHot on the nuts – It’s been a long time since she used that on me. I really do dislike it as anyone who’s ever had IcyHot on his nuts would appreciate.
• Caning – I bought a nice flexible cane and we’ve yet to use it. If she were to take a couple three whacks at my ass as hard as she could without warm up, you can be sure I would not like it.
• The nasty nipple clamps – Yes, I usually like them, but they’re pretty cruel. If she put them on me, twisted them around a bit and them ripped them off by force, I would be in a great deal of pain.
• Extra long denial – Yeah, yeah, I can hear you thinking, a la Admiral Ackbar, “It’s a trap!” but hear me out. I know, based on past experience now, that really long denial gets very hard after 2-3 months and at the moment I really do crave an orgasm, so instead of making me wait until November as she’s doing now, what if I had to wait until January? Or March? And every time I whined about how badly I wanted to come or be inside her, she could tell me that under normal circumstances that would be allowed, but there was that one I stole from her in a hotel room back in August, so…

Leaving me out of her orgasms, as I’ve said before, is maybe the worst punishment but that only works if she’s actually getting off without me. If she never masturbates, then I’m just left to float and that ends up being counter-productive in the end.

In other news, I was forced out of the device for about 36 hours due to a nasty hot spot under the right side of the cuff ring. It was already acting up before I went to the doctor’s the other day, but somehow going back in afterward made it a lot worse. I put it back on yesterday but it was persistently annoying so I’ve swapped out the 40mm cuff with my original 45mm ring. It feels ridiculously large but the irritated spot doesn’t seem to notice it, so it’s better than nothing. It’ll be interesting to see how it feels tonight under “full load” since I’ve never worn this combination of tube and ring before.

Also, I had an interesting dream last night. In it, Belle and I were with an assortment of friends having dinner somewhere (I can’t remember who it was or where we were, of course, but they were friends) and at some point the name of someone we both used to work for came up. We’ll call him “Dennis”.

In the dream, she said, “Dennis? Oh, he kicked the ass of Randy in bed last night!” Randy was another guy she used to work for.

Conversation stopped at the table (in the dream) and I said somewhat nervously, “Sweetie, you were at home last night with me, remember?” But the night before that, in the dream, she had been in New York with Dennis. I had no idea she had been with either Dennis or Randy before she blurted this out.

There was nervous laughter at the table and that’s all I remember.

And yeah, I found that to be pretty f’n hot. Both at the time and in retrospect. I told Belle this morning and we both had a good laugh because Dennis was a pretty good looking guy who may have been good in bed, but Randy wasn’t and didn’t look it. I told Belle how it had turned me on.

“Dew on a blade of grass would turn you on,” she said.

A bit of an exaggeration. But just a bit.

This blog started way back in October of 2008, and it has kept going strong! It chronicles the very personal and erotic journey of Thumper, a man who is devoted to his wife of 11 years and exceptionally turned on by male chastity. These blog entries discuss the physical, emotional, and intellectual sides of prolonged sexual frustration and management. He also discusses practical information like how to choose clothing to conceal chastity devices, and how to address hygiene concerns. I love the tone of this particular blog and want to share an excerpt: “This is the game we play, right? The ‘oh god I want to so bad (but not really)’ game. I mean, I really do do want to fuck her, but more than that, I want her to tell me I can’t. I want to feel the desire flame and burn in me. I want to feel that I have no control over my own sex. She knows it, I know it. We play the game. It’s pretty awesome, actually.” I don’t know about you, but that seems pretty darn hot to me! Thumper also writes helpful and thorough reviews of chastity devices including the CB-6000, Stealheart, Jail Bird, PA-5000 and more. Hot, honest, and intelligent! – Vamp

It’s funny, but I don’t even remember writing that. Anyway, they’ve reviewed a metric crapton of sites over there. Check it out. Also, books and sex toys. A simply fantastic resource!

And I admit, the title of this one was more or less obvious. They can’t all be winners.