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Posts tagged ‘orgasm’

Jan 21

6 Comments

Pillow talk

It went something like this…

“I’m horny.”

“I know.”

He grinds into her, pressing the steel cage between their bodies.

“It’s been a long time.”

“A long time?! It’s only been…what? Two and a half weeks?”

Whimper.

“You’ve gone far longer than that, haven’t you?”

Quietly, “Yes.”

The cock in the cage swells.

“You’ve got a long time more to wait.”

Quietly, “I know.”

“Two weeks is a long time for a normal man, but you’re not normal, are you?”

“No.”

“No. You’re more…evolved. Aren’t you?”

Whimper.

“You don’t need to come as often as regular men. Two weeks. That’s nothing for you, is it?”

“No.”

The cock is pretty hard now, but stifled in its prison. Her cock, not his. Right where she wants it to be.

“Maybe you’re getting weak. Maybe we need to push you to new feats of endurance.”

Whimper.

“Stop whining.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He kisses her on her lips. Her full, warm, lips – redolent of all the things he wants but will not get. Not that night.

“Good boy. Now, I’ll let you give me an orgasm.”

“Thank you.”

Whimper (inside).

Jan 16

13 Comments

Just don’t

During my recent week of ridiculous orgasmic bliss, while laying in bed with Belle enjoying the afterglow of maybe the second or third she had let me pull out of myself and onto my hand and stomach, I said something to the effect that all orgasms should be like that. That is, enjoyed in the company of one’s partner.

In the moment – that dopey, sleepy, unfocused moment – it seemed so right. So natural. It was one of those “everybody should be doing it this way” kind of epiphanic visions that those of us who fuck around with our hormones experience from time to time. If the time comes when Belle and I no longer use chastity devices, I think this will be a permanent modification of our lifestyle. It seems like I’ll only ever come with her knowledge and/or permission from now on.

I realize this is skating pretty close to the point of view that it’s men’s “addiction” to masturbation that drives couples apart. I still don’t buy that. Men are not addicted to masturbation. Saying that is like saying they’re addicted to breathing or eating when they get hungry. A man’s reproductive system and the motivation behind his need to orgasm are totally different than a woman’s. It’s kinda like that candy production line Lucy and Ethel worked on where the chocolate keeps coming out, forever and ever, no matter what they do. With age, the line might slow down a bit or even stop, but for the majority of a man’s life, that line just keeps on chugging, driving the desire for release, piling up little chocolates that need to be wrapped.

We know what happens when that cycle is tampered with. I’ve been trying to describe it for the past 2+ years on this blog and I still can’t fully relate what it’s like, but the net result of letting that natural desire for release build (and then attaching it to your partner’s pleasure) can lead to relationship-altering benefits. It’s not all sugar and fairy dust, to be sure, but then again, nothing ever is.

So anyway, back to my moment. I saw that absent a device and absent the partner’s control over the release, another way this could work (and perhaps work just as well) would be to always – and I mean always – come in the company of your partner. Just don’t ever let yourself fall into the lazy trap of disconnecting sexual pleasure from your partner. That’s what happens when men become “addicted” to masturbation. They and their partner allow them (consciously or not) to take the path of least resistance and, after time, a groove gets carved into their brain and it becomes the main way they achieve the release that’s always building within.

But it doesn’t have to be that way. Just don’t let it. Just don’t come without them. I guarantee you they will be thrilled by the idea. You don’t need to bring D/s or chastity or any of the “weird kinky shit” into the conversation. Just tell them you never want to have another sexually pleasurable moment without them ever again. They’ll melt.

Jan 14

4 Comments

Where I am

I’ve received a couple of messages like this one from reader Andy (who’s favorite color is green):

No entries in so long…what’s up? Are you ok?

Yes, I’m OK. Thanks to all who asked.

To recap. Last we spoke, I was unlocked. Belle left me out for the period between Christmas Eve and New Year’s. I think I went back in on the 2nd. Anyway, I had come five times in that week. It was an interesting period for me because, even though I was coming fairly regularly, I didn’t really lose the urge to do so until the fifth time. After that one (which, like the first, happened inside Belle), I was well and truly tapped out.

But the fact that I wanted to come more even after the third and fourth effort and how the urge shut down so completely after the last makes me think there’s a significant mental component to my desire to orgasm. I knew she was going to let me come a lot over a relatively short period of time, so I kept wanting to do it. Also, I knew when the last one had happened and my need for more shut down commensurately.

So anyway, she put me back in the day after the fifth. I did not want that fucking thing on me. I’ve written about this before, but the stupid thing really bummed me out for a while. Four to five days, I’d guess. I was just this big, heavy, clunking thing and I had razor burn behind the ring and it hurt and I was grumpy about it and hated it. And she said she didn’t care. In-the-moment hottness factor of zero, retrospective hottness factor of 8. Then, at some point, I asked her why she put me in it. First, she said, she thought it was sexy. Yes, she now apparently thinks her husband is more sexy with a secure cock than he is with a functioning one. Two, she said she thought it was good for me. I am imprisoned for my own good.

It speaks to how I’m in such a different place now that just writing those last few sentences have filled my tube and caused my heart to pound in my ears. About two weeks in and the hornies have started to come back. I had a hard time falling asleep last night because of how turned on I was and that hasn’t happened since she put me in. That’s a good sign, I suppose. Also, the device has transmogrified back into an extension of me and not some clunky steel thing I have to put up with. That’s always kind of a magical thing, to be honest.

So, as is typical for men in my position, I start to wonder how long I’ll be like this. The Christmas/New Year’s break, while unscheduled, was not entirely unexpected. It was one of those markers on the calendar that seemed like logical points for her to let me out. Birthdays, anniversaries, major religious holidays, etc. But, looking forward, I don’t see another logical release point until our family vacation at the end of March. She hasn’t said anything other than making vague and ominous warnings about “duration records”. I have an overnight business trip in February, but other than that, it’s not looking good for the cock.

There’s where I am. Not bad. Not fantastic, but could be way worse. Thanks again to those who took the time to enquire.

Dec 29

3 Comments

Fourth quarter, third shot

Belle continued the zone flooding/hard reset regimen and let me come again night before last. We were watching Monday Night Football (can’t believe NO pulled that one out) and, early in the fourth quarter, she said, “Get naked. Then take care of yourself.”

“Do I have a choice?” I was actually kind of sleepy.

“No.” Well. OK, then.

I admit it was a little surreal laying next to her in bed, watching football, jacking off under the covers. Like that’s normal or something. She paid little attention to me and stayed engaged in the game while I pulled on the cock and felt my heavy 4 ga circular barbell flop around in my PA. I don’t usually get to wear that piece since the cock is almost always in a steel tube, so it’s a bit of an extra treat to be out and sporting it. Anyway, even though I’d already come twice in three days, I was able to get it up quickly and found my groove easily. I didn’t waste any time and squirted quietly onto my stomach (being careful to avoid the sheets). She never stirred or said a word. It was like I was clipping my toenails or performing some other mundane act of self-maintenance. I thanked her and missed the rest of the game as sleep quickly reached up for me.

Fast-forward 24 hours and we were in the same spot watching a different game (Sunday Night Football on Tuesday!), me naked, but this time the word was never given. And yeah, three orgasms in five days, but I wanted to go again. After the game was over (skol Vikings!) and she was asleep, I wanked slowly and kept it hard for a while, but never got to the edge. Normally, two shots would put me down for a week or more, but here I am still unlocked and with the possibilities of more orgasms floating around out there. I’m not crazy horny like I can be when I haven’t come in weeks, but I’m some flavor of horny I can’t say I’ve been in a while. There isn’t a constant tickle in my groin for activity, but my brain is definitely instigating something. The lizard knows there’s a chance of more sticky white goo out there and isn’t sated in the least. He wants more. Will he get it? Only Belle knows.

Dec 26

2 Comments

Let’s get small

Belle let me out on Christmas Eve morning. I had absolutely no idea it was going to happen. She hadn’t dropped any kind of hint whatsoever. Even more surprising was the orgasm she let me have right after the tube came off. Note, I said tube, not device, because the ring was still on. By the time the cock popped out, it was too fat to get the ring off.

“That’s OK,” she said, “We’ll fix that soon enough.”

The ring is very tight when the tube’s not there to restrict the erections and it made my ball sack plump out like a punching bag. Ironic since she did give it a few whacks, but nothing extensive (alas). She mounted me and slid the overly engorged cock inside the warm wetness. We came shortly afterward at essentially the same moment (which she always likes), though the tight ring made the ejaculation feel restricted and weird. For those playing along at home, that was just about seven weeks since my previous orgasm.

She let me go again this morning, but it was for the sole purpose of making me come. She didn’t even remove her top. I fucked her for maybe 1.3 minutes before spewing so fast that I almost missed it. We had discussed the possibility of putting me through a “hard reset” with regard to orgasm. Perhaps making me come 5-7 times over a week to “flood the zone”, as it were. Then go back to denial. This morning’s quickie might have been step two in the zone flooding procedure. She’s not sure yet.

Anyway, as to why I came so fast. I told Belle today about my last post (which she has not yet read). I told her that the cock felt smaller to me, even though it wasn’t. She immediately got it.

“Well, it is smaller than that hunk of steel you were carrying around down there. Also, I’m sure the feeling of smallness reenforces your submissive tendencies.”

She’s right, on both counts. No, neither of us are saying that guys with smaller dicks are naturally submissive or anything like that. Nor that guys with non-small dicks can’t be submissive. But, I admit, the idea that I have a small dick does put me more in the proper subbie state of mind. Of course, it’s not small. It’s perfectly average. Also, we both know it gives Belle a great deal of pleasure. But the idea. That’s the thing.

So, back to the uber-quick orgasm from earlier. The entire act seemed perfunctory. She essentially said something to the effect of, “Come on, let’s go.” This wasn’t about making love, it was about getting me off as efficiently as possible. In my head, I had a flash of a trusty chastity porn story: This was the one day of the year the lovely wife let her normally chastity-bound husband put his little dick where her boyfriend’s much more substantial member frequently goes. I mean, seriously, I don’t even think it was that well formed in my head, but as soon as the outlines of the concept of the fantasy appeared, it was like a direct circuit snapped into being from the cock to my brain and BAM!, I was coming.

It was later that day when she correctly deduced two of the three reasons I’m feeling small. One, the device feels bigger than what it contains. Two, it plays into my submissive tendencies and I’m projecting smallness onto it. But three was that the guys I’m seeing stream by in the never-ending current of pornographic images I peruse for the Portfolio are all bigger than me. Even the softies are big and plump and heavy-looking. I know, duh, right? It’s porn. They’re going to use the better-than-average-sized guys more often. But, when I’m locked and have been for a while, their cocks become my only frame of reference. I don’t have a proper one (just a big steel tube), so when it makes an infrequent appearance, it seems smaller than normal.

So I say to her, “You know, you could use this to your advantage.” Meaning, she could reenforce my feelings of penile inadequacy to drive me deeper into my subspace. I know she doesn’t think the cock is small. I know it isn’t. I know she loves it and gets off on it and all that. But if we pretended otherwise – if she were to comment on how small it was or how she wished it were bigger – that would have an impact on our dynamic.

It sounds cruel, but it’s just make-believe. Not unlike the other make-believe we use in our relationship all the time. I don’t know if I’ll always get off on the small penis thing. Like I said last time, I’m as surprised as anyone that I’m feeling this way. Now we’ll see if Belle’s willing to use it against me.

Mailbag
You may have noticed a link at the top of the page called Feedback. It’s a new way to share your comments or questions with me, as a few people have already done.

Eric said…

Hey there, Love your blog! You’ve really inspired me to get the same set up. However, I’m wondering if it is possible to use a cable to support the weight of the device. Check this out. Hopefully you won’t have a problem viewing this, as you may need to log in. Do you think this would fit with the integrated lock and PA fixing? Thanks and happy holidays! Eric

The image Eric linked to is of someone’s CB6Ks fitted with a long wire worn around the guy’s waist like a belt. I’m guessing it’s an anti pull-out measure.

To answer your question, Eric, I think the weight of the Steelheart would make a thin steel cable bite into your skin. It would probably work with the Steelheard since it has two alignment posts like the CB6K does, but if you’re wearing a PA fixing like mine, I’m not sure what the extra cable would accomplish. I don’t find the device needs any extra support, though someone wearing a larger cuff ring might, I suppose.

Chaste said…

Thumper, I’m shopping for a strap-on as a stunt dick for servicing Goddess. Where did you get yours? Thanks and Merry Christmas and Happy new Year

Merry Christmas and happy New Year to you, too!

I got Mr. Darcy and my harness at Edenfantasys. Good luck!

Long-time reader Pastry Chef said…

Hey Thumper-can’t say I like the new look. I miss the links and the low contrast is just boring. I was wondering-do you find yourself less pulled to blog now that you run a forum? Happy Holidays!

Happy holidays to you, too!

I’m sorry you don’t like the new look, but I do. A lot! I switched three minutes after finding it. I love the minimalism and the Helvetica. I know from previous experience, though, that I can’t make everyone happy. Every new look as turned someone off. Hopefully, you’ll get used to it. In the mean time, I’ve added a links page.

Regarding the forum and posting less, my recent spat of postless days has had more to do with what was happening in my head than on the forum. In fact, I haven’t spent any time at all there for several weeks. Back when I was, though, I wouldn’t say it was making me less interested in posting, but it does burn off some of the finite daily energy I use to write on the blog. On the other hand, it’s also given me things to write about I might not have otherwise. It’s probably a push. As I’m just trying to get back into the swing of things, I suspect I’ll spend more time and energy here than there, though.

Nov 8

13 Comments

Hotel

I apologize in advance for the extreme length of today’s missive. I didn’t intend for it to go on and on like this, but there was too much to say!

As I mentioned the other day, Belle and I had a kid-free few days this past weekend. We celebrated by spending Friday night at a luxe downtown hotel with an on-premises spa.

We checked in and decided to grab a light dinner downstairs before retiring for the night. I had brought along a number of toys and accoutrement, but wasn’t too sure what would happen. I was locked in the Steelheart and Belle had just come the night before, so if it were any other run of the mill Friday night, nothing would have happened. I braced myself for that eventuality and had an alternate checklist of activities if she happened to fall asleep or something. I didn’t wonder if she was going to let me out because it’s a given that my normal condition is to be exactly as I was.

Back in the room, she wanted to lay on the bed and talk which was great because I like talking to her. She allowed me to go naked since it’s the state I prefer to be in when it’s an option. So there I was, naked with a big shiny thing where the dick usually is, with her snuggled under the covers in her jammies. And we talked.

At some point – and I’ll tell you right now that most of this evening is something of a blur for me so what you’re reading is my best approximation of the events – she mentioned that she planned on letting me out that night. She had already told me I would be out for the massage the next day, but as I said, I didn’t expect to be released before morning. Once she said it I knew I really wanted out. You just don’t say no to these kinds of opportunities. I expect I was not unlike an excited puppy from the time she mentioned it to the moment she let me out.

Back on the bed, now totally naked, she made it clear that I wasn’t to touch the merchandise. It was at this point that I started to get the idea that something was going to happen, though I had no idea what. She had previously said I wouldn’t come until the end of the year, but there’s a ton of stuff you can do besides that with a hard cock if you’re imaginative enough.

“What did you bring?” she asked.

I told her: the flogger, the bondage straps, nipple clamps, my collar, handcuffs (but not the key) and Mr. Darcy with his harness.

“Not Pink?” she asked, meaning her favorite vibrator.

“No, I couldn’t find it. I assumed you brought it.” It hadn’t been in it’s normal positon in my nightstand (handy for when she wants it), nor was it in hers.

“I didn’t bring it,” she said. Come to think of it, we need to figure out where that went. Anyway…

“Get the clamps and your collar.” A thrill of excitement when through me. She hardly ever collars me. “And the cuffs.”

I brought the collar over to her side of the bed and kneeled and dropped my head so she could buckle it behind my neck. A low subbie thrum started inside me.

Back in bed next to her, I asked if she had ever wanted to try the nipple clamps.

“No, I don’t like pain.”

“How do you know until you try?” I asked, “Maybe you could try it just for a second on one nipple.”

She pulled her top down so her right breast was exposed and she placed the clamp gingerly onto her plump, succulent nipple.

“OWW!!!!” she said. So much for that idea.

She griped about it for another five minutes or so before attaching a clip to my left nipple. Then she strung the other through the ring on my collar and clipped it onto my right nipple. Then she pulled. And pulled and pulled. And the cock rose accordingly.

“You are so weird,” she said.

“I know,” I replied as the cock twitched and surged.

She snapped the handcuffs around my left wrist.

“You have the keys, right?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“You sure? Because this’ll be hard to explain during the massage tomorrow.”

She got up and got the keys to the handcuffs, showed them to me, and then placed them on her nightstand before closing the cuffs around my right wrist. They were tight, digging into me. Every movement caused them to bite harder.

Collared, clamped, and cuffed. I slipped a little deeper into my headspace. She teased me by running her fingers around the throbbing cock, over my balls (slapping them lightly) and back up to the chain connecting the clips. Pulling. I groaned. The cock flexed.

“Please touch it,” I begged.

“No.”

Whimper. Whine. I moved to kiss her, but she pulled her head away.

“Please let me kiss you. I want to kiss you.”

She moved her head back down, just close enough for my lips to graze hers, but not close enough for a real kiss.

“Please…”

She kissed me, full on the mouth, but just once and she didn’t linger, then she got up from the bed and started to rummage through my bag. She brought out the bondage stuff and strapped my ankles to each of the king-sized bed’s feet. I retained some movement, but couldn’t close my legs. Next, she started looking around the room as if she had misplaced something. She grabbed a cloth napkin from the bar and tied it over my eyes like a blindfold. I couldn’t see a thing. Then she made a little happy sound like she had discovered something she had lost. That was followed by a few metallic sounds. CLAMP CLAMP!

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Maybe I should go down to the bar and have a drink. Leave you like this to stew.”

Groan. I think she considered it. Really was thinking about it, but then I felt her get back into bed with me. She continued the teasing from before. My cock was desperate for real touching, preferably stroking, and I moved my hands down as if to oblige but she jerked them back over my head.

“No touching!”

They weren’t tied that way, but it was clear she wanted my hands up over my head or near my face.

“Please,” I begged again, “please touch it.”

“If I do, then what? What’s in it for me?”

“Anything. Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, please, just touch it!“

“OK…”

I felt something cold and sharp on the hard shaft. It clamped down on either side of the cock and moved up and down, slowly.

“How does that feel?”

“Ungh! It hurts!”

“Hurts bad or hurts good?”

“Both!” I writhed.

I could feel the metal bite the smooth, silky skin of the shaft but also feel the internal stimulation of being stroked. I needed this so bad. Craved it. Two months since I last came, and she was jacking me off with some kind of sharp, painful metal device.

“Do you want me to stop?”

I paused. It hurt. But it also felt good. Really good.

“No.” I said quietly, then moved my hips closed to her, arching my back so she could get a better angle on the meat. What felt like sharp little teeth were biting into the stiff shaft and it hurt, but I couldn’t imagine it stopping. I was getting more than enough jacking off stimulation to hold my attention.

Occasionally, she stop the stroking and I’d feel her use whatever it was on my nuts. She’d clamp the sharp teeth round one of my nuts and squeeze. Then the other. Then back to the shaft. I could actually feel the rumblings of an orgasm, even against the pain of the metal.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Yes? Want me to stop now?”

“Oh FUCK, no. Don’t stop. Please.”

“Does it hurt?”

“YES! But I like it. I want you to jack me off.”

“You. Are. So weird.”

“I know,” I said softly, moving closer to her.

“And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

More stroking. More biting. More feeling the need to come, though I realized it was never going to get there with the level of stimulation I was getting from whatever it was she was stroking me with.

“What is that thing?”

She pulled the blind from my eyes and held the ice tongs in front of my face, snapping their little teeth together.

“Jesus Christ!”

She moved it back down to the cock and grabbed it with the little teeth.

“I thought you liked it,” she said.

“Ungh,” I replied as she stroked me some more.

She put the tongs aside and pulled off her shirt. I tried to kiss them, get my mouth on her nipples. She pushed me away.

“Not yet.”

Then she started to flog the cock and my balls. Gently, but then with some force. Not enough to damage me, but enough to get my attention. She’d slowly drag the suede lashes over the straining and, now thanks to the ice tongs, stinging meat. Then flick them across the shaft. Then the balls. Then dragging them again, seductively. Lovingly. Again and again.

“Please, will you fuck me?”

“No.”

Whine.

“Not yet, anyway.”

More flogging. More pulling on the clamps which had, by this time been on me for much longer than usual.

“I really should just leave you like this all night long. Tied up, nipples clamped.” I whined again.

“Please. Please fuck me. I don’t need to come. I just want to feel you. It’s been so long. Two months.”

“I know,” she said cooly, “That’s a long time, isn’t it?”

“Please…” was all I could muster. I wanted it so bad. Was so horny. She had played me perfectly all night, leaving me right on the edge of where pain turns to pleasure, but not going too far. I needed to feel something soft and hot and wet on her cock. I wanted her.

She took the cock in her hand. I moaned deeply. This wasn’t her pussy, it was pretty good.

“It stings.”

“Really?” and she stroked me harder.

The cock stiffened. I could feel my balls drawing up. I was getting close…

Then she stopped, leaving me bobbing in the air.

“Oh God!”

She waited, perhaps counting the beat of my heart by the bounce of the cock in midair. Then she grabbed it again and resumed the stroking.

“You want me to fuck you?” she asked.

“Oh, Jesus, yes! Please fuck me!”

“And…what’s in it for me?”

“Anything. Anything you want.” And I meant it.

She made herself completely naked and climbed on top of me. She straddled my hips and moved the abused, desperate cock in position against her pussy’s lips. Then she plunged down onto it. I lost my breath, unable to breath. It felt so good. So amazing. Hot. Everything I needed it to be.

Her breasts were in my face and I tried to get her nipples in my mouth, but her motion as she fucked her cock made them hard targets.

“That’s a good boy,” she said, “Good Thumper. You know what you’re supposed to do…”

But it was too hard. I couldn’t keep hold of them. Eventually, she moved off and I slipped out with a wet smack against my stomach. She removed the clips from my nipples and twin lasers of intense pain seared into me. Unmoved, she pulled them out of my collar and tossed them aside. She picked the keys to the cuffs up off the nightstand but didn’t have a good handle on them and they fell into the hot wax of the candle.

“Fuck!” she said. Then she got the tongs and used them to fish the keys out.

Clamps and cuffs off, she put her hand over the cock again.

“Oh good, you’re still ready,” but she stroked it a few times for good measure before mounting me again.

She fucked me slowly as I sucked her tits. Her eyes closed, she was enjoying it at least as well as I was. After the initial shock, I settled in to as useful a position as possible. She may have given me what I was begging for, but now it was for her.

Best intentions aside, I said, “I’m getting close.” She slowed down. I could see her working it out in her head. Would I come or not? It had “only” been two months. After a smal rest, she’d pick up her rhythm again. I’d focus on a place far, far away, but it was so hard. The two months and the stroking, both with her hand and the ice tongs, conspired against me.

“I’m close,” I said again. What would happen? Would she roll off of me? Make me finish her in the normal way?

“Go ahead,” she said, and started to fuck me faster.

“Really?”

“Yes. Fuck me.”

And I did. I fucked her as hard and as fast as I could. Moments later, I felt it. From somewhere deep, deep inside the orgasm started to build and grow and rush forward before exploding out of me and into her. Three, four, five giant loads of semen surged out of me. I cried out at the intensity. The entire world had gone away and all there was was this feeling. My orgasm.

It finally subsided and I was left a gibbering, gooey mess. She rolled off of me and I felt two months of pent up desire ebb from my pores. Fuck, that was awesome. Even as the cock was laying against me, fat and happy, it continued to ooze its payload. Now, of course, I was repulsed by it. The slippery, foul smelling paste. While she attended to herself, I got some tissues and wiped as much of it as I could from my skin.

She got back into bed and I cleaved onto her.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Awesome. Thank you so much for that. It was so great.”

“I haven’t come yet.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

I started in again on her nipples and fingering her pussy. It was super slick with my ejaculate and felt wider than usual. Well-fucked. She seemed to enjoy what I was doing, but it didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

“I want you to eat me out.”

Oh, fuck. I cringed. I whimpered again. “Really?”

“What’s wrong? I thought you liked that.”

“I do, but…” I just came in there!

“Well, you should have brought Pink. Come on, cowboy, get to it,” she said as she spread her legs wide. “You said I could have anything.”

Busted. I was groaning the whole way down. I could smell it. I had already felt it. I knew it was in there still. There had been so much.

I closed my eyes figuring it’d be easier if I couldn’t see anything. Don’t get me wrong, I love pussy, but I’ve never found it to be the most appealing thing immediately after an orgasm. Regardless, I figured the band-aid approach was best. Just get it over with.

My tongue stared to lap at her clit. That would be the area of least contamination, I thought, but she liked how it felt and started to move her pussy around, guiding my licking.

“That’s a good boy,” she purred. I licked. Oh, god. I licked and lapped and reached up to her nipples, hoping she’d come so I could stop.

“Can you taste yourself?” she asked.

I grunted noncommittally. Of course I could. Fucking hell.

When she finally came, she pushed my face into her and my tongue deeper into her pussy. She clamped her legs around my head. There was no getting away. Her orgasm spasmed across my tongue and she squeezed more of my seed into my mouth on onto my face.

When she unclamped, I moved out as quickly as possible, wiping my face with my hands.

“Good job, Thumper.”

Next morning, before we went to get our 80 minute deep tissue massages (can you imagine?), she allowed me to jack off one more time and finish with an orgasm. She was in the bathroom getting ready and would occasionally look in my direction, a look of bemusement on her face.

“What?! You said I could!”

“I know…”

I tried to draw it out as long as possible. To savor the rare moment of self gratification. I came again and, just like before, it was copious. Great globs of it oozed out of me. The orgasm was half as intense as the night before, but even then, was ten times better than I used to have when they were mine.

Later, after the rubbing and the fragrant oil and the fruit juice, as we were leaving the spa, she asked if I was relaxed.

“Oh yes,” I replied, “In more ways than one.”

–

In thinking about this after the fact, I can easily say that night in the nice hotel when Belle Fille abused me and then fucked me and then made me eat my own seed from her was one of the top five sexual experiences of my life. I’m so, so lucky to be married to such a wonderful and caring woman.

Thank you, Belle Fille. Thank you for everything.

Sep 13

6 Comments

In out up down

Hey, kids! Miss me?

So…what the fuck’s up with you? Sorry for the prolonged radio silence. Started out, there wasn’t much to talk about. For the week or two before Labor Day, things got quiet between Belle and I. No sex to speak of and me locked up tight. It’s the kind of thing that would have made me all introspective and pissy before, but this time there was a more peaceful vibe settled over me. It’s hard to describe, but I was contentedly anxious. I wanted the contact with her very much but also was able to recognize that control over that contact was, as I wanted, totally hers. I would get it when she was ready, not before. We talked a little somewhere in there and I told her not to worry about it. All I wanted was to know that she hadn’t forgotten me.

Then Labor Day rolled around and, as usual, so did my birthday. She let me out after just over two months because the time had come. She wanted to feel her cock inside and she was going to let me come. I had this great idea that she should let me come before she wanted to fuck me so I’d be better able to control myself when the big moment was at hand. She went along with it and allowed me to jack off next to her in bed. That orgasm had been about nine weeks in the making and felt, as usual, amazing. So much better than a normal orgasm. While it was happening – mid-spurt, as it were – I couldn’t breath. I was pumping semen all over my hand and stomach and literally could not take a breath. That’s how amazing it was. Immediately afterward, I was disgusted by all the sticky, creamy stuff all over me. Plus the smell. Ew.

That night was a disaster. She was ready, but I couldn’t get it up. Oh, the irony. She felt like it was her fault and felt bad which, of course, made me feel bad. I don’t know what the deal was, but it sucked. Then she got her period.

I was out for the rest of the week. Belle said she wanted to “air it out” for a while. So I walked around like all the other boys, but was pretty much always aware that things were not “normal” down there. I could feel stuff I wasn’t used to feeling. I slept through every hard-on. It was kinda like being on vacation.

Saturday, we went on a date. She asked me how I was feeling being unlocked and still under the effects of a (relatively) recent orgasm. I kinda shrugged. I felt fine. Truth is, I don’t like the empty post-orgasmic period. Everything feels less interesting and kinda gray and flat. I have grown so accustomed to the heightened sensation of living with all those hormones pumping through me that, while I still really enjoy the actual orgasm when it happens, I dread the time that follows. Which is good, I guess, since Belle told me I was going without for three months this time. She’s thinking Christmas/New Year before I come again.

In any event, Saturday night she finally got what she wanted earlier in the week. All the plumbing worked this time and I was able to hold off long enough for her to ride me to a very satisfying orgasm. After, she let me fuck her until I came, making sure to mention along the way that it wasn’t going to happen again for at least 90 days.

Sunday, the day I was supposed to be reincarcerated, I woke up feeling very much not in the mood. I was pretty happy with my free meat and decided not to bring up that she had intended to put me back in that day. I thought I had gotten away with it, too, when she finally came to bed that night, but she tossed the device at me, lock disengaged. I sighed and disassembled the parts. As I started to put it on, the meat shrank back at the cold metal’s touch. It’s back to being a thing, not a part of me. All day today it’s been pinching and shoving and generally being in the way. I feel encased. And, as usual at this point in the game, very much against the will of my body.

I got a text message from Belle just before lunch. She said,

I forgot to tell you this morning, “Welcome to Day 1″ :) I love you. Have a good day.

Three months to go.

May 23

2 Comments

Prisoner again

It turns out, she did fuck me. She hadn’t had her cock in such a long time and as she slid down onto it, she moaned and purred in appreciation. It felt hot on the skin of the cock – hotter than I remember. And yeah, I came. I held back as long as I could, but there wasn’t any stopping it. She felt me come and that just made her all the more enthusiastic, but she was still a ways off from her own. The head of the cock felt like it was on fire in its post-orgasmic hypersensitivity, but she fucked it anyway. Fucked it until she came and I was a panting, sweaty pile of meat beneath her.

Beforehand, she had told me she didn’t care if I came. I really hate that. “I don’t care if you come” is, like, the exact opposite position I want her to have. I can think of several things I’d have rather she said. Such as, “you can come, but not until after me,” or “you can’t come and if you do I’m locking you right now,” or “if you come I get to punch you in the nuts three times/burn your nuts with Icy Hot” – just about anything other than I don’t care if you come. That’s the worse.

Before this fucking, we had talked about “taking a break”, but couldn’t really define what exactly we’d be taking a break from. There are things she likes about our arrangement that she just doesn’t want to live without and will not easily agree to giving up, even temporarily. Personally, I wanted to come more. I wanted a period where I was allowed to come pretty much whenever I wanted. I found that, the more I came the more I wanted to come. Not withstanding anything I wrote in my last post, each orgasm seems to push away my desire to be in the device or denied in general. After nearly three months of nothing, I wanted a change of scenery. I still do think that most of the time I should live without and with as much desire for them as possible, but it’s also the case that we only appreciate the things we don’t have when we – you know – have them, at least for a little while.

But she wasn’t having any of it. She didn’t feel I was being sufficiently worshipful what with my two orgasms and being out and all. She wanted me back in. But, just like in London, for some reason she never pulled the trigger. Each day it was going to be tomorrow. I did not want to get locked up again. Even if I couldn’t come, I still liked having the option to jack off. But, even though she couldn’t bring herself to lock me up, it was very important to her. One morning last week, after she had already left for work, I locked myself back into the Steelheart.

All that day, all I could think about was what a pain in the ass it was. Heavy, bulging, pushing my nuts around (sometimes painfully). I’ve said before how it has felt like the device and its contents become one unit. How the shiny steel shell starts to feel like my natural state. Well, on that first day especially, it was very clearly two separate things. A prison and its prisoner. Unnatural and invasive. Even though I had done it willingly, I can’t say I was very happy about it.

That night, when she discovered I was in, she was very pleased. Her pleasure caused the tube to pressurize. And, from that moment on, I became more like she wanted me to be. I am a different person when I’m locked up and, as each day passed, that other person – Thumper – has come to the fore. It’s hasn’t been a complete conversion. Sometimes, I still feel myself rebelling against the steel. And my desire to have access to the cock has an edge to it that it didn’t before I came. But this is what Belle wanted, so this is how I am.

May 15

4 Comments

2 months, 3 weeks, 5 days

That’s as far as I got. Two months, three weeks, and five days.

The end began with me getting Belle off. She was on her period and I was locked, so it was your regular nipple sucking, clit fingering affair, except when it was over, my motor got stuck revving at about 5,000 RPM. Belle had been slapping my nuts around a bit and, if I remember correctly, had placed little chrome clips on my nipples. I was rubbing and pulling and stroking the hard metal tube, grinding my butt into the sheets, and generally tripping out on my own desperation.

“Oh, god, I want to come,” I moaned, almost against my will.

She reminded me my time wasn’t up yet. I said it again. She repeated herself. I did, too.

Finally, she said, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but I don’t want to read your whining on the blog about it later and feeling all sorry for yourself.”

I pondered. On the one hand, I liked begging only to be refused. That’s how I had started, not actually expecting to be allowed out. I enjoy it when she makes me suffer. But, as I laid there, I found I really and truly wanted to come. I needed to.  Two months, three weeks, and five days was a really long time. I wanted to go to 100 days, and I was almost there, but the reptilian maleness had taken notice of the chance it was being presented with and pushed me onward. The rational side of my brain, also desperately horny and wanting very badly to come, said that the 100 day thing was never Belle’s idea in the first place. I had come up with it. If she was OK with me coming now, and I declined, then who, exactly, was denying who? I almost had to come in order to preserve the order of things. Yeah, that’s it.

So anyway, I took her up on it. She got the key and I removed the metal and immediately started stroking while she looked on. Right from the start, it didn’t feel at all like the last time she let me beat the meat. This time, I knew, was going to be productive. There would be gobs of sticky white stuff all over me when I was done, not a rapid release so I could retreat from the edge of bliss. I felt the cock swell and the internal gears lock into place. In maybe just a minute, I could feel the point of no return rushing towards me, then fly past me. I started to come.

It was very intense. So intense, I can’t remember how many slugs I shot, but it was many. I felt a prickly wave run from my scalp down the back of neck and into my shoulders. I wanted the surging hot goo to never stop coming out of me. Never. I just. Wanted. To come. And come and come and feel that crescendo of orgasm last forever.

But, of course, it didn’t. In fact, just as suddenly as it started, I felt myself slip off the peak. I was still milking the meat, squeezing every last drop out, but the shores of Climax Island pulled away from me at sonic speeds. And, while not remorseful at all, I was disappointed. I felt almost immediately a sense of loss. Like I had been swindled into a transaction that I realized was a con the second my money left my hands.

This is beyond kink now. I do like the tease, the torture, the bondage of the device, and all that very much. But now that I live without them, I find the actual orgasm to be rather empty. The anticipation, the craving, the heightened sexual existence that comes from their nearly total absence is more rewarding, many times more, than the squirt it all revolves around. I feel so much when I’ve been denied – so much more alive – that the post orgasmic period feels nearly vacant of any feeling. The edge is all gone. The texture of my everyday horned up, locked up life is obliterated by the explosion of ejaculation. There’s no way the actual event of orgasm could ever live up to it.

In fact, I felt very little for several days afterward. Belle would ask how I was doing and I gave her noncommittal kind of grunts because, in fact, I felt very noncommittal. Neither good nor bad, hot nor cold, up nor down. I just was. Again, I wasn’t at all remorseful. Just kinda empty.

My feeling about it now is that infrequent ejaculation is necessary. Like an oil change or something. I need the occasional squirt to reset the levels and the vague emptiness it leaves me with is just a part of the cycle. I do know that, as I am once again starting to regain my sexual desire, I no longer like the feeling of what I once called sexual satisfaction. Living in a state of always wanting more is far better.

–

The other night, I was in bed with Belle, naked as she told me I could be and feeling the first inkling of sexual desire return. In the distant past, this feeling would have sent me into the bathroom to quickly and quietly rub one out over the sink, but that not being an option anymore, I was grabbing Belle. She had left me unlocked since the end of the two months, three weeks, and five days, so anything was possible. I made my move and was typically guy-like in my bluntness.

“I like you better when you’re locked up,” she said in exasperation. Just like that. I like you better when you’re locked up.

Almost immediately, she started to back away from the comment, hemming and hawing as if she had said too much. As if it would bother me to hear it. Finally, she corrected herself and said, “I like us better when you’re locked up.”

That might be true, but my actions would not have caused her to express that particular sentiment. She meant what she said originally: She likes it better when I’m sexually compliant. When the device she locks onto my body leaves me far less aggressive. When my frustration has no where to go and, in desperation, I seek only her climax as a surrogate for my own release.

And, of course, I was immediately very hard and way more turned on than I had been before her true feelings slipped out. I wish she’d own these feelings more and not be worried about my reaction to them. Hell, that’s exactly how I hope she feels. Hearing her say it – that she liked me better when I was under her control and unable to express myself sexually in any way other than in service to her – filled me with excitement, and not all of it sexual. I know that I occasionally push her up to her position of dominance (like so many other men in my situation) and that it hasn’t always come naturally to her or been something she’s comfortable with. But here she was, really feeling it. She hadn’t thought at all about what she was saying before she said it. It was awesomely honest and in no way contrived to elicit a certain response from me.

–

As I’ve been writing this, Belle asked me what I was doing. I told her and then I read to her the first 800 words or so. I’ve never read out loud to her what I write here and doing so was equal parts embarrassing, exhilarating, and revealing. I hope she asks me to do it again sometime.

In any event, I’m hoping to get the dick wet tonight. It’s been a really long time since she fucked me and I’m thinking a lot about how it’ll feel. She’s told me I’m going back into the device tomorrow, though she hasn’t said for how long. Nor has she said how long it’ll be before I come again. Perhaps she’ll let me tonight. I wouldn’t fight her on it. Even though I want to live without them, I feel the need for one. I want to feel it again. Just as much as I want to keep on feeling the need. She could start me on another period of extended denial and I’d like that, too.

Either way, I’m good.

Mar 16

5 Comments

Random updates

My blogging performance has been substandard of late, so here’s a few random nuggets of information to get my wheels turning again…

–

I got the replacement lock to the Steelheart yesterday. This time, I noticed that Dietmar rounded the sharp brass edges before he sent it. Not sure if this is a change he made based on my review (or comments like it) or if the first one I got was an anomaly, but I was pleased to see the change. I’m also pleased now to be wearing a lock with two keys! Belle changed it out last night.

–

During the week she let me out of the device, there was a morning where my sexual appetite combined with the free erection caused me to snuggle aggressively into Belle. She, wanting to sleep a bit more, kinda rolled over and placed her hand directly onto the hard cock. And then fell back to sleep. Her breathing was deep and regular while mine was more shallow and quick while, for a relatively long time (like, twenty minutes), her hand just sat there and the cock underneath would soften slightly then harden again, over and over. I’d flex it just a little to get more stimulation, but I was afraid if I did it too much her hand would have rolled off of she would have turned over or something. It was torture. But, you know, I’m not complaining.

–

Belle had told me she was going to lock me back up on a Sunday, but the Sunday rolled around and nothing happened. Then, she said it would be Monday, but similarly, Monday night saw no locking. It’s not that I was anxious to be locked back up (after about a week, I like the freedom), but her laissez-faire attitude left me feeling a little anxious. When she doesn’t act decisive in her control – when she appears to not take it seriously – it tends to make me feel more insecure and unhappy. I know this is more my issue than hers, but I can’t control how I feel. I shared with her this observation and she had me in the device the next morning.

–

She fucked me just once during my time out and it resulted in an unauthorized emission. I’m not calling it an orgasm because I fought it really hard and clamped down when it started and basically ruined the whole thing (based on the fact that it didn’t feel like an orgasm afterward). I made it right up to the end when she was coming and I thought I was home free. Letting my attention wander for just a split second let it happen.

In any event, I was yet again disappointed in myself for not being able to better control my autonomic functions. The night before, she had said she was going to make me wait a hundred days for my next orgasm and there I was 24 hours later having a barely-controlled squirt that was about as close to an orgasm as a guy can get without actually going over the falls. This led us, more than a week later, to talk about our differing feelings about these events. On the one hand, she just wants to fuck her cock. It’s what she wants and she doesn’t really care what happens as a result of her getting it. I understand that and respect it. On the other hand, I’m not supposed to come and when I do (or get as dangerously close as I did that night), she doesn’t seem to care. There’s next to no consequences and most of the time she doesn’t even say that much about it. Just like not seeming to care when I’m locked up, not seeming to care one way or the other if I come makes me feel like I take this more seriously than she does. This is a difficult place for my inner submissive rabbit to occupy.

I’m not sure we have a solution, but at least we’re talking about it. I feel just as bad suggesting she shouldn’t get her cock when she wants it. I don’t want to deny her anything, let alone the thing I gave her to do with what she wants. Maybe it’s a question of defining consequences so when I fail to control myself, I still feel dominated as opposed to sneaking in a freebee.

I guess the bottom like is I need to feel like she wants to dominate me at least as much as I want to me dominated. This hardly makes me unique. I’m not questioning that she enjoys our dynamic. In fact, she told me the other night she never wants to go back to the way things used to be. Either I need to be in a place where I more consistently accept the way she approaches her end of the deal or she needs to make a few tweaks around the edges (or maybe a little of both).

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