What’s at the bottom of the lake

Since the beginning of September when Belle changed the rules and clarified that my default state is to be locked in a device unless she specifically says I should not be, I’ve been in one about 97% of the time. That includes a couple of multi-week stints of uninterrupted chastity. And I don’t know, but I’ve been feeling different lately. Or maybe not different. That’s probably not right. “Different” suggests something new and how I’m feeling is not new. If anything, I feel the same, just…more.

I think I’ve used the analogy in the past that the longer I go locked up or without orgasm it’s like when a lake dries up and the terrain of the land underneath is exposed. It was always there, just hidden. That’s what it feels like to me lately.

If you’ve been visiting this site for more than 72 hours, you know I identify as bisexual, heteromantic, and submissive (plus, I’m a baseball fan according to Twitter). But even that isn’t enough for me. And I really think being locked and denied has given me more insight into all this. The same way hallucinogens are supposed to allow us to see truths we can’t normally, being under the influence of an easy ever-present sexual craving really allowed me to dig around in all the dark, hard to reach corners. To see the submerged terrain. 

I am willing to concede that how I’m feeling and what I think about myself now would be different if I was having a normal amount of sexual release. I know for a fact that if I had easy and persistent access to the penis, I wouldn’t have the same sense of self I have now. Which makes a lot of this kind of introspection interesting because, in a way, it’s built on shifting sands. Somehow, the things we do and do not combine to alter us or accentuate certain attributes. So what are we really? Could I, in a different relationship and with a different partner, be totally different myself? That’s some existential shit. 
All I can say is how it feels now. And now feels like the truth. It feels like how I’m supposed to be. When I’m bottoming, when I’m subbing, when I’m being used for their pleasure, I’m home. Like I said recently, being a bottom and a sub is not what I do, it’s who I am. So yes, if I were in a relationship or living a life that allowed frequent release and easy access to the penis, I wouldn’t feel this way. Maybe I wouldn’t feel as good about myself. Maybe I wouldn’t even know the difference. But this is who I am. I went down a tunnel not knowing where it led, following instincts, and it came out where I was supposed to be. And Belle went there with me, which I’ll forever be grateful for. 

Moral of the story is twofold. One, don’t live your life according to how someone told you it should go. To how culture tells you you’re supposed to be. Find your path and follow those tunnels. Two, don’t be afraid of the dark in that tunnel. Of the things that are “weird” or what would shock your mom. Because nothing’s weird and I’m sure what’s in your mom’s head would freak you the fuck out right back. We are essentially brains with genitals. Sex for us is by definition cerebral. If you’re not thinking about it, you’re just going through the motions. The point is emotional satisfaction, not just physical release.

So tease those threads. Scratch those itches. Drain those lakes. There’s no telling what you’ll find. I did and I found me.

November metrics

Time for another report on the numbers as I’m sitting at C3 at the Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport.

I was locked in either the Steelheart of the Halfshell 98% of the time in November. That’s down by one percentage point from October which is an extra eight hours. All tolled, I was in one or the other for over 700 hours, a little over 150 of which were in the Halfshell. I’m going to be posting a follow-up to my review when I get to 1,000 hours with any observations that I come up with after really wearing it. That should be sometime in January, I guess. 

For the year, I was locked for 75% of the time. That should go up slightly assuming I’m in the 90’s for December, but we’ll have to see. 

I didn’t have an orgasm in November, though one time I got pretty close. There was some tingling and quite a lot of ejaculating, but it didn’t quite get to full orgasm status since I wasn’t hit with all the post-orgasmic hormones. The last time I came was at the start of September (unauthorized, but inside Belle). I’ve kind of lost count of the orgasms year-to-date, but I think it’s about 14. She was pretty generous with them for a while, but has gotten more stingy as the year wore on (and I took two by myself in a blatant disregard of my commitment and her rules). 

Belle hasn’t let me out of the Halfshell since the weekend before last. I think we’ve had sex about four times since the last time the penis was allowed inside her, most recently last night. That was especially hard for me since her pussy felt so hot and wet and inviting but all the penis could do was swell up under the steel. She’s either making me wait on purpose or simply isn’t interested in getting fucked. Either way, we had a short conversation about it on Sunday. She wanted to check in and see how I was doing and I told her it was frustrating and difficult to stay in after I get her off, but it’s not something I will complain about, of course it’s her decision, and I hoped she wasn’t feeling any guilt about denying me even that pleasure. She told me she wasn’t feeling a bit of guilt and so I’m still waiting for her to want to feel me inside her. In any event, the Halfshell hasn’t woken me up until this morning when the penis seemed especially swollen during its usual early morning tumescence. 

I’m about to go to New York for the weekend to meet up with Frodo. I have her key on my key ring, but she reminded me several times that I was to be locked up right after the TSA checkpoint until I was about to go through it again. That’s going to be nagging me, especially since Frodo has suggested we might just hang out in the room and “watch TV.” I’ve been trying to get the vision of his perfect penis out of my mind, but it’s been getting harder to do as the trip gets closer. Even though, I’m still struggling with leaving Belle for the weekend. I’m a lucky rabbit to have such problems. 

The cute check-out

I visited the grocery store over lunch today to pick up some things to keep at the office for when I can’t go out and eat. I was checked out, both literally and figuratively, by a cute boy checker. Seemed gay to me, but not ridiculously so. Tried to make small talk about my hat and kept it going when it should have died out. Smiled. Twinkled. Called out something as I walked away. Either he was flirting or has a personality disorder. We’ll go with flirting.

When I see or meet people who are sexually interesting to me (and this guy could be, I suppose), I often wonder what they would make of me if they had the chance. I don’t really think of myself as a normal man. Not the kind you just pick up for a fuck. Besides being functionally penisless, I mean. What would it be like for me knowing what I know about myself now if I was still trying to date people?

Sure, I’m totally bi and could conceivably have sex with anyone. I know I’m heteromantic so the dudes would just be a good time. I’d probably have to tell them that if they tried to linger. Alternatively, I’d need to tell the women about the bi thing. Honestly, the best thing I did with Belle was put it out there very early on. Even before we were dating. It was never hidden between us, though had we gone right into a romantic thing, I don’t know that it would have happened the same way. It probably would have. As I recall, most of the women I’ve been with were hip to the bi.

Besides being bi, I’m a complete bottom. Not just a sub (I’ll get there), but a bottom. Not really into fucking guys. Have never been into it, to be honest, though I’ve always been into letting them do me. I recall always being somewhat impatient when I was with guys if they were going down on me or I was supposed to screw them. Sure, I like getting sucked off as much as the next guy, but I don’t think I’ve ever come from that. And now, of course, if I do end up with a guy for a good time, I’m an enforced bottom. Can’t really not tell the poor dude about that until the pants are coming off.

And yes, of course, I’m a sub. All the way down. How would I get into a relationship with a random person without knowing if they were minimally a switch? I mean, I guess I did when I married Belle, but we’re talking about me knowing everything I know about myself now. Of course, maybe it would just be a fling. Like the cute boy picking me up at the grocery store. But would I be able to enter into flings knowing all these things about me and how complicated I am and how sometimes flings become more than that?

Bottom line, dating for a submissive bisexual heteromantic bottom would be fucking complicated as hell. I mean, seriously, that’s got to be one of the primary ways the internet has improved our lives in the past few decades. When I really was single and dating, all we had were bars, friends, work, and the personals. And the personals were pretty tame.

The converse of all this, of course, is I didn’t know a lot of these things and married a wonderful girl anyway and it all turned out fine. So maybe I’m just blowing this out of proportion. Maybe shit just works out sometimes.

The pure and simple truth

The other night saw the return of denial insomnia. It’s my own fault. I can neither drink a Diet Coke or look at porn after 3:00 PM and expect to get any sleep. I didn’t drink the Coke, but did look at the porn at about 5:00 and it stuck with me.

The way it usually works, I get to about 80% asleep before a jolt of nervous energy wakes me up. Then I kind of drift knowingly awake before totally surfacing. As soon as that happened, there were scenarios in my head. A long-standing pornographic story that’s so far mostly only lived in my head spun up. Certain chapters of the story played out slightly differently but over and over. I judged how each permutation worked by what was happening in the tube. Hard, soft, hard, soft, harder, soft. Next thing I knew, it’d had been three hours.

Recently, I’ve made a bit of discovery when this happens. In the past, if my angst had words, it’d be something along the line of, “FUCKING HELL, I’m horny and locked up and JESUS I want to come or fuck or get fucked or eat her snatch or…or…or…” This is a kind of indulgence that feeds upon itself. I can’t get over being locked up and horny and thinking about what would happen if I wasn’t.

But if I twist that a bit. If I don’t think of the chastity and denial as things I’m doing (or even having done to me) and instead think of being locked up and denied orgasm as what I am. Who I am. Let go of the external force and accept the internal truth of being submissive and requiring Belle’s domination. It becomes a kind of mantra I go over and over in my head.

This is not what I do. It’s what I am. 

Sure, I’m still horny, but when I focus on this reality it changes how the energy buzzes inside me. It’s not something to be overcome. It’s not something bad. It’s a feature, not a bug. I can run my finger over the steel ring encircling the penis and feel as certain as it is hard and inescapable, I was meant to be locked up. I was meant to be denied orgasm. I was meant to struggle with the frustration in the night. It is what I am.

And then, somehow, I fall asleep. It worked the other night once I got there. It worked last night. Even with the nervous buzzing pressure I feel between my legs, filling my head with an acceptance of my true nature crowds out the anxiety and the worry. Even if I end up being awake all night, it’s just an occasional byproduct of my true nature.

Friday night, though, was harder. Belle unlocked the device as she was going to bed and let the penis go free all night and let me sleep naked. Presumably, this was to make things that much simpler on Saturday morning when she’d want to use it. Usually, I get woken up by the Steelheart between 3:00 AM and 4:00 AM at least for a little bit, but that night I felt like I was waking up every half hour with a raging hard-on made all the more distracting thanks to it being the kind of sensitive that only comes from being locked in a steel tube for nineteen and a half days. By about 5:00, I was having impure thoughts about my wife and wondering if burying my face between her legs as she slept would be demonstrating an insufficient level of submissive respect.

In any event, we were finally both awake and I wasted no time at all moving in. When her hand found the penis, its state surprised her but the poor thing had been waiting for a long time. Before long, I was working her snatch and sucking her tits and grinding the desperate meat into her and moaning myself as her pussy rhythmically gripped my probing fingers while she came.

And she didn’t waste any time letting me mount her. She wanted the penis as much as it wanted her and I rather quickly found myself stopping to avoid coming.

Remember,” she whispered into my ear, “It’s NO-vember.”

Right. I know. But the penis is trained now. Really and truly. Even a near fly-by of orgasm is enough of a fright to knock the erection right out of it. But I wasn’t done. I wanted more and so did she. So I rolled off, we kissed some more, I fingered her again and sucked her tits. The distraction worked and the penis came back. At least enough to stick it back in.

This is all the pleasure the penis is allowed. The feeling of her pussy as it slides in and out. Every neuron in my brain turns its attention to the millions of nerve endings along its shaft and it almost feels like I could read her pussy the way a blind man reads Braille. I was doing well. I was holding my own. I could sense the urge to come slithering around in my brainstem though it wasn’t close to forcing itself down my back and into the hard shaft, but then she did something. Just a subtle tilt of her hips. And…I was done. Finished. Wiped out.

No, I didn’t come. But I flooded her snatch with seed. Had I moved a millimeter forward or back, it would have blossomed into a full explosive orgasm. But I didn’t move. I felt the jets of three weeks’ denial shoot out of me but the tingly punch of hormones that come with orgasm were held tight by a steely will I wouldn’t have recognized when she started to deny me years ago.

This is not what I do. It’s what I am. 

I don’t come when I want. I don’t come because I feel like it. I don’t feel sorry for myself or wish it to be any other way. She controls that part of me, exclusively and completely.

And, of course, she put me back in before breakfast. And, of course, that made me happy.

More metrics and more

This morning, I found myself horny. Unexpectedly since recently I haven’t been feeling especially sexy. I have a chronic issue with my foot which has essentially halted any cardio exercise for me and that’s led me to be out of what I’d consider even passable shape and it’s really impacted my mood. But this morning, I was horny. Just kind of randomly while in the shower.

When you have a penis that’s locked up a lot (and the one on me has been lately, bigly), something strange can happen even when turned on. I was there in the shower, my mind had wandered to nice and dirty places, and I could feel the energy of being hot and horny burning in my balls. I could feel the tingle of it along my perineum and even in the penis, and the flutter of it in my chest. But that’s it. No hard-on. No pressure in the tube. At most, there was a chubbing of meat, but nothing remotely like an erection.

As I moved about and the hot water ran down my body, I could feel the heaviness of the steel shifting and pulling gently on me and that made things that much hotter. Knowing I was getting turned on and feeling that firehose of need and desire beginning to turn uselessly on the hard barrier between me and satisfaction, but it wasn’t until I soaped up and was cleaning the device and its contents that a seemingly perfunctory erection finally materialized. The hot, smooth steel was implacable in both its resistance to the internal pressure and the frustrated squeezing and groping from my slippery hands.

Even if looking at Tumblr, which I was shortly after finishing the shower, erections are not guaranteed. I will get hard if a particular scalding video or image goes by, but the attempt is fleeting. Back when chastity was new to the penis, long-lasting ragers were not uncommon. Painfully tight and throbbing. But the penis knows now. It’s been trained. Getting hard is pointless. Getting hard gets it nowhere. So it barely tries.

When it’s out, it’s a totally different story. Besides getting hard from nothing more than the feeling of the penis moving around inside my pants as I walk around, its ability to stiffen up is hair-triggered. So clearly not a functional issue. It’s all internal. Instinct tempered by discipline. Though hardly an issue anymore since the necessary condition for free erections is so rare.

So anyway, I haven’t done a metrics update in a while. I’ve been tracking my time locked up since the start of year and, even though my mood’s been spotty and I’ve been a bad rabbit and not as juiced up as as I’d like, I never stopped tracking.

fullsizerender-22Going back to August, you can see some of what I think led to my unauthorized orgasms while away from Belle. Besides staying unlocked for a week at home in which she thought I was locked, I used my emergency key to let myself out while away after about 48 hours. Honestly, I’m just not very good at keeping my hands off the meat when I’m alone with it (I admit to being a weak creature in that regard) and there was a too much time in August in which that was the case.

There were two orgasms in August, both yanked out in my tent while camping and neither authorized by Belle. That led to an amendment to my rules and, as you’re about to see, a marked increase in being in a protected state.

fullsizerender-38In September, the percentage of time in a device increased to 93%. Basically, the penis was secure for all but the equivalent of two days total. I can’t actually remember why that was now, but it could have been due to some little sore spot or something. Pretty sure it was that kind of thing and not Belle feeling the need to have it out while not in use.

There was one orgasm right at the start of the month and it was also unauthorized, but it was inside Belle and an accident. That was the last one I’ve had. Nothing in the rest of the month except some healthy spurts while fucking. One time might have been pretty close, but still not a real cumshot. None of the dopey sleepy post-coming hormones.

fullsizerender-37October is when shit got real. Under the new rules, I’m expected to put the penis away after Belle’s had her fun with it as soon as possible. Usually, that means sliding the tube back over the still wet and sticky and more than slightly chubby meat, but once a month or so I’ll clean the Steelheart well and shave the bits that are hard to get to, etc. But October was different.

I was only out three times in the first two weeks and only long enough to fuck and clean the device. In the second two weeks, Belle and I were traveling with the family. We had our own room for part of that trip, but she left the key at home so I was in the whole time. Then this past weekend, I was away from her on a road trip and, obviously, not out for that. I didn’t even ask because absent a real reason (like a federal agency’s security checkpoint), the rules are pretty clear. What this means is I’m in my third week of continuous lock-up and that’s reflected in the 99% achievement.

And as I said, no orgasms in October.

fullsizerender-23For the record, this is what the year-to-date numbers look like. It’s been all Steelheart all the time since July so that device is living up to its reputation as Belle’s favorite. The Rigid Chastity Halfshell has been shipped, though, so November’s chart will have more than one shade of blue on it. Presumably.

I can’t imagine Belle will deny herself a fuck for much longer so there’s no way I’ll go a solid month in lock-up. She’s not really into arbitrary accomplishments like that, anyway. The continued lack of orgasm is also something I have no insight into. I doubt she does, either, since letting me come seems to be a game-time decision for her most of the time. I don’t really crave one, of course, and can probably go indefinitely without it, but when it happens it’s not really for me. Like letting me out to fuck, that’s mostly because she likes how it feels. Same with coming. Sometimes, a girl just likes to feel a guy shoot his load inside her. Right now, I’m the only guy she’s got, so…

Tent logic

Exquisitedragon commented on my post about being an idiot in a tent. Part of what he said was…

These days, since we’re in the middle of some very long term denial (200+days) I’m not going to fall off the end of that without her pushing all the buttons to do so! It’s been so long and it’s her prize to take. I’m not crazy enough to go and change that.

And it occurred to me that if Belle was operating under a similar model (as in, denying me for a specific amount of time or to a specific date) there’s no way I would have cheated like that. I just know it. But why?

This may be due to some lingering attachment I have to my orgasm. Like, if there’s a hard goal, then I cannot do anything but respect it. But when if and how I come is seemingly random (from my point of view), respecting my lack of control over that event is more difficult. It doesn’t happen or not according to any observable process so what does it matter if I squirt a little on the side? What harm is that?

The flip side of this, and I think one of the main reasons Belle denies me as she does, is because in the past if she decided to move the date up because that’s what suited her or if I accidentally came too soon, I’d get all mental about it. Plus, of course, she’s come to the realization that denying me orgasm when she really wants to feel me come is also denying herself which is a bit of a paradox.

Bottom line, I need to fully own and respect that I don’t EVER come without permission, no exceptions, no wiggle room, no doubt. That the timing is not mine to decide EVER. That the method in which it happens is not up to me EVER. That I will ALWAYS get caught if I try.

This is my pledge to her: Forever and always, my orgasm belongs to you completely.