As if you didn’t already know, this post is related to the task my Belle Fille gave me prior to leaving on her trip. I am to write on my blog specific things I want her to do to me. I’ve decided, since these posts are specifically to her and for her, that I’ll write them that way. Also, I’m breaking them up into related themes. I’ve covered orgasm denial, pain, bondage, and domination so far. This time, chastity.
I very purposefully tried to leave chastity out of the previous posts since it’s the crossroad for everything that has come before. It’s the vortex where all my sexual perversions swirl together. With one little piece of polycarbonate, you deny me, hurt me, bind me, and dominate me.
- Denial. It’s absolute. Not only am I denied orgasm, I’m denied any pleasurable contact whatsoever with my cock. Many times my frustration has been so great that I’ve clawed at the thing or run my fingers over the hard plastic tube as if I was stroking myself. I’m not trying to come when I do that, I’m just trying to achieve some kind of satisfaction. It’s pretty much impossible. Plus, as an added bonus, I am also denied your touch which I crave. When you lock me up, my cock might as well not even exist. You have no idea how many of my buttons that pushes.
- Pain. The pain comes most intensely from the inevitable stifled erections, especially the ones at night. At first, these tortured me and caused me quite a bit of consternation. Now, though, I’ve be able to rationalize the pain as a symbol of my service and devotion to you. I’ve given you my cock and you’ve chosen to encase it in plastic. The pain I feel is from you, even when you’re sleeping peacefully next to me. Not to be dismissed is the lower level pain I experience all day long from trying to live with a hard plastic device strapped to a very tight spot. Sitting for too long will cause the skin trapped by the ring to burn. My jeans will push the entire contraption into my pelvis when I drive the car which eventually leaves me aching. The skin on my scrotum can be painfully stretched (which is why it feels so thick and leathery when you eventually let me out). I now look forward to all that pain and miss it when I’m out of the device.
- Bondage. What is the device except a hyper-specialized implement of bondage? When I’m in it and fully aroused and it’s pulling up and away from my body, all the flesh tight and burning, the pressure in the tube seemingly strong enough to explode its seems…yes, that’s delicious. If bondage is basically the acquiescence of physical control to another, then a device like the CB6K may be one of the most perfect bondage toys ever devised. At least it’s the one with the best ROI.
- Domination. Of course, it’s on me because you dominate that part of my body. You own it. I am reminded constantly, 24 hours a day of that arrangement. Having to always shift when I sit looking for a more comfortable position, being careful not to let it show as it presses in sharp relief through my jeans, always worrying if I’ll be able to relieve myself successfully – it is with me all the time, and so is your control over me.
I have a love/hate (but mostly love) relationship with the thing. I find it’s a relief to get it off, but shortly afterward I wish it was back on. It pisses me off and is a constant distraction, but I pine for it when it’s not there. I’m not saying I want to wear it 24/7/365, but I am saying I want to wear it more than I have recently. Before you left on your trip, you talked about locking me up for the duration of your absence. I begged off citing the still-fresh piercing, but the threat of being encased made me realize how badly I missed wearing it. So much so that I put it on Sunday night and will wear it until you tell me to take it off again. I’m pretty sure my piercing has finally healed enough to allow it (I promise, I’m not pushing it). I’ll be keeping an eye on it to be safe, but last night as I lay in bed with it clamped around my meat, it was like sleeping with a security blanket. You’re on the other side of the world, but still in control of the cock I gave you.
If you’re serious about drastically reducing my orgasmic productivity in 2009, then please leave me in the device for longer periods of time, especially if we’re not going to be together (I wouldn’t mind if I had to wear it every time we’re apart for longer than a day). My longest stint in there has been eight days. Why not fourteen? Or twenty-one? Eventually, I’d like to see what more than a month in lock-up feels like. There’s even a part of me that would like you to lock me away and enjoy all the other ways I can pleasure you so much that you forget all about my little prisoner for an indefinite period. What’s the longest you could leave me in there, anyway? Remember what I said about pushing my boundaries?
I know one of the reasons you let me out is because you crave the feeling of me in you. There’s a part of me that enjoys knowing you’re feeling just a tiny sliver of the denial I am (albeit it a very, very tiny sliver). That being said, there’s no reason why you need to be denied. You can let me out just for your pleasure and then lock me back up again immediately afterward. Even better, I would love you to make me fuck you with a strap-on. The thought of being supplanted by a thing that – based on a comparison of popular features – is superior to my own perfectly serviceable organ while it strains uselessly beneath the newcomer…oh god, I may swoon.
Eventually, I’d like to get a different chastity device. One made of steel and built with my PA piercing in mind. Regardless of what it’s made of or how it works, though, the fact that the device itself embodies all my kinks all rolled up into one neat package makes it the big kahuna of my sexual fetishes. Thank you for letting me wear it.
Yours in every way,