Month: February 2009

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Icy hotness

I was massaging her feet when she asked in a drowsy, lazy voice, “What would happen if I put Icy Hot on your balls?”

Gulp. “Um…it’d burn.”

Pause.

“OK,” she said, “I’ll put Icy Hot on your balls when you’re done massaging my feet. Then I’m going to sleep.”

She’s never done that before. What a peach.

—

Here’s what she taught me about Icy Hot:

  1. A little tiny bit goes a really long way. She applied a small, pea-sized dollop of Icy Hot on my ball sack and it burned really bad for about 15 minutes.
  2. At first, I didn’t feel a thing. I thought maybe the scrotal skin was not so sensitive to Icy Hot mojo. Then, about 20-30 seconds later, it started to kick in. Cold then shifting over to hot (really hot). Total time from first application to really being able to feel it was about a minute.
  3. At its most intense, it felt like a hot poker being jammed into my nuts. Fucking hurt.
  4. The heat/pain came in waves. It’d intensify then begin to subside, then crest again. It did that about four or five times in 15 minutes.
  5. With each crest of heat/pain, I could feel myself fill the CB6K’s tube. Yeah, I liked it.
  6. It was almost more than I could take. I remember one particularly hot wave of pain where I nearly used my safeword. I got a little scared because I wasn’t even sure what to do if that happened. Would water get rid of it? Gee, isn’t a guy hobbling off to the bathroom to splash cold water on his nuts ssssexy? In retrospect, I should have known what my escape plan was before letting her put it on me. Kids at home, take note.
  7. Fifteen minutes or so later, the heat wore off and it turned cold and the pain stopped.
  8. Next morning, no marks or other lingering affects. The perfect stealth torture implement.
  9. She liked it because it caused me intense discomfort while she could just lay there and watch me squirm. For her, a good way to inflict pain with minimum effort required.
  10. Next experiment may include applying the Icy Hot directly to the cock, sliding a condom over it, then making me fuck her.
  11. If she ever really wanted to punish me, she’d use Icy Hot in larger quantities or in successive applications.
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Patented erection protection

I somehow ended up on “Mistress Lori’s World of Chastity” (AKA chastitytube.com, the site that sells Lori’s tubes), and noticed a nifty little thing I had not seen before. It appears to be a thin stainless rod bent in such a way as to fit under and down the tube of a CB-3000 or 6000 in order to hook into a PA ring. It’s ingenious. At first, I couldn’t imagine what would keep me from just slipping it off, but then I remembered, “Oh yeah, I have testicles.” Anyway, I’d love one of these little gizmos, but they’re selling them for $100. American. Seriously. Well, good luck with that, Lori.

The other thing that I found interesting was this little piece of text placed not once but twice on the page:

All of the piercing jewelry that you see on our pages are a patent or patent pending. The entire concept of securing piercing jewelry device by the means of any piercing is protected under one or more patents or patent rights belonging to either Lori Lancer or Lancer Enterprises.

Patent or copyright infringement will not be tolerated. 6/9/97

Wow. So all those guys on the web with expensive little bent wires meant to keep wieners stuffed down tubes aren’t just copycats but actual patent thieves?! I wandered over to Google’s patent search site and looked for “Lori Lancer”, “Lancer Enterprises”, and “male chastity piercing”. Nothing. Nada. I can’t find any patents on chastity security (though to be fair, I only looked for about three minutes and, as I’ve said, I’m not a lawyer). Not saying Lori’s site is lying, but I couldn’t find anything.

In my searching, I did find an interesting little nugget: A. Frank Miller’s CB-6000 patent. I’m guessing that by the time the 6000 came out, there was enough cash flowing in from the business that patent protection made sense for them. In any event, it’s kinda cool to see the thing that brings me so much frustration described in detailed legalese.

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The third dimension of denial

My brain is fucking with me. It keeps firing off the little signals that, in the past, would precipitate a masturbation session. “Hey, wouldn’t it feel nice to jerk off? Let’s go have an orgasm!” And I, being a dense male, say, “Sure, sounds great!” followed half a second later with, “D’OH!” Ever show a dog a ball and make like you’re tossing it but really don’t? Know how the dog runs after the ball anyway? That’s me whenever my brains tells me to beat off.

I was getting kind of down this week. The last time I was able to touch Belle was on Saturday. Sunday she wasn’t interested (and we stayed up late watching the Oscars), Monday she was tired from staying up late on Sunday, Tuesday she was at a work thing, got home late and was just not in the mood, and Wednesday I was out late at a work thing. Four solid days where I never even touched my wife in a sexual way, let alone got to lick her nipples or nuzzle into her pussy. I asked her Wednesday before I left for my thing if she liked not letting me grope or otherwise come on to her. Because, of course, as a servile husband, if she likes what I don’t, it works, but if she doesn’t like what I don’t like, it’s poison.

Turns out, yeah, she does like controlling when I touch her. In fact, the conversation led her to ask me just how badly I wanted to touch her. Was I feeling deprived? I said yes, I was, and then let tumble out how much I wanted to put my hands on her and exactly what I wanted to do with my hands…along with other parts of my body. She gently reprimanded me and said that’s not what she asked. I revised and simplified my answer. Yes, I felt deprived. That’s good, she said, because that was how it needed to be. And that made it all OK.

Finally, last night, the stars aligned. We were in bed, she was in the mood, and the atmosphere (candles, iPod, etc.) was all set. But, she still wouldn’t let me touch her. I had to lay there for 15 minutes just talking. When she decided it was time, I felt like a trained Doberman being told to attack. She likes it gentle, though, and I did my best to restrain myself. Nothing for me, of course. She barely touched me. Her orgasm, though, was remarkable.

I was taken aback at how it felt to finally touch her breasts, to have my hand between her legs, her nipple in my mouth. The wave of relief that went through me was palpable. So you can add this extra dimension of denial to my collection. No orgasms, no stimulation of the cock, no sexual contact at all with my wife’s body. She controls all those things now. All I have left is what happens in my imagination. And that, absent any path to physical sensation or relief, increases the density of her control over me and sends my frustration into the clouds. I’m very happy to be wearing the CB6K as not having it would severely test my will.

Speaking of the device, I had to take the KSD-G3 off the other day. I use the one wil the shallowest rib more to keep the cock positioned well than for security, but the other morning I woke up with the acute sensation of it biting into the top of the shaft. Sure enough, there was an angry red line where it had made contact with the skin. This is not unusual, but the intensity of the bite that morning was atypical. No idea why.

The past few days have had me in grown-up clothes (dress pants) which have necessitated me wearing my most stealthy underwear. I have several pairs of tight, low-cut briefs that push the plastic down between my legs and back into my pelvis. This is very effective at hiding the package, but when combined with lots of sitting (four hour meeting yesterday, for example), it can leave me feeling pretty raw and sore. The ring, only on the right side for some reason, cuts into my flesh and that problematic spot behind the right post gets red and irritated. Luckily, today, I’m in some very forgiving boxer-briefs and am wearing my most baggy, chastity-friendly pants. Everything gets to swing a little more freely.

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Montreal, Part II

Here’s what I think about porn (at least, the porn I like): It’s fantasy. An escape. Total unreality. Just enough basis in real life so that it’s not outrageous and unbelievable (it needs to be just believable), but honestly not so far removed from a cartoon. Porn is not about the mundane mechanics of how sex should or does work, it’s about turning people on. Porn is not a guide to sex any more than The Lion King is a guide to wildlife. It should be reasonably well-written with all the words spelled correctly and with acceptable grammar. Basically, it shouldn’t look like it was pecked out with one hand (if you know what I mean). That is the standard I have tried to follow as I’ve continued this story.

Please note that the events I’ve depicted here have no basis in any personal experiences, except that Belle and I did once spend a very nice (very vanilla) weekend in Montreal in a room not unlike the one I describe in the story. I am not representing real life here and I am also very clearly not trying to describe some kind of ideal life through fiction. I would not want what happens to the guy in this story to happen to me (not all of it, anyway). Life is life, porn is porn. They are not the same.

Anyway, with that outrageously long preamble out of the way, let’s continue. Last we saw our protagonist, he was bound to a chair, a red dildo up his ass, on display in front of the windows of the hotel room he shared with his wife. Night was beginning to fall. Soon, it would be hard for anyone to miss him…

Continue reading “Montreal, Part II”

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Kink on Tap

I’m currently relistening to Maymay and Sara’s Kink on Tap podcast, espisode 6 – Teasing and Denial. I first heard it when I was just starting to explore T&D and found it to be incredibly helpful. Now, several months later, I’m finding myself nodding along and better understanding many of the themes they discuss. I’m actually getting more out of it now that I’m a bit more experienced. I can’t recommend it enough.

The next episode in the series was a continuation of the T&D conversation, but this time with Tom Allen. I look forward to hearing it again and capturing any nuggets of info I may have missed the first time around.

Sadly, Tom’s was their last KoT. Maymay and Sara have moved on to other projects, but I still hope that one day they’ll find the time and interest necessary to revive the podcast. It was terrific.

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Random tidbits

Just a couple of unrelated things…

First, I’ve been locked up again since last Thursday and have found it to be significantly more comfortable than previous stints. I’ve moved back to the 1.875″ ring (second largest) but down to the smallest spacer. Typically, I get some irritation from the backside of the right-hand post rubbing against the spot where my scrotum bunches up, but not this time. I figured the smaller spacer would make this worse, but in fact it’s entirely disappeared. For me, it’s usually taken a week or so in the device for things to settle down and feel good, but I seem to have skipped that part this time. Maybe it’s because I was just in for two weeks with only a week off in between? Dunno, but I’m not complaining.

Second, I received in the mail yesterday a 6g segment ring (like this one). I was hoping to be able to sneak it into my 8ga PA hole, but no dice. (In case you’re wondering, she let me out for a few minutes to try it out.) It’s really beautiful. Heavy, chunky. When I finally get it in, it’s going to be pretty hot.

I had to use needle-nose pliers to pop it open (wrapped in tissue so as not to scratch it), and getting it closed again was pretty hard. If the PA security cable didn’t bother me so much, this ring would provide absolute security for me. Oh well. Now I’m looking at stretching tapers and opening/closing tools.

Finally, Belle has started to expand her authority. Now, she calls what used to be our bed her bed. She’s allowing me to sleep with her in her bed, but I must sleep naked. Yes, I find this incredibly hot. She was dead tired last night, so we had a chance to talk a lot about that and other things. I told her that for the bed thing to work (and it’s surprising how quickly I felt I was in her bed once she started calling it that), I need to feel that I can’t take sleeping in it for granted. Some nights, she’s going to have to make me sleep elsewhere, either because of some displeasure I give her or just because. This might be tricky with two kids in the house, but we’re thinking about it. I didn’t say this to her, but I think it’d also be hot if  I wasn’t allowed in without her permission and only after demonstrating my subservience in some way. I should bring that up. In any event, I dig it and love that it was all her idea.

I feel as though the D/s aspect of our relationship is really starting to take root. Having the Covenant signed is a huge psychological hurdle, but I’m feeling more and more comfortable showing that part of me to Belle and she’s gaining confidence as she starts to get a feel for her role. I’ve never been happier. Now, if I can only remain patient and let it unfold at its own pace.

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Legal fig leaves

I noticed the other day the following at the bottom of all the pages on A.L. Enterprise’s website:

Disclaimer: All of our products are sold as novelty items only.
A. L. Enterprises, Inc. does not accept responsibility for any misuse or possible injury resulting in their use.

And then, yesterday, looking at the ExoBelt V1, I found this in the footer:

For obvious legal reasons we cannot recommend any ExoBelt product for use on the body or in any capacity as a medical device. It must be understood that some acts discussed or depicted on the ExoBelt website on in email correspondence may be medically unsafe or harmful and that the description and discussion of and such act(s) is intended as purely anecdotal or “fantasy” material. You choose to engage in any such act(s), discussed or depicted, entirely at your own risk.

I am not a lawyer, and it’s been well over a year since I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express, but these disclaimers seem to be absurd attempts to shield them from possible legal action from someone injured by their products. I’m not even sure what ExoBelt is trying to say. So using their product as they demonstrate with pictures may be unsafe so pretend we’re all talking about fantasy here and somehow it’ll all work out all right?

I’d much rather see these companies list out the possible side-effects of using their products along with how those side-effects can be avoided or corrected. Also (and I’m only familiar with the CB-6000 version of this), thorough usage guidelines included with the product would be very helpful.

I’m not saying they shouldn’t try to protect themselves against frivolous lawsuits, but it seems to me that pretending as though people aren’t using these things for exactly what they were designed to do is duplicitous in the extreme and shows a remarkable lack of respect or concern for their customers. For example, requiring purchasers to agree to a terms of use outlining risks and limiting the companies’ liability would be far preferable to saying after the fact that whatever happens to you is your own problem.

Instead of hiding behind stupid legal fig leaves, these companies should be investing in educational materials and usage guidelines. To do otherwise is remarkably irresponsible.

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The organ of the dominant paradigm

I wasn’t going to write about this. It seems as though I’ve been running over here to tell everyone each time we have sex and, I suppose, that would get a little tiresome after a while. I mean seriously, who wants to sound like that guy in high school who told you each and every time a chick let him get to third base?

I wasn’t going to, but I figured out an angle – a way to use what happened to make a point. And my point is, last night we had terrific, mind expanding, deeply satisfying sex and at no time whatsoever were any penises involved in any way. Just the idea of that kind of blows my mind. Never would I have said such an thing could be possible four months ago.

It started in the kitchen. I was throwing together dinner and I think Belle was emptying the dish washer when she slapped my ass with a spatula. Even though it was through my sweats, it kind of stung. She was just fooling around, but when she saw my apparent interest in the sensation (I think I grabbed the granite and bit my lower lip), she did it again. And again and again. Ouch. But, you know, in the good way. She had previously said that that night she was going to do something painful to me, but hadn’t really settled in on what it was going to be. A few seconds swinging a spatula and she knew. That night, she was going to hit me on the ass with a kitchen utensil.

She hasn’t really hit me all that much and never on the ass. Yeah, she’s bitten me there (fucking awesome) and scratched and dug her nails into it, but never hit me. I’ve very much wanted to be hit there and, lucky for me, she found something she wanted to hit me with. Apparently, she finds it amusing that such a common item could be used for such an uncommon purpose. I told her we could find kinky shit to do with all kinds of stuff, if that’s what she wanted.

So, of course, I’m thinking about getting whacked with the spatula all during dinner. Afterward, while I was cleaning up and she was lounging on the couch in front of the fire, I went to her. I needed to kneel there and just be close. The idea of being hurt by her always makes me the most submissive I can be and so I wanted to be near her and show her how grateful I was for what she was going to do. I feel like there’s a room I go to when she’s abusing me and, when I know it’s coming, I kind of stand in the doorway – half in and half out, a foot on each side. And that’s where I was there, kneeling on the floor. Standing on the threshold of my secret room of pain.

Later, in the bedroom, candles all lit and semi-dark, I felt a trembling anticipation. I had placed the spatula on her nightstand (she let me pick which one she’d use). I got up to make sure the kids were both asleep and came back in and closed the door behind me. She told me to strip. I did and stood there naked before her wearing nothing but my chastity device. I’m quite self-conscience of it when I’m like that and the feeling layered on top of the knowledge that I was about to be hurt. I climbed back onto the bed and again, without even thinking about, put myself in a very submissive posture – face down, ass up, rubbing my head up against her torso. I was as deep into the headspace as I can get.

She ran her hands along my back and up and over my ass. At first, gentle caresses, then light scratching, then, suddenly, hard, deep scratching. She raked her nails from my ass all the down my back to my neck, then would pick a spot and dig her nails into me deeply. I whimpered into the sheets and she switched back to the gentle before attacking again with the harsh. She had me on edge and jumpy, hurting me randomly in a way I hadn’t been expecting.

Then she picked up the utensil and moved into position. At first, she hit me lightly getting me used to it. Even then, it stung more than I thought it would. Beforehand, I asked her to eventually hit me as hard as she could just to see what the worse could feel like. It didn’t take her long to get there. Left cheek, right cheek, left, right, left, left, left. She’d rain down a quick series of blows, then stop and stroke the burning surface of my ass with the cold, flat black plastic. I probably would have dealt better had I been tied down. As it was, I writhed and whimpered and cried out with each hard thwack.

At first, it was very hard to take. I liked it, but it was so intense. Much more than I’m used to or was expecting. I didn’t think of asking her to stop, but it was getting difficult to imagine it continuing. After a few minutes, she asked me how I was doing. Was I OK? Long pause. Yes, I was fine. The hitting continued. My ass was stinging and I could feel it radiating heat. At some point, I felt myself start to draw away from the intensity of the pain. It still hurt, but the harsh jagged edges of it were smoothing out. Just as it seemed I was settling in for the long haul, she stopped.

We laid there, kissing, my eyes closed and ass on fire. She asked how I felt. I said I felt like getting hit some more. But she was tired, so it was over for the night. And seriously, I basked. In whatever chemical afterglow follows that kind of punishment, I laid there and wallowed in it. I can’t put into words how it felt. Kind of like after an orgasm, but not. Different. Higher. Warmer. I don’t know. But how I love my Belle for taking me there.

After that, it was more typical of our recent sessions. I gave her a back and shoulder massage with the scented oil while my ass kept up it’s pleasant throbbing sting. Once she had had enough rubbing, she turned over and I used Pink, the little vibe that could, to bring her to orgasm (preceded with multiple soft yet forceful exclamations of “oh god” in quick succession – that was a nice touch). Afterward, she giggled saying the residual sensation of the vibe tickled.

It wasn’t until this morning that I realized we never, not once, even touched the cock during the entire scene. It simply wasn’t a factor, yet I was more than satisfied and she had a terrific orgasm. They can’t all go down like that, of course (she’s too big a fan of her cock), but to be able to pull it off not only absent the organ at the focus of the dominant paradigm’s version of sex but without even considering it is awesome.

Maybe it’s time for a new paradigm.

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Making it official

Today, Belle and I signed our Covenant. It’s changed somewhat from the original document. I had to add the bit about me not being allowed to touch her in a way that suggests I get to decide when we have sex, but plus or minus a few other things, it’s pretty much the same as it was when we first started working on it.

I know some people don’t like contracts or feel they’re unnecessary. Maybe they’re just happier to go with the flow or don’t like the idea of being locked into one way to play. Personally, I’ve always been the kind of guy who feels more comfortable living life accompanied by some structure and routine. Also, I like that we’ve been able to put on paper exactly what’s expected of me by both of us. It’s like having a map with a “You are here” pin sticking in it. I like knowing what the rules are.

Before, I had always thought there’d be some kind of little ceremony surrounding the signing, but we did it simply and without fanfare on the couch while she was reading the paper this morning. It was simple, but I could feel the significance of it radiating from every little submissive cell in my body. Now I’m equal parts nervous and excited. I can’t wait to see how things will develop now that we’ve formalized this new layer of our relationship.

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Things that are hard

You know what’s hard? Well, besides that. What’s hard is not being Mr. Gropesalot in the morning with Belle. Based on the most current version of our still-evolving Covenant, I’m not allowed to make sexual advances, including random grabs at her tasty bits. The past two mornings I’ve had to grapple with myself and not do what I’ve always been able to do in the past. I could almost see the little angle and devil on my shoulders. “Go ahead, squeeze her tit,” says the little red me with the horns and sexy tail. “No, no! You really shouldn’t!” says Jiminy Cricket on the other shoulder.

Most other married men (assuming they have decent relations with their spouses) can take for granted the open access to their wife’s body they enjoy. He can roll over in the morning, slide his hand under her shirt, play with her nipple. No, she may not let him get much farther (and she may not be thrilled with the advance), but he can do that. Not me. She’s drawn a line. I cannot make any assumptions as to her availability to me. I cannot initiate sex through my actions. There are places I cannot put my hands. I have to ask. And I only get to ask once.

From what I can tell, she loves this arrangement. Yesterday, because I listened to Jiminy, I left her alone and she was able to sleep in until 9:00. For a woman with two young kids, that’s close to an act of god. This morning, I told her I wanted her to know that just because I wasn’t coming after her didn’t mean I wasn’t interested. That’s my sly way of saying, if you want a little something, I am so ready to give it to you (pretty cleaver, huh?). She said she was totally aware of what I was interested in, but that I wasn’t going to get it. She just came last night and didn’t want another one yet. So, we cuddled. I wanted to nibble her nipple through her shirt and shove my hand down her pants, but instead we hugged. It was all very…sweet. Totally non-sexual, but sweet. The entire time, the plastic tub between my legs was filled to capacity.

So yeah, I guess that was hard, too.