Double release

Thursday night, after we had driven four hours to the family compound in the North woods, Belle let me out of the device. On the one hand, I was surprised because she had dropped zero hints leading up to the unlocking, but on the other hand, I fully expected her to unlock me at some point over the course of the weekend. Yes, it would have been nice of her to do it before we left home and the fucking A-ring got to ground my balls to pulp for four hours, but whatever. I hardly have room for complaining. Eighteen days in the box is over.

And I went right into my new chrome cock ring. I had received it earlier that day from Stockroom.com. It was on sale. Anyway, it’s the same diameter as the A-ring I had just been released from. I’ve found I’ve become accustomed to feeling something holding my root and miss it when it’s not there. The substantial weight of this thing is hard to miss (like, if it was chucked at someone’s head with sufficient force, it’d probably kill them). It was too late to actually fool around, though. Time for sleep.

Sleeping all loose and floppy is actually more distracting than being locked up once you get used to it. It seems like the dick gets hard more often. It gets to feel all those exciting new sensations from rubbing against the sheets, Belle, etc., plus, of course, it’s out. It seems to me a chastised dick gets hard less often than an unchastised one because it knows there’s no point in doing so. In any event, it was plenty hard for most of the night and kept waking me up like a puppy wanting to play. The next morning, its hardness was accentuated by the fat silver ring. I practically begged Belle to let me give her an orgasm, which she allowed me to do.

All I wanted was to feel her come. I did not expect I’d come, but after a few moments of the usual manual approach, she told me she wanted to come on her cock and that she expected me to come, too. My heart leapt as she rolled me onto my back and mounted her hard, throbbing, nearly-four-week-denied cock.

I didn’t last long. I really was doing my dead level best not to come before she did, but I knew I was allowed to and all of my usual barriers were gone. I could feel my juices bubbling up inside me practically from the moment her soft wetness enveloped me. Two or three minutes later, I was fighting for my life trying like hell to stop what had, at that point, become inevitable. I was fighting so hard, I didn’t notice she was coming at the same time and hardly had a chance to enjoy it. On a scale of one to ten, I’d rank that one about a 3. Twenty-six days where nary a drop of precum had leaked out of me were capped by another pathetic squirt.

I told her immediately afterward how hard it had been to resist the orgasm. That her telling me I was going to come somehow released all the safety mechanisms inside my head.

She told me I was like a well-trained dog, coming when called.

“Good boy,” she said while patting my head.

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