What about you?

Since the blog will likely be “dark” until after Easter when we’re back from London, I thought this would be a great time to haul out the reader survey again. For those who were around about a year ago, this is where I, driven by an insatiable curiosity in all the invisible eyes that peer into my most private and personal life, ask you, the invisible peepers, a handful of questions. The only thing I do with the responses is report them back to you. Also, there’s a chance at the end of the survey for you to say or ask anything you want about the blog, me, Belle, health insurance reform, or your favorite peanut butter cookie recipe. Mmmm…peanut butter.

So what’s stopping you? Take the reader survey! (The survey is closed! Results soon…)

P.S. On second thought, keep your health insurance reform opinions to yourself.

Imminent departure

I am feeling quite seriously horny.

I only mention this because it’s been on my mind a lot today. And yesterday. Oh, and the day before that. Wait…yeah, OK, so all this week. Belle was away from Sunday morning until basically Thursday (she got home in the middle of the night Wednesday). Absence makes the heart grow whatever the saying is and, trust me, when she’s gone my heart’s not the only thing trying to grow around here. With her moderating influence gone, I tend to only get hornier and hornier until I find myself tossing and turning all night long.

Tomorrow night, the entire family leaves on an international vacation. After an eight and a half hour overnight flight, we arrive in London at about noon local time for a week’s Brady Bunch-style romp (though I’ve already warned the kids about the tiki necklace issue). Last night, I asked Belle what her plans were with regard to her cock while we were away. Obviously, she can’t take it through airport security protected by the Steelheart. She declined the idea that I dust off the CB6K since, as I’ve mentioned before, she’s way too smitten with the steel now. I expected her to leave me out for the length of the trip (since I’ve already been in for a little over three weeks), but she says she plans on letting me out tomorrow only so she can pack the Steelheart. Then, once we’re over there and settled in to our hotel, she’s locking it back up again. With the exception of when we’re actually in transit to and from, she will be maintaining control over the cock, regardless of our vacation.

As soon as she told me this, I felt an unexpected surge of affection toward her that nearly brought tears to my eyes. I pulled her in for a deep kiss. Later that night, I thanked her for it. I’m not sure exactly what I was thanking her for except that I appreciated her desire to continue my enforced chastity, even while on a family vacation. I told her that it made me feel good inside. It maintains our intimate link. Makes me feel special. Like she really cares for me. Loved.

I’m hoping for some bunny-on-Belle action tonight since it’s been nearly a week and we’ll have few opportunities for anything beyond a quiet, undercover orgasm for her once we’re all sharing a hotel room. My expectations are probably too high, but it’d be nice to send us off with a really remarkable climax.

Words about pictures

When I started my new little venture in porn distribution, I said I’d post “specifically the porn that, for whatever reason, speaks to me as a chastised submissive bisexual male.” I find that, even just a few days into it, that that’s not exactly how it’s unfolding.

There’s a difference, it turns out, between merely consuming porn and showing what you like to the rest of the world. Even though I’ve become fairly comfortable exposing myself (both physically and emotionally) here on the blog, there’s something different about showing everyone what turns your crank. It’s like the opposite of a Rorschach test where people get to see things in you based on the pictures rather than the other way around. In much the same way I made the decision long ago to draw a line between certain things that happen in my head or in my life (even if they’re germane to this blog’s purpose), I now find myself not posting all the images that move me.

What I’m doing now is more akin to curating than anything else. I look at the images with a  different eye. As opposed to just posting the “hot” ones, I feel the need to make sure they fit the image I want to project for my little collection (and, by extension, this blog and, by extension, me). After blogging for about a year and a half, it’s like I’ve developed something like a brand I want to nurture and protect. I suppose that kind of thinking is a byproduct of my professional life. I can’t help it.

In any event, what follows is a random set of observations regarding some things I’ve figured out now that I’m seeing the porn (rather than just looking at it) as well as what I’m looking for in an image before I post it.

The first and maybe most obvious thing is I’ve chosen not to post is images of women in obviously submissive poses or performing obviously submissive acts. This isn’t a political statement or anything, it’s just that there’s so goddamn much of it out there already. There seems to be, in particular, a fascination with close ups of women performing fellatio in the sample I’ve been perusing. Also, women being contorted into uncomfortable positions while being fucked.

An example of one such image is this one. I find it hot for a number of reasons, but for my collection, it’s inappropriate because of the relationship it suggests between the woman and the man’s cock (the man’s beautiful, beautiful cock). This is not to say, had the camera pulled out, that the larger scene wouldn’t have been much different, but for my purposes, I want to show images where the woman is minimally equal to the man and preferably superior. This is highly subjective and I think some of the pictures I’ve chosen (like this one) don’t suggest any kind of power dynamic. However, I bring my own perspective to the scene. Where someone might see two lovers in an embrace I will also add a dynamic or scenario that’s probably only in my head.

The images I especially like are those where the woman’s pleasure appears to be the focus of the sexual act (such as this or that). These are the minority of the images I’ve seen. While they also don’t necessarily suggest a power dynamic, they do illustrate something I’ve felt my entire life: the woman’s pleasure is just as, if not more, important than mine and should always come first.

The next kind I like are the “adoration” type images where the man is demonstrating how much he’s into the woman. I simple love these two.

Sliding down the D/s scale, you find things like this or this. I almost feel self-conscious posting those as they’re so obvious, but they’re also tripping enough of my triggers (as well as aligning well enough with the “brand”) that they get included. I have found myself being somewhat more discriminating when it comes to this kind (here’s a nice one).

I have been including pictures of solo people I find especially attractive, either in repose (example 1 and 2) or pleasuring themselves (3 and 4). Those are there only because I find them especially attractive (and I’m totally jealous of the guys).

The ones I’m most missing are images of men with other men. I have at least one that I’m very happy with, but pictures of guys being submissive or demonstrating adoration to other guys have so far been very rare. There’s a metric shit ton of generic guy on guy sex out there (some of it very attractive – hello Corbin Fisher) and quite a bit of hard core leather stuff, but what about the gay D/s that’s not studded and covered in body hair? If you have any sources, I’d love to see them.

So there you have it. Nearly 800 words about pictures. I’m sure there’s something I meant to mention but forgot and I’m also sure the collection will continue to evolve. In the mean time, I hope you enjoy it.

Meat this!

Tom’s got another meaty one. (Perverts. Post. He’s got a meaty post.)

I’m going to start by highlighting the bit I especially loved.

[B]eing locked up does not make me feel less manly, less assertive, less randy, or less anything. It makes me feel … more.

Way. In my experience, denial is like turning the saturation way up on a TV. When it’s really humming, it makes all my senses crackle. It’s a beautiful thing. Regular readers will know that I don’t always feel this way and sometimes being denied does result in me feeling less, but I think that’s more a result of Belle and I still getting a hang of all the buttons and switches (overlaid with the normal ebbs and flows of the human psyche) than it is the fault of the denial.

And who in fuck’s name would want to feel less? Can that even be a thing? Getting off on feeling less? Anyway…

Tom goes on to say:

Personally, I’ve been reading so much about what people consider to be “submission” and “submissiveness” that I have decided to disassociate myself from the term altogether; virtually nothing of what I’ve been reading seems to apply to me, so instead of trying to defend my own submissiveness, or more correctly, those certain feelings that I get that I used to associate with submissiveness, I’m just going to move on to some other scale and call it something else. Or maybe I won’t call it anything; I’ll just feel them and describe what I can.

This really speaks to me, too. I mean, that’s kind of what this was all about, right?

The way my brain figures out new things is by looking at similar things to understand how they’re supposed to work. I suppose everyone does this to some extent, but I do it a lot. Pretty much to a fault. Sometimes, this is a really good strategy (like when learning language or how a logical system operates), but in the case of human sexuality, this is a really lame way to go about it. Coming to all this submissiveness stuff late in life, I did my usual thing and looked for analogs of what I thought I was. Tom was one of those as were a number of other bloggers (along, even, with some porn which, of course, is a Really Bad Idea™). Bottom line is I kept comparing myself to a bunch of “ideals” and coming up short. There are a few I feel I’m more like than others, but none of them fit. Obviously, this is because human sexuality is infinitely variable. It’s not an operating system or a machine (even though I used that metaphor above). It’s a messy tangle of crossed wires and gooey dark corners that’s always bubbling and morphing and slithering along in unexpected directions.

Long way around to say the obvious: labeling a human’s sexual quirks can be damaging. If Tom wants to shed his submissive cloak, more power to him. I think there are more ways for otherwise “submissive” men to be different than there are for them to be the same. Case in point is our views on service, but I’ll get to that later. First…

It’s amusing to see that the selling points for male chastity devices tend to focus on either making your man more “romantic”, or on making him do more household chores. … But is this actually true, or is it a stereotype that plays on the idea that sex is something that men want, and  women parcel out according to whim?

I have tried to run away from this stereotype and in doing so have beat myself up (only figuratively, alas) for not Doing It Right, but the thing is, yeah, being locked up and denied does tend to make me a better mate to Belle. I’m much more attentive to her, much more in tune with what she needs, and much more willing to sacrifice what I want in order to give her what she wants.

But for us, the device is only a catalyst. What it represents is a level of commitment on Belle’s part to our relationship that, frankly, I didn’t feel for years (and she didn’t feel it back from me, either). Now, because she locks up the cock, because she denies me orgasm, because she takes advantage of my desire to serve her, I am fully engaged with her and our relationship like I haven’t been for about a decade. Likewise, she sees a commitment from me though my dealing with the device, giving her the cock to control, and trying my hardest to be of service to her. Did the device do that? Or did I? I think it was both of us.

Too many people think chastity devices are like magical talismans that are good for whatever ails you. Like any tool, it’s how you use it that counts. Just because there’s a thing involved, people incorrectly assign the improvements in their relationship to the device when in fact they should be taking the credit themselves. Successfully integrating chastity is hard work that, when done correctly, bears a lot of fruit. But it’s the fact that they’re doing the work that makes it work, not whatever thing they’ve chosen to play with.

Never not once has any woodworker said, “Gee, that hammer really made a great bookcase!”

The last bit of Tom’s post I want to flog is the part about service. Or, more specifically, how the concept of being a service sub just isn’t lighting any fires over at the Allen Ranch. I tried to find that one salient blurb that fully captured his sentiment, but really, it’s the entire last four paragraphs of his post. If you haven’t already, go read it.

I’ll wait…


He does a pretty good job of knocking the whole service concept about the head and face, and I think that we probably have a fair bit of common ground around this, but I also think he’s missing some of the point.

I know (or, at least, I read) that some people actually get a sexual charge from performing service. I do not. He talks about how he doesn’t “drip with sexual excitement” when he brings Mrs. Edge a cup of coffee, and while I get Belle coffee all the time, it’s never caused me to drip anything (other than the occasional bit I’ve spilled). It isn’t the act of doing what she says that gets me off. In fact, it’s often a bit of a downer. I’d rather be updating my portfolio or playing on the PS3 or whatever. But, in a way I admit to not being fully able to put into coherent words yet, I love being her tool. I think of myself as her live-in manservant. Whatever she tells me to do, I will do, whether I want to or not, because that’s my position. I live to serve her. Even when I don’t want to, I want her to make me.

People have left comments here before about this and how it’s not really service and that all I’m doing is being a responsible partner in the marriage, yadda yadda. First of all, I think they’re underestimating the amount of work I do for her. I do 98% of all the laundry in our house of four people. I cook most of the meals. I make the beds, etc., etc. As Belle has said, she doesn’t really need to do much of anything around the house anymore. She will do things, but only because she wants to, not because she has to. Also, they miss what can’t be seen on the outside. It’s my intention to serve her. When I do it, I may not be enjoying the actual work, but I get a warmnfuzzy feeling inside. When she tells me I’m doing a good job, I similarly feel a warm flush. This isn’t necessarily sexual (though the context of when she says it makes a difference).

Here’s an example. As I said in my previous post (which, by the way, I’m really not that happy with – they can’t all be winners), Belle offered to let me out of the device so I could enjoy the cock being played with, but only if I got all the laundry done on Saturday. That was a lot of laundry. It took hours. But, when we were in bed and she had unlocked me and she was petting the cock and telling me what a good job I had done and how I had earned the time out…Jesus! I was over-the-moon kind of happy. Maybe one of the most satisfying few moments of our entire D/s adventure thus far. I felt totally beholden to her. I felt so happy that she appreciated my work. I felt totally and completely under her control. It was awesome.

Unlike Tom writing in general about service and not getting in the slightest turned on by it, my writing the previous paragraph has left me with a seriously full tube. So he doesn’t work that way. Whatever. Does that mean he’s not a “real” submissive? Fuck if I know. Honestly, who cares? I feel kind of the same way about the sissified guys out there who want to be put in panties and frilly little dresses as he does about service. Does that mean I’m not submissive? Or they’re not? Or they are, but too much?

As long as, at the end of the day, we’re all healthy and happy, then we’re Doing It Right. Call it whatever you want.

P.S. I apologize for the lame post title, but after all that, I couldn’t come up with anything pithy. It happens to all guys sooner or later…or so I’m told.

Out and about

As promised, Belle let me out last night and left me out until this morning. After she removed the lock, I took all the metal off – both the device and the PA ring. Experience has demonstrated that the heavy ring will cause irritation when in place during exuberant jack-off sessions, but I also wanted a very natural feeling. Just skin.

Laying in bed under the candlelight, she placed her hand lightly over the flaccid meat. I closed my eyes and reveled in the sensation, so unfamiliar and relatively rare, that was only happening because she allowed it to.

She was petting it like a hamster when she said, “Thank you for giving it to me.”

“Thank you for taking care of it,” I replied. “I should have given it to you a long time ago.”

Taking the rapidly swelling meat between the tips of her fingers, she started to slowly stroke it until it was fully hard. My hips twitched and my ass pressed into the mattress as her pace quickened. I felt the old stirrings deep in my balls as the preejaculation mechanisms started clicking into place, but she stopped well short of an orgasm.

Allowing it to rest, she ran her fingers down along the shaft and over my scrotum. I was moaning quietly as she lightly touched my balls, then she clutched them in her hand and started squeezing hard. Harder. Her fingernails were digging into me almost past the point of tolerance before she suddenly released them. Then she slapped them. Then she punched them. She landed two or three blows that sent tendrils of pain down my legs and into my guts. She’d give me just enough time for the red glow of pain to subside before striking again and harder.

“Please, can I touch it?” I asked. I wanted to feel my own hand around that cock. She said yes, and I started to beat the hell out of it. I was stroking the shaft while she kept her fingers playing with the sack, occasionally slapping, squeezing, or punching.

It was all supremely indulgent. All the attention was focused on me and, while she let me kiss her passionately, she turned down multiple offers for anything else. All she wanted to do was reward me, and I was grateful for it.

Before she went to sleep she told me I could keep playing with it as long as I didn’t come. I got close to multiple times, but it was never a serious danger. Clear precum leaked copiously, but mostly through my empty piercing.

After about another hour or so, I too went to sleep and felt the cock stinging from the attention it received. I had jacked it raw. I think that, because it’s in the steel tube nearly all the time now, that its skin has become much more sensitive. I felt this very much on its head. It really isn’t like a normal cock anymore. It’s been domesticated. It’s like a hothouse flower. No longer wild, it needs to be maintained and treated with care. Next time she lets me out for this kind of fun, I’ll have to remember the lube.

This morning, Belle’s off on a three day business trip and the cock, naturally, is back in its protective shell. She’s been gone less than 30 minutes, but I feel her absence acutely. I miss her so much already.


I am, right now, this second, totally in the zone. I’m feeling controlled, horny, and submissive. Belle asked me why and I told her I had no idea. After some thinking it over, I actually have a few thoughts…

  • I haven’t had a real orgasm in five weeks. I know, I had a kind of a thing a couple of weeks ago, but I’m not counting that. There was an emission, but no orgasm. An actual toe curling pleasure squirt has not come out of me since January (though the last time she allowed me to come was on Valentine’s Day). It may not be en vougue to admit it, but being denied and encased can contribute to my subbie vibe.
  • Belle’s exerting her control pretty well right now. Bossing me around, expecting me to serve and obey, etc. She just got her period which means she’s really not feeling like being pawed all over, but last night I was pretty much begging her to be let out so I could play with the cock and she told me no. She did say, though, that if I managed to finish all the laundry today she’d let me out for a little edging tonight. It feels good to be managed. Powerless.
  • Belle’s totally on board with the 100 days thing. She won’t give me permission to come until a hundred days from the 1st of March. I was already a few weeks into being denied when she picked that date as the start of the 100 days, so technically it’ll be more than that when, on June 8th, I’ll have permission. We’ll see if I can make it that long. In any event, the challenge is invigorating.
  • All that, plus she obviously enjoys leaving me in the device continuously. She strokes its surface and comments how smooth it is, tells me how sexy and sleek it looks – better than what it contains. And she’s not just saying that for my benefit. She means it. I am now essentially a permanently chastised man, only let out when she wants to use me, and that’s fucking awesome.


Thumper’s portfolio

My recent post on the kind of porn I’m drawn to gave me an idea. No, it’s not a particularly novel or even an original idea as it’s apparent that only about a gazillion other people have had done the very same thing, but that’s how ideas go sometimes.

It seems to me that if one of the purposes of this blog is to relate how my experiences are shaping my thinking and feeling, then how it effects the kind of pornography that stirs me is also relevant. In fact, the kind of porn I find myself responding to has changed quite a bit since Belle and I brought D/s, T&D and chastity into our relationship. As I’ve said before, in the past I was consuming mostly gay porn with rather occasional authoritarian overtones. Now, women are much more prevalent. In particular, the images with women suggest (at least to me) a dynamic like the one I have with Belle. It’s often not obvious or even what the photographer had in mind, but it’s what I see.

So anyway, I’ve started a Tumblr photo blog called Thumper’s Portfolio where I’m going to collect pictures I like, but also the occasional story or even video. It’s not going to be just any porn that turns my crank, but specifically the porn that, for whatever reason, speaks to me as a chastised submissive bisexual male. I’m not planning on adding any color as to why a particular image works for me. It’ll just be a stream of consciousness kind of thing.

I could have integrated this stuff into this blog, but don’t think that the majority of my readers are all that interested in seeing the stuff that turns me on. If you’re interested, check it out. If not, ignore it. If you do check it out, I hope you like it.

HNThumper XIV

Underwear is a tricky thing. If you’re trying to hide the odd bulge in your crotch because the pants you’re wearing are especially “showy”, then I’ve found tight briefs to be the best bet. However, I’ve also found that the better a pair of underwear hide the device, the more uncomfortable they are. Holding the device down between your legs, squashing the balls into the tube, etc., can leave you feeling rather abused by the end of the day.

If you’re looking for maximum comfort, then I’ve found a simple string thong to be best. The pouch supports your package just enough but doesn’t push it around. Of course, the trade off is that it does nearly nothing to hide the device (it’s almost like going commando, which I’m not a big fan of in chastity), but the difference in comfort is noticeable at the end of the day.

This discussion, of course, is all a flimsy artifice to give me an excuse to post a picture of me in my underwear. Click the jump for the moderately NSFW image (and then click again for a slightly more risque reveal).

Continue reading “HNThumper XIV”

Jim’s stiffies

I find that the more I’m locked up, the more I’m interested in seeing pictures of hard cocks. Now, I admit I like pictures of hard cocks as much as the next guy (OK, I probably like them more than the next guy), but this isn’t just about looking at porn. This is about seeing the thing I don’t get. The one thing that’s not on the menu for me in any way: hard, throbbing, occasionally dripping cock.

Surabaya Jim is a site that Maymay brought to my attention in a comment here. It’s a Tumblr blog that only posts pictures of cocks. Big ones, littler ones, really hard ones, sorta soft ones, fat ones, skinny ones, black ones, white ones – you get the idea. Just cocks. In the spectrum of porn sites, it’s not especially creative, but it does draw me like a moth especially when I’m where I am now. I’d post some of the pictures here, but on the NSFW scale, I’d imagine a close up of a big erection has to rate about a 9.5. I’ll put a list at the end of this of some of my recent favorites. I noticed in looking for those that the one attribute most of them share is that they either show or suggest that the model is playing with himself. Yeah, that’s the other thing I don’t get to do.

When I wear the device, it is a constant. It’s always hard and smooth and it pretty much always looks the same, regardless of what the state of its contents are. As I’ve said before, after a while (maybe 10 days or so), I stop thinking about it as a thing that’s on me and start to think about it as part of me. It starts to feel as though I don’t actually have a cock anymore. That I’ve become this third kind of person. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but as the cock transforms into this static steel member, I find that looking at the images on Surabaya Jim helps me stay connected with the real me. Makes me crave the living meat within. Stops me from totally transforming into a Pleasure Island donkey.

Anyway, here’s the porn: