It turns out, she did fuck me. She hadn’t had her cock in such a long time and as she slid down onto it, she moaned and purred in appreciation. It felt hot on the skin of the cock – hotter than I remember. And yeah, I came. I held back as long as I could, but there wasn’t any stopping it. She felt me come and that just made her all the more enthusiastic, but she was still a ways off from her own. The head of the cock felt like it was on fire in its post-orgasmic hypersensitivity, but she fucked it anyway. Fucked it until she came and I was a panting, sweaty pile of meat beneath her.
Beforehand, she had told me she didn’t care if I came. I really hate that. “I don’t care if you come” is, like, the exact opposite position I want her to have. I can think of several things I’d have rather she said. Such as, “you can come, but not until after me,” or “you can’t come and if you do I’m locking you right now,” or “if you come I get to punch you in the nuts three times/burn your nuts with Icy Hot” – just about anything other than I don’t care if you come. That’s the worse.
Before this fucking, we had talked about “taking a break”, but couldn’t really define what exactly we’d be taking a break from. There are things she likes about our arrangement that she just doesn’t want to live without and will not easily agree to giving up, even temporarily. Personally, I wanted to come more. I wanted a period where I was allowed to come pretty much whenever I wanted. I found that, the more I came the more I wanted to come. Not withstanding anything I wrote in my last post, each orgasm seems to push away my desire to be in the device or denied in general. After nearly three months of nothing, I wanted a change of scenery. I still do think that most of the time I should live without and with as much desire for them as possible, but it’s also the case that we only appreciate the things we don’t have when we – you know – have them, at least for a little while.
But she wasn’t having any of it. She didn’t feel I was being sufficiently worshipful what with my two orgasms and being out and all. She wanted me back in. But, just like in London, for some reason she never pulled the trigger. Each day it was going to be tomorrow. I did not want to get locked up again. Even if I couldn’t come, I still liked having the option to jack off. But, even though she couldn’t bring herself to lock me up, it was very important to her. One morning last week, after she had already left for work, I locked myself back into the Steelheart.
All that day, all I could think about was what a pain in the ass it was. Heavy, bulging, pushing my nuts around (sometimes painfully). I’ve said before how it has felt like the device and its contents become one unit. How the shiny steel shell starts to feel like my natural state. Well, on that first day especially, it was very clearly two separate things. A prison and its prisoner. Unnatural and invasive. Even though I had done it willingly, I can’t say I was very happy about it.
That night, when she discovered I was in, she was very pleased. Her pleasure caused the tube to pressurize. And, from that moment on, I became more like she wanted me to be. I am a different person when I’m locked up and, as each day passed, that other person – Thumper – has come to the fore. It’s hasn’t been a complete conversion. Sometimes, I still feel myself rebelling against the steel. And my desire to have access to the cock has an edge to it that it didn’t before I came. But this is what Belle wanted, so this is how I am.