Let’s see, where was I…
As you might have guessed, Belle let me come about a week ago. That’s not entirely why I wasn’t blogging, but it was a big part of it. I was also distracted by some other stuff (nothing related to Belle or anything I write about here), but mainly it was the orgasm.
I can’t even recall exactly when it was now. A week ago? Maybe ten days? We were up at the cabin and she unlocked me unexpectedly, but didn’t really do anything with the cock. Then, back home, she was stroking me in bed and generally working me up when she told me I could go inside her. I fucked her enough to get close once or twice (doesn’t take that long anymore) when she told me I could come but if I did, it’d be the last time before August sometime. I hesitated for maybe 2/10 of a second and plowed forward, coming like a fire hose moments later. Lots of come. Oodles and gobs.
Then she left me unlocked for a while. That didn’t help me get more focused. Truth is, now, I can’t really feel normal without the device on. Even after I come and it feels all clunky and alien, I feel more “put together” when it’s in place. Last Friday, she had a night at a nice hotel and a morning spa treatment (her Christmas present), and before she left she had wanted me locked up but forgot to make me do it. I popped my spare key and locked myself up. It was what she wanted and I was more than a little craving the feeling of captivity. That was just four days ago, but it’s like it was never off. Peeing in it, sleeping in it, sitting with it squashed between my legs are all the normal feelings. And now I’m well and truly horned up again so all those other feelings are punctuated by the occasional throbbing pressure of a stifled erection. That little tremulous quivering of unrealized desire is never far away.
Belle wanted an orgasm the other night (Saturday, I think) and threatened me with not only not having my own, but not sharing hers. Oh, I could be present, she said, but maybe that’s all. What use am I all locked up, anyway? At the time, I was horrified. The idea of not being allowed the touch, taste, and scent of her sounds too terrible to imagine, but in retrospect, I find the threat kinda hot. Being diminished in that way really worked for me. Also, I believed she might actually go through with it.
As it turned out, she wanted me to go down on her and doing it after the threat and subtle degradation left me feeling very confined in my small steel space. She backed off and said nicer things to me, afraid, perhaps, that she had hurt my feelings, but I have to admit, it wasn’t necessary. There’s something difficult to capture in all this. I like the feeling of being optional and a beneficiary of her charity. Even as I was eating her out, she reached into her drawer and took out Pink. She turned the little vibe up to high and inserted it under my lapping tongue making me hold it there with my chin, fully engaged with her G-spot. I was not the star of her ringing orgasm. I was a co-star. Perhaps only a featured player. It made her powerful and me less so. I felt she knew exactly what she wanted for her and was in total control of how it happened.
And it was good.