Different goals

Pain, Pleasure and Denial is a newish chastity and denial blog I only recently discovered written by a guy calling himself goodhubby. It’s sometimes hard for me to get too invested in these (ironically) because they so frequently flare up, go like crazy for a bit, then fade away, but I like this guy. I like that, like me, he over-thinks spends a lot of time analyzing how denial is working in his head and his relationship.

The really interesting bit about his blog, though, it that’s it written by a top. This is an exceedingly rare combination, I think (at least in the blogosphere). I recall one blog a couple of years ago like that, but it went dark and was eventually deleted. In that case, the dom thought of chastity as an experiment and, I have to admit, wasn’t written so well that I actually got inside the head of the guy. All he really did was recount their sex, if I recall correctly. In the case of goodhubby, it sounds like his denial (and her control of his orgasms) is a somewhat permanent arrangement. This really turns a lot of preconceived notions on their heads. A top who is denied by the bottom. I look forward to reading more!

In a recent post, he keyed into something Belle and I discussed last night between our marathon talkfest and when she let me get her off.

What has changed, though, is that I no longer seem to see sex as a source, or vehicle, for reaching orgasm. I fully expect not to orgasm, when we have sex. I go into it devoid of that expectation of orgasm. Sex has become about NW’s pleasure (orgasms included), just like it always has. For me, though, it has become a time when my arousal, physically and mentally, will be carried to the very edge, but never released. The edge has become the ultimate goal, with respect to my pleasure, not the orgasm. In fact, despite the obvious want that is welled up, I am mentally averse to the idea of release.

That’s such a perfectly succinct way to put it. I have no idea how that works or what’s going on mentally or physically when that turn happens and the entire purpose of sex has been rewritten, but it’s profound (and, apparently, not necessarily related to submission).

The bit that aligned with what Belle and I talked about had to do with recalling the very first night I didn’t come after sex. I remember she came after I fucked her with the penis (that’s how it happened the majority of the time back then). I remember being in her and doing my usual thing letting her glow and resisting my urge to keep fucking until I came, but only out of deference to letting her enjoy the orgasm. I stayed in a little while longer and she let me fuck her a bit more, but eventually I had to withdraw. The incredible ache that induced in my chest as I pulled a perfectly good boner out of her pussy before it did what, at the time, I thought its job was had to be one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done, especially since that was well before I think Belle really invested herself in keeping me denied. I pulled out and did not come on my own. She would have let me in a second. I remember laying on my back and she curled into me and stroked my armpit hair and tried to bring me down off the hormonal surge. The penis was cold and wet and hard for a long time and my heart was racing and all my senses were on edge. She, of course, fell asleep way before I did. All the next day I felt like I was on speed, but in a good way. I’d have to go back and look, but I think she let me come the next night. So I was denied for a whole 24 hours.

Now, of course, it’s totally different. The penis is no longer able to get her off and, horny or not, I get instantly sleepy once she comes (though that’s not the same as actually falling asleep). I very seldom think about the orgasm I’m not getting because there’s just no reason for me to have one. If I’m aware of anything, it’s that I always wish it took her longer to get there so I could enjoy her more. That longstanding and popular notion that orgasms are either a) required for the man, optional for the woman, or b) mutually assured, just doesn’t apply to us. The very definition of sex that I carried around for three decades is gone.

Belle used an interesting phrase to describe this. She say’s I’ve “nicely evolved” into what I am now. The implication that evolution leads to a superior form was not lost on me. It’ll be interesting to see how a top “evolves” in chastity to a submissive female. How they both evolve, actually.