Libéré en étant enfermé
Spam comment of the day:
What i don’t realize is in fact how you are no longer actually a lot more well-appreciated than you may be now. You’re very intelligent. You realize thus significantly when it comes to this topic, made me personally consider it from so many numerous angles. Its like women and men are not fascinated until it is something to do with Lady gaga! Your personal stuffs great. Always handle it up!
It depresses me to think someone might read that and think it’s real.
I know, you’re not really viewers, you’re actually readers. Whatever.
Ive been reading your blog on and off again for a couple years now. Great reading.
A question for the steelheart: does your pa ever get caught between the tube and the retaining bar?
I’ve owned a cb3k and switched to the 6k a while back. I have the security cable from keptforher and when I used as instructed, it caused some bleeding from my pa not being able to move when flaccidity set in. So I thought, put the cable in the inside. Works okay, but as the ring rides the cable down and I get hard again, sometimes it will catch around mid tube and as I keep growing it can be painful. Lately I’ve just been putting on more lube and it works.
I’ve had my eye on the steelheart when i read about it on your blog. Wife loves the look of it. Just haven’t taken the leap to buying one. Don’t want the back and forth to Germany if something goes wrong.
Thanks for the blog. Insightful.
Short answer, yes, there is occasional pinching. Since I can’t see what’s going on in there, my guess is that some portion of foreskin remnant and/or the little strip of meat between the PA and penis slit get’s trapped between the bar and the tube wall. This is most annoying in the early AM hours since it’s all too compressed to do anything about, but when the internals are depressurized, usually all it takes is a pull and a twist (in one direction or the other) to sort things out.
My experience with cables is much the same as yours, though I never bled. I also experimented extensively with different types of cables and varying lengths and even putting it inside, but it was never good. I think the biggest diference between the cable inside a CB6K and the bar inside the Steelheart is that there’s just more room in the Steelheart tube. It’s cylindrical rather than oval and things can move around in it more easily. As you’ve found, the ability for it to move along the fixing and not be stuck at the end of the tube is critical.
The going back to Germany thing is a pain, but the end result is really worth is. You may want to consider Mature Metal if you’re concerned about the back and forth, though they don’t have a model equivalent to the Steelheart. Which is a nice segue to the next question…
I’ve been following your blog for some time, and am using the CB3000. I do feel like swapping out to the steelheart like yourself.
Should I base the dimensions on my CB3000 fit? I’m not sure if I make it too small, and when my buddy turns super horny?
Can you give me some suggestions?
If you haven’t already read Steelheart vs. CB-6000, you should. There’s all kinds of stuff in there for people in your position.
I ordered my original SH according to my CB6K fitting and it turned out way too big. Both the A-ring and the tube. I eventually got a smaller ring that would have been nearly impossible to wear had it been multipart plastic. I can’t explain this definitively, but I suspect that the combination of how the steel interacts with skin (less grippy) and the less severe shape (not squared off) make the SH ring significantly more comfortable (the same would be true for any steel device, not just the SH).
For me, the difference was 5mm in the A-ring. I wore the 45mm combination in the CB6K and have a 40mm ring on the SH. I think you could easily knock 3mm off from your plastic fitting. With regard to the tube, it’s not so easy. That’s a more customized thing. I think the best measuring advice I’ve seen is on the Mature Metal site. Remember that a tube which allows for less growth of your erection is, in my experience and as illogical as this sounds, more comfortable.
Princess Annie (whose blog you should check out), asked in an email:
Thumper, this is one of my central questions. How do I know if my boy, my pet, has ejaculated without me? He could lie – you could’ve lied. I can act like I will know… but I wouldn’t really. hmmmm…
Tricky. My answer is, if he’s a good actor, you can’t know. Absent a secure device, there’s just no telling. You have to trust him and he has to commit to accepting the control he’s presumably give to you. There are times when he’ll be weak and will succumb to temptation. We’ve all been there. If and when those times happen, he will need to be honest with you and admit them as soon as possible. If he doesn’t, then he’s not a good fit for that kind of relationship.
Practically, you need to be a keen observer of his personality. What is he like when you know he’s been chaste? What is he like after you let him come? That kind of thing. Other than that, I’m afraid I don’t have much for you.
This one was submitted via The Portfolio:
Hey Thumper. I always enjoy your Portfolio and I have wondered about the mix /selection of pictures as it relates to your chastity lifestyle. Do you know the ratio of heterosexual images vs. homo erotic images? Do you find that you post more homo erotic images the longer you are locked up? Or do you find that the less attention that Belle is able to give you the more you fantasize about guys and pegging and the like. – Just Curious
Regarding the mix of hetero vs. homo imagery I post from day to day, to be honest, it really depends on what I find on my dashboard in the morning. I follow 366 372 different Tumblrs of all kinds and some days the mix is heavier on the boobs and beavers and some days it’s more cocks and hanging nutsacks. I try to keep things mixed up, but I only have so much time in the day to look at porn (alas). I don’t know the exact ratio, though it’s probably slightly more gay than straight. For whatever reason, gay porn has always been more stimulating to me than straight so I’m sure it gets favored over time. However, with the addition of the Pit Stop, I’ve found some male images going there rather than on The Portfolio (meaning the female ratio should be going up).
Regarding how my chastity affects what I post, I know it does, but I’m not sure I can tell you how exactly. I post more the hornier I am. I think I usually post more graphic images when I’m really in the soup than at other times when I might favor more arty compositions. I think I end up feeling more crude and base. I’ve written before that being locked up makes me more fascinated with pictures of cocks. I get kind of entranced by images of guys jacking off and I’ll watch a whole video only to see the shooting at the end (though I try to never post an image of a guy coming on The Portfolio). I always vacillate in the middle of the Kinsey scale, so I don’t know how I feel is different or the same as other guys, though anecdotally, it seems as though chastity and long term denial can make nominally heterosexual men more interested in images of other men (which supports my contention that all people are, if only a little, bisexual).
I have this neat scale that connects to the internet and keeps track of how much I weigh on my iPhone and iPad. As you can see from the above image (top graph), I’ve managed to lose about seven pounds since I started going to my personal trainer on the 16th. That’s not quite as much as I would have hoped, to be honest, but the trend is pointing in the right direction (the bottom line shows how much of my weight is fat).
In practice, I’ve found that while still a thorough ass-kicking, my sessions don’t leave me feeling as though I’m about to drop dead. Also, the aftermath is much less of a problem. For the first ten days or so, I was a giant mass of sore muscles unwilling to allow me to conduct such frivolous maneuvers as turning over in bed and walking across a room. Now, I feel the work out, but the muscle soreness is much less.
With regard to the steel device locked between my legs, I continue to find that the compression shorts do an admirable job of keeping things in check. I’m pretty sure that it’s been visible while getting stretched by the trainer, but that happens at the end of the session and I’m honestly too wiped to give a shit about it at that point. My attitude continues to be that while I’m not going out of my way to advertise how I live, I won’t feel especially embarrassed about it. As I’ve written before, the device mostly feels as though it is me. I want it to be there much more than I feel the need to hide the fact that it’s a fundamental part of my existence.
Sometimes, a boy likes to have that superclean feeling.
Dutchbound said:
Hey Thumper – I’m very excited to hear that you got a trainer and look forward to reading more. Now, we can look forward to, and benefit from, Thumper-analysis (Thump-alysis??) of what it is like to not only workout frequently while locked but also how to manage the bulge in workout gear in a public setting. I’ve been working hard to manage those logistics myself.
I start the routine tomorrow so I can’t yet speak more than I already have to that, but I can add some insight into the “bulge management” situation.
Part of me want to say fuck it and bulge naturally, but perhaps a modicum of discretion is required. This morning, I was stretching in the workout pants I’ll be wearing while training with a “fashion” jock on underneath. I say fashion because it was sold though one of those underwear sites that has all the buff dudes modeling them and is as much a soft-core porn experience as it is for shopping. This particular pair I like because they have a generous pouch (to give that “no underwear” look) that’s not too constricting. They are definitely not concealment wear.
Anyway, during the leg stretching, the jutting steel bullnose was amply visible. While wearing my usual best concealment underwear when with the trainer was an option, they’re all high and tight cotton briefs and didn’t seem right to get all sweaty in. Therefore, a trip to Dick’s Sporting Goods was in order (yeah, I know).
What I settled on was a couple pair of Under Armour compression shorts. Note that there’s a couple different styles of these, if you’re thinking of getting them. One style — the kind I got — is made of the same super-stretchy material throughout while the other has a more breathable (and less compressing) crotch panel. Those didn’t seem to do a thing to help conceal. The more concealing style, as you can see, isn’t exactly the sexiest things you’re ever going to find me in, but that’s not what I got them for.
Once home, put them to the test. I put them on along with my workout pants and went through the stretching motions. I found that the visible bulge of the Steelheart was reduced by about 50%. There’s still a little bump there that’s not entirely natural looking, but it’s far less noticeable than it had been earlier in the day. The proof will be how they are to work out in. They push the whole package down and that puts extra pressure against the otherwise abused and disrespected nutsack, but it’s hard to know if it’ll prove to be too much. I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.
Every muscle in my body aches. Even ones I forgot I had. Even ones I didn’t know I had. Maybe even some I don’t have.
I’ve decided to start seeing a personal trainer since, over the past couple years, I’ve allowed myself to get to a point physically that I’m just not very happy about. I’ve also noticed, now that I’m solidly into my forty-fifth year, that things don’t work as well as they used to. I’ve lost strength, stamina, and flexibility and I’m just feeling old. I’m too young to feel old. And yes, while it is January and all kinds of bullshit resolutions are made at this time of year, I can say that had little to do with the timing of this decision. I’ve been thinking about it for some time and simply finally got around to it.
So I met with the guy Friday morning. He’s the proprietor of a small gym near our house and our first meeting was so he could evaluate my sorry condition. The guy is massive. Not big like a muscle bound linebacker, but proportionally huge. As if he’s been genetically manufactured to be a new kind of superhuman. He’s a former basketball player and has got to be at least 6’10” tall. Being from West Africa, his skin is very dark. He’s bald and has arms as big around as my thighs. Practically. Either way, he’s an intimidating specimen. Being six feet tall myself, I’m unaccustomed to being around people significantly taller than me, let alone guys I need to crane my head up to look at.
Of course, it’s like he walked straight out of some cuckolding wank story. I admit that the question of his endowment was often in my mind. But that’s me. A pervert.
Anyway, this was just a short evaluation session, but it still kicked my ass. He had me doing lunges, squats, jumping jacks, leg presses, and this sit-up-catch-and-throw-a-ball exercise. All that after he told me I had the hamstring flexibility of a 300 pound guy. Nice. And yes, all this was done while locked up.
I was’t sure if I would need to be unlocked to work out with him so I didn’t ask Belle to let me out. The only time it may have been visible was when he had me flat on my back and was holding my leg straight up and pushing it forward in, I assume, an attempt to rip it from my body. I’m fairly certain a somewhat out of place bulge may have presented itself then and I may have even seen him glance at it, but honestly, the searing pain of the ordeal has clouded my memory. There were no issues after that, though, so I’ve decided to continue on without special access to the penis and see how it goes. Besides it becoming visible, I don’t think there will be a practical reason to remove it. It won’t get in the way of any exercising I can think of and wasn’t at all uncomfortable during or after. Asking for access to the key would be all about vanity and that doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to me. I’ve decided that being locked up is who I am and how I live so I won’t let something like an occasional unusual bulge change that.
While this is a sex blog, not a workout blog, I have to imagine that as this new endeavor unfolds I will bring it up often. I will be seeing the trainer (either the massive black guy or his more reasonably-sized assistant who just happens to share my first name) three times a week. The device may or may not become an issue, so that would be a germaine DT topic. Plus, as I get into better shape, my body image may return to a point where I would feel comfortable sharing HNTs of something other than the penis and its steel tube.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Between now and then, it’ll just be nice to have a place to whine and/or talk about how I’m less of a giant white lump than I used to be.
I got Belle a new vibrator. Buying new sex toys for her has not been without risk in the past. So far, this is the list of things I’ve brought into the bedroom that have stuck:
That’s it. All the other stuff I’ve bought, like the rabbit vibrator or any of the various hitting implements or bondage accessories, basically sit in the toy box (which itself is inside a hamper and buried by a bunch of other crap). But I thought this new vibrator, the Liv by Lelo, looked promising, so I took a chance. It was “pretty” (Belle likes her sex toys to be pretty) and was longer than Pink but not too fat. Turns out Belle doesn’t like to play with things that are too big (which may explain her fondness for the penis). It showed up yesterday (I found it on Amazon for only sixty bucks — in a lot of other places it was $100 or over). I plugged it in to charge its battery and waited for Belle to get home.
Later, once we were settled in for the night, Belle told me to give her the new vibe. She held it in her hand, felt the silky smooth surface, and generally fondled it while I watched (and my tube tightened). She told me to turn off the light and get naked (since I can’t sleep that way without permission from her) and I got kind of excited. I really wanted to get her off.
My excitement was premature. She didn’t want me to participate. Belle intended to christen the Liv all by herself so all I got to do was lay there and hear the thrum of the vibe’s motor do its business over her clit. Eventually, she told me to suck on her nipples, so it wasn’t a total loss. After she came, she passed the still-warm-from-her-pussy vibrator to me to deal with as she rolled over.
“It has potential,” she said.
Whimper.
In one night, Denying Thumper has collected over 1,200 spam comments. The vast majority of them have been automatically quarantined, but maybe two dozen have made it through so that if I didn’t require approval for new commenters, they would have been visible on the site. I’m curious to know if this is happening only to DT or if this is a WordPress-level assault. Any other WP bloggers out there seeing massive amounts of spam today?
UPDATE: I neglected to say this is far more spam than I usually see. Like, 1,000 times more. It’s highly unusual and I don’t recall anything like it happening in the three+ years I’ve been blogging here.
Over the time I’ve been curating The Portfolio, I’ve come to realize that I have a serious thing for guys’ armpits. I don’t know that I’d go so far as to call it a fetish, per se, but when I see them they give me a funny little feeling in my stomach. More than a good set of abs or a nice ass or strong legs or even a big fat cock. Like, a lot more. So yeah. There’s something going on there.1
I followed a few tumblrs that were dedicated to male pits, but they don’t really do it for me most of the time. It’s not just any pits that make me wobbly, after all, and the editorial thinking for a lot of them seem to be, “Oh, there’s an armpit. Done!” So, in keeping with the web’s model of empowering self-publishing the work of other people, I decided to start my own site dedicated to just those pictures that show just the kind of armpits that get me going. It’s called Thumper’s Pit Stop.
There are still a few things I’m working out. Like, do I put an image I like on both tumblrs? I probably will if I like it for reasons other than the pits but also in addition to them. There are some images I leave off The Portfolio right now because they don’t fit its raison d’être (whatever that is — it seems to change from day to day and can only be interpreted by unlocking my deep reptile brain), so now an image that is nothing more than a gratuitous Portfolio-inappropriate pit shot has a place to go. Also, it will not always be the case that the pit or pits is/are the main focus of an image featured there. Only those that spoke to me in that fuckinghellletmeputmyfacerightinthere kind of way.
Anyway, if you dig dude’s pits, check it out. If not, skip it.
—
1 I like girls too, of course. Let’s not forget. ↩
Strongandsubmissive said in response to the idea of permanent denial:
I don’t quite get permanent denial. I’m not saying it’s fiction only, just that it’s not for me. Perhaps it’s just my inexperience with chastity talking, but part of the fun of the whole process and not knowing when you’ll be allowed out or allowed to orgasm. The perpetual drive to be better and the emotional changes seem to be linked to the idea that “maybe if I’m a good boy, she’ll reward me with an orgasm”.
If you are permanently denied, that mystery or trump card is gone, because you’ll always know what the answer is.
That may work for some, but I’m not sure it’s up my alley.
Of course, everyone’s different. And it’s possible with the knowledge that there would never be another orgasm ever again that a certain edge would be removed from the practice, but for me anyway, it takes so long to get to a point where I actually crave an orgasm over the feeling of being denied one.
Take this morning, for instance. I knew when I put my hand on Belle’s hot, wet pussy that I wasn’t going to get in there, let alone make it a gooey mess. It is an established fact that I’m months away from coming again. What I find is it’s only that knowledge that really allows me to get into it. See, I do not want to come. Not one bit. I want to want to come, but I don’t want to come. If that makes sense. And this is in the face of absolute knowledge that it will not happen. With the possibility of orgasm removed, I’m more free to enjoy having sex with her.
Not every guy is like that. Most men are entirely driven by their desire to squirt. That’s OK. It’s “normal” and culturally acceptable. Other men (a smaller number in practice, but I suspect there’s a much larger unrealized number out there) like to have their orgasms controlled and even limited. An hour, a day, a week. Whatever. Take it as far as you want, at the end they want to come, even if they don’t know when it’s going to happen. I can get to this place, but it literally took me three months last time. Then there’s a third type. The type I think I may be and the type Sarah’s John may be. The type in which it is all about the chase, never the capture. Unending, unquenched desire. The absolute end of orgasm.
But I’m not really in that position and am unlikely to be as Belle shows no interest in it, so it’s impossible for me to know exactly how living with the understanding that I have come for the last time in my life would work with me. I do know, since I just finished a month where she let me come nine times, that I like the denied me more than the sated me.1 Sure, I liked (most of) them. We’re wired to enjoy the feeling of orgasm. But I did not enjoy the wasteland of sensation that followed the afterglow. The near-constant state of being sexually charged and frustrated has apparently changed my basic psychology and/or brain chemistry. At least, I think it has. I can’t really know, right?
In any event, the juxtaposition of this comparatively ejaculate sodden month to the newfound near-certainty that I’d like to stop coming forever is not entirely lost on me. I don’t think this is the hormones talking. I think this is as rational an insight as I can achive.
It’s obvious to anyone who does it that this whole orgasm control, denial, chastity thing comes in many flavors and styles. If it didn’t, we wouldn’t need all these damned blogs, would we? As with so many other things in life, the right way is the way that works for you for as long as it works for you. Maybe that’s the root of the issue people have with permanent denial. Forever is a really long time.
—
1 Pretty sure Belle like the denied me better, too, but not, ultimately, better than she likes the feeling of me coming inside her. ↩