Changing outfits

The other day, I was stripping out of my day clothes and into something more comfortable whilst in front of Belle. She looked over and saw the Looker dangling between my legs and said that this weekend she’d “change my outfit” (meaning I’d be locked in a different device from her collection). Also, she indicated that she’d likely want to use the penis while it was available.

Last night, I was snuggled up against her, pressing as much of my body against as much of hers as possible, and asked when I was coming out. Based on how these things have gone down in the past, I assumed I’d have a day or so of freedom. She told me I misinterpreted what she said and then let me know how it was going to go down this time.

“So you’re just going to fuck me and then lock me back up?”

“Pretty much.”


For those wondering, it’ll be the Steelheart Short this time around.


So I read this post over at Theo Black’s. You should, too, before reading the rest of this one.

Go ahead.

I’ll wait…I know, it’s long.

After four years, I honestly can’t remember how much of the Belle and Thumper back-story I’ve written about here, but I have been exactly where Theo is now. The best, most advanced geo-positioning device on the planet couldn’t find any space between where he is now and where I was once upon a time.

When I first met Belle, she was married to a nice guy. They lived in a nice house and he had good prospects and it was likely they’d live in an even nicer house someday (even though Belle always says, “No, this is the house I’ll spend the rest of my life in,” whenever she moves into a new one). She had married him out of college, as was expected, and things looked pretty good for them. Then, one day, Belle had a car accident. It wasn’t too serious, but she was shaken up and I, who worked about 15 feet from her office door but barely knew her as anyone other than that new girl who was kinda loud, poked my head in to see if she was OK. That was the point at which Cupid shot Belle. He didn’t get around to me until later.

Flash forward a while. I can’t remember how long. Months. Not a year, I don’t think. I became socially friendly with Belle and her husband. This was almost entirely Belle’s doing as I am, evidence of this highly personal and explicit blog not withstanding, a pretty introverted guy. I had dinner at their house, hung out with their friends, etc. At some point, I became aware of how Belle felt about me. I can’t recall now (but I’m sure she will) if it was something she said or if it was just that I’m a dumb guy but, given enough time, anything can soak through the denseness. Either way, I knew.

Flash forward a little while more. Belle’s husband learned he was being sent overseas for a year. It was a career development thing. Good for him. Means that nicer house was probably closer than ever. Belle said she wasn’t comfortable living in the current nice house alone. Could be true, maybe not. I’m not sure. In any event, I chose that approximate time to quit my job and go back to school (and by “go back to school” I mean “go to school in the first place and wait tables at a pizza joint”). I could barely afford my apartment. Belle had the idea that I should live in their house, thereby saving money and providing Belle a sense of security. At this point, I have no idea if the husband knew how Belle felt about me or not.

Flash forward a bit more. I was living in the room across the hall from Belle. I’d painted the walls orange (but a tasteful orange) and Belle and I had opened up to each other about ourselves to the point that she’d watch gay porn with me. We also watch a lot of Star Trek: The Next Generation while laying in my bed with only the tops of our heads touching. Cupid had yet to return and finish his job with us, but I was on his list.

One bright morning, I rolled out of bed all groggy and bedraggled while Belle was about to leave for work. I will never forget the next moment for as long as I live (and if I ever do, I don’t want to live past that point). Standing in the big kitchen, light streamed through the windows and onto Belle in a lovely green silk dress that nicely showed off her curves. She turned to say goodbye and the light made her beautiful green eyes sparkle and it happened. I fell in love with her. Right there next to the stove. I don’t know if you could tell by looking at me, but it just kinda punched me in the stomach. I was in love with a married woman in whose house I lived.

Small flash forward. We went to dinner at an Italian place at the Mall of America. Doesn’t sound especially romantic, but we’ve retroactively labelled this our “first date” (you know, for the kids). We shared a bottle of wine over food and went home. Somehow, I ended up in her room. I was sitting on the edge of her bed. We were just talking. Talking about how we felt. I held her hand. I told her hand many things. I started to massage it. I found myself kissing it. Just her hand. Then a bit more. Then, we had sex.

I slept in her husband’s bed that night. We woke up the next day, naked, together, under the sheets. I had to pee so bad, but couldn’t find the courage to leave the bed. I didn’t want to break the spell. I didn’t know what would happen once the previous night was officially over. So we laid there, quietly looking at each other under the sheets, me with a painfully full bladder.

The spell didn’t break when I finally got to pee. It only got deeper and more involved. I started sleeping in their bed every night. We had a lot of sex. I came up with the name Belle Fille about this time. We shared our secret with a few of my friends. One night, while walking over to our friend’s house in the rain, I stopped her in the pool of a streetlight and told her if she was ever in a position for it to happen, that I wanted to marry her.

Then she went on a prearranged vacation with him and her family. I, of course, stayed behind and took care of the dog and cried and stood in her closet and smelled her sweaters. Then she came back. The spell wasn’t broken, but the fragility of it was exposed. I was a mess. A blithering disaster that she had to deal with while inching closer to the end of her marriage.

Eventually, she told him. I moved out and he came back and I didn’t see Belle for a long time. That’s the part, right there, that’s exactly like Theo’s current position. It was horrible. I know it was horrible for her, too. Of course it was. It was a horrible time for everyone. I was living on the couch of the friends who knew and every night was me just tearfully gushing my sorrow and fear and crushed and smoldering wreckage of my feelings for Belle. I’m sure I was a very annoying house guest. I knew inside that I’d be with Belle again. I knew it was coming. But that didn’t make any bit of it easier. That didn’t make me stop worrying that somehow it was all going to come crashing down around me and the pain of the divorce and the selling of the nice house and everything else would prove to be too much for her and I’d end up alone again. I had been alone for so long and my fear, after finally realizing how I felt for her, was that I’d be alone again. That might be my greatest of all fears even to this day. I never want to be alone.

But it ended up alright. She moved into a duplex with her sister and I eventually moved in with her. I stopped the “going back to school” thing and have not, to this day, received any kind of higher education (more than a semester here and there). Belle decided at one point that she wanted to get away from everything and took a job in Boston of all places. She just told me this over lunch one day. “I’m taking a job in Boston.” I remember asking, “Can I come, too?” And then we moved to Boston for a year. The only thing I cared about was being with her.

Flash forward again. A year was spent in Boston. We moved back to Minnesota when we decided to get married and have kids. Not a year after that, we were standing on the Pacific Ocean exchanging vows. I cried then, too. Could barely choke them out. Our path to that spot for that event was so circuitous and I realized as I openly and honestly told everyone most important to me that I loved her and wanted to be with her for my whole life how precarious it all seemed back when I was sleeping on the friends’ couch. How lucky I was to have made it there. With her.

Of course, there’s more to the story than this. But reading Theo’s post made all these old memories and feelings come back in a way they haven’t for years. This is equal parts reassuring homily for Theo and cathartic reminder to myself of the strange journey we’re on. I’m getting choked up just writing this post. Even after 15 years of marriage, I can’t help but think of how it could have gone. How so many things change (houses, kids, sexual dynamics) but the really important things stay the same. I am so happy to be with my Belle.

Happiest penis on earth

We’re back from our journey deep into the heart of the Happiest Place on Earth.

For those who were wondering from my previous post on the subject, the West coast version of the HPOE does not use metal detecting wands on park guests. That meant, after the first day, I was in the L02 until we departed. It’s hard to be around so many people and wonder how many other men are locked up. Or how many would like to be if only they could build up the courage to bring it up with their partner.

Anyway, it was good that the device was off for at least one reason on that first day since it was our wedding anniversary. To celebrate, we booked massages at the spa in the resort. In the past, my experience with massages has been that they leave a towel or other cloth for you to climb under during the rubbing, but in this case, the sheet was whisper thin. When on my back, I’m quite sure the masseuse (a guy who had a definite gay vibe about him) could see if I was circumcised (and that, of course, made me very much aware of the massage-induced tumescence that can spring to life from time to time). Any device would have plainly been on display. In general, I wouldn’t advise anyone wear one to a massage unless it’s your thing to share your sex life with strangers. Personally, I wish we lived in a culture where it would be acceptable, but really, it’s not. In any event, I had a 90-minute deep-tissue rub-down that left me rubbery, fragrant, and slick with oil. Really great. I need these more often.

Belle mentioned during our fantastic dinner afterward that the resort’s security allowed for me to be in my usual state and that I would be the next morning. Beforehand, though, she took advantage of our private bedroom and the penis’ availability to bring herself to orgasm while fucking me from on top. This is about four times now that she’s been able to do that without me coming which is a feat I’m pretty happy about. She prefers penetrative orgasms and I’m very pleased to be able to help her get them. At least for the past several times, I’ve been able to put myself in a place that keeps me far enough away from coming as necessary. This means I don’t actually get a lot of pleasure from the sex, but that’s not the point anyway. And usually, she let’s me go for a ride after her post-orgasmic glow recedes. Then, I can fuck like I mean it, but without the natural pay-off.

I went right back into the Looker as soon as we got home and remain there now, though Belle’s mentioned she might want to get off on the penis again this weekend. Not sure exactly, but I’ve been wearing the new device for probably just over a month total now. Interestingly, the urethral plug has become less and less noticeable during that time. I still feel it every once in a while, but it’s nothing at all like it was for the first week or so. Like wearing a device in general, the fact that I have this seven to eight centimeter titanium tube impaling the penis has become second nature. For those wondering, there’s been no internal pain or discomfort. After it comes out, it feels as though it was never in. Even the weird cavitating sensation I talked about when peeing, while still present, is no longer a discomfort.

The only issue I’m having with the L02 right now may or may not have anything to do with the plug. For some reason, since putting it back on when I got home, I’ve been getting the foreskin and edge of the glans pinched against the edge of the cap on the end of the cage when laying on my stomach in bed or after shifting my seated positon, etc. Not all the time, but enough times that it’s noticeable and not a fluke thing. I don’t know what’s changed, but I wonder if the penis isn’t moving as freely along the plug as it once was. When wearing a steel device for a long time, there will eventually form deposits like hard water scale. In the Steelheart, this happens near the inside end of the tube where the little bit of urine that doesn’t drain can sit. It’s possible something similar is happening on the plug shaft and that’s keeping the penis from settling in as far as it used to which, in turn, is leaving things in a pinch-able position. The way to deal with these deposits is to soak the device for a few minutes in vinegar. Afterward, they rub right off. Kinda like getting the scale out of your coffee maker. If Belle lets me out this weekend, I’ll do that and see how things change (assuming she puts me back into the L02 and not one of her other options).

Workin’ it

This post is supposed to be an update on the fitness program, but I find myself out of lock-up prior to our trip and I’m having a hard time keeping my mind on anything specific for too long. The free, unlocked, unplugged penis is very needy and distracting. My last orgasm was about the 5th or 6th of July, after all. I am at or very near uncharted denial endurance territory. Even just putting some jewelry into the PA this morning with the penis all flippy and floppy and squishy was an ordeal. It wanted to chub out while the PA hole had shrunk from disuse making the 4 gauge circular barbell a tight fit. Then, not to waste a perfectly good stiffy, I again “tested” the Fleshlight with exactly the same results as before. What a thing, man.

Aaaanyway, fitness. Yes, still going to the trainer three days a week. I’m stronger now that at any point in my life, I’m sure. I can bench, lift, and curl weights I’d never even try in the past and can push through dozens of sit-ups. When I started, I couldn’t do a damned thing (my plank was about 30 seconds). It’s hard to believe how out of shape I was. The results are evident all over, though I have had a hard time losing any more weight. I’m stubbornly stuck. The muscles under there are nice to have. I can feel a marked difference in core strength and, for example, when on the back extension machine, my ass is as hard as stone. But still the bit about the middle. Frustrating.

Belle’s also seeing my trainer now. She goes before me on the same three days I do. Even she’s getting some muscles and is happily past the every-muscle-in-my-body-hurts-oh-I’m-going-to-die phase. I’m really glad she’s joined me in the routine. We’re even taking our stuff on our vacation so we can work out together at the hotel.

With regard to working out and the various chastity devices I wear, there remain no issues other than an occasional odd bulge nobody’s ever brought up with me. The Looker 02 still has the tendency to give me a penis fuck when I’m squatting or doing other similar movements. I haven’t been jogging for quite a while thanks to peroneal tendonitis in my left foot. It’s been a few months of wearing a brace and going to physical therapy, but I’m almost back to being able to run again. I’ve been doing it in smaller increments on the treadmill and the L02 is quite evident when jogging. As in most other things, it’s not painful or even uncomfortable, but very there. The first time I ran for ten minutes with it on, an image of the impaled penis stuck on a long rigid tube flashed in my head every time I closed my eyes. The sensation was so clear it forced the impression into my mind. That said, I’m actually looking forward to finding out what it’s like to run with it on for an hour or so.

The thing about all this physical exertion, and the thing I want to get across more than anything else, is that starting is massively difficult. Inertia is a hard thing to push past. But, once you get going, the nice thing is that your body starts to crave the workout. Whatever chemicals get blasted into your brain are addictive so that the fitness routine because self-perpetuating. I’m going to miss two sessions with the trainer and it bugs the crap out of me. Not beging able to run, hard and for long distances, actually made me depressed.

I don’t want to get preachy, but all you have to do is give yourself a taste. Get started and your body will take over from there.

Lotion penis

I know I’m a perv with a supercharged hormonal payload and all, but I’d hardly be accused of going all Roy Neary in Close Encounters when I said I saw something very suggestive in the globule of moisturizer deposited on my finger this morning.

You be the judge.


Somehow, I missed the fourth anniversary of Denying Thumper. I knew it was coming up, but I spaced it. It was three days ago on the 12th.

I remarked on the first, second, and third. This time, I’ll leave it simple:

Thank you, Belle Fille. For everything.

Tickleberry lives!

Just about a year ago, I noticed that Tickleberry had died. Today, a comment was left to my post bemoaning its demise that included the following:

This is just a quick note to say that Tickleberry is back!

We’ve returned as a resource of BDSM and Fetish news to help guide those new to the scene. We’ve retained all our speciality information on Male Chastity, Divine Domination (the softer side of Femdom), Pegging and have introduced a brand new Spanking section written from the female submissive perspective.

The site now has a regular blog including, some of our erotic photos of male chastity and male submission in the LookBook section and finally we have a forum where you can sell BDSM related items for free, we do not charge any fees.

Looking at the site, I see it appears to be all the great content of the old site, reorganized and redesigned, including much of the fantastic imagery that died when the site did. This is a certifiable Good Thing.

Glad to see the ‘Berry back. I look forward to watching where it goes from here.

Scruffy and smelling of wood smoke

Back from my weekend away from Belle. It was the last hurrah hang out in the woods with the squirrels and other furry critters (and friends) weekend of the year. Not in tents this time but all huddled together in a rude, uninsulated “cabin” in the sticks. Belle at first said I’d be going in the Steelheart but I’m not ashamed (OK, maybe a little) to say I begged to be let out beforehand and she gave me the key.

The night I got back (and after I showered off four days of campfire stink and shaved off a week of stubble), she didn’t make me go back in so I was treated to the pleasure of falling asleep next to her truly naked with the penis nestled up against her pointedly disinterested hand. It got kind of hard but sensed it was being ignored and let me sleep. Being jammed into the cabin left little privacy outside the inside of my sleeping bag, but I was able to whip it out and jack off on the highway a few times. Of course, not to completion.

Yesterday morning, she left out the Looker 02 for me to put on after I got back from the trainer. When she told me what the timing would be (after I worked out and she went to work), I was planning on getting some nice edging in before going back under the lock and key, but was surprised to find I forgot all about that and was back in the device before I had a chance to do anything. I wanted to play with the penis but apparently wanted back in a device more (or perhaps I’m just that well trained at this point). In any event, I put the L02 on after lubing the tube with nothing more than my own spit. The bulbous end got hung up at the opening before popping in and getting swallowed up by the penis. It’s been maybe ten days or so since I last had the tube shoved up there and it didn’t feel quite the same this time. Still very invasive and never far from mind, but every little motion wasn’t telegraphed through the sensitive walls of the urethra. I guess it’s been broken in like a shoe. Regardless, it’s surprising how quickly this kind of invasion has become just another standard part of my chastity.

In other news, I was able to sneak a try at the Fleshlight Flight masturbator before I left. Suffice it to say, if I had had this thing and the internet when I was 19, I never would have left the fucking house. I fear for the future of our species. I’m pretty sure young men’s biological motivations to hooking up with young females will be totally short-circuited by this wonder of space age materials. No, I didn’t come, but holyjesusfuckingchristdid I get close. Lots of leakage which I let dribble into the squishy sleeve. After regaining my composure, I’d fuck it again all sloppy and lubed up with my own warm semen and that shit just about made my head explode (both of them). I’m not saying it’s better than Belle, but if I didn’t know, it’d be good enough that I’m not sure I’d be all that motivated to find out what a real girl was like. Which leads me to worrying about our reproductive future. In any event, if you’re the kind of boy who get’s to masturbate and come and all that, you should check this shit out.

In a week, the whole famn damliy head off for a theme park vacation. I can’t be locked up for travel, of course, but it’ll be really weird if she lets me stay out for five full days. The Happiest Place on Earth would be just a little happier if at least one penis in it was trapped in a steel cage.