She kept pumping

The festive July 4th weekend was a time of reflection for me since it was exactly a year ago that Belle let me have what turned out to be the last orgasms of the year and was the kick-off to my longest orgasmless period yet. I didn’t come again until January of this year and that was supposed to be the last time until July of next year. But it didn’t turn out that way.

I’ll back up.

I had been ruminating on how I’d mark this personally significant date (kinda like my independence from orgasms or something), but I never found the time over the busy holiday to sit down and do it. At Belle’s instruction, I brought the condoms and lidocaine with us to the northern retreat so she could enjoy the penis freely and I expected to be let out for that purpose at some point. She did let me out, but we didn’t do anything other than the usual stuff, though she did let me fuck her one morning and it was grand. We fucked like teenagers. Wildly and energetically and the whole time I was enjoying wanting so badly to come but being refused the right. I begged and cajoled. I bargained and justified. But no. It was good. It was how things are supposed to be. I was totally under her control.

I didn’t pressure Belle to use the lidocaine so as the last morning away from home dawned, I figured she just never wanted to give it a shot. As we laid there in bed, Belle started to run her finger along the length of the penis and around my inner thighs and around my nuts. It felt great. The erectile tissue did it’s thing and she wrapped her hand all the way around the hard shaft and started to pump. I splayed out, back arched, and lost myself in the feeling of her pleasuring me. I didn’t think she’d keep going for very long so I didn’t do any of my internal stuff to hold back the inevitable. She was really pumping and I was getting closer but I still didn’t try and stop anything since she wasn’t going to let me come (I thought). Suddenly, I realized I was very close and I said something to her about it. I made it quite clear where I was. She kept pumping.

Inside, the rabbit was appalled. Horrified. This was not supposed to happen. But the lizard, remembering the 17-year-old style fucking from the previous morning and the short leash and tight collar it’s been made to suffer though, was triumphant. He knocked my higher brain offline and rode the crest of the orgasm up and over the explosion of chemicals that seemed to hit every part of my sensory system simultaneously.

It hurt, I came so hard. I can’t say it was enjoyable. It was too intense. But the bubble had been burst. A real fucking orgasm, dreamy dopey hangover and all. Belle commented on how little ejaculate there was, but she hadn’t really been stroking me that long. This wasn’t as much a shot as it was an implosion. I laid there, stunned into paralysis, and felt the great billowing sail of my denial deflate inside my chest. Not sorrowfully. I refused to let myself think of it that way. Belle whispered something about how that was a demonstration of how I wasn’t in control of anything. When I could move again, I snuggled into her and wrapped my arms and legs around as much of her as possible.

Did I want to come? Of course. Desperately. Would I have chosen to come if she had asked my preference? Maybe. Am I glad I did now? Um…I dunno. Like I said, I’m trying not to think of it as a good or bad thing. I’m trying to think of it as analogous to when she hits my balls. Sometimes, I don’t like it. It’s not what I want at that moment. But I take it because it’s a symbol of my lack of control. That’s what this was, I suppose. What does this mean to the previously expressed July 2014 date? No idea.

Typically, I find I need two orgasms after a long denial to feel really sated. The first one is horribly intense and over the top. The second on is fanfuckingtastic. Then I’m totally out of the game for a week or more. This time, she locked me back up within 24 hours. I didn’t want the device. I wanted to stay out. The other shoe hadn’t been dropped. I wasn’t really in the zone, but I could feel the lizard sitting expectantly on the rabbit’s head. Last night, as Belle slept, I was laying there with my hand on my balls and hard, hard tube and yearning to be out. The device felt especially cruel. I wasn’t in subspace at all. I was in horny needy male space. That’s a different thing. She sensed my different attitude before dinner and asked where my usual subbie persona was. “Wiped off my stomach and into a dirty sock,” I said.

Today, I still feel like I’m in kind of a nether zone. Not what I usually feel. Not bad, just different. I am really horny. I mean, horny. Crudely so. My balls tingle and ache a little. I am not a fan of the steel between my legs. It’s a weird combination of things. Regardless of how it feels or how much I like it, it is an excellent demonstration of what Belle said she wanted it to be. I am not in control of my own sex in any way.

9 thoughts on “She kept pumping

  1. It appears that Belle enacted Rule No. 1 ( from the Rule Reset). And maybe she really wanted to leave you feeling as needy as you feel for a little change and to keep things interesting. Sounds like she is certainly in control.

  2. “…and felt the great billowing sail of my denial deflate inside my chest.”

    Beautiful. Sucks to be you. But, beautifully expressed.

  3. i feel for you–the loss of the “valley orgasm” always sucks the life right out of me. i thought it was awesome that Belle reminded you who was in control, however; it also seemed to show that she enjoys watching you orgasm. Maybe. How is it now, psychologically, one day later?

    1. She does like it when I come. I may have planted the seed that led to the spilling of my seed by reminding her of that during the teenage fucking.

      I feel OK. I’m really horny, I’m resenting the device, I’m still craving my second orgasm which is nowhere in sight. I’m where I asked to be, in other words.

  4. Belle whispered something about how that was a demonstration of how I wasn’t in control of anything.

    And this is the point where some smug, smarmy know-it-all jumps in to say something about how often it seems that some guys treat the chastity/denial thing like a competition, like each tiem you have to shoot for longer and longer times.

    But I’m not going to be that guy. Nope, no way.

      1. Actually, I was thinking that a *huge* mind-fuck would have been to do this 2 or 3 days short of 1 year. We all (including me) build up certain goals in our heads as some kind of achievement, and to be forced to relinquish that control just short would be *really* frustrating.

  5. The more times the Princess and I have a go at this, the more it comes back to control over straight out denial. I am quite curious about extended denial, and she’s just not into that. She loves the ability to say when, but wants that “when” to be every few weeks for the most part.

    Obviously, you’ve got a different program running, but it’s a pretty fundamental question…who really gets to set the conditions? Best wishes with the getting back into the groove blues…

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