This morning, I babbled like a besotted schoolboy. Embarrassing in retrospect. I mean, all good intentions. Just…wow, what a sap I was.
Belle’s continued to leave me in the Steelheart. Usually, when holidays role around (or any kind of special event like vacataions, etc.) she’ll let me out. We’re out of town for Christmas and I assumed that this would be like every other trip of this type and she’s let me out on the first morning away and not require that I go back in until after we’d been home. I would have been justified in expecting I’d be free and flopping at least through New Year’s and maybe all the way to the Monday afterward.
But not this time. As I said the other day, she’s inclined to leave me in for a while. We had setted into a routine for the past couple of months where she’s let me out on the weekends for a little activity that included pussy time for me. That’s done for now. And the change it’s had on me is apparent.
On Tuesday, I referenced an early post where I laid out my thoughts on the then-new idea that Belle would control how often and in what way I enjoyed orgasm. In it, I said…
There is so much on the web around OD, tease and denial (T&D), and domination and submission (D/s), etc., that is very anti-male. I admit to being new to this scene, so it’s entirely possible what I’m reading is just people staying in character, but I don’t think so. Many sites written by women for women (example) make men out to be little more than sexual animals who can’t be trusted to control their urges and whose sex drives can be harnessed to make them do all manner of things they wouldn’t do otherwise. I’ve even read men on forums regurgitate this POV. Like somehow OD saves them from their inner pigs. (The notable exception, and luckily the site I found very early on in my exploration, is Tickleberry.)
The above line of thought is so alien to me it’s not something I can even pretend to be into. Again, I do not judge anything anyone else is into, but personally, I revel in my maleness. I rejoice in the differences between women and men. The fact that I enjoy sex as much as I do, that it’s as important to me as it is, that I think about it all the fucking time is wonderful. I would never want to abdicate my male prerogative to anyone else, even my beloved Belle Fille.
I was scared of letting go of my “male prerogative.” Yes, I wanted my sex controlled but I also didn’t want to “waste” any of my desire for it. I felt then strongly (and still do when I allow myself) that my desire for sex is a limited natural resource. That something should be done with it when it presented itself and that something was that Belle should let me get her off. I’ve evolved significantly since then.
I still don’t ascribe to any overt anti-male feelings, but I do feel that — at least for me, though I suspect it’s true for a lot of men – that we’re fundamentally selfish beings. It may be genetics or maybe it’s socialization, but easy access to my body and the orgasms that result tends to make me far less attuned to her and her needs. I withdraw and focus on my own interests. The less I come, the easier it is for me to recognize what she needs. On top of that, the more she keeps the penis in the device and the less attention she pays it even then, the more motivated I become in not only recognizing what she needs, but in doing something about it.
This is the mysterious alchemy of my denial. Where the competing and seemingly incompatible forces of my intense background horniness meets with my deep desire to satisfy her. They beget each other. Power each other. The more I have of one, the more I have of the other. Where their hard edges strike, a bright frisson sparks within me that I find simultaneously exhilarating and calming. Warm and loved. And loving. It makes me feel alive. When it’s really working, it’s like that scene in The Wizard of OZ where Dorothy opens the door to her house after it’s fallen from the sky and suddenly sees the world in blazing Technicolor. (It’s not like I haven’t written about this before. You have a blog that’s five years old in which you essentially write about the same thing over and over, you do find yourself walking in your own footsteps more often than not.)
I felt it last night. The frisson. I was laying in bed, Belle was fast asleep, and I was dead tired. But I couldn’t sleep. That’s the dark side to all this. That flame burned so intently that it scared my own sleep away.
For the past several days, I’ve started each of them asking Belle a simple question: How can I serve you today? She’s given me tasks and I’ve tried my best to do each of them for her. She’s left the penis in its cage where the energy radiating from the plutonium decaying in its heart can be put to good use. She’s let me make our sex all about her. I’ve asked that she hold me truly accountable for the things she asks me to do. And that makes me very happy.
In a way, I suppose trying to live as the best service sub I can is a little like being a priest (says the atheist whose first exposure to Catholics was when he married one — and ohbytheway, “service sub” is a phrase I would have run from five years ago). You strive for a goal and sometimes you make it and sometimes you don’t. But you’re dedicated to it and want to do the best you can. That’s how it is with me. I not only want to see the things that will make her happy and her life more enjoyable, I want to be motivated to put my own desires aside so that I act on what I know I need to do. Unintuitively, the more generous she is with me, the less motivated I become. The more I start to expect the generosity. Expectation is the enemy of gratitude and leads to disappointment and resentment.
So yes, what I know now that I didn’t then is orgam denial and femdom and chastity can make at least some men better people. Men like me. I never could have imagined feeling this way. I have had my sex drive harnessed — happily — and now I want the saddle and the crop and the spurs and to be ridden around like a pony. And it’s what I was blubbering on about this morning. I feel so lucky to have a woman like Belle who, while never signing up for anything like what she got in me, has figured out how to adapt and even embrace our dynamic. She’s worked through her own socialization issues and found the difference between my desires and my needs. And I love her so much for it. I am so grateful.