Here I am on day three of my new period of denial, the duration of which is unclear except that Belle’s told me it will be “a long time…a long time.” For those keeping score, the last period was thirty-two weeks. From July 1 to February 9. Nearly two thirds of a year. That’s twenty-three thousand one-hundred sixty —
Oh, you get the idea.
It’s apparently universally true that men who are being denied love to keep score while women doing the denying don’t. Just look at blogs. The guy’s will often have a countdown or count up timer while the woman’s never does. Belle hates when I talk about days and months and such (which is why there isn’t one of those timer thingies here). She doesn’t like being measured like that. I wonder what it’s like when there are two guys in this kind of dynamic? Do they both get off on the record keeping? Either way, Belle was never much interested in how long it had been and she’s not apparently very interested in being pinned down going forward.
So yeah, day three. I’m hornier than I thought I would be. I was pretty much ready to go again Sunday night, truth be told, but it’s not the same type of horniness. It’s a more expectant and needy kind. I do not want the device on. All I want to do is come again. My submissive tendencies are at a minimum.
That’s one of the things some (many?) “true” submissives hate. When guys who are locked up and denied say, “Oh, it turns me into a submissive!” As if putting on a cheap souvenir headdress can make you an indian chief. I don’t think that denial makes me submissive, but I do think it helps surface my inner submissive tendencies. As if they’re tufa towers in the Mono Lake of my sexuality. The longer I go without coming the lower that lake of post-orgasmic brain chemicals drops revealing the interesting formations beneath. Give me one orgasm and bam! Lake levels rise and the towers get hidden and I start acting like a dumb guy again. One who doesn’t very much enjoy having a steel tube locked over his manhood.
Last night, Belle gave me a chance to service her in a way that a week ago I would have been happy to do. I had already made dinner for everyone, drove one kid around like a taxi driver, and was going to take the other kid on an errand prior to retrieving the first kid again. Then Belle gave me two more errands to perform while I was out. I may have rolled my eyes. This is what orgasm does. I felt like I had already done all these things and here she was piling on more. I mean, I did them of course. I’m not so far gone that I gave her any real trouble. But that feeling of being put out is rare for me now. Like I said, a week ago I would have been happy to do whatever she wanted and might even have felt a bit of a happy wave for having been given the chance.
There’s also a part of me thinking this orgasm stuff wasn’t the end of the world after all so why not try having them like once a month or something. Wouldn’t that be nice? Maybe every couple of weeks or so would be good. And then I’m like, Who the fuck is this talking in my head? No matter how you feel about denial, the brain is totally wired to be addicted to orgasm. Not addicted in a bad way. It can be destructive, of course, but even in me the lizard is lobbying. Right now, this second, I want to come. This is not normal for me. I usually only want to come when Belle lets me fuck her. But currently, the idea of nipping off to the bathroom and pulling one out in a stall is very appealing. In fact, the idea is kind of gnawing at me. This is why I need to be locked up. I don’t know that I’d go so far as to actually come, but I might, and even so, I’d never have gotten off to work this morning what with all the masturbation I’d have been doing.
Just so we’re clear, all I’m doing here is talking out loud and making observations about my feelings. I’m not advocating for any changes in my dynamic with Belle. There is absolutely no topping from below happening here so you can stop formulating a comment regarding such. I’m merely enjoying this rare opportunity to pick at myself in this state.