After threeish weeks in the Looker 02, Belle decided she wanted the Steelheart back on. Also, unlike last year, when we leave for Spring Break, I’ll be left locked up as much as reasonably possible (excepting TSA checkpoints, scuba diving [easy to spot through a wetsuit], and if she wants the penis) since being free can sometimes lead to unacceptable emotional outbursts.
The Steelheart is, as I’ve said, the most unforgiving of all Belle’s devices. After giving her a nice, lengthy fingering last night (during which, I presumptuously started down to eat her pussy but was snapped back when she said, “Have I said I want that?”) I would have slept fairly well but was woken up four or five times by moderate erections I probably wouldn’t even have felt in the L02 or Jail Bird. The big one at 4:30 was ball-crushingly intense. Sooner or later, I’ll be able to mostly sleep through those, too, but right now there’s no way.
As I laid there waiting for the penis to back off (taking a leak barely took the erection down at all), I thought about how having the penis stuffed down a steel tube less than half its erect length was one of those intensely uncomfortable yet exhilarating and pleasurable dichotomies that seem to make up my entire sexuality. I also reminisced how penis compression is something I’ve kinked over for as long as I can remember.
My earliest sexual recollection was from when I was six or eight laying on my stomach on the living room floor watching Speed Racer. I discovered that rocking back and forth on my pelvis, squishing my little boy penis into the hard, nappy carpet, felt really nice. And, if I did it long enough, the most AMAZING sensation would happen. Fast, zinging jolts from the penis. Orgasm without ejaculation. That’s what I felt, even back then.
Dry-humping the floor became the sole way I masturbated (I didn’t jack off until I was 16). I did it a lot, even before I could come, feeling that crazy intense dry orgasm each time. I discovered that I liked it even more if I could get into position before the erection developed and rolled the penis up into my body so it was up inside me as it got hard. Rocking back and forth on that flat spot that shouldn’t have been there with my little hard-on all stuffed and stifled within may have been my first truly kinky fetish. If I couldn’t do that, I would ride my full body weight on the erection, balancing on it so no other part of me touched the floor. Hard, tight compression.
The first time I ejaculated, it was with the young stiffy stuffed up inside me. I left a gooey little mess on the floor. Interestingly, I recall thinking at the time that the orgasms without ejaculation were better than those with since they lasted longer. All that pulling and pumping at a dry well was more enjoyable than gushing success.
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s I got older, I discovered my first of many pervertables: The small half of the plastic egg my mom’s pantyhose came in. I would cup it over the penis and my balls and get off on feeling the erection grow against the hard barrier. I would sometimes stuff it down my underwear and keep it there for as long as I could stand the sharp edge of the egg against my skin. I had to do this when I was alone, though, because it created a big bulge where one had no business being. Even that turned me on, though I recall wishing the eggs were smaller (and looking for suitable alternatives). I was well past the age of still using my mom’s pantyhose container for naughty purposes when I felt a distinct pang of regret discovering they started packaging them in boring cardboard boxes.
The pantyhose egg play transferred to hard cup and jockstrap wear when I was a young adult. Having a hard bump under my jeans instead of a soft package was hot (though, in retrospect, probably a lot more noticeable to others than I let myself think at the time). Even though it had ventilation holes in it, I’d still get home at the end of the day with a hot, sweaty penis to jack off furiously.
At some point, I picked up a dog leash made of a light chain. No idea where that came from as I didn’t have a dog, but I discovered I could wrap it all around my balls and the shaft of the penis and cause my erections to bulge purple. I experimented with all kinds of ways to configure it and tried to keep my mind off the task enough to keep the penis from becoming fully hard before the chain was in place, wrapped up and down the shaft. I’d try to jack off like that which was equal parts painful and pleasurable. Often, with one hand pulling the chain hard making the erection throb and strain, I’d twist and pull on my nipples and ride a dildo. Just luxuriating in the intensity of it all.
Note that at no time did I even consider what this meant. I didn’t think of words like “masochist” or “kinky” and always left these desires and practices walled up away from any concept of a relationship with another person. All this was before I shacked up with Belle.
So, that fateful day I was pursuing a sex toy website and stumbled upon male chastity devices, even though I had never seen one before, never thought about them as a thing that might exist, never consciously considered the idea of someone controlling my erections and orgasms even once, it was like a bomb went off in my head. I knew instinctually that I wanted that. I wanted to be in one. Wanted to feel my erection held tight and controlled. I knew what it would feel like before ever wearing one.
I don’t know enough to know if penis constriction is just another aspect of a general bondage kink or if it could stand alone as it’s own sort of kink, but I was born craving it. I was literally made for chastity.
Remember that Star Trek: The Next Generation episode called “
