Month: April 2014

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Desperate spooning

Belle leaves the country on Thursday for two weeks. I hate these trips, though to be fair, she hasn’t had to take one like this in a while.

As I said, and regardless of how good I’ve been recently, she’s not about to leave me alone with the penis. There’s a complication, though, in that I have tickets to the baseball game both tonight and on the day she leaves and they’ve recently installed metal detectors there. Not sure if they’re the walk-through kind or the wands (I’ve been wanded in the Steelheart before without detection). Therefore, I’m in the Trainer, but I really don’t want to be in it for the entire time she’s gone. I’d rather spend some time in the Jail Bird, actually (it’s been a while), or whatever device she says she wants me in. We’ll have to figure out something regarding keys and swapping devices and such.

In any event, she’ll be gone and I’m feeling pretty horny lately so last night I was lobbying hard for some pussy time even though she just came twice over the weekend and was generally tired and ready for bed. I didn’t push too hard. I wanted to leave her plenty of room to opt-out. Mental anguish over my subordinate lot in life would have been good, too. I was mentally prepared for that, but it didn’t happen. I presume she felt a little sorry for me and she eventually pulled back and said, “Make me happy.”

I went to work on her in the ways that usually induce happiness on her part. I was in the Jail Bird and felt the erection push hard against the bars while her pussy grew wetter and wetter. I didn’t want to rush as I was enjoying myself but I also wanted to be respectful of her desire to go to sleep soon. After a little of this where is seemed as though she wasn’t progressing as fast as she wanted, she asked, “Would you go down on me?”

And I’m like, FUCK. YES.

For the record, she never needs to ask if I’ll do this. Any day, any time, any place. Point to the pussy and push down on my head and I am so there. Eagerly.

It was hard work getting her home (her refractory period is more than just a few days after two orgasms in two days), but we got there. I lingered, kissing the inside of her thighs and resting my forehead on her mons and breathed deeply, letting her pheromones penetrate while she basked. It’ll be a while before I’m there again and I wanted my fill for as long as she’d let me.

I was a leaky mess after. And I did that thing where I spooned desperately into her and got thisclose to falling asleep before jolting awake. I guess that’s hormones. Happens more often than not after I get her off and I’m left locked. Eventually, I did sleep, but not until after some melatonin. Probably got about four hours.

On balance, four hours of sleep in exchange for pussy juice all over my face seems like a pretty fair deal.

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Symbolism

Several comments on my post about Belle’s decision to tattoo me as a way to commemorate my permanent denial.

Dave said…

If this is what you both really want, then you should consider chemical castration. This would make it easier for you and would prevent future accidents. If the chemicals work out, then consider the surgery this would really make it permanent.

Castration would be the exact opposite thing we should do. My desire for orgasm is what powers my role in our dynamic. Anything that would remove that desire would be my kryptonite. Also, Belle wants a mate who’s hot and bothered over her. She likes it when I fuck her and when I want to fuck her. Remember, chastity and denial IS NOT abstinence. It’s not the opposite of sex. It is a way to enhance a sexual relationship.

MsDana said…

You might wanna ask someone who knows Japanese if that sign has all the right connotations of ‘deny’. It might not mean what the literal translation says it means.

And Tim added…

One of my new patient’s came to me recently and he has a tattoo that went on in the 1970s when he was at college. It says “Keep on Truckin” He told me that he thought he knew then what he meant but he is certain that he is not really certain now what it means. He is not the first patient to confide in me with lament about a tattoo

I am persuaded that everyone should have the freedom to choose what they want to do with their bodies. As you look/consider images, I would suggest that you look to something that has an affirming meaning… Such as the kanji for Commitment and Locked, or Service and Purpose. Just some ideas.

And Michael concluded…

The commenters suggestion to fully explore the symbols meaning is a good one. You don’t want the wrong connotation. That being said, I don’t think Japanese is either of you or Belle’s first language so you are probably ok if the intended meaning is within the greater lexicon of it’s literal meaning.

First off, I consider the message of what I believe to be the meaning of that kanji (which, yes, I will do a bit more research on) to be affirming. In our context, “deny” also means “commitment,” “service,” and “purpose.” Her decision to do it and my accepting the mark (because, let’s be real, if I really didn’t want a tattoo I wouldn’t get one) are all wrapped up in super sexy, hot, and ultimately loving sentiment. She’s not permanently denying me as a punishment. Quite the opposite. I think we both consider it a further deepening of our commitment to one another and our relationship.

Regarding potential tattoo regret, you need to know how I feel about tattoos in general. To me, they are markers of significant moments or influences in your life. They should have meaning, even after the moment or influence has past. They can serve as a reminder of where you’re from or where you’ve been or even as an indication of where you want to go. In short, even if at some point in our lives we find ourselves not in this dynamic (unlikely but who knows), we will still have been there at one time. It will still stand for an important point on the map of my life. I won’t regret it. Hopefully, I’ll always cherish what it meant to us.

To me, this tattoo will be a permanent symbol of our mutual dedication, commitment, and love.

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Volly

Schnoff and I are going to continue our game of blogging badminton…

He wrote recently about the conflict of not living up to the expectations of that person with whom one has placed control over one’s orgasm (and I like writing using words like “one” because it does makes one feel as though they’re speaking dialog from an episode of Downton Abby). In my first post in response to his first, I said…

I still touch it and fiddle with it absentmindedly and give it a squeeze if it’s hard and I’m liking that, but I will not “play with it.” Which means I’ll not be able to find myself in that spot Schnoff did. 

And even as I wrote it I thought it sounded a bit too confident. I should have said if I remain true to Belle’s wishes that I not play with the penis when it’s unlocked and I don’t have permission in that way I know from years of experience will bring me into spitting distance of orgasm, I’ll not be able to find myself in that spot Schnoff did. Lately, I have been really good about that. There’s some kind of mental block that’s been trained into me so that the idea of stroking myself, while appealing on one hand since I know how good it will feel, is really unappealing to me since I also know it would be very wrong. That’s not to say if I found myself locked in the bathroom with my ass in the air and the Pure Wand sticking out and punching my prostate that I wouldn’t also find my hand all over the penis if it were free, but that very specifically is one of those things I just mentioned. So I won’t do that unless she says very specifically that I can.

To illustrate. Belle left me unlocked this weekend from Friday night to this morning. She let me out on Friday not because she wanted anything to do with the penis but because she knew she might want it Saturday morning and she didn’t want to have to fiddle with the key or wait for me to attend to my cleanliness or anything like that when it was time. So, in effect, I was loaned the penis until she had a use for it. I was only holding onto it (figuratively) for her. So I didn’t do anything pleasurable with it until Saturday when she stroked it and let me put it in her. Similarly, the next morning we had sex again but this time there was no foreplay on her part. I was attending to her tits and fingering her pussy and the penis was rock hard between us but she totally ignored it. Neither of us touched it at all until she let me slide in because I’m not supposed to and she didn’t want to. There was a time when I might have maneuvered myself into position where her hand was adjacent in hopes that she’d play with it or even so that I could pleasure myself while pleasuring her, but the rule is now that the only pleasure I’m allowed from the penis is when it’s being used to fuck her. And I have been conditioned to obey that. I’m actually pretty proud of how good I’ve been, though I understand that she still doesn’t trust me.

I think there are some specific reasons for this recent success. One is Belle has given me very clear rules. No stroking. No getting yourself off without permission. Absolutely no orgasm. It’s hard to wiggle in that space. If I’m doing something that feels good with the penis, it’s probably against the rules. Two, I have come to realize that to really succeed I need to respect her, her rules, and our dynamic. All those things. Her authority over my body is not an island that is separate from me and my actions. I do not exist outside that construct.

I, of course, have willingly entered into this dynamic with Belle (just as I entered into our marriage which is a similar arrangement, I think). If I am to disrespect her wishes within the dynamic, I am disrespecting the dynamic. The thing I wanted and crave. The thing that provides me so much emotional pleasure. I can’t help wanting to stroke myself and even to come (in fact, I need to want to stroke myself and come) but to do so would mean I am not really invested in making the dynamic work. She has her role (which she is fulfilling quite well) and I have mine. If I can’t live up to her expectations, then why should I hope she’d do the same for me?

In a way, this mentality is the root of my assertion that the most secure chastity device lives between one’s own ears. Right now, I’m in the Jail Bird. It’s totally unsecure in that my PA has nothing through it. I could, theoretically, pull out and jack off or even go into my toolbox and use pliers to remove the security screw holding the cage on. She would have no way of knowing. But why in the world would I do that? To what end? And it’s the same willpower at a higher amperage that keeps me from breaking her rules involving free meat. The device is a deterrent but not the authority. That’s embodied in her.

So, the differences between successful device chastity and obedience chastity are non-existent…except for the device.

Like I said the other day, I think penis constriction is a kink all by itself. Some people get off on the feeling and, like in me, it’s buried deep down and has always been there. Another kink is about control (being controlled or doing the controlling). One could do either or both and still be covered under the “chastity” rubric. There is no right way. Layer over that ancillary kinks like bondage, sadomasochism, and even aesthetic preferences and you get some combination of this game we play.

The only advantages I have over anyone else sharing these kinds of experiences is the length of time we’ve been doing it and the fact that I often make an effort to tease out my feelings and thoughts in writing. But I do think that unless one gets to the point that they realize “being good” is really about respecting the holy trinity of their partner, themselves, and their relationship, they will struggle. I know for a fact that Bear and Schnoff are on the right path because it’s the same path Belle and I are one. I can recognize it in his writing. All the familiar mileposts are there.

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Marked man

“You should probably just stop counting,” Belle said to me this morning after I mentioned that today made eleven weeks since she last let me come — approximately one-third of the total time I was denied before. Then, later, “I mean, you’ll just be counting forever.”

You see, Belle has decided I won’t have any more orgasms.

After talking about it, she’s unhappy with how I am after I come (even though it happens, on average, about once every 9 months) and is much happier with how I act and feel when I don’t and doesn’t like waiting around for my hormones to rebalance afterward (which, with the extension of duration between events, seems to take a lot longer than in the past). So that’s that. Calling a spade a spade. She’s happier and we’re better when I don’t come.

This concept has been bandied about before, but she’s pretty invested in it now. Belle said she thought something this momentous required a ceremony of some kind. It’s not unlike marriage vows, if you think about. Submitting to your parter’s control over your sexual release and willingly giving that up forever in exchange for her happiness and the salubrious benefits it has on our foundational relationship. Just saying, “No more for you,” without some kind of mutual acknowledgment of the significance of it would make backtracking too easy. Someday, maybe a long time from today, I’ll beg in a certain way and she’ll be in a certain mood and she’ll let me (like last time). Or I’ll be alone with the penis and allow it to think for me and I’ll fuck up. How can we take it a step further and solemnify the decision in a way that will make it more persistent?

DenyOver dinner last night, she decided what she wants to do. She wants me get a tattoo. And she wants to be there to see me get it. That will be our ceremony. The tattoo she’s chosen is the Japanese Kanji for “deny.” She wants it about an inch from the base of the penis, just above and to the right. It’ll always be there as a reminder to both of us that my denial is forever. If I ask or beg or plead to come, all she’ll have to do is touch me on the Kanji. Every time I’m naked, her decision will be there to see. Right next to the steel ring (usually) locked on me. I will never be in a position when I’ll be able to allow myself to forget my commitment to her control. Every time anyone sees the penis, they’ll see her decision right next to it. She wants me marked. So I will be.

And I’m telling you, she’s really excited about this. She was near giddy as the plan was falling into place during our dinner date last night. She was laughing and grinning and I was feeling nervous butterflies tumble around inside me as I sipped my wine silently. I’m both excited and a little scared. Probably how most guys feel when they get engaged. This is a Big Deal. Not the kind of thing that just happens.

Every time I think about it, I get hard. Not just hard at the idea, but from how invested in it she is. Whenever I see her do or say anything that shows me she’s really into this dynamic, it makes me happy. This, in particular, makes me very happy. This isn’t about humoring me. This is what she wants, too. No doubt about it.

It occurred to me this morning, while laying next to her in bed after she let me get her off and with the sticky penis she let me fuck her with between us, that I shouldn’t be thinking about this permanent denial thing as something that’s in the future. The tattoo and commitment “ceremony” are in the future, but the denial is already happening. As she said, I will be counting forever. The last time she let me come really was the last time.

And there go the butterflies again. This is what I’ve wanted. This is what I’ve asked for. But now it’s real. The tattoo will physically mark the day the phase of my life where I could hope for orgasm ended, but that’s a formality. In reality, that day is already in the past. That part of my life is over.

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The other way

Schnoff screwed up.

You should read his post, but the short story is, while attending to his prostate, he lost control of his impulses and accidentally came. “Accidentally” except for the part where he was jacking off with a Pure Wand up his ass.

I don’t point all this out to make fun of him or make an example of him or anything. Mostly to commiserate with him.

I am coming around to the idea that failure is a necessary part of success. I had been obedient since we started in August, and I am upset that I can’t say that any more. At the same time, coming without permission led to growth: I was cheating and kidding myself about it, and that had to come to a head eventually. I was forced to look at what I was doing with less self-deception. That’s a good thing.

I have been in that place.

Recently, I was unlocked due to the fact that I felt like total shit and the device was making me feel worse by its simple existence affixed to my body. I was sick (which is also a big reason why I haven’t posted in a long time — that and the vacation we were on). Belle let me out (I wasn’t entirely sure she would) and I was free for about four days or so. Maybe a few more. In that time, I didn’t play with myself. “Play with myself” is now defined internally as stroking the erect penis and/or stimulating that sweet spot under the penis’ head. I still touch it and fiddle with it absentmindedly and give it a squeeze if it’s hard and I’m liking that, but I will not “play with it.” Which means I’ll not be able to find myself in that spot Schnoff did. Not again.

Funny thing is, by the time Belle decided it was time for me to go back in I was telling myself I didn’t need to go back in. Bear doesn’t use a device on Schnoff like Belle does on me and that’s always seemed a little weird from my perspective but I was digging not having to deal with the steel and all the extra crap that comes with being locked up (and I wasn’t feeling 100% healthy anyway — not really until just a few days ago). It’s not that I was swearing off chastity devices, but that’s how it works sometimes. More time out leads to wanting more time out and more time in leads to being happier in. It made me think of Schnoff and Bear’s arrangement. Which is why reading his post was…ironic.

But Belle wanted me back in. It wasn’t a request.

I asked her this past weekend after she let me get her off while locked up the whole time why she keeps me this way day in, day out. Why has this dynamic moved from something that was at first a thing I was advocating to something she has so fully embraced. I bet there are a good number of guys who fantasize about being in my state who’d like to know that, too. I’m not sure I got to the bottom of it, but she has a few reasons for wanting me locked up. First, she doesn’t trust me with the penis. And, if I’m honest, I’ve not given her any reason to. Sure, I was good and have been for quite some time on those off days I’m not locked, but I’ve given her plenty of reasons to think I can’t control myself. Situations that sound a lot like Schnoff’s. Second, she just likes knowing my state. See reason number one. If I’m locked up and controlled, I can’t make any mistakes and that makes Belle’s life somewhat simpler not having to worry or even think about me being true. Of course I am because I have no choice. Third, I think she just likes the control. After that, I’d say there are a number of ancillary drivers. Like I think she’s more accustomed to the penis when it’s a shiny tube than a meaty one. Like how she associates my denial and my submission to her with a romantic act. Like how she thinks my attitude and behavior around the house are better when the penis can’t dwell on my mind.

I didn’t write this to suggest device denial is better than willpower or that Schnoff is doing it wrong or anything like that. This is really more about me stretching my fingers and knocking the cobwebs out of the blogging corner of my brain. But it was also a chance to do a little exploring between the cracks of the various ways this denial thing can be done.