An open question

I was talking to Drew yesterday prior to he and Axel taking off on an international vacation. Belle and I are also entering into our vacation period, but we’re staying in North America. The kids’ll be at camp for a few weeks so we’re driving into what apparently is called the “Intermountain West” to look at those mountains, visit steamy holes in the ground, and ride a horse or two. Anyway, while talking, Drew asked me if he thought Belle would let me come on this trip.

Some couples do the orgasm denial thing based on a schedule (once a month, one a year, on a certain date, etc.). Or they might leave it to chance (roll of the dice) or they make it a reward for some action or they set a ratio of her orgasms to his (she needs to get x number before he gets one). Belle eschews any structure on the matter. Random number generators take away her control as does a set date as does really any rule other than “it’s up to her.” She wants me to come when she wants me to come and doesn’t want anything to get in her way, not even me.

It’s also the case that some men look forward to getting to come. They think about their orgasm a lot and crave the moment she’ll give it to them. I don’t work that way, usually. At any given point, just sitting there thinking about it, I’ll far more often than not want to be left wanting. I can get really fucking horny and want to fuck or whatever, but it’s pretty much only when I’m fucking (or, far more rarely, jacking off) that I want to come. Within a few minutes of pulling out of her, I will still be horny, but the intense desire to come will subside. Just sitting around wanting an orgasm, for me, is really rare and, as much as it happens, only occurs after a really long period of denial (months and months).

I’m not going to say I’ve developed an aversion to orgasm, but I find talking about it and whether it’s going to happen or how somewhat…distatestful. Kind of like asking someone you hardly know how much they make in a year. Just sort of not done. I acknowledge this is a personal peculiarity of mine. I assume it’s a product of being exceedingly well trained in the art of subsuming my own desire for release into my focus on Belle’s.

So, to answer Drew’s original question…I have no idea. Literally. I haven’t spent any time thinking about it.

In fact, I’m once again totally unable to recall the last time I came. No idea how long it’s been. This, also, is how Belle likes it. Counting up or down bugs her. I haven’t made a conscious decision to stop doing it, but I have. Once we get past a week or so, and unless I blog about it when it happens (and, as I recall, I didn’t last time), it just slips away from me. As it should. My orgasm is not the point of having sex. I shouldn’t have any expectations about it, either as something that might happen or might not at any given point. So…I don’t. Or try not to.

The thing I do think about is being kept away from the penis. Due to our schedules (me in LA with Drew last weekend, Belle having a spa resort trip in SoCal this weekend) and me finally developing the nasty cold that’s run through everyone else in the family (luckily, at the end of my time in LA), I’m looking at three weeks of being in some device. In LA, it was a Holy Trainer. Effective but not my preferred predicament. I was out for as long as it took to remove it and go back into the Steelheart. My only shot at getting out will be tonight if Belle is in the mood after a day’s travel. If not, then it’s probably at least another week before she and I set out on our adventure. My hope is, since she should be in a really good mood from resorty spa activities and might be craving the feeling of me being in her, that she’ll let me out and we can fuck.

A lot of times, when Belle’s not around, my sex drive going into high gear. As if her nearness is a calming influence on me. This time, maybe because I’m just getting over this damned cold, my interest in sex has been nearly zero. I’ve spent a little time on Tumblr, but it wasn’t with much enthusiasm. Waking up in the morning, instead of clawing at the steel in frustration, it’s just there. But she’s coming home now and I feel the pilot light flicker a bit. Being in chastity and denied when your keyholder isn’t around can sometimes feel like a tree falling in a forest with nobody around to hear it. Just a thing that happens.

But now, as I said, I want to fuck. A lot. More and more as I write this. Fingers crossed.

Kitty with a key

Found the Kitty with a key blog today while looking through the sites that refer traffic to me. It’s written by a woman who keeps her man locked up. Women-written chastity blogs seem to be the minority, so it’s always good to find a new one. I also approve of its design (which is a feat all by itself). It’s only been around since April so catching up won’t be too hard. You should check it out.

It’s funny to me that I don’t really read that many blogs on this subject. There are a few I like, but even then I fall behind and have to catch up. Except for Twitter, I’m a bit of a recluse, really. Antisocial. But…you know. Introvert.

In the comments, name a chastity blog you think is great. Only one, though, and not this one (or your own, though feel free to mention that if you have one). Go!

Altered

As I said in my last post, I’ve been out of the Steelheart due to a chemically burned penis. I’m back in now with nary a complaint from the healing wound so things are pretty much back to normal. 

But, being out this morning allowed me to make an observation as I got out of bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress with a stiffy between my legs I noticed that the dent in the erectile tissue put there by the Steelheart is both apparently permanent and quite obvious. I mean, if a week’s worth of unrestricted erections didn’t do anything to lessen the dent, it will apparently need more out time than it’s likely to get to go away. Also, as I said, it’s pretty obvious. It’s like the penis is wearing a tiny little invisible belt around its middle. 

Sitting there looking at it I realized I have complicated feelings about being dented. Even when I’m unlocked, even if I’m ever “set free,” my denied and controlled state will always be there. I may carry a physical reminder of chastity for the rest of my life. Every time I look at it, every time I or anyone else holds the hard shaft, it will be seen or felt. No getting around it. I’m marked as well as if I’d been tattooed. 

A few days ago while getting ready to go to work, I took my wedding ring off while applying lotion or hair product or whatever. I left it in an unusual place and totally forgot to put it back on. I went to work without it and didn’t realize until I looked down and saw the dent in my finger where the ring usually goes. 

Same kind of dent. Same reasons for being there. 

Chastity and denial are just as much a commitment to Belle as my marriage vows were so it’s fitting that the two pieces of metal I wear as a result of both should leave me similarly marked. I feel just as weird when either of them are absent. I can’t imagine what life would be like without them and have no intention of finding out.

The dent on my finger doesn’t matter since the ring that made it is nearly always covering it up. The dent on the penis is only apparent when Belle wants it to be. And in those times, it’s a reminder to us both of how my commitment to her has left me altered, inside and out. 

Hair of the hare

Got a text from Frodo the other day.

“You OK?”

And I was like, what did I do? Did I put something vague on Facebook? I texted back that I was fine, maybe a little grumpy, but otherwise OK. He was asking because my last post here was a while back and I was talking about anxiety and he’s a nice friend, etc., and was just checking in.

Last night, Belle also commented on the lack of posts. I said I just haven’t had anything to write about.

“So have we become boring?”

Gah! No. Sheesh.

I had been thinking I’d write about hair. Icky, nasty, profuse pubic hair and how one deals with it vis-à-vis chastity (and yes, I am exactly the kind of guy to use vis-à-vis unironically and correctly). And then something happened that gave me a good reason to talk pubes. Whew. A blog post was born.

A lot of guys who get locked up also remove their pubic hair. It’s a chastity thing, I guess. Some people (like me) just prefer to keep their bush trimmed (or more) while others get off on the supposedly emasculating aspect of being required to remove their pubes. I get that, but for me it’s a combination of simply preferring controlled hair down there and the fact that once they get to be maybe half an inch long or so, they tend to get caught in the little crannies of whatever device I’m in and get pulled out painfully at inopportune moments.

I keep my pubic hair trimmed to about a quarter inch or so and shorter the closer they are to the A-ring. I also shave the hair from the shaft of the penis (it goes about a quarter of the way up) and off my balls, but that doesn’t always end well. I think hair on the shaft and balls is unattractive and I far prefer the look of clean skin in those places. The tricky bit is being locked up with the stubble that comes 24-72 hours or so after shaving. Whatever device I’m in, the stubbly skin is pressed against itself setting up a significant irritation opportunity. For whatever reason, this was especially bad in the CB6K but can also be an issue in the Steelheart.

IF ONLY there was a way to get at that hair in a way that would reduce stubble or last longer than just shaving that didn’t require nuclear lasers mounted to sharks’ heads. That’s when Drew innocently mentioned a product he uses called ballsBALM (yes, that’s how they spell it…fucking marketing people, I swear). A little voice in my head said with an alarmed tone in his voice, “WHAT? A chemical depilatory on the penis!? The hell, you say.” But I ignored him because Drew used it successfully and it had four and a half stars on Amazon.

Yeah, it didn’t really work. Maybe it got rid of the scotum hair (mmmm, sexy sexy scrotum hair) but the hair on and around the base of the shaft was left pretty much untouched except for some, well, melting that left the hair on my body but all shriveled up and sorry looking. I still had to shave the melted hair balls off (mmmm, sexy sexy melted hair balls).

But you know, whatever, I can still shave. The real problem with the stuff with the silly name is that it burned the fuck out of the penis. On the right side of the shaft was a spot about the size of a small fava bean (or large pea or very small gumball or ridiculously large very small rock) where the skin was taken right off. I didn’t feel this while the burny goo was on, only once I washed it off. And it fucking STUNG.

The thing about penises that live most of the time in dark steel tubes is their skin is more sensitive and fragile than normal ones. I can barely stand to go commando when unlocked even without second-degree chemical burns. If I was allowed to jack off as much as I want, I’m sure I’d get blisters from it. Being perpetually locked up makes the penis a tender little flower of a thing and maybe I shouldn’t be slathering hair melting goo all over it.

Anyway, this explains the picture I posted on Tumblr the other day.

That was all on Sunday. I have been unlocked since. Belle would much prefer I be in the Steelheart and, truth be told, I would too, but no dice. I tried yesterday since the burn is nicely scabbed over (mmmm, sexy sexy penis scabs) but the location of the burn is exactly the spot where the PA fixing comes up and intersects with the edge of the tube and it was too painful. I’m starting to feel the itchy jumpy feeling from having freely accessible penismeat and a healthy craving for playing with it. Being unlocked for this long feels very odd but, on the plus side, I’m getting really good sleep in the wee hours of the morning.

Maybe I can go back in today. If not, it’s up to her, but perhaps we’ll wait until Sunday when I nearly always am locked back up anyway.