Month: September 2015

Posted on

Turn and face the strange

It’s funny because I was thinking about writing something more or less on the topic of change. Specifically, change in how one expresses their sexuality or identity because, you know, that’s the kind of shit I talk about here. Then this shiny turd appeared over at Drew’s blog (emphasis mine):

Drew, you will always be the one who changed Thumper and forced your sissy feelings on him. This is all garbage that further justifies why the concept of gay marriage is bad. You can’t keep it in your pants and want us to accept that?

The comment was left after Drew composed (the second part) what must have been a difficult post on the subject of actually being in an open relationship when it’s the other guy who’s about to get lucky (Axel, not me). He bared his soul to a certain extent and wrote what must have felt like pretty raw and exposing stuff. But this post isn’t about that, specifically. And it’s not even about the comment, really, but it popped into being in the midst of me pondering this topic so it kind of has to be part of it.

I mean, after I point out the vile and disgusting prejudice on display. What a fucking asshole. Truly. I’ll say again, if you feel as this person does regarding marriage equity, know that I can’t stop you from reading my words and gaining value from them, but also know I begrudge that benefit and think you’re amongst the most terrible and reprehensible people on the planet. I hope you choke on it. Have a nice day.

Anyone who’s read this blog for a while (like, earlier than about a year ago) knows that I haven’t really changed at all since Drew appeared on the scene. I was always very open about my bisexuality and the sundry kinks I enjoy. Drew has only provided an outlet for some of my kinks and, to a certain extent, impacted the kinds of things I write about here (like these very words — oh, so meta!). If that’s the change the commenter takes issue with, I’d refer them to this post.

In fact, the fetish core to this site’s raison d’être — enforced male chastity — has probably been with me for as long as I’ve been alive. My sexual attraction to members of my gender goes as far back as my attraction to those of the opposite gender. But, I was not always aware of my interest in things like bondage and masochism and I never thought of the concept of an open marriage as being anything like something I could do.

It seems to me that we’re overly invested in wanting to be “normal” when it comes to sexuality and sex. We’re saturated with images of what that looks like from our earliest exposure to media. Boy, girl, happily ever after. It’s only recently that it seems as though our culture is starting to be OK with recognition of the other dynamics that make up healthy human sexuality. That there is no one definition that fits all. I think the younger generations are going to be significantly healthier than mine was.

Personally, I think we’re born with all our various kinks and preferences fixed in our heads at an early state (maybe before we even emerge). We don’t develop kinks as much as we unearth them. We don’t “turn gay” as much as we allow ourselves to accept that part of ourselves. Why do I say this? Not because I have science on my side (not that I’ve looked), but because it seems perfectly apparent to me. Before I knew what chastity was, I liked the feeling of penis constriction. Before I knew what gay was, I was drawn to some males more strongly than others. Before I looked into BDSM, I knew I responded strongly to images and scenarios involving capture, containment, loss of control, and domination. I also know that I psyched myself out over many of these things or simply disallowed myself to think about them outside of masturbation. But no, I didn’t become kinky at some point in my forties. I finally let myself be kinky.

But I do think we evolve from a relationship standpoint. I think what we want from a partner changes over time. I never thought about openness with Belle because early on my feelings for her were such that I didn’t want anyone else. Saw no point in anyone else. There was no room inside me for anyone else. Now that’s changed. Luckily, we still have a connection and I still want her and need her in my life, but we’re both fundamentally different. We know more about ourselves and each other. We are much more confident in our bond. We have already made all the extra people we’re going to make and they’re well on their way to being self-sufficient. So now, the intensity and perhaps the motivations of how we once felt have changed.

I think we need to allow ourselves as people to change more than we do. To see that in some ways our sexualities are fixed but the way we express them is more fluid. We need to not feel guilt for feeling the way we do if it’s different than “normal” or how we’ve been identifying for years. We will always be left- or right-handed, but we will not always draw with a crayon or write with a fountain pen or paint with a brush.

We are so much more complicated than we allow ourselves to believe and capable of so much more variety and experience than we’re aware. We should embrace that, not bury it. We should revel in it, not feel shame. We should especially not let others make us want to bury who we are or feel shame because of their internalized self-hatred.

Posted on

Demonstrations

Over on the Twitter, a friend asked me the following (slightly edited) via direct message:

In many posts you often describe Belle as sniggering or finding your struggle amusing (or trivial?) What I feel like I know of the relationship you have an incredibly loving bond. My question: is her resolve so clear that your whimpers just don’t faze her (kind of impressive?) or is there a sympathy or empathy there that we don’t hear much of? My hardwired vanilla sensitivities battle my “you know what the game is” sensibilities.

Belle has her own “hardwired vanilla sensibilities” and as much as I’ve grown in our dynamic and learned what it means to truly submit and let go of my control over our sexual relationship, she’s learned how to tailor her actions and attitude. Is she sympathetic? Empathetic? Probably. Does she find my struggles amusing? Definitely. I know there was a time when her conditioned “vanilla” response would kick in and she’d feel guilty about what I was going through. We’re way past that now. She doesn’t have a guilty fibre in her being over what she puts me through. If so, she does a good job hiding it.

Our dynamic is like that of a sadist and a masochist. To an outsider, the things the sadist does to their partner the masochist can seem truly awful. Abusive. But the masochist’s wiring is such that the pathways that carry pain and pleasure are mixed and crossover so what would be abuse in one setting is actually an expression of love. Of giving one partner what they need to feel fulfilled. If they’re a true sadist, they get the same kind of pleasure from inflicting the pain. So it’s a symbiotic kind of thing.

Belle’s no sadist. At least, not a physical one. She has developed a mean sadistic streak regarding my denial and chastity. Part of that is based in the knowledge that it feeds my masochistic needs. Part is that she knows there’s a tangible benefit to her by keeping me denied. A little part of her actually likes making me suffer.

So as much as this weekend hurt and caused me mental pain, inflicting it on me (and continuing to do so) is, in my estimation, a demonstration of her love for me. And enduring the pain is part of my demonstration of love for her. Yes, I desperately wanted to come. More than I have in a really long time. But after the moment was over, what I wanted and continue to want more is for her not to factor my desires into the algebra of her dominance over me. When I come again, I want it to be completely on her terms and only as a result of her needs and desires.

The longer I wait, the more it pains me and the desire gnaws at me, the more I’m demonstrating my love to her and, I know, by making me go through it, she’s demonstrating her’s back.

Posted on

I come when she wants me to

Belle doesn’t like it when I think about how long it’s been since I last came. She doesn’t care for record keeping or counting days or recognizing feats of endurance or anything like that. I come when she wants me to, period. When did I last come? When she wanted me to.

But I have it bad today. Real bad. She let me fuck her this morning after she came and it felt incredible and I really enjoyed it and once again totally psyched myself into thinking she was going to let me go all the way. I got close and slowed down and thought, sure, she’s just dragging it out. Enjoying it. So I let the orgasm retreat and I shifted position and kept my breathing steady before picking up the pace again. Oh my GOD it was wonderful and I was very grateful she was making me wait because it was so much better and I felt myself closing in on it again but she wasn’t saying anything so I again did what I had to do to let it fall back. When I resumed, it was at a pace that would culminate with orgasm. This time she’d let me and it would be amazing and my head would explode and I’d shoot a ton so she’d overflow with it and FUCK it was going to be the best thing ever and wow it wasn’t taking long before I felt like I was getting close again.

I looked at her as I fucked her. She looked back.

“What?” she asked.

Oh, FUCKING HELL.

“OK, time to stop, Thumpie.”

A palpable sense of loss flooded up. I wasn’t going to come and it pained me to know it. I was seriously on the verge of tears. I wanted it so badly. It was right there. So close, but still behind her iron gate. Not going to happen. If she had said I could, it would only take two and half thrusts to get there. But she wasn’t going to say it and all I could do was collapse into her neck and feel the lizard coil up hard inside me, bitter with disappointment that flowered after being planted in a fertile expectation to which it had no right.

I made a small, defeated noise. She thought it was funny. She sniggered. I whimpered.

And now I’m sitting here typing and still wishing I could come. I still feel the need and it’s distracting and consuming and driving me crazy. I read back on the blog and found the last real orgasm I had even though she doesn’t like me to think about it. July 7th. So we’re just over two months. Record is nine. She wouldn’t think two is that much. That I could do more. Also, stop counting. Stop thinking about it. You come when I want you to. That last time you came was when I wanted you to and the next time will be when I want you to. When will that be? Stop thinking about it.

If I was locked up right now, I don’t think I’d be worrying about it as much. The physical presence of the steel restrains me physically as well as psychically. If I were locked up, it’d free me to think about other things. Oh, I’d still think about wanting to come, but it’d allow room for other things to sneak in. But being free means I’m consumed by my desire. It pushes everything else out.

I need to be locked up. Right now. But Belle’s not here and I’m not feeling like I have the willpower to do it myself. God, I want to come so bad. I crave it like nothing else. But I don’t need to come. It’s probably best if I don’t. And I clearly don’t deserve it.

Not that it matters. I come when she wants me to.

Posted on

After Frodo

I was right that Belle was good with the whole Frodo thing.

She hadn’t thought it would happen but didn’t mind that it did at all and…

She didn’t even consider that I wasn’t secured until I mentioned it.

We were at a tequila bar near Faneuil Hall when we talked about it. We had several hours before we needed to be at the airport so we had some drinks there and then wandered over to the North End to seek out some Italian food. Found a really nice little hole in the wall place on a narrow little street where everything, from the bottle of wine to the Ceasar dressing to the amazing entrees, was far above average. Then…

And…

Thing is, Belle just doesn’t get off on being actively dominant. Tying me up and inflicting pain, etc., doesn’t do much for her, but she knows it does a lot for me. Way back at the start of all this openness, her original suggestion was I find a Domme to give me those things, so this isn’t really a new position for her. More of a completion of a circle.

For a while, I wasn’t sure I could be with another woman like that but I think now that the experience I’ve had with Drew has allowed me to better understand how one would approach it. The way expectations and limits need to be clearly established beforehand and how best to compartmentalize the different relationships. A year ago, I might have been too tentative to approach something like that with a woman. Today, I would.

However, I find it difficult enough as it is juggling work, home, hobbies, and just the one extracurricular player. Now there’s the potential of a second (hopefully, more than potential) and the prospect of opening up to a whole other gender. How in the world will I find the time for all this hot sex? Maybe if Belle got a promotion and I could be a stay at home housesub who whiles away the day going to the gym, getting tied up, whipped and fucked, then coming home to fold laundry and make dinner. But that’s not the life I have. Not unlike when we first opened our relationship, I suspect this new expansion will be more a potential than a reality for the foreseeable future.

Towards the end of our meal as the waiter was pushing their cannoli and tiramisu (we declined), another party came in and sat opposite us. One of them was a guy who may have been a football player at one point in his life. He had to be six and a half feet tall and had big arms. Belle noted this to me and posited that he may have other attributes, as well. She mouthed to me her suspicions over her glass of wine.

Posted on

Frodo’s day

Belle’s got business in Boston so we’re here for a few days. She’s working and I’m goofing off. Boston also happens to be the place where Frodo lives (for the newbies) so the four of us, Belle and I and Frodo and Merry Pippin, had dinner on Tuesday and then Frodo and I bummed around together on Wednesday.

Frodo said something interesting during dinner that stuck with me. He was relating how he told one of his kids that he was having dinner with someone he’s known since he was 14 years old and isn’t that something, etc., and I was thinking, Shit, I’ve known him for more than 30 years. I have some friends I have superficial contact with who I’ve also known that long (mostly thanks to Facebook), but none I’d go out of my way to see and spend time with like Frodo. Frodo is unique in that way. He’s the kind of friend you have where you don’t talk for nine months and then, when you do, you pick up like it’s only been a few days. The kind of friend you feel totally comfortable with and to whom you can say anything. That kind of friend.

So he’s unique among my friends for that but he’s also unique in that we’ve also had a sexual relationship. I don’t know if the two are related. If I’d feel about him the same way had we never fucked around in our youth. I don’t have contact or what I’d call friendship with any other of my old flames (male or female). Just Frodo.

So, for those who recall, Frodo was the first person I reached out to when Belle said I could have sex with men again. I wrote about it but can’t find that post at the movement, but I wasn’t too impressed with how I handled it at the time and he ultimately shot me down. Frodo is pretty vanilla (not said in a judgmental way, just saying) and the idea of fucking a guy with no functional penis and a complicated sexual pedigree turned out to be too much for him to grok (remember, Belle’s rule is I can have sex with men as long as I am locked up). But, it turns out, he really didn’t want to shoot me down. Turns out he really wanted me. So, yesterday afternoon, he got me.

This was a totally unexpected and unplanned event. I assumed he wasn’t interested because he said he wasn’t so when we went out for the day I didn’t put the Steelheart on as I would before seeing Drew. Of course, I wouldn’t need to be locked up because nothing was going to happen. But then it did.

After a day in Salem looking at a super-cool ancient Chinese house, we ended up back at his huge Victorian. He took me on a tour (even though I’ve been there before and seen the whole thing) and we ended up in his bedroom laying innocently across his bed. I know. We chatted about our history and how he’d turned down my offer from before and disclosed he actually wished he hadn’t and had wanted to be with me for a long, long time. Like, pretty much forever. He knows who I am and where my limits are and, of course, he’s married and with family and all that and isn’t looking for more than I’m able to give him. For maybe the first time in our lives, our goals are in alignment and our heads are in the right place to take advantage of that. Plus, we’re both allowed to do so by our spouses.

So then he said something about wanting to give me a kiss. For not the first time in my life, I said to myself, Well, just a kiss then. Of course, it turned into more and I became increasingly aware I wasn’t locked. Eventually, I had to say something to him. Had to tell him my rules. He offered to stop, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep going. My solution to this was to follow the spirit of Belle’s rule if not the letter. In short, I kept my pants on the whole time. I did not want to do that, but it was the line so we stayed on the right side of it.

Interestingly, I’ve found I’m really self-conscious about letting anyone see the penis (other than, you know, the thousands of people who see it when I post pictures of it, but that’s different, OK?) When Drew and I were visiting Steelwerks and I was trying on Chris’ personal device (Did I mention I’m the only person he’s allowed do that? Yes? OK.) I turned away from Drew when I took the Steelheart off and was putting the other on. I didn’t plan on doing it, it just seemed right. Even with Belle now, in the same way being naked and locked in front of her made me feel self-conscious in the beginning, being unlocked in front of her makes me feel weird. It’s hard to explain. Like I’m being unnecessarily flagrant or something. Then, with Frodo, the possibility that he even could see the penis, regardless of my reluctance to break Belle’s rule, freaked me out. I feel like I’m cheating just walking around unlocked. Being almost naked that way was almost too much to handle.

Being with Frodo for even that short time was nice. Very comfortable. Even though it’s been, god, like twenty years or something since we last fooled around (probably more), it was like old times. Maybe better because I was much more relaxed and comfortable with myself and confident in our understanding of one another. It was never like that before.

So now I don’t know. Unlike Drew, Frodo has no reason to travel frequently and neither do I. If we want to meet again (in a more planful way), it would be a bigger production. I know I’d like to. Pretty sure he does, too. We’ll see.

For those wondering, as I write this, Belle is unaware this happened. I didn’t get back to the hotel until after she was asleep and she left early this morning. No obvious moment presented itself as she got ready for her day. I don’t know if she suspects something would happen or not. Probably, if pressed. She was in favor of Frodo being my play partner early on so I don’t know why she’d have an issue with it now (other than the unlocked thing). I’m nervous to tell her but I also tend to make a bigger deal out of this stuff than she does (take note, defenders of her honor — Belle is cooler with this shit than I am most of the time). So, we’ll see.

Posted on

Voyage aux terres du nord

I have an interesting hobby. One that, due to its esoteric and personal nature, is difficult to share with others (in real life), let alone find someone who’s as into it and well-versed in its idiosyncracies as I am let alone have real, face-to-face conversations about it with them. So imagine the enthusiasm with which I spent my day yesterday hanging out with Christopher Miers, the man behind Steelwerks Extreme. Drew was there to talk about the device he and Axel are buying. I was just there to geek out and bask in the coolness of it all.

Middle shelf, far right in the front: The first Steelwerks device ever made

Since he was in the middle of moving to new space, I didn’t get to see any of the heavy machinery he uses to coax beautiful and sexy shapes from ingots of raw metal, but I did get to peruse a case of samples, prototypes, early endeavors, and a small collection of his clients’ old devices (to which I will be adding a few carefully chosen specimens). One was a very early Steelworxx device, one a fantastically small Mature Metal Jail Bird, and another was the first Lori’s tube I’ve ever seen in real life. It was like the beginnings of a penis predicament museum.

Chris was ridiculously generous with his time. He spent essentially the whole day just talking shop, eating lunch, walking around his Montréal neighborhood, and introducing us to his pals at Polymorphe, a manufacturer of latex fetishwear. We discussed and debated at length the merits of all the various device manufacturers (they all have strong suits and potential downsides) and then he fitted Drew in a device to help determine the size necessary for he and Axel’s new device. I was able to try on Chris’ personal device which was a big deal since he said I was the only other person to wear it (if I wasn’t worried about how much of a fanboy it’d make me sound like, I’d tell you exactly how that felt) and, as you’d expect, it was gorgeous. So, you know, just another bunch of guys hanging around locking metal to their dicks. Though, to be truthful, Chris didn’t partake (and I’m not embarrassed to say, I wish he had, because fucking yum) but based on the fit of his device on me, I have a pretty good idea of the basic dimensions of his dick (blush).

The thing I appreciate about Chris is the intersection of craft, commerce, and even art he represents. Of course, it’s his business to sell these creations and he has the same concerns as any other small businessman (regulations, rent, payroll, etc.) but the meticulous care he puts into their construction and (especially recently) the level to which he’s advanced artistic expression in the field of male chastity is truly exciting. We talked about how the merging of a few of his most recent creations would be possibly the most beautiful male chastity device ever made. It’s a device I’d like to see him make and, even better, be locked on me. But who knows. Maybe that’ll happen someday.

It’s also become really clear to me that the marketplace of fetish and kink products is divided into two camps. There’s the small manufacturers who make their wares carefully and with passion and whose livelihoods can often depend on their work and then there’s those who literally connive to steal that innovation and creativity and knock it off overseas to sell at the lowest possible price. This has happened to Chris just as it’s happened to several others like him. It’s unfortunate and, I suppose, inevitable. I get that not everyone (actually, hardly anyone) can afford the very top of the market for any of these kinds of products, but I also think it’s important that as consumers we frequent retailers who respect their suppliers. At the end of the day, someone who takes one of Chris’ creations and knocks it off in cast metal from China simply doesn’t care about you or your penis. They just want your money. If you drop a couple hundred on their crap and it never leaves your drawer following the first time you tried it on, they consider themselves successful. Chris and other makers like him represent the antithesis of this way of doing business.

My only regret from yesterday is that I wasn’t able to spend more time in Montréal. It’s such a great city and has a vibe unlike any other in North America. In the same way Miami feels like it’s in South America, Montréal feels like it’s in Europe. Belle and I have been there together a few times and have also spent time in Québec City which is even harder to imagine is North American. If you want a European-like experience for a fraction of the prices (especially with the currently favorable American exchange rate), head north.

For those interested in what I looked like in Chris’ cage, it’s after the jump. I’d call it maybe 20% longer than I’d want, but the ring and tube diameter were just about perfect.

Continue reading “Voyage aux terres du nord”