Month: November 2016

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The cute check-out

I visited the grocery store over lunch today to pick up some things to keep at the office for when I can’t go out and eat. I was checked out, both literally and figuratively, by a cute boy checker. Seemed gay to me, but not ridiculously so. Tried to make small talk about my hat and kept it going when it should have died out. Smiled. Twinkled. Called out something as I walked away. Either he was flirting or has a personality disorder. We’ll go with flirting.

When I see or meet people who are sexually interesting to me (and this guy could be, I suppose), I often wonder what they would make of me if they had the chance. I don’t really think of myself as a normal man. Not the kind you just pick up for a fuck. Besides being functionally penisless, I mean. What would it be like for me knowing what I know about myself now if I was still trying to date people?

Sure, I’m totally bi and could conceivably have sex with anyone. I know I’m heteromantic so the dudes would just be a good time. I’d probably have to tell them that if they tried to linger. Alternatively, I’d need to tell the women about the bi thing. Honestly, the best thing I did with Belle was put it out there very early on. Even before we were dating. It was never hidden between us, though had we gone right into a romantic thing, I don’t know that it would have happened the same way. It probably would have. As I recall, most of the women I’ve been with were hip to the bi.

Besides being bi, I’m a complete bottom. Not just a sub (I’ll get there), but a bottom. Not really into fucking guys. Have never been into it, to be honest, though I’ve always been into letting them do me. I recall always being somewhat impatient when I was with guys if they were going down on me or I was supposed to screw them. Sure, I like getting sucked off as much as the next guy, but I don’t think I’ve ever come from that. And now, of course, if I do end up with a guy for a good time, I’m an enforced bottom. Can’t really not tell the poor dude about that until the pants are coming off.

And yes, of course, I’m a sub. All the way down. How would I get into a relationship with a random person without knowing if they were minimally a switch? I mean, I guess I did when I married Belle, but we’re talking about me knowing everything I know about myself now. Of course, maybe it would just be a fling. Like the cute boy picking me up at the grocery store. But would I be able to enter into flings knowing all these things about me and how complicated I am and how sometimes flings become more than that?

Bottom line, dating for a submissive bisexual heteromantic bottom would be fucking complicated as hell. I mean, seriously, that’s got to be one of the primary ways the internet has improved our lives in the past few decades. When I really was single and dating, all we had were bars, friends, work, and the personals. And the personals were pretty tame.

The converse of all this, of course, is I didn’t know a lot of these things and married a wonderful girl anyway and it all turned out fine. So maybe I’m just blowing this out of proportion. Maybe shit just works out sometimes.

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The pure and simple truth

The other night saw the return of denial insomnia. It’s my own fault. I can neither drink a Diet Coke or look at porn after 3:00 PM and expect to get any sleep. I didn’t drink the Coke, but did look at the porn at about 5:00 and it stuck with me.

The way it usually works, I get to about 80% asleep before a jolt of nervous energy wakes me up. Then I kind of drift knowingly awake before totally surfacing. As soon as that happened, there were scenarios in my head. A long-standing pornographic story that’s so far mostly only lived in my imagination spun up. Certain chapters of the story played out slightly differently but over and over. I judged how each permutation worked by what was happening in the tube. Hard, soft, hard, soft, harder, soft. Next thing I knew, it’d had been three hours.

Recently, I’ve made a bit of discovery when this happens. In the past, if my angst had words, it’d be something along the line of, “FUCKING HELL, I’m horny and locked up and JESUS I want to come or fuck or get fucked or eat her snatch or…or…or…” This is a kind of indulgence that feeds upon itself. I can’t get over being locked up and horny and thinking about what would happen if I wasn’t.

But if I twist that a bit. If I don’t think of the chastity and denial as things I’m doing (or even having done to me) and instead think of being locked up and denied orgasm as what I am. Who I am. Let go of the external force and accept the internal truth of being submissive and requiring Belle’s domination. It becomes a kind of mantra I go over and over in my head.

This is not what I do. It’s what I am. 

Sure, I’m still horny, but when I focus on this reality it changes how the energy buzzes inside me. It’s not something to be overcome. It’s not something bad. It’s a feature, not a bug. I can run my finger over the steel ring encircling the penis and feel as certain as it is hard and inescapable, I was meant to be locked up. I was meant to be denied orgasm. I was meant to struggle with the frustration in the night. It is what I am.

And then, somehow, I fall asleep. It worked the other night once I got there. It worked last night. Even with the nervous buzzing pressure I feel between my legs, filling my head with an acceptance of my true nature crowds out the anxiety and the worry. Even if I end up being awake all night, it’s just an occasional byproduct of my true nature.

Friday night, though, was harder. Belle unlocked the device as she was going to bed and let the penis go free all night and let me sleep naked. Presumably, this was to make things that much simpler on Saturday morning when she’d want to use it. Usually, I get woken up by the Steelheart between 3:00 AM and 4:00 AM at least for a little bit, but that night I felt like I was waking up every half hour with a raging hard-on made all the more distracting thanks to it being the kind of sensitive that only comes from being locked in a steel tube for nineteen and a half days. By about 5:00, I was having impure thoughts about my wife and wondering if burying my face between her legs as she slept would be demonstrating an insufficient level of submissive respect.

In any event, we were finally both awake and I wasted no time at all moving in. When her hand found the penis, its state surprised her but the poor thing had been waiting for a long time. Before long, I was working her snatch and sucking her tits and grinding the desperate meat into her and moaning myself as her pussy rhythmically gripped my probing fingers while she came.

And she didn’t waste any time letting me mount her. She wanted the penis as much as it wanted her and I rather quickly found myself stopping to avoid coming.

“Remember,” she whispered into my ear, “It’s NO-vember.”

Right. I know. But the penis is trained now. Really and truly. Even a near fly-by of orgasm is enough of a fright to knock the erection right out of it. But I wasn’t done. I wanted more and so did she. So I rolled off, we kissed some more, I fingered her again and sucked her tits. The distraction worked and the penis came back. At least enough to stick it back in.

This is all the pleasure the penis is allowed. The feeling of her pussy as it slides in and out. Every neuron in my brain turns its attention to the millions of nerve endings along its shaft and it almost feels like I could read her pussy the way a blind man reads Braille. I was doing well. I was holding my own. I could sense the urge to come slithering around in my brainstem though it wasn’t close to forcing itself down my back and into the hard shaft, but then she did something. Just a subtle tilt of her hips. And…I was done. Finished. Wiped out.

No, I didn’t come. But I flooded her snatch with seed. Had I moved a millimeter forward or back, it would have blossomed into a full explosive orgasm. But I didn’t move. I felt the jets of three weeks’ denial shoot out of me but the tingly punch of hormones that come with orgasm were held tight by a steely will I wouldn’t have recognized when she started to deny me years ago.

This is not what I do. It’s what I am. 

I don’t come when I want. I don’t come because I feel like it. I don’t feel sorry for myself or wish it to be any other way. She controls that part of me, exclusively and completely.

And, of course, she put me back in before breakfast. And, of course, that made me happy.

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More metrics and more

This morning, I found myself horny. Unexpectedly since recently I haven’t been feeling especially sexy. I have a chronic issue with my foot which has essentially halted any cardio exercise for me and that’s led me to be out of what I’d consider even passable shape and it’s really impacted my mood. But this morning, I was horny. Just kind of randomly while in the shower.

When you have a penis that’s locked up a lot (and the one on me has been lately, bigly), something strange can happen even when turned on. I was there in the shower, my mind had wandered to nice and dirty places, and I could feel the energy of being hot and horny burning in my balls. I could feel the tingle of it along my perineum and even in the penis, and the flutter of it in my chest. But that’s it. No hard-on. No pressure in the tube. At most, there was a chubbing of meat, but nothing remotely like an erection.

As I moved about and the hot water ran down my body, I could feel the heaviness of the steel shifting and pulling gently on me and that made things that much hotter. Knowing I was getting turned on and feeling that firehose of need and desire beginning to turn uselessly on the hard barrier between me and satisfaction, but it wasn’t until I soaped up and was cleaning the device and its contents that a seemingly perfunctory erection finally materialized. The hot, smooth steel was implacable in both its resistance to the internal pressure and the frustrated squeezing and groping from my slippery hands.

Even if looking at Tumblr, which I was shortly after finishing the shower, erections are not guaranteed. I will get hard if a particular scalding video or image goes by, but the attempt is fleeting. Back when chastity was new to the penis, long-lasting ragers were not uncommon. Painfully tight and throbbing. But the penis knows now. It’s been trained. Getting hard is pointless. Getting hard gets it nowhere. So it barely tries.

When it’s out, it’s a totally different story. Besides getting hard from nothing more than the feeling of the penis moving around inside my pants as I walk around, its ability to stiffen up is hair-triggered. So clearly not a functional issue. It’s all internal. Instinct tempered by discipline. Though hardly an issue anymore since the necessary condition for free erections is so rare.

So anyway, I haven’t done a metrics update in a while. I’ve been tracking my time locked up since the start of year and, even though my mood’s been spotty and I’ve been a bad rabbit and not as juiced up as as I’d like, I never stopped tracking.

fullsizerender-22Going back to August, you can see some of what I think led to my unauthorized orgasms while away from Belle. Besides staying unlocked for a week at home in which she thought I was locked, I used my emergency key to let myself out while away after about 48 hours. Honestly, I’m just not very good at keeping my hands off the meat when I’m alone with it (I admit to being a weak creature in that regard) and there was a too much time in August in which that was the case.

There were two orgasms in August, both yanked out in my tent while camping and neither authorized by Belle. That led to an amendment to my rules and, as you’re about to see, a marked increase in being in a protected state.

fullsizerender-38In September, the percentage of time in a device increased to 93%. Basically, the penis was secure for all but the equivalent of two days total. I can’t actually remember why that was now, but it could have been due to some little sore spot or something. Pretty sure it was that kind of thing and not Belle feeling the need to have it out while not in use.

There was one orgasm right at the start of the month and it was also unauthorized, but it was inside Belle and an accident. That was the last one I’ve had. Nothing in the rest of the month except some healthy spurts while fucking. One time might have been pretty close, but still not a real cumshot. None of the dopey sleepy post-coming hormones.

fullsizerender-37October is when shit got real. Under the new rules, I’m expected to put the penis away after Belle’s had her fun with it as soon as possible. Usually, that means sliding the tube back over the still wet and sticky and more than slightly chubby meat, but once a month or so I’ll clean the Steelheart well and shave the bits that are hard to get to, etc. But October was different.

I was only out three times in the first two weeks and only long enough to fuck and clean the device. In the second two weeks, Belle and I were traveling with the family. We had our own room for part of that trip, but she left the key at home so I was in the whole time. Then this past weekend, I was away from her on a road trip and, obviously, not out for that. I didn’t even ask because absent a real reason (like a federal agency’s security checkpoint), the rules are pretty clear. What this means is I’m in my third week of continuous lock-up and that’s reflected in the 99% achievement.

And as I said, no orgasms in October.

fullsizerender-23For the record, this is what the year-to-date numbers look like. It’s been all Steelheart all the time since July so that device is living up to its reputation as Belle’s favorite. The Rigid Chastity Halfshell has been shipped, though, so November’s chart will have more than one shade of blue on it. Presumably.

I can’t imagine Belle will deny herself a fuck for much longer so there’s no way I’ll go a solid month in lock-up. She’s not really into arbitrary accomplishments like that, anyway. The continued lack of orgasm is also something I have no insight into. I doubt she does, either, since letting me come seems to be a game-time decision for her most of the time. I don’t really crave one, of course, and can probably go indefinitely without it, but when it happens it’s not really for me. Like letting me out to fuck, that’s mostly because she likes how it feels. Same with coming. Sometimes, a girl just likes to feel a guy shoot his load inside her. Right now, I’m the only guy she’s got, so…