I was away from Belle this weekend spending a little quality time in the woods. Since the last time I went there resulted in two unauthorized self-administered orgasms, I went this time secured in the Steelwerks Schandmaske (a device for which I am woefully late in writing a review). Not that this trip would afford me any real opportunity to cheat, but because I did last time, I am always locked now unless Belle wants to use the penis.
In any event, because of this trip and various other reasons, March is turning into month in which the penis has been locked up quite a lot. It’s been out only 1.2 hours so far, or not even three-tenths of one percent of the month. I mentioned this to Belle when I got home just as an aside as she was going to bed and she asked me, unexpectedly, if I resented that degree of lock-up.
I’m not going to say it isn’t frustrating sometimes. That the urge to have an unencumbered erection or to feel the hard penis in my hand doesn’t occasionally swell inside me. But resentful? Far from it. Just the opposite.
I love Belle for being someone who will expend the effort to control me that way. Who cares enough about me to see that I’m put into that position. I crave it and I appreciate it more than I can say. It helps me stay centered and focused on my submission. It makes me feel loved and comforted even when the device is tight or annoying or the urge to use the penis for my own pleasure becomes strong.
I find I’m in a interesting spot now that it’s been so many months in which I’ve been without access to the penis so consistently. The sensation that I don’t have a penis like other men and that I am somehow fundamentally not as other men are permeates me. In the past, there was something about how I was a man denied control over the thing that defined my manhood that radiated the energy that powered my submission but now I feel like I’ve pushed past that. Not having a penis defines me more than not having access to it does. Not ever masturbating and so infrequently orgasming and being able to satisfy my sex partners without the use of a penis has rewritten the base code of my sexuality in a way that, if I resent anything, it’s that the penis can’t be locked away forever. That it still radiates desires and urges powerful enough to require it stay secured. That it even needs to be a factor at all.
I understand why it does. Belle needs to feel it inside her. She craves that and the feeling of it ejacualting into her. That’s what she requires to be satisfied sometimes so that’s what I will give her since her satisfaction is my primary objective. I’m happy to have that penis to be able to bring her pleasure when she wants it, but also happy to not have it all the rest of the time since it would only lead me to indulgent and self-centered activity.
The energy that powers my submission now comes from the lack of the thing that I used to think defined my sexuality. That I feel very much as though I am not quite a man. I’m something in between. I only become man-like when Belle needs me to. Feeling that would have probably terrified me even after we started using chastity in our marriage. Definitely would have horrified me from 15 or 25 years ago. But now it feels absolutely natural. Perhaps more natural than I’ve ever felt before. As if I am now who I was meant to be.
How could I resent that? How could I resent the woman who helped me become this? Of course I don’t. More that I cherish her for allowing me to be who I am. That she appreciates me for being that way and, even though it’s not what she thought she was marrying, loves me all the same.