Phantom handjob

Belle is away for the next week for the first time in months. She’s not jetting off to the other side of the world this time, obvs., but instead driving to see her bestie who has a place in upstate New York and who’s been sequestered there since the pandemic hit the east coast. She’s very excited and I’m very happy for her.

We will have two weekends in a row away from one another which means at least four separate opportunities for me to get her off. I guess she did this math, too, and last night told me I needed to do it right then before she went to sleep. A totally non-standard weeknight orgasm for her.

She was tired so it took way longer than usual but she was grooving to it the whole time and really enjoying it. At one point, she apologized for taking so long which is nuts because getting more time to suck her tits and finger her clit is not a thing I’m trying to avoid in the slightest. She likes to hold the Steelheart while I get her off and the harder she squeezes my balls the closer she’s getting. She had what I’d describe as a long, very sweet orgasm and was asleep minutes later. I…wasn’t. But I did eventually get there.

I woke up around 4:30 with a raging packed tube. Fucking throbbing. No surprise since I fell asleep pretty worked up. I laid there and tried to make it go away and eventually it did subside enough for me to fall back into a light sleep.

Not so light, though, that I didn’t have some kind of dream. A woman, not Belle, was holding the penis. It wasn’t locked and it wasn’t erect. She cupped my balls with her other hand and cooed at me some dirty nothings I couldn’t comprehend. She started to stroke me slowly and roll my nuts around. Each stroke caused the penis to grow larger. Larger and larger, but also each stroke hurt. This weird bigger-with-every-stroke thing made the penis massive and downright cock-like in size but the pain was growing exponentially every time the cock head came up out of her hand. I pulled up my legs and arched my back and felt like I was so, so close to coming but the pain was getting to be too much for me. She smiled at me in a slutty, porn-star way. That kind of, “What, am I doing that?” thing they do sometimes. I felt the rush of orgasm plowing through the wall of pain and then…

Woke up. Thump thump thump went my pulse in the tube that was hotter and harder than any cock in my hand. The pressure was pulling on and crushing my balls cruelly.

There was no stroking going on. No impending orgasm. Just the pounding of my heart trying to bust though unrelenting steel.

It’s what I get for getting her off before bedtime. And totally worth it.

Burning man

I first felt the burning on Friday. I think it was Friday. But anyway, I was sitting in our snug with Belle watching YouTube videos about RVers (jealous?) and way down deep in the end of the cage there was burning.

Of course, I’m no noob. I knew what it was. Sometimes, and for reasons I can’t explain, conditions will exist that allow the acid content of my urine to spike and burn a bit of the device contents. It’s almost always on the head of the thing and, I think, is due to the PA fixing rubbing it so that it becomes irritated and then the extra-acidic urine hits it and boom. Why does it run that way? No idea. What causes the urine to be so extra? No idea.

I left Belle and went into the bathroom and irrigated the tube with water. The burning stopped. But then, later that night, I could feel it again right after I peed. So more water. And again the next morning, but this time I used soapy water. Then rinsed. Felt good. But…no. Not enough. The damage was done and I knew it.

I asked Belle for the key and took the tube off the base ring and found exactly what I knew was going to be there. A slashing angry red blotch that followed the line of the PA fixing.

In the past, this would lead to the device coming off. Probably for days. Logically, the device should have come off. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I just…couldn’t. And why?

Well, read this post by Doc. I quoth liberally…

People ask me how I can stay locked for so long. It’s not an easy answer, because there are many factors, but one reason is that I don’t feel locked. I have a titanium dick and it’s my normal state. I don’t like taking it off. It feels wrong. I like denial, as you know, but when I do get an orgasm; they are some of the best orgasm I have ever had. Chastity changes you. It changes your perception of yourself. Removing my cage is like removing an arm. Something is missing when it’s off. These feelings have only grown with time, and I think that’s why those of us fortunate to be locked long term find it so pleasurable and easy to deal with, because we become something new. We are, as Thumper has said, rewired. Without my titianium shell, I feel different, somehow incomplete, and wrong.

I mean, aside from the talk of nasty orgasmses and the part where he name drops me, that’s all perfect and all I can do is nod and nod. It feels so good sometimes to read exactly what’s in your head and how it feels, especially when those things are basically absent from our culture.

So no, I didn’t want to take it off. But I also didn’t want to get to a place where it would get so bad that I’d have no choice and would need to wait through a prolonged recovery. So I kind of compromised.

The issue was started by the PA fixing. So I just took that part out. Inside the tube was only the normal contents, no other metal. I hoped that would let the irritated part of the meat settle down. And, spoilers, it did. All fixed up now. No issues at all. But along the way, something weird happened.

When the contents are in the Steelheart without the fixing (which very rarely happens, but has been the case a handful of times), it’s…well, unfixed. Meaning it can come out the back. Which can be helpful if you need to take a (very) quick looksee at its condition, but also it means it’s just kind of bouncing around in there. The tube of the Steelheart was sized to be just smaller than the diameter of the erection it was designed to contain, but when not in that condition, the contents can be much less filling. Think clapper in a bell.

That’s very distracting. And totally ruins the feeling of the Steelheart and its contents being one inseparable unit. Doc talks about the merging that happens in our brains which is how I’m usually feeling but that extra bit of movement removing the fixing allows shreds that. So I was locked and felt good about that, but did not like all the extra bobbing about.

What I also found weird were the sounds that came from the Steelheart. At one point yesterday, I was reading something that made me tight and I heard a very strange long, drawn out kind of…I dunno. Squelching sound. I can’t describe it. I looked around me to find the source and realized it was the fucking Steelheart filling up. I have no clue what was going on there. And another issue was the little button of meat that would pop through the hole in the end of the tube when it was filled. I hate that.

But whatever. Things are all back to normal now. The fixing is back in, the burned bit is healed (enough), the sounds and little button of pink are gone. And nothing can be removed from the device without a key.


Pride of penis

So I have these (relatively) new workout shorts and was wearing them today at the gym (yes, I’m going to the gym, but I’m wearing a mask and so’s my trainer and it’s not a very busy gym and I’m doing my best to distance from others and infection rates are low in Minnesota right now) and I noticed while I was walking toward one of the large mirrors that their white material and somewhat snug fit were combining to make the Steelheart look like a fairly impressive package.

And my first thought, was damn, that looks good. And my second thought was…wtf, who are you trying to fool? It’s interesting to me how on the one hand I’m totally invested in not having a penis as much as I have a locked steel device in its place as my default existence and even identity and on the other hand being pleased at how impressively masculine the device makes me look (assuming penises are a defining aspect of masculinity which is up for debate).

Then I was browsing Bodyaware’s website and saw this guy.

And it struck me again. As much as I like to post images of me in the Steelheart and how it looks in underwear because it makes such a sexy, impressive-looking package, I, me, the penis I was born with, will never be able to fill out underwear as well as this guy or the Steelheart. The nice pouchy stuff I get from Cocksox, in the infrequent times I’m wearing them without being locked, are baggy and unfilled. Totally inappropriate to my anatomy because, really, it’s not especially impressive. But the penis in the Steelheart is. And I like that. But…should I?

It’s a complicated question. Part of me says this is vestigial pride of penis and unbecoming of someone like me. A man who has spent so much time trying to define an existence apart from his genitalia but, of course, still a man. I have to admit I like thinking someone seeing the silhouette the Steelheart creates might make an incorrect assumption about the penis. Like, if I was really invested in being a denied, kept man wouldn’t I want to show no package? Present as flat and featureless so as to remove direction from that part of me that I have so studiously attempted to disassociate?

Truth is, at this point in my life, I don’t identify as a man with a penis. I’m a man. But with…a thing. An inert object. A container filled with meat. But still. I like showing a #chastitybump. So how I identify and how I present are…in conflict?

Well, perhaps they’re not. I like some of the really minimizing devices I can wear and think they’re super hot on other kept guys, but I always come back to the Steelheart. Not only because it’s Belle’s favorite but because the Steelheart is me. It’s more me than what it contains. So when I’m showing an impressive bulge, no, it’s not the penis. But it is me. And I have to admit, I want to be seen as who and what I am.

This all gets back to the whole point of the #chastitybump thing. Of being proud of it. As is often the case, it turns out I may have already had the insight that helps explain this potential incongruity. As I wrote last June:

I’m not nearly as worried as I used to be about my device being detectable by Muggles. I was running two days ago (and this morning) outside in light blue shorts and discovered as I was moving that I was sporting a fairly obvious bump that moved in a weirdly heavy way. And…I didn’t care. See it if you want. I dare you to ask me about it. I won’t take it off for you. Not wearing it is easy. It’s not special. But wearing it. That’s a thing I’m proud of. The dedication and the difficulty. It is special. It’s my super power. 

The presence of this thing on my body makes me more me than I am without it. I feel lesser without out. And it made me like this.

Short of wearing a pin that says “I’m locked in steel, ask me how you can be too” I will just have to accept people will make assumptions. And their assumptions will almost always be in the opposite direction of who I really am. But…no, I can’t help that. But they will see it. And I do like how it looks. I like it much more than how I look without it.

And maybe those are the only things that matter.