Dreaming of paradise

I’m sitting at gate G10 at MSP waiting for my thrice-delayed, once gate reassigned holiday flight out of the frozen wastes of Minnesota in the middle of what’s being described as an historic, category 3 hurricane-equivalent winter storm. In order keep my mind off the fact that I absolutely, positively must get out of here today, I’m writing this post.

Since we’re approaching the end of a month that coincides with the end of a year, I’m thinking about numbers. Specifically, the numbers that count the hours I’ve been locked in any of the various devices Belle uses to restrict my access to erections. It looks like 2022 will end with about 95 hours of unlocked time for me. That’s a 57% decrease from 2021 which was itself a 46% decrease from 2020 and the first time I’ve been under 100 hours in that unprotected state.

The other morning Belle and I were in bed naked and I was enjoying feeling her warm softness next to me when she reached down and cupped her hand over the Evotion Orion I’ve been wearing since it showed up. I cupped my hand over hers. My hand, her hand, the Orion, the contents. I’m not sure there’s a more intimate embrace a denied man can have with his keyholder. It’s, of course, frustrating, but also leaves me with a profound sense of being cared for. And about.

“How do you like this one?” She asked me.

“It’s fine,” I said, “Comfortable. Does what it’s supposed to do. What do you think of it?”

“I like it. It’s so…small.” Ball squeeze.

I moved my leg in between hers and just the suggestion of what lay between them started to make the contents swell and press against its confinement.

“Are…you ever going to want what’s inside again?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She replied casually. “That’s not really your concern, is it?”

“No…no it’s not.”

I have absolutely no memory of the last time she wanted to use the contents. I’ve been thinking hard about it and have no clue. It wasn’t when we were on our anniversary trip back in October or after that. Wasn’t around my birthday in September. Wasn’t when we were on our summer road trip. Events like that used to be when she’d want it, but I recall specifically that she did not. It seems like it had to have been sometime since about midyear, but it’s been so long I can’t tell you. And I have no reason to believe that our annual year-end trip to warmer climes won’t be equally pussy-free for parts of me.

The other night I had a dream the details of which I cannot remember except that at one point I was naked, about to have sex with Belle, and not in a device. But the penis I had was…useless. It was hard as a rock but its shaft was nonexistent. Just a head. Basically, my dream cock was a micropenis. Totally unsuited to any kind of penetrative purpose. Not even enough to get a thumb and forefinger around to jack it off. But Belle was fine with that. I remember she smiled at me. Expected it. I was surprised but she was not.

My identity has so totally evolved into a non-penetrative male that even my dreams have been edited to reflect that fact. That hasn’t happened by accident. My inclination to want to be kept locked has led Belle to do so more and more and even adjust how she prefers me to pleasure her. We’ve both been transformed by essentially permanent chastity.

I have been thinking a lot about the micropenis in my dream. The idea of being physically incapable of the kind of pleasure most men enjoy is powerfully evocative to me. Even though, when I’m running my fingers over Belle’s wet clit and feeling it pulse with her orgasm, I never want more to be balls-deep inside her. But living a reality where “balls-deep” is like an inch and it’s not even possible for me to feel insertion (as opposed to simply being denied the right) is…woof. Makes me really tight.

And, if you think about it, that’s fucking crazy. Chastity and denial have totally rewired and resculpted what being sexual and male are for me in ways I could not have even conceived before we started down this path.

I am supposed to want to feel myself inside her — badly — but rarely, if ever, get to. And my dream revealed that my subconscious knows that maybe better than I do.

While I’ve been writing this, my flight’s been delayed at least a half dozen times, but boarding has begun. Whew!

Looking forward to getting Belle off in paradise for a week!

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