All boned up and nowhere to go

Belle let me put the Steelheart on today. I was in the Orion for over 93 days and, while I love it as much now as I ever did, I really miss steel. Steel is, like, one of my things. So shiny and hard and smooth. Unf.

Three solid months is the longest I’ve ever worn any device without swapping it out for another. Thanks to Belle’s stricter key discipline, I can’t change whenever I feel like it and the few times I kinda brought it up, she didn’t see the need to let me, so I just stayed in the Orion. But yesterday, we were in an airport and I asked if she’d be OK with me going back to the Steelheart for a bit once we got home. She was fine with it this time and wondered what took me so long to ask, so this morning I made the swap and took the opportunity to eradicate some hair that’s usually hard to get rid of.

It has been a very, very long time since the contents was pleasurably handled (and if you don’t think I know exactly how long, you must be new here) and while shaving isn’t exactly pleasurable, it was “handling” and I’ve been especially horny for the past several days, so things started to happen.

I did not play with it. Not even a tiny bit. But I had to move it around and hold it and pin it up, etc., and the fucking thing was looking up at me with its one good eye and pleading for more. Just the simple, functional jostling was enough to get it chubbed out. It’s a different kind of mind-fuck to feel and see one’s erection hanging in mid-air, desperate and ignored. I did nothing whatsoever to encourage it, but after so much neglect, it doesn’t take a whole fucking lot to get it going.

I haven’t seen my erection in quite some time. The last time she let me out for sex was nearly a year ago, so could it have been that long? I boned up during our vacation massage, but I didn’t see it then (though the same could not be said for the masseuse). I…am not sure when the last time I would have seen my own erection was. The last few times I had the Orion off for hygiene, I don’t recall getting hard. So, yeah, long way of saying it’s a novel experience. And it looks sort of pathetic to me now. Sad and unwanted. I don’t want unencumbered erections anymore. And Belle gives no indication she wants it, either. It seemed desperate to take advantage of the moment and practically begged me to do something. But all I could think about it how annoying it was that it was there and getting in the way. And how just unimpressive it is to me. I felt a kind of pity, actually. Weird how it was the center of my universe of so long. So central to who I thought I was. Now its only value is in its confinement.

Thinking about it that way seemed to take some of the wind from its sails. It didn’t go flaccid, but it drooped a bit. Enough to start getting the Steelheart on. Its base ring has always been a tight fit, but getting my left testicle through was especially wince-inducing. If anything, the extended duration of my denial has made my balls even bigger than they were. Regardless, I was able to get them both through along with the shaft (eventually) and squeezed into the tube.

God, I just love the Steelheart. Rubbing and grabbing it through my sweats really turns me on. Every device is different and each gets me going in its own way, but the Steelheart is special. I can so better feel every movement in there. The Orion doesn’t have as much give inside and the PA hook keeps things pretty well pinned down, but the Steelheart allows for movement. I can feel perfectly every time the contents chub out even a little. The ring is the tightest I wear and I can already get an idea of what the early morning is going to be like based on the near-constant semi I’ve had since putting it on.

Since we’re on the topic of being in and out, I can report that year-to-date, I’ve been locked all but 6.5 hours. All of that was for travel and most was in January. I have no encounters planned with the TSA until the end of June now so, assuming Belle continues to see no need to let me out for other reasons and nothing else extraordinary comes along, I should be well positioned to make my time unlocked goal of no more than 24 hours. In fact, I’m trending towards coming in under my stretch goal of no more than twelve. Which kind of blows me away since last year I was unlocked for a (currently unimaginable) total of almost four whole days.

One is enough

One of the many, many things I think about now that Belle’s apparently decided I’m done being let out of chastity for sex ever again is what it felt like sliding into her after she let me go down on her. It’s, like, super wet, obvs because of the spit, but also the texture is different. It’s a different viscosity. Not quite as slickery. Because, you know, spit. Also, for whatever reason, she feels a little looser somehow.

So, yeah, I was thinking about that again this morning after she came with my tongue pressed up against her clit, feeling the spasms of her pleasure and the tight grinding of the Orion into the mattress. And then as I was laying there, holding her, and the device pressed against her leg, full and straining. I remembered what it was like climbing between her legs and lining the head of the hard contents up against her hot wetness as it enveloped me in one thrust.


But, of course, I don’t get out. I don’t get to feel that. All I get are memories and I suppose I should be grateful I even have those. Because my POV on it, and the thing that lays like a weighted blanket over my lizard brain animal craving to fuck, is the knowledge that the one-sidedness of our sex represents a minimalist perfection that a bunch of thrusting and spurting and laying heavily on top of her would ruin. Just the one orgasm between us is just the right number.

To be clear, she chose this for us. It’s what she has determined is best. No matter what, I have to respect that. And I don’t think she made this decision because she doesn’t like to be fucked. I think she made the decision based on what was best for us. Not her, not me. Us. And I not only respect it, I love her for it.

All my life I’ve felt a deference to my partner’s pleasure during sex. From my earliest encounters, I remember being instinctually invested in them having as good if not a better time than I had. If I came first, things would feel…off. I never understood why. I never understood why I never wanted to be allowed to be the only one who came. I was trying to make my girlfriends come before I knew the first thing about how their pussies worked. That’s just who I am. How I’m wired. Their pleasure is mine.

And chastity and denial help me understand that better than I ever have in the past. Chastity because I can’t run off and furtively pleasure myself at a merest tickle of a shadow of horniness and denial because my arousal and desire are allowed to build to maximum levels. These things in combination create a condition inside me to be the most perfect version of my submissive, partner-pleasing self. And yeah, I so badly want to feel the sensation of sliding into her, but I know the value of feeling how I am when I’m not allowed. And I get to feel like that all the time, not just for a few fleeting moments.

The trade-off is worth it for me. And her, apparently. And I’m beyond grateful that she’s taken control that way.

I don’t usually talk about Frodo on this blog, but it feels much the same when I get to be with him. One cock, in those encounters, is the perfect number. Two would ruin it for me. It would create conflicting feelings inside me. It always has. And when I’m with Belle, the only cock that feels right between us is the one she keeps in her nightstand and I get to use on her during very special occasions.

I recently received the following feedback from a reader:

What is wrong with masturbation and cumming? Why is submission that important? What if she wants you castrated and a penectomy performed since you are now pussy free and never hard again? I just do not understand and guess I never will. I could not do what she is doing to someone I am supposed to love.

I didn’t start this post as a response to that, but I guess that’s what it is. You either get what I’m saying and where I’m coming from or…you don’t. And while, on the surface, it sounds like this person doesn’t, I believe they get it enough to have gone through the trouble of reading at least some of my posts, seeking out the feedback form, and firing off a note (and how do you even find this blog if you’re not looking for it or the stuff I talk about here?). I don’t think they want me to answer those questions about myself, they want me to answer them for them.

I’ve written about it before here. When presented with a novel sexual thing, your response is either going to be arousal, revulsion, or fear. The fear comes from guilt and shame powered by arousal conflicting with cultural norms. It’s the same fear I felt when I first realized how powerfully arousing the idea of being cuckolded was for me. So, I get it.

But, he wasn’t that honest with himself or me, so I’ll accept the feedback as-is. And if, after this post, he still doesn’t get why, then he never will.

Vichy Twitter

Vichy France was the name for the French government following the country’s defeat by Nazi Germany in World War 2. It wasn’t technically part of Germany, but it worked in cooperation with Germany and, while still calling itself “France,” everyone knew as long as the Nazis were around, France was dead.

I only mention this little history lesson because I was reading a post on Kottke’s site about the latest boneheaded move to destroy Twitter’s cultural relevancy by the authoritarian who controls it where someone called the platform “Vichy Twitter” and…that’s kind of brilliant.

From the Vichy France Wikipedia article:

“At Vichy, Pétain established an authoritarian government that reversed many liberal policies and began tight supervision of the economy. Conservative Catholics became prominent, and Paris lost its avant-garde status in European art and culture. The media were tightly controlled and promoted anti-Semitism…”

The comparison is remarkably apt, actually.

✓ Authoritarian rule
✓ Erosion of small-L liberal norms
✓ Infiltration of actual Nazis
✓ Decreasing cultural relevancy
✓ Unchecked anti-Semitism along with other forms of hate speech

My usual routine, upon waking, has been for some time to check my OG muggle Twitter first thing to catch up on what happened in the world while I was sleeping. Back in the pre-Vichy Twitter days, I would rarely be able to read all the tweets that were posted during that time. Now I can do it in a few minutes. Not as many people I followed are still on Twitter and those who are are using it less.

Note, the way I use Twitter isn’t how Elon would like me to use Twitter. I’ve always had curated lists of accounts that display reverse chronologically and only include the tweets and retweets they make (and no ads!). The “For You” tab is an absolute cesspool of garbage that should be called “From Elon” as it often includes his tweets, his comments to tweets, his retweets, and the ravings of various and sundry right-wing asshats who feel empowered to have an easily manipulated, emotionally infantile manbaby running the platform.

I’ve started to rebuild a list of great follows on Mastodon using one of two terrific new iOS apps, Ivory and Ice Cubes. I was going back and forth because they’re both great, but have settled on Ice Cubes at the moment mostly because it has the best implementation of quote posting (quote tweet in Twitter parlance) of any other app I’ve used. For reasons passing comprehension by me, Mastodon does not support quote posts (not a debate to get into with early Mastodon adopters, btw) so it’s up to developers to find a way to provide this basic functionality. This seems fitting since things like retweets, quote tweets, and even the word “tweet” all came from developers and the user community, not Twitter.

Anyway, for the first time last week, Screen Time reported I spent more time in a Mastodon client than in Twitter. Seeing as Twitter has been my most-used app for a long, long time (especially since I ditched Facebook), this is kind of big deal.

Of course, that’s all muggle stuff. On the kinky-sexy side, things have not progressed.

Unfortunately, hardly anyone in the community I’ve developed with my Thumper Twitter account seem to have made the jump to Mastodon. A common refrain is that Mastodon is too complicated and I will acknowledge that it isn’t as straightforward as signing up for and using Twitter, but it’s not like trying to run DOS after spending one’s life on a Mac. This is a great intro to the service that should help dispel the perception of complexity.

As I said above, the biggest improvement to my enjoyment of the platform has been the introduction of great apps to use it. Those I was using before were…weird. Or buggy. Or both. Ice Cubes is fantastic and being actively developed and doesn’t cost a thing (though the developer will happily take a tip). Ivory (made by the folks who brought us my beloved Tweetbot) is lovely but does have a modest subscription fee.

I don’t mean to shame anyone still using Twitter. I expect it will take a long time for me to stop entirely, but it’s weird to me how much more traction the non-kinky side has seen there than the kinky side. Partly, this is the network effect in action. There’s still several muggles on Twitter that aren’t on Mastodon (or who are but aren’t using it) but there are many fewer, as a percentage, of kinksters I follow and (used to) engage with on Twitter who have made the leap. This bums me out because I simply can’t bring myself to meaningfully use Twitter anymore, even if I am losing a lot of community value.

Weirdly, the number of people following me has continued to grow though I post nearly nothing of interest anymore. Not sure what’s up with that.

I think the thing that really holds me back from being on Twitter more is that, being in the line of work I’m in, I know how much the people who own these platforms value and crave the stats I (and probably you) generate being there. Time on site, likes, comments, retweets, ads viewed and (accidentally) clicked on, links posted, etc. This is their lifeblood and the only thing they care about because it’s what leads to the ad dollars they can charge. The less we use Twitter, the more we communicate our displeasure with how it’s being run. It’s literally the only thing we can do now that it’s owned by a megalomaniac. Individually, it’s a tiny, tiny act of rebellion, but done alongside millions of others, it will move the needle.

One positive side effect of being less engaged on Twitter is I’m posting here more. Between 2018 and 2022, I wrote an average of 24 posts a year (with 21 being the lowest and 28 being the highest). So far in 2023, this will be my 8th. I assume the energy I’d typically use on Twitter is being redirected here. I still do have things to say, after all, even if I’m saying them with many more words and without as much interaction. Interestingly, traffic to the site doesn’t seem to be impacted at all from not posting links on Twitter. I would have expected to take a hit there, but you can’t really tell by looking at the stats when I stopped.

So, yeah. I dunno. It sucks to have lost what I once had on that platform. But I don’t really know that I have any choice in the matter.