Belle had my balls in her hand while we were kissing this morning. Probably the Orion, too, but you know — all I can feel through the Orion is how tight it is on inside. She was squeezing them gently and rolling them around between her fingers while I was warming her up for her Sunday morning orgasm. But I had a question on my mind.

“Do you prefer me this way?”

“Yeah, of course I do. Why do you think I’ve left you like that for so long?”

A bit sheepishly, I replied, “I know. But sometimes it’s nice to hear.”

“I want you locked up. Always.

I know, it was a dumb question. She’s kept me locked up for more than year straight. But…like I said. It’s good to hear from her. That that’s how she wants me. That it’s how she prefers me. To hear that she doesn’t want the contents as much as she wants my fingers and mouth and hairy chest and strong legs and wide shoulders. She wants a man to get her off on her terms, not his. Her focus, not his. Her orgasm, not his.

And you, since this is probably not the first time you’ve read my blog, know that’s how I prefer it, too. For her to come first and last, always. For her pussy to be worshiped and elevated over all else. For it to spasm under my touch, her post-orgasmic glow punctuated by the gnawing of my unrequited craving. That’s how I’m wired.

And somehow, along the way, it’s how she got wired, too.

Moar German steel

One of my favorite things is the metal cuff I have from German maker Träume aus Edelstahl. Welp, I said in my review of that little bauble…

It locks with a hidden, internal screw mechanism and a special little tool with an oddly-shaped head. It came with just one special little tool with an oddly-shaped head, by the way. So best not to lose it. An extra one is $30.

And what did I do? I lost it! Like, full-on searched high and low and everywhere in between and cannot find the damned thing motherfucking lost it. Luckily, the cuff isn’t on me at the moment. When I realized it was gone, I went to the website to order a new one but it was closed for the holidays. After they reopened, I went back and saw a thing I’ve always always wanted from them: a lockable steel collar. So I rationalized the purchase by saying to myself that I was kind of getting it at a discount since I had to buy the key anyway. Yeah, that’s logical!

And then I waited. And waited. And yesterday, it came!

And it’s beautiful. Eight millimeters thick, shiny steel that’s perfectly fitted for my neck. It’s lovely and heavy and makes me all tingly to feel it on. Above, it’s shown in its simple form. It also came with a removable O ring. You know, for…attaching. And stuff. Dress it up without the ring, make it all practical and stuff with the ring.

It’s the same finish and thickness as my cuff. It’s just…stunningly beautiful. I love it. I want to wear it all the time. I want to wear it out and show it off. I want it locked on forever and for someone to hold the…oh, wait. The key. Turns out, I somehow didn’t order the right one. I got the one that doesn’t lock. A small segment of the ring in back is held in place by tension when posts on the segment are pushed into receiving holes in both ends of the main part. The posts are thoughtfully chamfered to make insertion easier. The opening is just the right size to get my neck through.

Which…well, I guess is fine. Having a collar that can come off more quickly and easily is probably a good thing since society (at least the society I hang with) isn’t really ready for those of us who want to be collared to wear them everywhere all the time. Except now I still don’t have that fucking weird little key thing.

But I will in about a month. Ordered it this morning. Stupid fucking rationalization.


Today is the one year anniversary of the last time Belle let me fuck her. The last time she let the contents out for anything other than fact of life-type necessities. When I did the sleuthing to figure out how long it had been, after I realized it had been a long time, I said I didn’t have a memory of that fuck. Luckily I have a blog and I (less often than I used to) write about the sex we have and, as a matter of fact, I wrote about that time.

It felt like the orgasm wouldn’t end. Even after I had shot my load, I felt involuntary contractions trying to milk as much juice as possible. My whole body arched around the erection. My abs actually kinda cramped from the effort.

I mean, if that is the last time, it sounds like the kind of one I’d want as the last one. And after reading my account of it, I do remember it. It was nice. I also wrote…

When will it happen again? Will it be five months? Five weeks? Five days? Tomorrow!? No idea. I don’t even bring it up. I’m not allowed to either 1) ask for an orgasm, or 2) advocate against one so I tend to just not talk about it at all with her for fear of it being misconstrued as one or the other. Of course, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to do it and I certainly don’t need to know if and when she wants it to happen again.

My reticence to ask about being let out makes it very hard for me to even ask if it’ll ever happen again when it seems like it won’t. But the other day, I screwed up the courage (since that’s all I can screw lol) and asked. She laughed and kind of scoffed at the question. But, in fact, she can’t say. She likes me locked up. She wants me that way more than not. Has wanted me that way for at least a year now. As much as I want closure on the matter — certainty — she doesn’t want to be boxed in. And I don’t have the right to ask her to be.

So, I suppose, nothing has changed. That’s been her basic POV on the issue for just about forever. But we’ve never gone this long without the contents getting wet so, to me, it kinda feels like we’ve turned a corner. Nothing has changed and everything has changed. But she won’t commit. She doesn’t have to. That’s the deal. It’s what I signed up for. It’s what I begged for.

I ended my post from a year ago the same way I could end this one.

In a way, that total lack of control creates its own kind of peace. All I have to do is be ready for whatever she wants.

The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess.

Orgasmic party tricks

I was reading a fresh post on a relatively new chastity blog I’ve been following (I mean, only one that I can think of has been doing it longer than me, so I guess they’re all relatively new?) and it had me nodding my head. The blog is called Careful What You Wish For and, based on the most recent entry, I think that’s a pretty apt title.

The basic premise of the post dealt with challenges the blogger, LockedUpL, was having with stamina. It is, in my experience, a perhaps unexpected (though totally logical) consequence of denial and chastity. Also, as it was in my experience, it didn’t happen with L right out of the gate.

I remember in the early years of being locked up and denied that my relationship with and understanding of my own orgasm was such that I could fuck Belle longer than she wanted to be fucked (and she likes getting fucked). It was as if I was able to see all the little interlocking pieces of my orgasm and how they worked together so well that I was able to short-circuit it right as it happened while I was fucking her. A brief moment of being perfectly still and allowing ejaculation to happen but without actually coming. Like I was ruining my own orgasm inside her. Then, the penis would stay hard as I kept fucking. It was great.

But I think doing that somehow ended up breaking it because I can’t do that anymore. Haven’t been able to for years. There’s no real build-up period so I can’t catch it before it happens and while the ejaculation doesn’t really feel orgasmic, the erection fades quickly. It’s like I’m coming but not really because it doesn’t feel like orgasms used to feel but I might as well have come because I can’t stay hard and the whole stupid process is over in about two minutes, tops. For the purposes of pleasuring Belle, the entire effort is useless. And it sounds to me like that’s about where L is (or getting to).

It’s like there’s different stages of male orgasms. The before-chastity kind everyone is familiar with. Slow build-up, explosive release, massive hit of sleepytime brain chemistry after. Then there’s the middle kind I described above. The kind that come from really paying attention to how they work that lead to being able to do amazing party tricks like fucking the wife for an hour. Then there’s where I am now. Infrequent fucking and zero masturbation and too many orgasmic party tricks fuck with the wiring and suddenly we find ourselves with the shortest imaginable fuses.

I supposed that last stage isn’t inevitable. But without mixing things up and perhaps taking a break from chastity and being allowed to experience normal orgasms for a while (or, minimally, masturbate and edge for long periods), I think it is the final destination.

Well, maybe not final destination. Because the final final destination is where I seem to find myself now. The permanently locked-up, post-pussy, post-masturbation place. Because at some point, letting me out for sex became unnecessary in a relationship where her pleasure and satisfaction were paramount.

L is pleasuring his wife. He says again and again that she’s very happy with the sex they’re having, notwithstanding his inability to perform. That sounds super familiar. Belle has been a very satisfied customer for a long time, even as my ability to fuck dwindled. When I read L’s words, I hear a man who’s struggling a bit with the true meaning of his erection being totally optional to his wife’s pleasure. Mouths, fingers, and toys can easily take its place. I mean, he knows it’s true, just as I do, but I sense the same conflict of really groking that as a man I used to deal with. When all the precepts of how we’re raised and conditioned with the primacy our culture places on erections in sex all crumble. What does it mean to be a man when the thing that most defines him in his own mind becomes irrelevant to his partner’s sexual pleasure?

It’s a mindfuck to be sure.

I guess my advice for L is to listen to his wife. She’s telling him she’s having a good time. She’s very happy with their sex. It doesn’t matter to her that he can’t last. Accept that last bit entirely: his penis doesn’t matter like it used to. It’ll never matter as much as it used to for her. And if he doesn’t let go of outdated paradigms of what constitutes sexual success, it’ll end up becoming A Thing between them. The last thing he wants to do is get so worked up over the changes chastity and denial are having on him that he makes his wife feel pressured and stressed. Trust me on that one.

Maybe someday he’ll find the kind of acceptance I have. I don’t think ending up pussy free is required to do chastity correctly, but I do think we need to embrace that the most important thing to guys like us is the pleasure and satisfaction of our wives. That is the purpose and meaning of chastity, in my mind. And there’s just no way we can follow that path and not expect ourselves to evolve in certain ways. Not all of them would be acceptable to our previous selves. But…that’s not who we are anymore. Right?

February stats

Just a quick post to recap February.

I was in the Evotion Orion for most of the month and was able to change into the Steelheart towards the end. I was out for two approximately one hour periods due to air travel. On the year, it’s a similar story. All Orion except for that short period at the end of February. I’ve been out 6.5 hours for the year, entirely for travel. That’s 99.7% locked for February and 99.5% locked year-to-date.

I expect I’ll be in the Steelheart for the rest of March and I don’t know of any reason I’ll need to be unlocked. In April, I’m going camping and will ask if I can go into the Orion for that since it’s easier to pee through and stays cleaner than the Steelheart. But camping, even with outdoor showering within view of my friends, isn’t a reason to be unlocked, so I don’t see a reason to be out in April. Or May. Or June until the very end of the month when Belle and I are going on a cruise. So, assuming I get out to fly (and since it’s just the two of us, I don’t have to), that’s another hour unlocked on each end.

All of this only matters since I’ve set the goal for myself to be unlocked no more than 24 hours for the year. I still really think even less is possible. My stretch goal is no more than 12 and, even though I’m technically more than half way that in just 1/6 of the year, I think it’s not out of reach. All depends on how often and under what conditions I fly.

And, of course, Belle. If she decides she has a use for the contents, that’s about an hour each time. But she hasn’t had a use for them in 349 days, so I don’t know what the odds are there.

Regardless, I assume I’ll be in the Orion most of the time. Unless something else (👀) comes along, that is. Last year, I wasn’t in anything more than half the time (the BA-31P led the pack at 45%). I think it’s really possible for the Orion to be closer to 80%, if not more.

Guess we’ll find out…

False advertising

I go to the gym twice a week and work out with a trainer. I’ve been seeing this guy for years now. For so long, I remember being in the CB-6000 when I first started with him. I remember being freaked out that he’d see it (and, to be fair, the standard CB6K makes a pretty damned obvious chastity bump). So much so, that I recall wanting Belle to let me out for our sessions.

Eventually, though, I got into better devices and lost my inhibitions about them being detectable through clothing. I mean, I don’t wear running tights to my training sessions. I don’t flaunt being locked up in front of him and the other muggles. But I also don’t worry if there’s a less than natural-looking lump down there. I’ve been asked if my trainer knows I’m in chastity and all I can say is no, we’ve never talked about that, but he has surely seen my chastity bump many times without saying anything (if it even registered with him).

So anyway, he recently switched to a new gym. If you’re a gym regular, you start to know the other regulars, at least by sight if not by name. But being at a new location, there’s all these new people I’m still getting familiar with. This new gym is a more serious one than the last, so the regulars tend to be bigger and hotter which is nice. But yesterday, there were two guys working out together that I’d not seen before. They were in good shape, but not like crazy ripped or anything. And they were obviously gay, which was notable only in that all of the people at the gym present straight. And they were both, at various times, checking me out.

Or, more specifically, they seemed to be checking out my package. I was wearing a pair of tightish army green sweats over a pair of athletic underwear with a roomy pouch to hold the Steelheart and the combination made, admittedly, an interesting profile to anyone looking. And, of course, guys look, not just the gay ones. The chastity bump was especially noticeable when I was doing standing biceps curls (which I know because I do those in front of a big mirror).

I caught them looking a couple times, then looking at each other. It was kinda obvious. So much so that my trainer even clocked them doing it and told me. My trainer is straight but barely if at all homophobic, so he thought it was funny.

Thing is, these guys could easily have been half my age. They were probably seeing a daddy with a big dick when in reality I’m, well, not that. More a DILF than a daddy, I guess. And I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t like the attention, but it’s also not the first time I’ve been sort of torn about the Steelheart in particular giving people the wrong impression about me. It’s like I’m stuffing my underwear or something.

It’s about relative comfort with how I’m presenting to the world. And it’s not just the Steelheart that does that. I’m obviously male, and appear pretty straight. And yes, I am male, though it’s more complicated than that as someone permanently in chastity. And I’m absolutely not straight. What I really am is a lockup-up bisexual bottom sub, but how do we communicate all that silently and only through presentation? We can’t, I guess, absent a shirt that says, literally, “LOCKED-UP BISEXUAL BOTTOM SUB” on it. And I’m just midwestern enough (by upbringing and cultural osmosis) to be uncomfortable wearing those things about me on my sleeve (literally). But, oddly, not so uptight that I’m worried about someone seeing my chastity bump?

Fucking weird.

Anyway, I fantasized about flashing these guys the Steelheart. That would set the record straight. But, of course, I did not for obvious reasons.