I love waking up. Not those alarm shrieking, got to get to work mornings, but those lazy mornings when I slowly rouse and my cock is hard in my cage.…Morning Glory
Reblogging this post by Doc because I can relate. And I wish I wrote it. Spot on.
I love waking up. Not those alarm shrieking, got to get to work mornings, but those lazy mornings when I slowly rouse and my cock is hard in my cage.…Morning Glory
Reblogging this post by Doc because I can relate. And I wish I wrote it. Spot on.
DO NOT BUY THIS THING.
Super minimal chastity devices appear to be a growing (lol) segment of the market in recent years. I have even reviewed one or two on my blog, but not one as totally nullifying as the Munchkin line of devices sold by Koala Swim. They create a totally flat presentation that not only presses the penis down, it also has a “peg” that pushes it in and inverts it entirely.
Personally, I prefer the look of a device that leaves some suggestion of its contents, but I also really get off on the feeing of erection compression so can at least theoretically appreciate why the Munchkin exists. However, as executed, it’s not just a terrible device, it’s also dangerously irresponsible.
Rewind a bit. One of the issues with super minimal devices is how they squish their contents and how their contents are used for the frequent act of fluid waste elimination. Lots of messy spray can occur. I found that to be the case with the one metal, nameless minimal device I’ve tested. The solution to this is a urethral insert to help guide the flow of urine. Normally, these are relatively short and made of metal (preferably titanium), but in the case of the Munchkin, it’s longish and consists of flexible plastic tubing (as it’d have to be) and a metal tip.
Right off the bat, you may be concerned that the tip might come off which would obviously be A Very Bad Thing. Good news is, the metal bit is very securely held in place. Bad news is…well, there are exposed edges. Exposed sharp edges. On both the metal and the plastic.
Maybe you don’t know (but I do) that the “skin” lining the urethra is very tender and sensitive. That sensitivity can lead to pleasure which is why sounding and other types of insertive penis play is enjoyed by many, but it can also lead to serious discomfort if the object being inserted isn’t perfectly smooth. The urethral tube of the Koala Munchkin is not perfectly smooth. In fact, it’s SHARP. AS. FUCK.
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, how does anyone in good conscience sell something like this knowing a man is going to shove it up his penis!? Not that some dude might shove it up his penis. That they are expected to. I am honestly angry such a thing is marketed. It’s a goddamned crime, as far as I’m concerned.
Now, the insert is not required for use. I would have tried it absent that except for the fact it didn’t fit me. The sell a 38mm base ring and a 45mm ring with nothing in between (but probably larger than that, as I recall, but I don’t remember the specifics nor do I care to go find out). The Steelheart has a 40mm base ring which is just large enough for me to wear and, since little to no erectile tissue would protrude through the Munchkin’s base ring, I thought going down to 38mm would work. It did not. I could not get the…tube? Cage? Plate? Peg?…aligned with the screw hole on the base ring in order to secure it. The whatever-we-want-to-call-it was too thick to fit through the ring along with the bits of me also required to squish in there so I couldn’t get it on completely. Too bad because I suspect the 45mm version would have been way too big on me. Forty millimeters would have been perfect.
I suppose I can say the craftsmanship and finish of the parts that wouldn’t end up quite possibly causing a man to bleed from his penis were acceptable. Though the “lock” is just a hex screw so isn’t really at all secure.
So, yeah, not a complete review. Except to say their urethral insert is an irresponsible bit of malpractice and should be a fucking crime to distribute. I wouldn’t recommend anything they sell because of it and don’t think any of you should buy anything from them ever.
It seems to me there are two kinds of men in chastity.
I think way back at the dawn of time when Belle locked our first CB6K on me, I was definitely the first type. And a lot of guys are always going to be that type. For them (and their keyholders), chastity is a means to an end. They use it tactically to enhance their sex lives and make the inevitable release, fucking, and orgasm as mind-blowing as possible. For sure, all the second types start out as the first type. As I did. But then we find ourselves in a new place. Where being locked up is no longer a means to an end. It is the end. You do it for it.
And to the first type, the second type will either seem totally crazy, which means they’ll always be the first type, or totally terrifying. As I did. And that fear, I think, is the best indication that they’re not going to become the second type. They already are the second type.
There are lots of examples I can think of in my own sexuality where I was confronted with something I had no conception of that scared the hell out of me only later to realize it was me. If you’re not into something, it either squicks you out or you think it’s hilarious or crazy or whatever. But the fear is rooted in something else. It’s self-realization fighting with shame.
I can recall the first time I read accounts of cuckolding. Of being cuckolded. I recall how it made me tremble. Of how panicked it made me feel. Because I saw myself in it in a way I did not expect. And I had to deal with what that meant. Of how I had to reassess my understanding of myself.
I think with chastity and denial it was slower, but the same. In the early days, I was frustrated at Belle for locking me up but then not letting me have as much sex with her as I wanted. Perhaps in an attempt to get me to leave her alone, she’d let me go unlocked and allow me to edge myself for hours in bed next to her while she slept. I’d literally jack off for hours, frothing myself up, leaking like the Titanic and making our bedroom stink of ejaculate. I mean, honestly, in retrospect. What the absolute fuck was that about?
Letting go of preconceptions about oneself is hard. I spent the first 40 or so years of my life defining my sexuality around the contents of the Steelheart. I was always leaning into submissiveness since I always wanted to get my partner off first and was very invested in their pleasure, but I also very much expected and felt entitled to my pleasure. I had pride of penis. Of its role and primacy. I can even remember arguing with Frodo way back in high school about whose dick was bigger. And thinking mine was. I mean, honestly, in retrospect. What the absolute fuck was that about?
Losing my pride of penis was scary and hard because I had to come to grips with being the kind of submissive that was almost entirely focused on my partner’s pleasure to such an extent that mine was totally ignored. And that being denied like that was how I found my pleasure. A satisfaction and contentment far in excess of post-orgasmic stupor. I had to let go of being the archetype male who is the sexual aggressor and penetrator and whose sexual release is celebrated over all things and become instead…this other thing. The second type of man in chastity. The type who lets go of his penis, figuratively and literally. A type of man we have no archetype for.
And, of course, this is who I am. And it no longer scares me. It provides me comfort. I am living my true life.
It’s impossible to imagine finding myself here without Belle. She had to adapt to what I needed nearly as much as I needed to adapt to being kept as I am. She never signed up to be married to a kept sub bottom who didn’t want to (and now barely can) fuck. She likes being fucked. Riding my hard-on was her preferred way to come. But she’s allowed her body to relearn some things to accommodate me. We’re not sure she can come from penetration anymore. It’s all digits and tongues now for her.
I can’t ever really express how grateful I am to her. Her understanding and generosity.
But, getting back to this post’s premise, there are two types of locked men. It’s worth asking yourself which type you are. Are you appalled at the idea of letting go of your cock? Or are you afraid of it? Or do you aspire to it?
There’s nothing wrong with either type. You are who you are. Embrace it.
Two quick chastity nerdery inquiries.
Got this question over on Twitter:
I mean, I haven’t been in the market for a custom cage for a long time and it may be that my advice is out of date, but I would recommend the following makers:
Note that for some of these (Rigid in particular but also Steelworxx), I’ve been given feedback that their backlog is long and service/communication nearly nonexistent. I think anyone and everyone making bespoke devices is very busy and the waits are long. Back in the day, I found MM’s service to be quite good. Evotion would also get high marks from me.
Over on FetLife, I received this message:
i have been following your blog denying thumper for some time and really appreciate hearing about your journey into chastity.
i belong to Lady Angélie and have shown Her the clean design of the Steel heart.
am about to order and would really appreciate some feedback on the comfort for long term wearing with restrained release.
Was considering the additional stainless steel ring around the opening for confort but feel it’s not as aesthetically sleek design.
Would love to hear your thoughts.
The Steelheart I wear has the little ring on it. It’s supposed to make the fit more comfortable but I’d found the weld on the bottom where the ring is joined to the tube can be irritating. If I were you, I’d skip it.
I tweeted a picture of the Steelheart all polished up and compared to the Half Shell (which, for some metallurgical reason has always been massively shiny) and that led to some interest in cleaning in general so I figured maybe it was time to do another post about that.
The picture I tweeted is included and, therefore, here’s a jump to protect those in NSFW environments…Continue reading “Coming (lol) clean”
It should not be much of a surprise to anyone reading this that I find the idea of fucking Belle with the strap-on to be many times more of a turn-on than using the contents of the Steelheart. There are practical reasons for this but also deeply significant psychological ones. The dildo in the harness is always ready. Always hard. Never comes too quickly. Able to give Belle anything and everything she wants. As a man who’s nearly always kept in a chastity device and who hasn’t had a “normal” orgasm in who the hell knows how long and can’t actually fuck for more than 90 seconds, this is all practical good sense.
But also, the dildo is bigger than me. Obviously. And she prefers bigger than me (at least, girthier). And while I’m going through the motions of fucking her, the actual fucking part isn’t me. The part of me designed for fucking is just underneath the part getting to fuck, tight and pounding for release. Shoved roughly into the base of the dildo that’s buried deep inside her. The thing making her make those noises and squirm like she does. And that pushes a whole bunch of my buttons.
The thing I was thinking about and realized recently is that there really is no point in my sexual life where, if I could travel back to it and reveal this to myself, I wouldn’t totally get how it’d make me super turned on. I would not be like, what the fuck, dude? with myself at all. My sexuality is best defined as being willing to try almost anything once and, in fact, I used to say when I was far younger that I’d try anything once unless it hurt and, even if it did, I’d keep doing it until it stopped hurting before figuring out if I liked it. So while it’s been a dozen or so years since chastity and denial became part my life, I know for certain that I was 100% born be how I am now and certainly would have been this way had I been able to put the pieces together sooner and would have been 100% up for what I described above even when I was 17, 27, or 37.
This is, I suppose, what it must be like for someone who marries someone of the opposite gender and has a life only to realize much later they’re gay. That post-coming out life is the more authentic one and the life before was something like an act being performed. Not necessarily a lie as much as going through the normative motions expected because the alternative was either never realized or never thought to be possible. That’s how it is for me. I know what I am now — submissive, denied, a bottom — is what I always have been. And when I think back to all the time before when I was jacking off whenever I wanted and selfishly retreating into my own masturbatory fantasies and just not being who I am sexually…it’s not with regret. I don’t begrudge that time. Everything happens in its own pace, I suppose. But I do wish it all could have started sooner. Because right now is pretty great. And I only regret not getting here sooner.
Earlier today I was texting with Frodo. Without getting into too much detail, he described the D/s dynamic as “role play.” And while I didn’t challenge him on that, it immediately reminded me how Dan Savage describes kinky sex in general as “cops and robbers with your clothes off.” And that’s always left me a little put off. I’m sure it’s not this way for everyone, especially the switchy among us, but I’m not playing at anything when I think about my submission. I know I’ve always been a sub and will always be a sub and, for me, it is so real and genuine and necessary. I do not, in a scene, act submissive. I allow myself to be myself. I remember when Belle slowly came to the realization that she liked having me locked up, wanted me that way, expected me to be that way. When she came into her own as my keyholder and I stopped thinking she was doing any of it to humor me. It all became so much better.
Of course, Frodo didn’t mean anything by what he said. He was just using the words he has and I get that. And, to be honest, I don’t really know where this is going. Sometimes, you start writing a post with an idea where it’s going to end up and sometimes the post has a mind of its own like now. I guess, in closing, the best way to summarize the moral of this post is be true to yourself. Don’t put on an act for anyone else’s sake. Be your authentic self as soon as possible. Everything is so much better on the other side.
It started innocently enough. Belle and I were watching some TV before she had to get on a conference call. Her job requires her to get on work calls at odd hours. Sometimes very early, sometimes at night. All part of being on a global team, I’m told.
So yeah, we’re there on the couch and I have my hand on her leg and was sort of absently rubbing it when a sudden urgency sprang up from the dispersed cloud of general horniness I’ve been feeling lately. I gripped her inner thigh and made an involuntary grunty sound and was really aware of wanting to bury my face in her snatch.
“Oh, that’s how it is,” she said (or something like it).
“That’s how it is,” I replied. “Maybe later you can sit on my face.”
I mean, it was a weeknight. Lol. She doesn’t usually want that stuff on weeknights and especially not on a Monday night after getting off twice over the weekend. So she went off to take her call and I watched a bit more TV before heading off to bed to read.
You see, I’ve been up late lately watching the worst most wonderful sport known to mankind; baseball. Games start at 7:00 and don’t end until about 11:00. They’re not just any baseball games. They’re World Series games and my team is in it. So I was thinking I’d read about the Revolutionary War for a bit, get sleepy, then catch up on my zzz.
But, as I said, I’ve been like 17% hornier than usual lately. I wasn’t asleep yet when Belle got off her call and came to bed. She told me I could sleep naked (which is a thing I’m not supposed to do without explicit permission). So then I was naked and horny. But I was tired and almost got there. But not quite. Belle had had an annoying call and was grumpy and was struggling to sleep herself and I picked up on that. Usually, she drops off to sleep almost immediately but she was tossing and turning and then sidled up next to me and put her hand on my naked ass.
“You know, if you’re having a hard time falling asleep, I can get you off. That…could help.”
She made an amused little sound which I assumed could be translated as, “Nice try, rabbit.” But no. She ran her hand over my ass and down between my legs. And then back up…and back down again.
My back arched like the slut I am. Ooooooh did that feel good. Her finger teased my perineum and then traced my crack back up to the small of my back. Instant pressurization of the Steelheart. I could have laid there like that for a week, but a little voice told me, You’re supposed to be getting her off, not letting her stroke your ass.
I rolled over to face her. Her hand went right to my balls and gave them an aggressive crunch. I winced with pain but it didn’t stop me from kissing her. Sometimes, she decides to hurt me more than others. It seemed to me her frustration with that call was going to be channeled into my testicles. And I would have to take it.
She can hurt me, but I can’t hurt her back. So while she was squeezing my balls against one another and the steel between them, digging in her nails and pulling hard on them, I had to maintain gentle kissing. When I pulled up her top, I needed to lick and suck her nipples gently. As much as I wanted to bite them, that is entirely forbidden. I absorb pain, I do not create it.
I worked my left arm up behind her head to get access to her other nipple from behind and moved back and forth from her mouth to her tit, licking and sucking one hardened nub while very gently rolling the other between my thumb and forefinger. My right hand ran up and down her inner thigh and flicked over the point on her bottom when I could feel the humid heat of her desire respond to me.
Her bottoms came off and my middle finger quickly found the slit below her clit, already seeping and wet. Then I moaned. Jesus god, I love pussy. I love her pussy. Had it been up to me, I would have buried my face in it. I would have eaten that pussy like a last meal to a starved man. But that’s what I wanted. What I inferred she wanted was to just get off as simply and efficiently as possible. So I didn’t even ask. Didn’t even consider making a move on my own. So my middle finger traced and flicked and encircled her clit and rubbed it in and out while I suckled the nipple in my mouth.
Attempting to get her off on a third consecutive day can sometimes simply not work. But I could tell this was working. I can read her hips and how she breathes. Her little moans. I know her orgasm as well as my own. This was going to work.
The contents of the Steelheart painfully pushed at the inside of the tube. As if it was there for the first time and assumed with enough effort it could break free. Her hand kept its grip on my balls and her crushing grew stronger the closer she got to orgasm.
Then she came. And it was beautiful. And painful. But still beautiful. As always.
Then her hand let go and the blood rushed back into my scrotum. She basked and I thrummed with unspendable energy. As she came down from her climax, the contents of the Steelheart flexed and surged in defiance. A useless waste of effort.
Shortly afterward, she was asleep. Breathing regularly, my mission accomplished. But I was…not asleep. Then I was not asleep some more. Then some more.
Random pornographic images pushed into my head and I tried to stiff-arm them to the side. But it was a losing battle. Eventually, something formed in my imagination with enough clarity to cause the tube to pressurize. And then I was done.
I find it a highly addictive feeling. I like how it feels for the contents to squeeze and throb with my heartbeat. It’s my earliest kink. And once I feel it, I want to feel it again. I want to feel it harder. I want the base ring of the Steelheart to bite into the straining contents. There’s never a time when the contents are driving the bus more than those times. Late at night. When I can’t stop my filthy imagination from running rampant. And with every shift and turn in bed, the weight of the steel and the captive meat and blood pull and tug and flop around making them and their situation more obvious.
Sometimes, I can recite a kind of mantra. Telling myself I am supposed to be like that. I was born to be that way. To suffer the frustration and urges. Often, that acts as a kind of soothing balm and I can catch a few hours of sleep.
But not last night. The contents woke me up again and again, like a petulant brat, just as I neared the edge of sleep. Swelling and subsiding over and over. Like a slow cadence of waves on a beach.
So I got zero sleep last night. And the game starts tonight at 7:00. Game six. Potentially the last game of the series and the first championship for my team since 1988.
Welp, I changed email clients and never set up my thumper account and now am woefully behind in answering reader questions. Woefullier than usual which is pretty fucking woeful. I am going to reply here to anything sent from June onward. If you sent me something before that…I’m sorry. Try again.
Joe jumps in:
Great blog. Great writing about a subject not easy to capture in words. I’m a 55 year old, bisexual, (non-active) married guy, no kids on our second dog. I’m a sub to my wife and she has purchased my last 2 Holy Trainers. I don’t wear 24/7, but for most waking hours I am locked everyday. It’s been an awesome experience that has changed the way we communicate for the better and improved our sex life for the better. Over the last 4-5 years, I’ve had a tiny fraction of the orgasms I used to have (daily) where K has many times what she used to get. It’s a win-win and we both couldn’t be happier. I love the fact that sexual pleasure for us has moved from me getting off to her getting off as much as she wants and my orgasms being rare occurrences, if they happen at all. There’s an indescribable feeling of being locked and making her cum….and she’s not thinking about me getting off at all.
Here’s where my question comes in. I’m curious about where cuckolding stands at this point in your fantasy/ real life. I’ve read your posts about TOG and Joe the Dildo. I may have missed a post or two, but it seems like it moves from being a potential reality to back in the pure fantasy world with both of you enjoying the scenario but, never finding (or wanting to find?) the right situation.
I feel like we are in that situation (which is ok!) But, being focused on her pleasure, I really do want her to have that bigger cock she does fantasize about. But, people and intimate relationships being what they are, it’s complicated!
I guess I’m wondering where you and Belle stand on this aspect of FLR and chastity. They have always seemed inextricably linked in my brain, though I can’t say that is the case with K.
Would appreciate your thoughts on the subject and how it manifests itself in you and Belle’s daily life.
Ultimately, as with all things, it’s Belle’s choice. She chooses not to actualize the physical aspects of cuckolding at this point. She has virtual relations that I’m not party to and she does have Joe the Dildo we both get to enjoy, but unless something changes I expect that’s how it’s going to remain.
I do link FLR and cuckolding. To me, the latter is the logical extension of the former. But female led means she gets to decide what she wants and not all women want that. At the moment, it’s not something Belle wants enough to make a third person a reality.
thanks for sharing and writing such an informative and real blog.
I come straight to the point: I am trying to extend my time wearing the ‘real swiss’ V3 Nub with a 50mm ring,
1. night time erections result in it pulsing / pulling out of the cage, i.e. escape is super easy.
2. the back of the nub, flange rubs into the skin and I suffer abrasions in various places.
I have quite a lot of scrotum. also uncut foreskin, and my questions are:
1. may a larger 55mm ring help (i also own the 45mm one and that is def way too small)
2. I am minded to get a cage 2 sizes up from the nub for nighttime use for now and ‘shrink’ into the nub over time.
3. in your opinion is the V4 enough of an upgrade to buy all new? Or would you settle to buy another ring and cage for the V3 kit I have?
In the longer term I am looking to get pierced and get a custom device but at present we are trying to settle into proper chastity to see if we want to proceed and it appears to us that a nub is the best tool for now if I can overcome the issues above, any help greatly appreciated.
I couldn’t find a device called “real Swiss” so I’m going to assume it’s the Holy Trainer which is Swiss.
Bottom line, I think you need a bigger tube. No, you will not shrink over time. I’ve been locked up for the better part of a dozen years and the contents are the same size when they’re out and hard as they were when we started this. You don’t say how big your dick is when it’s erect, so I suspect you’re just too big for the nub size. Maybe try a nano or small. Personally, I’d want a device I could wear all the time and not mess around with (or be tempted by) something I had to change before I went to bed, but that’s me.
If it saves you a few bucks, just get a new v3 tube for your 50mm ring.
Hey Thumper, I am obsessed with your blog and Twitter, it makes my male clit a twitch every time I read your posts .
I am quite new to chastity, and i had a very random question… so the (metal) chastity device I got fits nicely and I can actually wear it for long periods during the day. My concern is at night when I get an overnight erection my balls look extremely red, like you can tell circulation is limited. Do you experience this or am I definitely wearing the wrong size ring?
I hate taking it out for the concern the circulation might actually be impacted.
During the day my balls look fine, it’s just when I get the erection that my balls look red… since I am new to this, I wanna know if this is part of the adjustment in becoming a sub caged fag .
I am no doctor, but red is not an issue as long as they don’t become blue/purple, cold, or numb which all would indicate a circulation issue. Mine get reddish when the contents are straining so I think that’s not unusual. If you experience excessive pain or pain that lasts after your erections subside, then the ring may be too tight.
I recall when I first started that I thought my rings were all too tight. In time, I found they were all too big. Weird.
Dear Thumper, I am from Germany and I would like to thank.you for the door you opened for my wife and myself. Your excellent style makes this journey an aestethic experience.
I have some questions:
How strictly does Belle control your cock is caged? Is this more a matter of trust (and committment, based on your set of rules) or is she doing anything like unannounced inspections? Would she notice if you would open the cage and lock it again using another key code? And who decides which cage you wear?
Best regards from Germany.
She doesn’t do unannounced inspections, though when we’re apart I will sometimes offer her daily proof of being locked. Very occasionally, she’ll ask for proof. For a while, my emergency key was not secured but recently I put it back in a numbered key safe and have even asked her to take it and her key the last time she was away from me. Fact is, no, she probably would not notice if I cheated. But then I’d have to live with the reality of cheating. And that would be miserable.
Regarding which cage I wear, she lets me decide that entirely. She always prefers the Steelheart (German made! 🇩🇪) but will allow me to switch when I feel like mixing it up. I can’t recall her ever not letting me change cages.
Do you have any posts that talk about the PA stretching process or appropriate gauges for jewelry for chastity devices? Is there a standard gauge that’s appropriate?
I just got my PA and am doing my research.
I don’t think there’s a standard. Not one I’ve seen. I think less than 6 ga is too narrow and more than 4 ga is overkill.
Right now I have an inexpensive metal device from amazon. It’s actually pretty good, considering. The only problem is that the base of my penis slips out a little (1–2 cm) after it’s on for a bit. I think it’s partly the weight of the cage, but it also happens anytime I get aroused. Is this just the nature of all devices or could this be fixed by a better device (like the holy trainer). I’d it’s just the nature of all devices I’ll just stick with what I have.
That sounds 100% normal to me. The Steelheart does the same thing. It’s less prevalent from plastic since those devices are lighter.
Another reader (sorry, lost your name!) asked:
I recently got a bon4m (though I have now noticed you gave it a poor review). When I wear it while flaccid there’s no problem and I can stick a finger between myself and the device. However, when I get erect the veins on my balls become prominent and it has me worried the ring is too tight. I tried moving up a ring size but still had the same problem. I never had this problem with the hod300 that I was wearing before. Should I move up a ring size again – despite that this causes the device to slip. I’m already wearing the largest spacer. Many thanks.
Like I said above, I don’t think there’s an issue until they become blue/purple, cold, or numb.
I’m considering a PA for eventually using in conjunction with a chastity device. Do you use cages that rely on your PA? If so, are they more or less comfortable than ball-trap devices in your opinion? I have a relatively comfortable jail bird from mature metal, but there are still times when I wonder what’s out there with lower profiles and this potentially more comfortable. Any advice would be greatly appreciated!
Lower profile devices like the Holy Trainer Nano or Nub don’t really have anything to do with PA-secured devices and all the devices I wear, PA-secured and not, are trapped-ball devices because they have base rings that encircle the testicles. So…I think that answered your question?
I’ve been a long time lurker / follower of yours and life has gotten me to the point where I’m thinking I’d like to get some of my (mis) adventures up in a blog.
Some background….When I first happened across your blog a number of years back I was a drunk, in a sexless marriage, and could only fantasize about the things you blog about. Today, I’m 6 years sober, divorced, in a full on poly relationship; my cock is locked up and I don’t have a key….As I type these letters, my VERY bi fiancé (I guess I’d call myself situationally bi) is with her lesbian GF and they’re banging each other with a dildo that is MUCH more of a cock than genetics gave me.
You’ve inspired me, and I’d be very interested in starting a dialog with you and picking your brain / getting some guidance on setting up a blog. If you’re so inclined, please feel free to email me. Thanks!!
I hope this finds you, Belle, and your family well.
OMG. One, that sounds really fucking hot. Two, I’m so happy for you. For all of you. And three, I would read that blog! I have (very belatedly) replied to your email.
And on that note…more than enough for today!
The inimitable Mrs. Fever commented on my last post:
“the contents” — I like this terminology; the penis being the contents of the package rather than being the package. It’s a subtle bit of semantic separation, but it carries weight.
Regular readers will know that quite a long time ago I stopped referring to the contents as a “cock” because the connotation that noun evokes is of action and intent and it seemed to be counter to what’s promised on the label of this site and in the spirit of our dynamic. I demoted the organ to “penis” because it was the most descriptive word and telegraphed no intent or overt purpose. I also stopped referring to it as “mine” since it’s not. I gave it to Belle and now it’s just attached to my body. More recently (though it may have been two years ago because lol time) I’ve tried to stop using the word “penis” and have gone with “the contents” for a few reasons.
One, as the Mrs. points out, semantically I’m trying to elevate the total package over what it contains. If, as I’ve said a million times, the Steelheart (or whichever device is standing in for it) is me (and it is), then I should walk that talk. When the Steelheart is off me, it’s a thing. A tool. When it’s on me, I am complete. It makes that part of my body whole in the same way my wedding ring finishes out its finger on my left hand. But I do, from time to time, need to refer to what’s inside the Steelheart since they are two parts of a whole and the new best word I can think of is “the contents.”
Two, in the same way the contents push on the steel, the natural urges I was born with put a strain on my state as a kept man. I like being kept and never want to not be this way, but hormones and deep reptile urges are powerful and I feel it’s important to use all the resources of the higher rabbit brain to maintain the careful equilibrium within me. Words, which are the exclusive domain of the higher brain, have power.
I mean, sure, ultimately this is a game of semantics. But I think it’s also finding ways to go from “having a locked cock” to “being kept.” There’s a spectrum there. One I’ve travelled. Part of my never-ending quest to move chastity from something I do to what I am. Never-ending in that being this way does go against a couple million years of evolutionary programming and, like a lot of devotions, needs to be practiced and looked after until it’s truly second nature.
Even that term — second nature — says it is not the first nature. And that’s what I ultimately want. To deepen and strengthen my commitment to what I feel is my conscious nature, perhaps. The nature of my higher brain — my mind — that is separate and distinct from my primal nature. The nature that is all urge and instinct-driven.
We are complicated beings. More than the sum of our programming. More than the impulses that all living things share. All our experiences and feelings are refracted by what goes on in our big brains. And what goes on in mine is reinforced by simple words. Using them and really accepting them to be true.
Our primal natures and our conscious natures are not always going to be in alignment. But we live up here in our consciousness. So…words matter.
The first and most basic rule of my being kept is that Belle decides when and how the chastity device contents are used, always every time. Even in #Locktober. She is not bound by hashtags.
So it was the other morning, not long after our wedding anniversary and near our chastity anniversary, that she decided what she really wanted was for me to fuck her with the device’s contents. And that’s why my #Locktober won’t be 744 continuously locked hours.
Not only did she want me out, she wanted me to come. It had been more than a month since the contents were allowed inside her at that point and sliding in was, honestly, sooooo fucking nice. But the magic words whispered in my ear didn’t happen until I had already been fucking her for the approximately 90 seconds required for me to have to stop and I had already started to mentally shut the orgasm down when she said I could have it.
I didn’t hesitate. It’s not that I wanted to come. It’s difficult to say anymore if what I feel is a desire to come but, regardless, what I want isn’t part of the equation. So even though I had already started to back off when she told me to do it, I sallied forth best I could and had an orgasm, of a kind. It felt like the ruined leakages I usually have. No fireworks of sensation, no build of pressure and pop of shooting explosively. The only real difference is instead of stopping my thrusting into her just before it began, I kept pumping all the way through. And that made it real.
On a scale of 1 to 10 of orgasmic sensations, it was like maybe a 2 or a 3. Tops. I don’t think it’s possible anymore for me to have an “orgasm” if I only get one every twelve months or so. But is was an orgasm and the tell was all in the brain chemistry.
For a long time time, I’ve found Belle’s orgasms make me sleepy as though I had had one, too. It’s kind of a cute little sympathetic reaction I developed once I was weaned off the expectations of coming myself. But I had forgotten what a real post-orgasmic chemical hit felt like. A full man’s dose of that cocktail of hormones and other fun stuff hit me like a freight train. A tranq dart to the neck wouldn’t have put me down faster.
I mean to tell you, I was fucking drugged. Laying there next to her I could occasionally feel my consciousness try and surface only to get pulled back into the shadows by a hundred heavy velvet tentacles. It was amazing. Clearly, denial has not only given me a hair trigger but also made me a prolactin featherweight.
And I have found that there was little to no sub-drop after the orgasm. I put the contents back into a device right away without any internal resistance and have felt an edge to my horniness in the days that followed. Like I was given a taste of a drug I used to be addicted do and those old gnawing cravings flickered back to life. It makes me wonder if I was given the chance to have orgasms regularly, either with her or on my own, if I’d be able to have what feels like normal ones again. If so, how long would it take? How many? Or have I been reprogrammed to such an extent that they’ll never again be what they were?
The fact that I’m even thinking that is a symptom of being allowed the one, though. If she makes me wait another year and then another after that and so on and so on…well, those are not the thoughts of a man kept in my condition.