Category: Chastity Nerdery

Those posts where I (mostly) drone on endlessly about living in enforced chastity.

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Bad day in chastity

Yesterday was just weird all the way around. I think my issue with the device was that I reassembled it after cleaning using the smallest spacer. Even though it’s only a little smaller than the one up from it (which is what I normally wear), space is so tight down there that the tolerances are small. The ring pain I experienced during the day was, I suspect, mostly the result of not lubricating it properly, but the shorter spacer might have contributed. I know it was a factor in what I faced this morning. I can’t recall ever finding myself so tightly packed into the device as I was then. Just that small difference in tube extension made my normal morning erection (which, as every guy knows, is typically the strongest of the day) push every tiny bit of open space out of the tube. My flesh was extruding out of the side vents and slit like modeling clay and my balls, which are already swollen and sore from frustration, were pulled just that much further from my body and were tight and throbbing. I tried to pee and felt the urine travel down my urethra and then just stop about halfway down the shaft. The end of the penis was pressed shut. This has happened before and usually means I have to flex my kegels to spray it out in tight bursts, but even that proved difficult and it caused the urine to burn upon exiting so I eventually gave up. Probably the most uncomfortable I’ve been in the CB-6000. Odd thing is, it didn’t occur to me to just take it off.

But take it off I did while I was getting ready for work with the thought of moving up to the second largest ring. That’s when I discovered the spacer issue. I was standing there naked (I had just come out of the shower) fiddling with the pieces when I felt something cold on my leg. Looking down, I saw a long, clear, unbroken string of what I assume was precum hanging off the end of the cock and extending to my calf. That kind of oozing has been happening off and on for about the past 24 hours or so. I’ll just be sitting there, shift a little, and feel a small squirt escape into the tube. I wouldn’t have expected this for another week, based on previous experience, but I’m sure my hyper-arousal this week has advanced the schedule a bit.

Finally, I was having a meeting this morning with some of the people who work for me and was doing a lot of getting up and down from my seat to write on the whiteboard. One time, as I sat back down, I left myself turned away from the table with my legs spread and noticed the guy next to me totally checking out the device’s bulge. He played it pretty cool and wasn’t ogling or anything, but I could see where he was looking. As nonchalantly as I could, I turned my legs under the table and dropped my hand to my lap to see how exposed I was. I’m pretty sure he was able to see the ridge of the glans molded into the end of the tube pressing through my pants. I have no idea what he thought of the show, but I can say I’m not too thrilled he got it. I’m not sure what to do about this issue. These are the baggiest pants I have. I guess I’m just going to have to start being more aware of myself or accept the fact that people are going to see it and think…well, I don’t know what they’re going to think. Maybe that I have a very short, fat erection all the time. Eventually, I suppose someone who knows what it is will see it. That’ll be an interesting day.

Belle Fille’s plane departs in about five hours. She’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. I am beyond excited to have her back. My little issue with sleep on Wednesday put me behind in finishing her task since my brain was hardly functioning yesterday evening. I have two more posts to write before I pick her up at the airport. Then, I’ll get to find out her reaction to all my gut-spilling.

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What’s that safeword again?

This morning, I took off the CB-6000 to give it a good cleaning and somehow managed to put it back on using the second smallest ring size. OH MY GOD, it hurts. I kinda thought it was feeling a little tight getting on, but figured I was just swollen or something. Then, in my last meeting, what feels like a vice at the base of my root slowly and menacingly started to clamp harder and harder. Sweet mother of god. If I had an erection during the middle of that, I’d have been a goner – passed out on the floor for sure. Good thing I don’t make swimsuit calendars for a living.

The funny thing is, while rummaging around in the CB-6000 case I happened upon one of Belle’s locks unlocked. I was thisclose to using it, but thought better of it at the last minute (it was purely a cosmetic decision – Belle’s are the little black Master locks which I think are bulky and ugly while mine is a sleek little chrome number). I’d have been really pissed if I had had to break into my key safe because I was too damned tired to know what I was doing this morning.

Speaking of tired…when’s nap time?

UPDATE: I’ve decided to tough it out. The pain’s starting to lessen and I’m getting kind of a thrill from being in the smaller size. What is up with that? All of a sudden I can fit (barely) in these rings that were too small a month ago. Maybe there’s really something to that whole “your penis shrinks in chastity” thing. 😉

UPDATE 2: Whoa, hold the presses. I was wrong. It was still the middle ring. I had neglected to adequately lubricate it this morning. I blame profound sleep-deprivation.

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My other cage

It’s 4:30 AM and I haven’t slept all night.

I am trapped in two cages. One is made of polycarbonate, the other is my entire body. The meat between my legs could be released from its cage, if necessary, but my mind is inseparably fixed within a body crawling with sexual energy. I am exhausted yet I cannot stop images, ideas, and scenarios from passing though my brain and causing the meat to swell and throb within its confinement. A tremulous desire for a woman half a world away vibrates in my chest and sends shivers down my spine. Flashes of electric excitement dance across the length and width of my body as I remember the things she’s made me write over the past week. Her place in the bed is cold and empty. Sleep is impossible. I am drowning in hormones.

On an episode of Kink On Tap, Eileen once said something about orgasm denial’s insidious beauty being how it essentially turns the submissive’s body against itself. I can relate. The funny thing is, I have it within my power to fix this problem. Since Belle has her key with her and all her locks are closed, I had to secure the CB-6000 with one of my own (its key on a chain around my neck – I am essentially my own keyholder). I could remove the blasted thing and quickly stroke myself to a shuddering orgasm. Approximately 23 seconds later, I’d be fast asleep. Did I say that was a funny thing? It’s not funny at all. Truth is, I could never do what I just described. I’m not even sure my body would respond if I tried. I made a vow to that woman that I would never achieve orgasm again without her permission. And I won’t. So…I suffer, pining for my Belle Fille.

*YAWN*

I am happy. It’s good to be alive.

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Chastise me

As if you didn’t already know, this post is related to the task my Belle Fille gave me prior to leaving on her trip. I am to write on my blog specific things I want her to do to me. I’ve decided, since these posts are specifically to her and for her, that I’ll write them that way. Also, I’m breaking them up into related themes. I’ve covered orgasm denial, pain, bondage, and domination so far. This time, chastity.

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Belle,

I very purposefully tried to leave chastity out of the previous posts since it’s the crossroad for everything that has come before. It’s the vortex where all my sexual perversions swirl together. With one little piece of polycarbonate, you deny me, hurt me, bind me, and dominate me.

  • Denial. It’s absolute. Not only am I denied orgasm, I’m denied any pleasurable contact whatsoever with my cock. Many times my frustration has been so great that I’ve clawed at the thing or run my fingers over the hard plastic tube as if I was stroking myself. I’m not trying to come when I do that, I’m just trying to achieve some kind of satisfaction. It’s pretty much impossible. Plus, as an added bonus, I am also denied your touch which I crave. When you lock me up, my cock might as well not even exist. You have no idea how many of my buttons that pushes.
  • Pain. The pain comes most intensely from the inevitable stifled erections, especially the ones at night. At first, these tortured me and caused me quite a bit of consternation. Now, though, I’ve be able to rationalize the pain as a symbol of my service and devotion to you. I’ve given you my cock and you’ve chosen to encase it in plastic. The pain I feel is from you, even when you’re sleeping peacefully next to me. Not to be dismissed is the lower level pain I experience all day long from trying to live with a hard plastic device strapped to a very tight spot. Sitting for too long will cause the skin trapped by the ring to burn. My jeans will push the entire contraption into my pelvis when I drive the car which eventually leaves me aching. The skin on my scrotum can be painfully stretched (which is why it feels so thick and leathery when you eventually let me out). I now look forward to all that pain and miss it when I’m out of the device.
  • Bondage. What is the device except a hyper-specialized implement of bondage? When I’m in it and fully aroused and it’s pulling up and away from my body, all the flesh tight and burning, the pressure in the tube seemingly strong enough to explode its seems…yes, that’s delicious. If bondage is basically the acquiescence of physical control to another, then a device like the CB6K may be one of the most perfect bondage toys ever devised. At least it’s the one with the best ROI.
  • Domination. Of course, it’s on me because you dominate that part of my body. You own it. I am reminded constantly, 24 hours a day of that arrangement. Having to always shift when I sit looking for a more comfortable position, being careful not to let it show as it presses in sharp relief through my jeans, always worrying if I’ll be able to relieve myself successfully – it is with me all the time, and so is your control over me.

I have a love/hate (but mostly love) relationship with the thing. I find it’s a relief to get it off, but shortly afterward I wish it was back on. It pisses me off and is a constant distraction, but I pine for it when it’s not there. I’m not saying I want to wear it 24/7/365, but I am saying I want to wear it more than I have recently. Before you left on your trip, you talked about locking me up for the duration of your absence. I begged off citing the still-fresh piercing, but the threat of being encased made me realize how badly I missed wearing it. So much so that I put it on Sunday night and will wear it until you tell me to take it off again. I’m pretty sure my piercing has finally healed enough to allow it (I promise, I’m not pushing it). I’ll be keeping an eye on it to be safe, but last night as I lay in bed with it clamped around my meat, it was like sleeping with a security blanket. You’re on the other side of the world, but still in control of the cock I gave you.

If you’re serious about drastically reducing my orgasmic productivity in 2009, then please leave me in the device for longer periods of time, especially if we’re not going to be together (I wouldn’t mind if I had to wear it every time we’re apart for longer than a day). My longest stint in there has been eight days. Why not fourteen? Or twenty-one? Eventually, I’d like to see what more than a month in lock-up feels like. There’s even a part of me that would like you to lock me away and enjoy all the other ways I can pleasure you so much that you forget all about my little prisoner for an indefinite period. What’s the longest you could leave me in there, anyway? Remember what I said about pushing my boundaries?

I know one of the reasons you let me out is because you crave the feeling of me in you. There’s a part of me that enjoys knowing you’re feeling just a tiny sliver of the denial I am (albeit it a very, very tiny sliver). That being said, there’s no reason why you need to be denied. You can let me out just for your pleasure and then lock me back up again immediately afterward. Even better, I would love you to make me fuck you with a strap-on. The thought of being supplanted by a thing that – based on a comparison of popular features – is superior to my own perfectly serviceable organ while it strains uselessly beneath the newcomer…oh god, I may swoon.

Eventually, I’d like to get a different chastity device. One made of steel and built with my PA piercing in mind. Regardless of what it’s made of or how it works, though, the fact that the device itself embodies all my kinks all rolled up into one neat package makes it the big kahuna of my sexual fetishes. Thank you for letting me wear it.

Yours in every way,
Thumper

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Thumper’s CB-6000 tips and tricks

Hubris. There is no other explanation as to why someone like myself, who has spent maybe a month’s worth of accumulated time locked in his keyholder’s CB-6000, would attempt to tell you how to live with one, especially when there are other, more experienced people out there to whom you could turn for such advice. Pure hubris. Then again, I recall needing to absorb any and all information I could find on this topic prior to locking the thing on my junk for the first time, so perhaps all I’m doing is taking advantage of your desperation for information. Plus, it isn’t like you haven’t been warned. In any event, the usual obligatory reminders that what works for me and my cock won’t necessarily work for you and yours (i.e., YMMV).

UPDATE: This content has been greatly revised and expanded here.

Continue reading “Thumper’s CB-6000 tips and tricks”

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Crossing the Rubicon, Part 1

[I’ll be relating the events of our romantic weekend alone over three posts. Even so, I’m afraid this one got kind of long. I apologize in advance for asking to you to read through 1,370 words that don’t even get you past Saturday morning!]

We arrived at our secluded woodland retreat late Friday night. Belle had already informed me that I wasn’t going to get out until Saturday, so her refusal to release me as soon as we arrived was no surprise. What was a surprise (at least to me) was her acquiescence to my suggestion that we try out her new toy. Earlier that day, a discrete box had arrived containing a pretty, pink Onye “discrete massager”. The little vibe, which we’ve named Pink (because we’re creative that way), is surprisingly powerful. After working on her nipples for a few minutes to get the juices flowing, I started to rub the deactivated Pink over her clitoris to help her get used to its feel. My Belle has not been one to partake in sex toys (with the exception of a single use of the latex dildo I got her about a month ago and one very lucky banana in an overseas hotel room), so I wanted to take this new sensation slowly for her. I pushed Pink’s little pink button and she started to purr. Belle released a yelp and a startled little, “Oh!” After a few moments of surface stimulation, I was somewhat taken aback to hear her instruct me, which some insistence, to put Pink in her. I complied and a string of high volume exclamations followed. Then, not even 60 seconds after I turned Pink on, Belle had what I can only describe as a screaming orgasm. I had never seen her carry on in that manner. Truth be told, to a boy enduring a week of chastity, to see the physical manifestation of his sexual desire (and the very gatekeeper of his sexual satisfaction) come in under a minute through the directed use of technology was, to put it lightly, somewhat intimidating. I was very happy for Belle but also somewhat distressed to consider a future of extended lock-up where my unique contribution to her sex life was rendered not just inaccessible, but also redundant and entirely out-classed.

The next morning was one of the most amazing of my adult life. The preceding night was fitful, both from the extended build-up of precious fluid but also the knowledge that I might get the chance to release said fluid at daybreak. However, when dawn finally came, Belle was awake before I was. After padding around a bit and letting the dog out to do his business, she came in the bedroom, sat down in front of me on the bed, and, with my head bowed, put me in my collar. The carnivorous butterflies started flapping in earnest at this development. My collar, all by itself, puts me into a heavily submissive headspace. Combined with the ten days of denied sexual release, I suddenly found myself suckling her toes. Now, I do not have a foot fetish of any kind and have never, to the best of my recollection, sucked her toes. Nevertheless, here I was worshiping her feet. She did not instruct me to do so and I’m not even sure she recognized the significance of the act, but it was either an autonomic submissive response or the influence of reading countless malesub blogs and sex stories. In either event, I did not consciously decide to apply my mouth to her foot. I just did it. And it was sublime.

After a few minutes of slobbering on her foot, Belle told me to lay down on the bed. She sat at the head of the bed, with her back to the wall, and I laid with my feet next to her with my head pointing to the foot of the bed. She took the key to my cock and unlocked and removed the CB6K. My hand immediately and reflexively shot down to feel my released member. Belle just as quickly reminded me that I was not to touch her cock until she told me I could. I moaned and writhed, but complied. I begged her to touch the cock. She replied that she was stroking it with her eyes and that would have to be enough for the moment. I moaned and a large glob of precum oozed from the semi-erect flesh. She laughed and marveled at how the cock seemed to have a will of its own as it lolled about and a second string of precum came oozing from its tip.

Finally, she touched me, but not on the cock. She ran her fingernails lightly up and down my legs and across my stomach. Then, without warning, she’d dig her nails deeply into my flesh sending me into tortured flailings. More than once she took hold of my testicles and cruelly twisted and pulled on them sending further waves of ecstatic pain through me. Eventually, I rolled over so she could apply the same loving attention to my backside, but also so I could grind into the bed. She was wise to that and told me I was not allowed to pleasure myself with her cock and to knock it off, which I reluctantly did. At this point, it’s probably safe to say a week and a half of denied orgasm and just over a week of chastity, along with the deliciously sensual torture, was causing me to experiencing one of the most intensely sexual experiences of my life. Luckily for me, it was eclipsed 24 hours later, but we’ll get to that in due time.

Belle rearranged me on the bed so that I could kiss and fondle her breasts. I had my mouth on her right nipple, my left arm under her back and my left hand on her left nipple, while my right hand manually stimulated her clitoris. Meanwhile, I freely ground into her leg like the dog in heat I was. She was extremely wet and seemed to be greatly enjoying the attention her nipples were receiving when I started to pick up those tell-tale signals that her orgasm was approaching. She stopped me, rolled me onto my back, and mounted me. The poor, neglected, aching cock – her cock – slid into soft, warm, wet flesh. I was understandably close to coming immediately upon insertion, but – ten days or not – I was determined to avoid a repeat of my previous failure. To help with this, I didn’t think of baseball or NASCAR or whatever other stupid things men are supposed to think about when trying to avoid orgasm. Instead, I repeatedly told myself that it was not my cock. It was her tool and hers alone to receive pleasure from until such time as she allowed me release. I was only the caretaker of her favorite sex toy and could not – would not – allow myself to fail her and get in the way of her pleasure. It was difficult. Very difficult. But I willed the orgasm back. In fact, I was so successful that, after she came and told me I was free to come myself, I had some work to do to get back to the edge of coming. But come I did in the most explosive, most intense, most abso-fucking-lutely mind blowing orgasm of my entire life. I actually felt the hot, thick slug of ejaculate surge up, out of my prostate and through every inch of her cock in a way I had never felt before. Regardless of all that talk from before of mourning the orgasm – of regretting the passing of the denial – I can say without reservation that I wanted that orgasm and loved every second of its existence.

This moment of pure orgasmic bliss is why I so enthusiastically embrace orgasm denial. When I think back on all the hundreds of meager, lonely orgasms pulled manually from my body over the bathroom sink or in front of the glow of internet porn, they couldn’t – not even in combination – compare to this one, single event. This one perfect orgasm allowed to me by the love of my life, my keyholder.

To be continued.

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The beacon has been activated

As has been previously mentioned, the affect of orgasm denial on my sleep patterns is of interest to me. Lately, I have been sleeping really poorly. I think I’ve had about 10 hours of sleep over the past three days, and it’s not due to the physical discomfort of being in the CB6K. I seem to be teeming with hormones and they just won’t let me fall asleep or stay asleep. I’ll wake up in the middle of the night perfectly alert, hard-on stuffed into its plastic home, and vivid sexual images passing though my head. Last night, I experienced the sensation of waves running up my body from my waist to my chest and down my arms. They seemed to be waves of pure electric excitement like some kind of emergency beacon activated by my cock to tell the world it’s been abandoned and for someone to please send help. Putting an arm over Belle or her holding me seems to calm these feelings, but does nothing to help me really relax. Yes, I’m calmer, but now I’m touching her.

Last night before she went to sleep, Belle was kind enough to use her nails on my ass, back and my stretched ball sack. We kissed deeply and basically had a heavenly time. It was like pouring gas on a campfire, but I enjoyed every second of it. I told her how happy she was making me and how lucky I considered myself to be since I’ve found many examples on the web of husbands trying to bring OD or chastity into their marriages with little interest from their spouses. I told Belle I am really starting to think of the meat between my legs as belonging to her. I believe that she controls and owns it and, through it, me. She’s exploring what that means to her and on what terms she wants to live with it, and that’s what makes me happy. She’s not just doing it because I want her to. She’s making it her own. And I love her so much for that.

I keep wanting to fuss with the fit of the CB6K. For most of my current stint in the device, I’ve been wearing the second to largest ring (1 7/8″ I think) and the second to smallest spacer. Based on Maymay’s fitting advice, I feel I should be wearing the middle sized ring (1 3/4″) but have a hard time with it. I put it on last night while cleaning the device, along with a larger spacer, but once erect found myself in too much pain. I remember the 1 7/8″ ring also caused pain at first, so I suppose I just need to eventually suck it up, wear the 1 3/4″ ring and make my cock adapt. But I chickened out and reverted to the larger ring just before bed.

So, that’s the state of affairs on this, my ninth day without orgasm and first full week in chastity. Belle and I are leaving town tonight for a weekend in a cabin deep in the woods (without internet). I know she’s not going to let me out until tomorrow, so that will be eight days locked up. I suspect she will allow me to orgasm as well, but if she really wanted to demonstrate her position, she won’t let it happen right away. Or maybe not even until Sunday. That would be delicious. However, I absolutely want to come this weekend. Ten or eleven days without release is enough for this little bunny, thanks.

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Big day

It was a big day today for those of us in acrylic imprisonment. First, I was able to pee standing up each time I went while at work. No, I’m not sure my aim’s good enough to do it at home into the toilet, but standing close to a urinal worked just fine, thankyouverymuch. I just poked the tip of my pinky through the slot (or, at least the tip of the tip of my pinky) and maneuvered Mr. Winky into a position more or less in alignment with the opening and BINGO! Man, I can’t tell you how happy I am about that. Peeing like a grown-up has been, after intimate contact with my cock, the number one thing I’ve missed while being in enforced chastity. Seriosuly, now that I’m able to pee normally and I’ve got the fit issues figured out and can sleep through the night (at least those nights when I am able to fall asleep), I could be in this thing indefinitely. Which reminds me…

I told my Belle Fille the other night that I’d be very happy only coming two or three times a month. Mind you, this is a dramatic improvement over our sex life of midsummer, but I’m not talking about only having sex 2-3 times every thirty days. I’d like to have sex as often as Belle will let me and I want to make her come each and every day (twice on Sundays), but I only want to come occasionally. I want to be denied because I find I am really very happy being denied. I love the mist of sexual frustration that hangs in the air among my thoughts all day. I love how acutely aware of her presence I am whenever she’s anywhere near. I love constantly thinking about what she will or will not allow me to do to her or with her each evening. I love the slightly dopey feeling that comes over me when I smell her while close in, nose on her neck, kissing her jawline…***…um…what? Sorry, where was I? Oh, yeah. In short, I love just about everything to do with denied orgasm. She’s getting pretty good at teasing me (making tremendous progress considering it’s still very new to her and she has no idea where I’m coming from when I say I want her to frustrate me 27/30’s of each month). As I said in a previous post, I am very happy to be where I am and consider myself incredibly lucky to have a mate who will make this journey with me. I hope (and think) she’s getting something out of it along the way.

Oh, almost forgot. The second thing that happened today was I found some underwear and a pair of flat-front dress pants that, when worn together, totally hide the plastic between my legs. The underwear is a pair of low-rise jockey-style briefs that hold my package close in and down between my legs. The pants have a looser crotch. Combined, they allowed me to cruise through the day well camouflaged, comfortable, and peeing on vertical surfaces whenever it struck my fancy. Yes, indeed, a big day it was.

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A Week

It’s been almost a week since the last update. Sorry for shirking my duties!

Last Sunday morning, Belle woke saying she was hot for Thumper. This, I might say, is a nice way to wake up. Unfortunately, our youngest was up and in and out of our room, so Belle told me that I’d have to wait until that night to satisfy her craving. The previous night, I had made up for Friday’s transgression by giving her the orgasm she was denied 24-hours earlier. I guess that wasn’t quite enough, because she woke up wanting more. By lunchtime, I was also locked up in the CB6K. I went in voluntarily so I could test a new combination of ring and spacer sizes (middle ring, second to smallest space). Even though I wasn’t interested in being in there very long, Belle decided I might have to keep it on for a while. She reminded me that she, not I, decided when it came off. Putting it on of my own volition didn’t change that.

The day went by and we spent the evening over at her parent’s house celebrating her dad’s birthday. Belle had more than her fair share of wine and, by the time we got home and into bed, she was over the “hot for Thumper” phase from earlier. Now, at this point, if it were me in her position, I’d just say, “You thought we were going to have sex? Too bad.” But instead, she went somewhere else.

One of the things that lead to the troubles we experienced in out marriage was lack of sex. I don’t blame her for this. We both let it happen over a long period of time. We just stopped having it. We’d go six or eight weeks with nothing whatsoever – her not offering and me not asking. She didn’t seem to need it and I’d go and look at some web porn whenever I wanted to cum. Combined with other factors, this eventually led me into a short-lived affair. Last Sunday, instead of using her position as my sexual dominant to cover for her lack of interest, she instead took a left turn and started crying. She was worried, she said, that by denying me sex after suggesting we’d have it earlier that we were heading back to the place that caused our marriage to suffer.

Two things here. First, nothing could be further from the truth. Our troubles before were caused by joint sexual apathy, but now I felt we had a fully-engaged love life. She was denying me because I wanted to be denied. I was 1500% more satisfied with a fraction of the ejaculations. Second, as soon as she became vulnerable to me – when she cried and expressed her worry – I was completely blown out of my subspace. I could no longer be submissive to her and the presence of the CB6K on my cock went from being sensual to annoying in about 1/10th of a second. I asked a few times to have it removed (requests she basically ignored) and finally asserted that it had to be removed. The entire D/s dynamic was swept away.

I tried to explain how she had nothing to fear. That I was really much happier now and how she could use her disinterest as just another way to tease me (in effect, giving me what I wanted by not giving me what I wanted), but she was still weepy as we went to sleep. I can’t say we were fighting, but there seemed to be some unresolved issues. The next morning, I was still a million miles from feeling submissive. By that night, though, things were getting better. We had another, less tearful, conversation and I felt myself descending back into my subspace. I got a little heated up and she rebuffed me in the “right” way, which helped a lot. Now, I’m feeling close to where I was before. She let me cum Wednesday (somewhat unexpectedly) but has since locked me up again and said I will get out until next Friday (which will be eight days in the device, twice my previous record). Not only that, I’ll have been without orgasm for ten days (also a new record).

There’s more I can say about the ups and downs of the previous week, but I don’t have time at present. Suffice it to say, we’re heading back to a place where we’re both comfortable, which is good, and I’m walking around with the buzz of sexual denial keeping me on edge, which is great. It was amazing to me how quickly the trappings of sexual submissiveness could be pulled down, but am happy to feel them returning. All I ever want her to do is what feels right to her. As long as she’s happy, I will be, too.

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Damage report

Belle let me out last night. I figured she would, but there was always an outside chance she’d keep me in there. Last time, I got out because she felt sorry for me. This time, it was just because she wanted my cock. I like that reason better (and yes, she let me cum).

I neglected to mention in my recent reports that I picked up a set of KSD-G3s to help improve the security of the CB6K. (For those who don’t know, the KSD-G3 is a polycarbonate doodad that fits into the tube of the CB6K above the penis. It has a little rib that protrudes on the end down and into the flesh of the penis. It works by holding the penis in place but, more importantly, by causing the skin of the penis to gather and catch as it’s pulled out. I found it to be very effective. I might have been able to pull out, but I’m not sure I would have been able to get back in.) I wore the middle size (B) for the first two days but had to take it out (carefully, without removing the tube) because it had sharp little corners that were biting into me at night. After a few minutes under the business end of my Dremel, the little corners were gone and the G3 was back in place (male chastity is a surprisingly DIY-intensive sport, I’m finding). No more biting. However, here on the morning after, I find three abrasion lines on the top of my shaft from the protruding rib on the G3. Nice, neat little cuts except they didn’t break the skin. They don’t really hurt, but I’m thinking next time I should go the smallest size. Would hate to take off the tube one day and find two-thirds of my severed cock still in it.

I also have some tenderness on the underside of my shaft where it meets my scrotum. I believe this is from the end of the tube in that location digging into my balls during erections but also when the tube is shoved into them when I’m wearing jeans or tight underwear. Nothing too serious.

I have a few little abrasions on the head of my dick from those pesky erections pushing it though the opening at the end of the tube. Again, nothing serious. Don’t remember where, but I found a tip on the web to help avoid this. Fold up a square of toilet paper and slip it into the head of the tube. Makes a nice little pad to both absorb dribbles of urine but also to protect against the kind of abrasions I have. I’ll try that next time, at least when sleeping.

Finally, I’ve discovered the cause of two areas of irritation on either side of the base of my shaft. The CB6K’s design uses three polycarbonate (or maybe nylon) posts. The main one secures the tube to the ring and has a hole for the lock. The other two are on either side of that one and hold the ring assembly together (as well as providing some structural rigidity to the unit). The backside of the main post is flush with the ring against the pubic bone when inserted, but the other two have slightly rounded ends . While not rough, they apparently protrude just enough to cause the two spots of irritation I have. They line up perfectly. Not sure what to do about that. I might be able to sand them down. Either that, or I’m going to develop some oddly-placed callouses.

If all this talk of irritation, biting, chafing, etc., sounds like too much trouble to you, then enforced chastity is not in your future. Personally, I was a little disappointed she didn’t lock me back up after she had her way with me (and more than a little surprised by my disappointment). There is hope, though. She’s said that if Barack Obama loses Virginia, she’s going to lock me back up. If he wins it, then I’m safe until at least Friday. I have no idea what Virginia’s voting has to do with my cock, but I like the randomness of my fate. I only wish the polls showed a closer race.