Let it be

I was just having an email exchange with someone who has been struggling recently with the level of frustration and horniness he’s dealing with as a result of having been self-locked for a few months.

I, of course, understand those difficulties. While I’m not continuously and distractingly horny like in the old days, I still have periods of intense feelings. Sometimes they last for days but other times they come on in a great crashing wave from seemingly nowhere before receding into the background again.

My advice for guys who are like me and find themselves in places like that is to do what they can to focus not on the what and how but on the why. Being horny and locked up is what and how but the why is because we need to be that way. We need to have our penises taken away and feel the tool of that denial in their place. We need to experience the frustration of inaccessibility and the build up of unsatisfied sexual release. It’s how we’re meant to be. I can’t tell you why. That’s above my pay grade. But it just is.

We can’t stop the horniness from building and, really, we don’t want to. Once we feel it and live with it we know it’s supposed to be there and if it weren’t — if we did what needed to be done to make it go away — we’d mourn its absence. We’d be less happy than we were before. And all we need to do is to feel a hard penis in our hands or an unlocked one in our pants to know that’s the case. It feels wrong. It feels like cheating. Especially in the seconds after orgasm.

The horniness we live with, even when it’s distracting, is not the problem. It’s the point. It’s our natural condition. We can’t fight it. We can’t obsess over it. We need to accept it into ourselves and let it be present. To feel it as an affirmation rather than a distraction. Because when it’s gone, its absence will leave a sucking void inside.

Do not endure. Accept.

Something to show

When we marry or commit our lives to one another, we can wear a ring on our finger to show that. But when we submit to another, there are few socially acceptable ways to demonstrate it publicly. Which is interesting since submission often has a physical component to it, whether it be a collar or a chastity device or what have you. But those components typically don’t leave the private realm. Regardless, I know I have often wanted to have some kind of way to show my status that could pass through Muggle life without creating too much of a ruffle.

Of course, there’s little way I can publicly communicate my chastity, though I feel about it much like someone feels about marriage. The device has a potent emotional weight for me. And sure, sometimes someone might see it through my clothes and I don’t go to extreme lengths to hide it, but that’s not like wearing a wedding ring. I got a triskal tattoo on my wrist which is kind of an inside nod to those who recognize what it means but I think of that as communicating what I am, not my status. The best way I’ve been able to make that statement in a way that feels authentic to me is a stainless steel locking cuff.

More steel!

I got the first one about seven years ago from a site called House of Collars. It locks with a little headless screw that requires a hex key to get on and off and is hinged and cost $67 shipped. I so appreciate its rough and naked utilitarianism. I think it looks almost like jewelry but really, if you look hard enough, not since it’s got hinges and no visible means of closure. It’s heavy and, after all these years, had a nicely beaten up patina. It’s only drawback, really, is that the little screw has become loose and can work its way out after a few days (which is nothing some Loctite from the hardware store couldn’t fix). Its other issue is the hinges. They can tear at my skin and leave it open and raw. On the one hand, that kind of thing can be kind of hot, but on the other more practical hand, it’s also a pain. I wore it for over a week recently when we were away for the 4th and it left me with a nice little wound.

That got me thinking about a more civilized lockable cuff someone pointed me to in the post I wrote about the first one seven years ago. It’s from Träume aus Edelstahl in Germany (of course) and cost $185 shipped. It’s the first cuff’s spiritual opposite. It doesn’t have a sharp or uncivilized edge on it and is machined with exquisite skill. 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.

They’re about the same thickness and weight. The older cuff is slightly taller than the new one, but they don’t feel that different on the wrist except for the missing sharp bits. The new cuff gleams while the older one is dulled by wear. While that dull patina kind of works for the tougher, more serious and less caring demeanor of it, I can’t imagine I’ll want the new cuff to end up that way. I’ll probably want to keep it polished and beautiful.

I thought I’d like the new one hands-down over the old, but in reality I can’t tell. Sure, I like not having a wound on my wrist, but I do appreciate the different vibe of the older cuff. It doesn’t fuck around or play hide and seek with its purpose. It looks like an implement of bondage. The new cuff is more demure. Deceptive. It wants to be be able to pass as something more than it is, and it does that beautifully. It’s very comfortable, very sleek, and very locked.

The difference between a wedding ring and one of these cuffs is that the wedding ring can come off. It’s a thing that represents a willing and equal partnership. But a thing that locks onto your body doesn’t. There is an inherent unequalness that resonates in the soul of a sub. Being able to put that condition on display is very satisfying, even if to the untrained Muggle eye it’s just another shiny bauble.

Wandering the vacant rooms

I was out of chastity for thirty-nine days. By far and quite easily the longest time I’ve gone without that restriction since Belle first locked me up over nine years ago. I came ten times during that period, each by my own hand. That’s twice as many orgasms in just over a month than I had all year in 2017.

Whilst I was away from home (Americans need to start saying “whilst” more, don’t you think? And maybe “betwixt,” too.), Belle sent me a text saying I needed to go back in the minute I got home. Hearing her express a preference and give me the direction was a step in the right direction for me and us. We still have things to work on, but that’s a start.

I wanted out of chastity because I was sad and feeling like an afterthought. I felt like our relationship had been given a spot at the back of the bus. And that left me feeling empty and lonely. But once I was out, I felt…more empty. More alone. But I also lost the sense of who I was.

I’ve been denied normal orgasmic release for coming up on ten years. The penis has been locked away, off and on, for the same amount of time (more on than off lately, recent issues notwithstanding). I think I’ve always told myself that I could go back to “normal” if I wasn’t locked up and was coming on a regular basis. Not letting the denial energy build up. Just squeezing one out whenever I had the barest urge. I told myself that, but had I really been listening, I would have known that wasn’t the case. That when I went back to “normal” I was just as miserable as I was before. Because I’m not normal. I’m not supposed to come whenever I want. I’m not supposed to be able to reach in my pants at any given moment and feel the penis, squishy or otherwise.

Whatever I was before chastity and denial and submission and bottoming is gone. Jacking off in the shower was like wandering my boyhood home after the last family had moved out. Vacant rooms, bare walls. Cold. “Normal” me — which was never really me, just the facade I put up for forty-some years to satisfy cultural expectations — is dead and irretrievable. I never want to live like that again. I can’t.

I had already decided to stop jacking off before I left on my trip. I needed to restart my pilot light and feel those denied urges again. Not that I would have been able to resist forever using nothing but will power. I was even toying with the idea of putting myself back in lock-up, but felt the only way I would in reality was if Belle told me to. And she did.

What’s been absolutely confirmed to me by this experience is how little I think of my own orgasm. Three to five seconds of bliss in exchange for all the energy and dynamism and emotion that comes from not experiencing it? To never feel the drop after coming. To maintain myself in a stable, denied, horny and headspacey state of being. It’s so much better for me. It’s so perfectly clear that it’s exactly who I am supposed to be and how I’m supposed to be.

IMG_0307So I was going on about ten days without orgasm when I was in the woods and got Belle’s text. I was already feeling a bit horny, but seeing her wishes spelled out and knowing I was going to go back in kicked it up a notch. That led to a night of less than two hours sleep as my imagination kept playing bespoke dirty movies inside my head. The penis was hard most of the time but I was sharing a little one-room cabin with another guy (and a mouse). I realized at some point in the night my underwear had a large patch of precum soaked through.

The next day, I spent time trying to nap in my hammock. Just me and my tented underwear. Again, the imagination and the penis conspired. Everything was firing now and I felt much more in my element. Horny and desirous. Only lacking the friendly confines.

I will admit to losing my will in my hammock. Inside the bug netting and under the rain tarp, it was the only place I could get some privacy and I did edge myself for some time. I didn’t come, but I did leak quite a bit into my hand and, having nowhere else to put it, I had to eat it. The fact that I could was the, eh…”proof in the pudding” as it were that I didn’t orgasm. The drive home was long but I didn’t whip it out on the highway. I did rub it quite a bit though my pants.

Literally within ten minutes of being home, I was putting the Steelheart back. And it all just clicked into place. It was a bit odd feeling the heft and the bulk of the tube again, but I got used to it quickly. It is, after all, more me than what it contains.

Of course, Belle left the next morning. She’s gone until Thursday. But the whole week after that we’re up at the northern compound enjoying Independence Day. We have some stuff to figure out, but the corner has been turned. Sanity is returning.

Sitrep

A month ago today, I took off the chastity device I was wearing. I haven’t put one back on since. I haven’t felt like it and Belle hasn’t asked me to.

It’s been incredibly hard for some time now between Belle and I. We went weeks and weeks without seeing one another. If she wasn’t gone, I was. And when we do happen to be home at the same time, there have been distractions. And she’s been consumed by her work.

We haven’t had sex since April. I haven’t initiated and neither has she.

Someone asked me if during this difficult time I didn’t find “comfort” in the chastity. No. I didn’t. Because even though I’m the only one who wears it, it’s a team sport. At least the way we do it. And it just became too hard. Too sad. Like sitting by yourself on a seesaw. So I told Belle I wanted to go on a break. From chastity and denial. Just like I’m a normal guy.

Being out and doing whatever I want with the penis has left me feeling…different. Unmoored. Like the center has gone. The bottom has fallen out of a part of my identity. It’s kinda like no longer wearing your wedding ring anymore. But the lack of its presence has become the center for something else. It’s bundled up a bunch of anxiety about how we’re not taking care of ourselves or each other or our relationship. We’re just…drifting. And not talking. And not doing anything about anything.

And it’s not going to get any better any time soon. I’m going to be in the woods for the next week. When I get back, she’s leaving for a week. Just like it’s been all year. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I’m unhappy.

April metrics

IMG_2426A full third of the year is done and it’s yet another “weird” month where Belle and I have been apart far too often. May will be more of the same and it’s really starting to take a toll on me, but that’s for another post. This is just about numbers.

I was out of a device for just over an hour and a half which is the lowest amount since Locktober. That’s two-tenths of one percent of freedom, twice for Belle but there was also a day where I was out for cleaning and maintenance that was a long enough period (nine minutes) that I felt it needed to be counted. The Steelheart once again was the preferred deterrent, though I did dally with a few others towards the end of the month (Looker 02 and Micro). My own travel had me in the Holy Trainer v3 (I keep going back and forth between the v2 and the v3).

Belle let me fuck her twice and both times I leaked into her. No orgasms for me.

Belle only had six orgasms this month which is the lowest number this year and the fewest since June of last year. She gave herself two of them, I fingered her for the rest.

IMG_2429In the first 120 days of the year, I was not locked into a device for a skosh over eight hours. That’s just nearly three-tenths of one percent. Conversely, 99.72% of 2018 I’ve been locked. I have an appointment with my doctor later this week so the YTD unlock number will go up quite a bit, as a percentage, but I’m going to do my best to minimize the impact. Last time I saw him, I took the device off in the parking lot and put it back on in the car when I was done. I have been known to visit the doctor while locked, but only when I’m there for a specific reason unrelated to anything happening between my legs. This is more a general visit so I can’t be sure what he’ll want to fondle, fiddle with, or poke. I’m at that age where everything is game.

Belle gets home from Europe where she’s been since last week and will be going to the east coast tomorrow. Later in the month, after I’m back in LA, she goes to Asia. That all profoundly sucks. Maybe June will be whatever normal was…

Rabbit v. Lizard

Yesterday I said…

I’m not allowed to ask for or refuse orgasm. But it’s how I’m feeling. I wish they didn’t need to happen. I feel like enough “plumbing” issues are taken care of with the occasional expression of fluid when I’m allowed to penetrate Belle. I just really, really, really don’t want to come.

…and based on a few comments, I think that was misconstrued. Totally understandable since it deals with the most difficult to understand and explain paradoxes of enforced chastity and orgasm denial.

There are two aspects to what drives us to orgasm (and I’m talking about men since while I’m very familiar with how to make a woman orgasm, I’m not an expert in how they work internally, and this is entirely my take since I’m also not a doctor, sex expert, Holiday Inn Express patron, etc). The first is biological. Hormones and brain wiring and stuff that’s buried very deeply into our evolutionary source code. It’s an animal force and in my previous writing I characterize it as the Lizard. It’s less something we consider and more something we feel. It’s the thing that in most people works together with the second aspect that leads to orgasm. The higher brain is where imagination and emotion and logic and fantasy and all that stuff live. I’ve called that part of me the Rabbit. It’s the part that has allowed me to enter into this dynamic with Belle, to consider what it means to be a sub, a bottom, and to act upon those things. And while I think of this lower brain Lizard and higher brain Rabbit separately, actually they’re fused into what constitutes my sexuality. Within me, they wrestle and the Rabbit stays in control (most of the time), but they’re like two halves of a single thing.

An attempt at an example: sometimes guys jerk off in the morning right after they wake up. Their cock is hard and they’re groggy and they feel a tickle in their balls and the next thing they know they’re squirting on their stomach. It’s almost mechanical. That’s the Lizard. Other times a guy will be in a situation that’s hot and get hard. He’ll think about that later when he’s jacking off. Thinking about the person or the situation and fantasizing and playing with his cock until he explosively shoots his load. That’s the Rabbit. He stokes the flames the Lizard provides. Except in me, the thing that makes the Rabbit super hot is to not let the Lizard get what it wants. The concept of not coming is hotter than coming. Of wanting to feel like I want to come, but not doing it. In me, the Lizard and Rabbit are not friends. They’re in constant tension.

So when I say I “really, really don’t want to come,” that’s the Rabbit talking. Because it’s the Rabbit where all the emotional, psychological stuff resides. I think being in long-term “lifestyle” denial invariably creates a lot of conflict between the Rabbit and the Lizard. The Lizard wants to stick the penis into things and squirt seed all over and fulfill evolutionary destiny. My Rabbit couldn’t care less about that stuff and wants to be the best Rabbit it can be. But they need each other. The Lizard rages against its imprisonment and the Rabbit is constantly trying to do the right thing. To not let the Lizard influence it too much. To be a fucking rabbit.

As an aside, it’s kind of funny since my Thumper nickname was given to me by Belle when we started our relationship because she thought I wanted sex as much as a rabbit supposedly wants to fuck. And that morphed into Thumper because I also have this weird tic where my feet tap and wiggle when I’m really turned on. And it’s true rabbits have a promiscuous reputation and I truly do want to have sex quite a bit, but rabbits are also the bottom of the food chain. So even though they’re apparently ravenously sexual, they’re also constantly the prey and they need to balance that out. Without really knowing it, the nickname works for me on many levels. 

Anyway. The biggest thing that’s changed in the past couple of years and that’s perhaps accelerated in the last several months is that the Rabbit/Lizard power ratio has shifted dramatically towards the Rabbit. The Lizard has gotten quite lazy and doesn’t fight as much as he once did. The Rabbit has him pretty well locked down. He still stirs and pulls on the chains like the old days, but not as often. When I’m feeling Belle squirm and moan under my fingers, he’s there. Then the penis gets as hard as it can and the craving of feeling it slip into her is the greatest. And yes, at those times, I want to come. At least, the Lizard does. In the past, the Rabbit might be swayed by the power of the Lizard’s insistence, but not anymore. He knows orgasms are like cupcakes on the counter. They look good and will be fun to eat in the moment, but after won’t feel that great. After, there will be regret.

Long way to get around to saying “really, really don’t want to come” means the Rabbit doesn’t want me to come. I actually do have the craving to come that ebbs and flows and is impacted by life like everything else. And that’s the paradox of denial. The chemical Lizard craving for orgasm lives on while the Rabbit higher brain’s desire not to keeps it all under control.

Then I said…

I reject the old trope that being locked up and denied for longer and longer periods makes one hornier and hornier forever. That’s simply not how it works.

…which was not to mean being denied doesn’t massively increase one’s level of horniness. Of course it does. But there’s an element to some hawt chastity porn that it’s an ever-increasing line that stretches off into eternity. In reality, it builds up well past normal in the course of a week or so and continues to grow more slowly over a two to three week period but then it kind of plateaus. I find it can actually drop after that and slowly go up and down like long, rolling waves (while still remaining well above normal for a guy who comes whenever he wants). It can even drop way, way down. That’s the funk I was in last week and before. Where the desire to come and have sex is actually really low to zero. That’s the worst part of denial. It’s not common, but it happens.

The thing that’s not usually mentioned is how carrying a load of unreleased hormones around can cause super quick swings in desire. I can go from zero to packed tube in seconds in the right conditions. And then it can go back down again just as quickly. I also have pretty extreme swings in emotion, though I’ve gotten better at controlling those. I can be quick to anger or on the verge of tears very suddenly. I don’t think men are accustomed to or designed to have so many hormones in their system.

But like anything else, the body adjusts. The hormone load becomes the new normal and their absence the oddity. Not coming for three or four months at a time for years dramatically changes how your body works.

Right now, I am super horny. Which is my preferred state, though it can be massively distracting. I bet it’ll stay this way for a week or so more before leveling out and moderating some. What I do not want to feel is something below what’s normal for most people. For the Lizard to go to sleep entirely. Because for me, that’s death warmed over. When that happens, it’s like a light goes out somewhere. But right now today, the light is a roaring flame and the lizard is back to plotting his escape.

March metrics

IMG_1958I keep saying these months are weird and they are but if this keeps up I’m going to have to find a new adjective. Belle often has a bunch of travel in the first quarter and this year I do too plus Spring Break and shared hotel rooms, etc. I find it hard remembering what normal was like.

Anyway, Belle only had seven orgasms in March and I only gave her two of those. The rest were self-administered. Part of that was due to a trip of hers over a weekend and two more weekends in hotel rooms with the kids, but she did take care of herself one morning after the kids and I left her alone. That was both slightly painful since I would have liked to give it to her but also cool that he took matters into her own hands. Regardless, her number was a bit below average.

I was allowed out of chastity three times to fuck her. The last time, about mid-month, she told me to come and I did. Well, as well as I can now. It wasn’t especially great for me. As I’ve said, my orgasms are kind of broken. I honestly can’t remember one that felt really good. They don’t feel a ton different from the leakages that happen when I fuck Belle except for the post-orgamsic feelings (and even those are less intense than they used to be).

The more observant among you might be saying, Wait a minute. He fucked her three times but only got her off twice? Yes. She got herself off one of those times since she had me come before she did. I laid there and gave her moral support, though.

In reflecting upon that orgasm and my recent funk, it seems they must be linked. My sub drop was too extreme to be from anything else. But it couldn’t have been just the hormonal release that made it happen. I haven’t dropped that much from an orgasm in a long time. I think it was less hormonal and more emotional. My orgasms are so pathetic now and really give me so little pleasure and I feel sort of resentful about that. Not that they’re that way. Not that they’re not the events they used to be. But that they happen at all.

This gets dangerously close to topping from bottom. I’m not allowed to ask for or refuse orgasm. But it’s how I’m feeling. I wish they didn’t need to happen. I feel like enough “plumbing” issues are taken care of with the occasional expression of fluid when I’m allowed to penetrate Belle. I just really, really, really don’t want to come. Really. Clearly, this is something we need to talk about.

Last night, perhaps as a preface to this line of thought, I asked Belle to leave me locked up longer. I’ve already been in for three weeks without release (since the day I came) and I feel a powerful need to stay locked up longer. It’s hard to explain. I don’t want to see the penis. I don’t want to feel pleasure through it. I only want to feel it strain and crave and be denied. I want it out of sight and out of mind as a thing separate from its containment. I feel as though this is part of the evolution I talked about a few months ago. That I feel my predominant sexual identity is “bottom,” not bisexual. And I define “bottom” as someone who only provides sexual pleasure to another. I love getting Belle off. I love feeling her orgasm course through her body. It’s a potent thing for me to experience through her. I know in my subbie heart I need to be there for her when she wants to feel a hard penis inside her. I know it’s my duty. But…it’s hard. And getting harder.

I reject the old trope that being locked up and denied for longer and longer periods makes one hornier and hornier forever. That’s simply not how it works. But I do subscribe to the idea it makes one more of what they are. It makes one more submissive or more whatever. The hormonal load one carries around is like sexual MSG enhancing all the preexisting predilections. I surmise it would be possible to back me out of this frame of mind regarding orgasm and penis use if I wasn’t locked up all the time. If I was able to pleasure myself with it and even have regular orgasms. I think that would eventually reset everything. But that’s not where we are so that’s not how I am. And in the meantime, my predilections are becoming more and more prominent. I do not have an opinion as to whether or not this is mentally healthy. I think someone from the outside would read all this and think I was in a bad place. I don’t feel that way at all. I feel like it’s all perfectly natural and in a lot of ways it just feels right. But I am left with the internal conflict of not wanting to do for Belle something she wants and needs from me. At least not right now. That’s causing me angst.

Whew, that got really serious and deep. More than I expected. Let’s talk about chastity devices and lighten the mood a bit, shall we? I primarily wore the Steelheart in March. I traveled earlier in the month wearing the Holy Trainer v2 and over Spring Break wearing the Holy Trainer v3 nano. The gap on the bottom of the HTv3 tube really pisses me off because without it that device would be spectacular. However, it’s so bad I found one of my testicles behind the ring three times over ten days. I was even able to take the device totally off and put it back on again in the shower, all the while leaving it locked. That’s simply unacceptable for a male chastity device, in my opinion.

I went back into the Steelheart as soon as we got home and it feels enormous. The HTv3 nano is a perfect size and much smaller than the Steelheart. I feel like it’s time to size down again. I’ve been chatting with a guy on Tumblr who has a new custom device from Steelworxx that’s kind of part Steelheart and part Looker with a locking PA fixing underneath. I’m going to ask Belle if I can start working with Deitmar on a new design that’s basically a Steelheart with that locking PA part, a slightly larger base ring, and a shorter and narrower tube. It would need to maintain the Steelheart look Belle prefers but I’ve definitely…er…”outgrown” is the wrong word. Undergrown? Whatever. It needs to be smaller.

Note, I am not saying the penis is shrinking due to chastity. That’s not a thing no matter how hot the idea sounds to you. It’s still the same size it was the nine plus years ago we started all this. But my preferences and tolerances definitely have changed.

Anyway, due to all the traveling, my locked up time was 99.7% of the month. I was out only 2 hours and 13 minutes, mostly to fuck but also for some cleaning. That’s one minute less than last month and 8 minutes more than January. The one-third of one percent free time average has extended for three months now and is about half the time out I was allowed out in November and December and is much lower than 2018’s year end total of 2%.

So now it’s April and it’s snowing outside. Great. More weirdness.