Libéré en étant enfermé
Stuff that really happened to Thumper and/or Belle Fille
Elle, over on Kink Unleashed, has the other side of the fence’s perspective on the control thing.
I’d say it’s about control. Mind games. Having the other at your mercy and wondering at what you’ll do next. It’s the satisfaction of seeing your partner obey your orders, knowing that you have that power over them…
This post by Aarkey, and the discussion that follows, really speaks to me at the moment. Sometimes, it’s good to feel unique. Other times, it’s good to know you’re not.
There’s a spot in my chest, just to the left of dead center, where I experience the most twiggy, wiggy, warm, and lovely sensation. It feels like a piece of me about the size of my fist, somewhere deep inside, becomes less dense than the rest of me. It’s an airy, lifty kind of feeling. It’s where the fluttering carnivorous butterflies roost. I’ve come to crave that feeling. Call it the feeling of being controlled, denied, submissive, or all of them rolled together. Whatever. I’m feeling it now and it’s wonderful.
It’s been nearly a month since I last felt it like this. A month with crossed wires, illness, awkwardness, and absence. A month where I felt little flickers of the feeling, but nothing that kindled and flared like right now. I’ve read backward on this blog to try to find the moment where the feeling started to diminish. As far as I can tell, it was when Belle released me from the chastity device.
So, doing what I do, I think about this. What does the device represent? Denial, bondage, frustration, discomfort, and sometimes even embarrassment or humiliation. But ultimately, what it represents is control. Her control over that part of me that I ceded to her. At the end of the day, what I crave more than anything is that feeling of her control.
My Belle is such a caring and giving person, I think it’s sometimes hard for her to treat me in a way that best represents her right to control me (or, at least, the way I’d prefer she treat me). She gives me choices when I’d rather not have them. She asks how I’m feeling in a way that suggests a level of concern and maybe even worry I wish she didn’t have. In short, she’s just not mean enough about it. The chastity device, however, has no qualms about its job. It is always impassively cruel. It hurts, gets in the way, complicates my life, and frustrates the living hell out of me. It is the bad cop to Belle’s good cop. It does the dirty work for her and it’s with me every hour of every day. Remove the device, and then it’s all up to her.
And she’s very lenient. Last time she let me out, she gave me blanket permission to play with her property (but, of course, not to go all the way to actual orgasm). I ran with that. Whenever I had a chance, I’d rub it, stroke it, edge myself, and even go so far as to abandon some orgasms. I did not (until that one morning after our miscommunication) ever go so far as to actually achieve orgasm, but I went right up to that line – as close as a guy can. According to much of the femdom literature on the web (example), it’s the man’s excessive use of masturbation that limits his ability to properly serve his woman. I want to feel that on some level that’s a crock of shit, but for me, I know it’s true. When I feel this little knot of airy submissiveness in my chest, I crave opportunity to serve her (preferably sexually, but in all kinds of other ways I never though I would). And I am really and truly happy. But it’s not masturbation in the sense I’d define it that’s the problem (that is, jerking off until I come). It’s just having access to the plaything, and taking advantage of that access, that starts to bleed off my submissive energy.
And that gets us back to the CB6K. Maybe it’s because I’ve become so used to no longer having orgasms in anything like the frequency of the past, but being denied the feeling of a fat, hard cock in my hand is harder to deal with than not being able to pull on it until it squirts. That lack of access, of craving a full and satisfying erection, is what stokes the feeling I love so much. It’s the ultimate irony and the single most difficult aspect of all this for Belle to understand, it think. I derive pleasure and happiness from the searing physic pain of being forced to submit to her control.
I’m not sure what any of this means from a practical perspective. I suppose I’m arguing that she should leave me locked up more often than not. That she should let me out when she wants to feel a real cock inside her or wants me to come, but otherwise keep it encased. Or, when it’s not protected, that she forbid me to use it in any way that gives me pleasure outside her company. Sort of move the denial goal posts back a bit, if you will. In any event, I think I’ve identified the single ingredient that creates that happy little spot in my soul.
Absolute, smothering, unquestionable control.
Well, maybe I spoke too soon when I gave my homebrew PA cable the old Thumper seal of approval. Today, I’m getting sporadic, intense pinching sensations from the area around the piercing. Like right now ouch ouch ouchouchOUCH!
OK, it stopped. Kinda. I think this is being caused by one of two things. It could be that the piercing is being aggravated by some pulling. Even though it has a lot more leeway from the cable sliding in and out of the tube, there is still a minor amount of pulling. If the cable went in about a quarter inch more, it’d be better. The other, and I think more likely, option is that the segment ring is pinching some of my skin on the little lip caused by the flared “penis head” shape of the CB-6000 tube. Once in a while, this area swells a little while I’m locked up and I’m experiencing that now. This pinching is not a new sensation. I’ve felt it occasionally when wearing a curved bar bell, but it’s always passed fairly quickly. Now, though, it appears as though the wire holding the ring will allow it to retreat just enough to pinch a wad skin on that little ridge – and hold it there. In any event, this is not the good kind of pain. It’s the “oh Jesus, get this thing off of me” kind of pain. I’m going to give it to the end of the day and see if it gets better. I might have to cut the wire off. That would suck, big time.
Meanwhile, I’m horny as a phrynosoma platyrhinos. Once the offspring were down for the count last night, I spent the better part of the evening reading chastity and denial porn (which, by the way, is even more formulaic than normal porn) and otherwise making myself hot and bothered. When I’m alone like that, I feel as though I can get myself so turned on than I could ignite a match just by holding it between my fingers. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I think the new cable actually enhanced my arousal. In the past, I’ve always known in the back of my mind that I was choosing to leave the device in place, but now I know that I have no choice at all. It’s way. Fucking. Hotter.
Eventually, I decided to try to sleep (since, of course, I was never going to be able to alleviate my condition) and I just laid there, tossing and turning. I was afraid of repeating that horrible night last time Belle was absent when my abject horniness kept me awake for a day and a half, but, with the help of my iPhone and a relaxing noise generator app, eventually drifted off. My sleep was fitfull. The CB6K seemed to be straining all night long. Regardless, I know I’ll do it to myself all over again tonight.
This morning, Belle put me back in the plastic. She’s off again to spend a long weekend with girlfriends in San Francisco and decided I would not have access to the cock while she was gone. In fact, she’s decided I won’t get to touch it until her birthday at the end of the month when she and I spend a few nights in a quaint B&B.
I haven’t been writing much because I’m not exactly sure what I would have been writing about. The dynamic has more or less slipped away for me since even before the unexpected turn. In pondering this, I think it’s because I stopped believing that Belle really wanted to dominate me. I’m not the kind of guy who wants to be submissive so badly that I’m able to suspend disbelief and project onto her an interest in dominance that’s not there. Once I doubted her motivation, the foundation just crumbled away on my side.
We had a chat about this the other night. I wanted to know what the status was from her perspective. Were we still playing with the D/s? She surprised me by responding that, as far as she was concerned, we were. Nothing had changed. Of course, lots had changed. My entire demeanor had changed, but she was operating under the assumption that we were still doing it. True, she had denied me orgasm twice in the recent past, but I had also come about three times. I didn’t feel denied or dominated. Nor did she talk or act like she was dominating me. After giving her an orgasm one night, she told me to roll the dice to see if I got to come. Odd, I wouldn’t, even, it would be my choice. My choice. I don’t want a stinking choice. I’m happy to submit to the whim of the dice if that’s what she wants, but make it a binary outcome, not a choice (turned out to be an 11, so the crisis of decision was averted). Also, she stopped telling me to sleep naked and started saying I could if I wanted to. Funny thing is, I almost always do want to, except when she says it’s my choice. Then I don’t.
I am undeterred. Even though we’ve been though this weird patch, I’m willing to chalk it up to her being very busy at work and our generally learning how to do this from scratch. In fact, I haven’t come in a week now and am starting to feel the need. On top of that, she’s locked me up and is carrying my key around her neck. I face the prospect of not having another orgasm for nearly a month. I feel an upswing is in the air. Or maybe that’s spring. Whichever, I’m still optimistic.
When I’m packing the plastic, I often feel as though people are looking at my crotch all the time. I can’t be sure if they really are checking out my package (which certainly can appear more pronounced depending on the pants I’m wearing and the position of the encased meat beneath) or if I’m just more aware of normal dick checking that happens all the time. Turns out, if you’re a guy (even a purportedly straight one), you are dick checking. Like, all the time.
According to an eye-tracking study from 2007, men nearly always looked at George Brett’s crotch when given a chance while women didn’t. In fact, when presented with pictures from the American Kennel Club’s site, men checked out doggie dicks, too. Pervs.
My take-away from this is two-fold. One, men are dick obsessed (and not just with their own – I know, not the biggest shocker ever unearthed). Two, men probably aren’t checking me out more when I’m in chastity, but any women I catch sneaking a peek probably are.
The day after my previous post (you know, the “oh my god, the sky is falling, whatever shall I do” post), Belle and I had another chat. (And this, my friends, is where it gets funny). Turns out, she only wanted to flip off the D/s machine during that encounter. Not, as I heard, for an indefinite period. Just…you know…right then and until we were done.
Oh. Gotcha.
Seriously, we talked for a good half hour and neither of us understood that we had entirely the wrong impression of what the other was saying. I heard, “I can’t do this until I say I can again and I don’t know when that’s going to be,” and she heard, “I’m so mental about all this D/s crap that I can’t even have mutually pleasurable sex with my wife anymore.” It would be funny if it weren’t so…fucked up.
We’ve decided to try communicating while we talk just to see what that’s like.
We will now resume normal programing.
Tuesday night, we talked about my continuing funk. Long story short, I no longer felt denied as much as I felt absence. I had come to the point where I wasn’t horny anymore. Even though we had had a few sexual encounters, we both knew my orgasm wasn’t an option, and the in-between time felt like sexual vacuum. Our not-quite-sex sessions (those in which I get hard and horny, and maybe she abuses me a little, but ultimately nothing happens) weren’t occurring since I was not allowed to touch her in that way without her permission. Those sessions are vital, I believe, in maintaining my arousal and frustration in between opportunities to pleasure her. I wasn’t coming, I wasn’t even getting really turned on, so my sex drive kind of curled up and went to sleep. That was my theory, anyway.
In order to help aleve that problem, she said I could start touching her any way I liked again. Wednesday night, I was going to touch the living fuck out of her. Groping, kissing, squeezing, licking – anything and everything she’d let me get away with before pouring the ice water of her feminine control over me and forcing me to stuff it all away. We even texted each other about it during the day. It was going to be fun. Finally, a little action just for me. And yes, even in a D/s arrangement, everyone needs a little something just for them. So the kids were all sleeping, the candles were all lit, and the iPod was making pleasant sounds when I made my move.
Then we had another talk. Turns out, she’s kinda over the whole D/s paradigm at the moment. She’s been very busy at her job working on a big project and said she feels like she’s drifting down a river and all the things she needs to do are little piranha taking bites out of her. Her “responsibilities” as the D were among those piranha. All she wanted was for things to go back to normal for a while. No having to worry about when I’m going to come or be locked up or what the Covenant says or any of that crap. Straight, vanilla relationship. At least for a bit.
She really didn’t think that little bombshell would ruin the moment. Seriously. More than anything else, I understand that least of all. God knows, these things happen. At any other moment in any other setting, we could have reasoned through it. I do understand where she’s coming from. But, at the very moment she laid this on me, I was naked, hard, wearing the big steel cock ring, and had her nipple between my fingertips. After, I was quiet, introspective, felt untethered, and was once again uninterested in sex.
I don’t think Belle understands how much our D/s has impacted me. My entire approach to sex and sexual gratification has been rewritten. To simply turn all that off and go back to the old days just isn’t something I can do on command. I could do it situationally. That is, if she integrated it into the D/s dynamic and, in effect, ordered me to behave the way she wanted. But instead, she pulled the plug. Thinking back, she may have actually pulled it over a week ago. It’s hard to say, but the funk I’ve been in could just as easily been caused by her undeclared decision to pull back from the D/s (whether or not that was even done consciously on her part). I wanted to make it my problem, but it could have been mutual. I don’t know. Not that it much matters at this point.
This morning, I masturbated to orgasm. It did not feel good, I didn’t enjoy it, and I wasn’t especially interested in having an orgasm. But I did it just the same. And now I feel terrible. Why? I’m no longer bound by the Covenant. She’s not interested in controlling my emissions. For the time being, I’m just as free as any other wanker in the world. All that’s true, but in fact, that act was my response to her decision from the previous night. It was probably rash and really not necessary, but it was the only way I could tease out a little show of control in a situation I really have no control over. So now the guy interested in being controlled by his wife is trying to find ways of fighting his lack of control? WTF?
My plan at this point is to stop talking about it. I know how to be her “normal” husband, so that’s what I’ll be. I really just want to move past this. If I’m something else in the future, that’s up to her. It could be a day, week, month or never. But I can’t make her do something she’s not interested in and, honestly, I wouldn’t want it that way even if I could.
Regarding this blog, what is the point of writing about Thumper if he’s not being denied? Good question. There seems to be a lot of this kind of talk going around lately. I guess we’ll have to see if I’m capable of forming coherent thoughts around what’s in my head or if I even feel the need to write them down if I do.
My dog hates it when Belle beats me. I’m sure he thinks that if I’m getting the crap beat out of me, then he’s next on the list. The problem he presents is twofold. We can’t leave him outside our room because he’ll want to come in and will sit out in the hall and whine, scratch, etc., eventually waking the kids. Having him in the room is problematic since he’s a major distraction. Kinda hard to really get off on being whipped when the dog is pacing around whimpering and trying to sqeeze into places too small for him. By the time she was through working her aggression out on my ass, the dog was hiding under the bed and didn’t want to come out.
“Thumper’s Choice”, for those who are curious, involved being tied to the bed on my stomach, wrists secured by handcuffs, handcuffs strapped to the headboard, ankles separately cuffed and strapped to the footboard. I could almost raise myself up on my elbows and knees. She blindfolded me, rubbed some Icy Hot on my nuts and nipples, and proceeded to flog my ass with her little toy flogger. I call it a toy because it’s just a bunch of thin rubber cords on a plastic handle. Not the most beautiful of implements, but it was what we got at the beginning of our exploration. While it looks like a toy, it definitely does not feel like one. When she gets going with it, the resulting stinging and burning can get pretty intense. Still, I’d like to get something a little sexier.
It was a longer session that usual, though I can’t tell how long. I kind get all timeless when she’s hurting me. I know it was long enough for the Icy Hot to stop burning like a motherfucker, so maybe 30 minutes? I dunno. There were times when the combination of the burning nuts and the hard, repetitive striking of my ass was nearly more than I could handle, but the times in between were heavenly. She’d lazily brush just the ends of the flogger along my spine, over my ass, and then up between my cheeks. Just when I was grooving to the gentle sweetness of it, arching my back and raising my ass into the air, I’d hear the thin rubber strands whistle through the air a microsecond before they struck me again. She’s getting pretty good at the hitting thing. She even said she enjoyed it. Says it’s cathartic. Well, baby, you can get your catharsis out on my ass whenever you want.
Afterward, she wouldn’t let me get her off. I had to wait until last night for that. She told me to give her a back and shoulder massage (with the oil) before having me use the little pink vibrator on her. Again, not good with keeping time, but she came so hard and so fast it felt like it was over before it even got started. I have to admit, I felt somewhat cheated. Seriously, it was maybe ten seconds from the time I put the vibe against her clit and the time she started to come. Through all this, she never let me get naked – not even when we went to sleep. I wanted to. A lot. But she never gave the word. This means one of two things. One, she just forgot. I can’t explain why (trust me, I just started and erased four different attempts), but simply forgetting to allow me to do this would leave me feeling a little neglected. Kinda like forgetting to feed the dog or something. Anyway, the other option is she was purposefully withholding that permission. In which case, telling me she was doing so would have felt better, as it does whenever she demonstrates her control over me.
Speaking of which, I’m still not feeling the subby vibe. In fact, I’ve been in a funk for about a week and it’s getting funkier. I’m not panicking and questioning my entire world order as I have previously when this has happened. I’ve learned over the past four months that being flooded with all these hormones and abdicating self-determination regarding my sexual satisfaction makes me emotionally vulnerable. The slightest thing can push me into the mood I’m in right now. I know it’ll work itself out shortly. At least, I hope it will.
I swear my balls are getting bigger. I know, you’d think I’d have something more profound to say following a week of no blogging, but it’s the first thing that that comes to mind. My balls are getting bigger. I think. Not sure if that’s a side-effect of carrying around all these extra hormones (or, for that matter, if denial actually increases testosterone levels), but to my hand (a hand with a long and intimate relationship with these particular testis), they feel fatter.
My last pleasurable orgasm was back on the 19th of February. Since then, I’ve had a number of ruined orgasms (one through over stimulation and the others abandoned – the better of the two methods, I’ve found). In fact, the other night Belle told me after her orgasm to ruin the one I wanted so badly. I was able to get two ejaculations out of myself that night without the pleasurable finish. It left me feeling even more aroused and sexually charged than I was beforehand, so “allowing” me to do this to myself is an effective way for her to increase my desperation.
Even so, I’ve not found myself to be very submissive lately. I don’t know if the ruined orgasms have been part of that mindshift or not, but I just haven’t been feeling it. She was sick and had her period most of last week, so that might have something to do with it. Since I can’t really do anything to relieve my sexual needs without her, when she’s that out of it, my libido kind of shuts down. It’s probable that my submissiveness is powered by my libido. In any event, the only time I felt a pang of submissiveness was Thursday night when she came home from work. I heard her voice, knew her period would be over, and suspected my chances of getting some were the best they’d been in a week. A little knot of subbiness flared in my chest. That was the night she let me give her an orgasm and I ruined my own, but any subby tendencies didn’t last.
Tonight, she’s going to hurt me. Says it’s Thumper’s Choice night. I’m not sure what I want her to do, but I know it’ll involve restraints. Maybe it’s time to break out the Icy Hot again. Of course, she’ll hit me with something. If she let’s me make her come, I’m hoping that’ll be a big enough shock to the system to put things back the way I like them.
Regarding chastity, I’m still out. No idea when she’ll put me back in again, but when she let me out she mentioned needing to try for nice round month at some point. I’m still in that period where not being locked up feels weird and oddly luxurious. I know I’m touching her cock a hell of a lot. Rubbing it, getting it hard, edging myself…just because I can. I’m not supposed to do any of that without permission, but she granted it to me when she let me out. Until she says I can’t anymore, I’m going to keep going with the assumption that I can.
The last thing of note that occurred last week was my finally being able to get the 6ga segment ring into my PA piercing. I can’t say why this time it worked when previously it didn’t (except that the hole was well lubricated with urine…what? TMI? Even for a blog like this one?). Since the gauge is larger, getting the segment in was a lot hard than the ball in my 8ga ring. Basically, it’s in there for good until I get an opening tool.
Well, that’s all I got. If something interesting happens, you’ll be the first to know about it. Check you later, taters.