Category: Life with Belle

Stuff that really happened to Thumper and/or Belle Fille

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Mailbag

Matt Cook hasn’t had an orgasm in seven months, and he hopes never to intentionally have one again.

Now that’s an opening line. Certainly one that will grab my attention. It comes (ahem) from an article found by the inimitable Tom Allen in which the practice of Karezza is described. Kareeza, also know as “coitus reservatus”, is described by Wikipedia as “a form of sexual intercourse in which the penetrative partner does not attempt to ejaculate within the receptive partner, but instead attempts to remain at the plateau phase of intercourse for as long as possible avoiding the seminal emission.”

The article on Matt Cook wasn’t the first time I’d heard of Karezza, though. I received the following from reader Athena an embarrassingly long time ago:

I would be very appreciative to read a mans view, in particular your view regarding “Coitus Reservatus” or aka Karezza. I’m requesting this because you’re very gifted at expressing yourself in a manner that is easily understandable for your Female readers.

I want to approach the topic with my boyfriend, as I’ve been researching the practice lately. But finding contemporary and relative articles has been a challenge.

Would you agree that Karezza can be, for some the next step in the progression of chastity within a relationship?

I’m not sure I’d compare Karezza to enforced male chastity for a couple of reasons. First, chastity is, as we practice it, more than incidentally about power exchange. It’s a form of BDSM. Karezza, as I understand it, has no element of power exchange whatsoever. The man willingly controls his orgasm to promote the “deepest human affection.” Secondly, it sounds is if there is regular penetration by the man (and some kind of preternatural ability to avoid orgasm on his part). In my experience, the penis rarely gets wet, especially for recreational fucking without possibility of orgasm (alas). Of course, the end product of both is similar. The girl comes and the guy doesn’t. The resulting feelings and attitude of the man are likely very similar, but the getting there is all different.

But that doesn’t mean I disagree with you that it (or some form of it) could be a “next step in the progression of chastity within a relationship” for some. Honestly, I’ve felt for a while now that I was doing this chastity thing all wrong. I want to be denied. I do not want to come. Oh, I do, from time to time, get the urge and feel the need and she does let me, but immediately afterward I invariably wish I hadn’t. Even as I’m building toward the orgasm, in the back of my head I’m hoping she won’t let me. In all the hawt chastity porn, the man is desperate for orgasm all the time and his evil wife is constantly dangling the possibility out there but rarely letting him have it. That’s not me. I want to be denied and denied and denied. I’ve felt this way for a long time and, I recall, when I first said on this blog that I didn’t like having an orgasm as much as not having one, some readers suggested I was Doing It Wrong. Perhaps my denial has led me to a place not unlike where practitioners of coitus reservatus find themselves. Like Matt, I’d be happy if Belle told me I would never intentionally come again.

So yeah, the idea of coitus reservatus does appeal to me, but the lack of any kind of domination or submission doesn’t. I am where Matt Cook is, mostly. But I still want the D/s, bondage, and masochism. I’m a kinky bastard, after all.

Anonymous said:

After few months with playing with CB-6000 and some doubts, my wife came to conclusion, that she like benefits of using chastity device (short term, not permanent), but not the device itself. Reason – tube-like shape and imagination of everything inside swollen, sweaty, and without much ventilation, works for her rather as a turn off. We looked for some cage-like devices, but I still don’t get it – how to take it off with full erection, while most of them (all?) has closed, one-piece rings? I know the ordinary method (one potato, two potato, weenie to get in, and backwards to take it off), but HOW, when my precious member, when full erected, is pointing straight at my face, when I look at him? is it even possible to take off the ring with an erection?

If the ring is fitted correctly, you can’t get it off when you’re hard. Impossible. But, (again) if it’s fitted correctly, you probably don’t really need to. At least that’s my experience. The A-ring of the Steelheart, when left on, is like an almost but not quite too tight cockring. It has the benefit of making the penis’ erection a tad larger and it gives me a bit more staying power (plus, it’s kinda uncomfortable which pushes my masochism buttons). I’m not sure that a device without the integrated lock would work as well, though. My Jail Bird has a post sticking out for the lock to engage the cage and, while we’ve never tried it, it’s likely that the post would poke Belle.

My advice: Figure out a way to get the ring off before you’re too hard and/or make a fun little game of defeating the erection so the ring can come off (bag of ice water on the cock, for instance).

Beth said:

I’ve never commented but I’ve enjoyed reading your blog immensely for the last year or two. I was hoping I could get a piece of advice. I’m a lady in a 5+ year relationship with a handsome gentleman- I’d say he’s a switch/sub and I’m a sub/switch. We’ve been doing light BDSM play for 2-3 years now but in a couple of weeks we’ve decided to try a 24 hour power exchange since it’ll be the first time we’ll see each other in 3 months (!). I’ll be domming but as we’ve never done anything like this for more than an hour or 2 I figured I’d ask if you had any particular “care and keeping” advice.

From our earlier play I know some of the standard considerations (plenty of conversations ahead of time, sit down in an uncharged situation before to revisit soft/hard limits, yellow/red safeword system, have quick access necessary safety equipment (trauma shears for rope play, etc), plenty of downtime afterward to process and recharge and snuggle) but a scenario of this length is new territory for both of us and I imagine there are things I haven’t thought of. Should I try to break scene every few hours to check in or is that too disruptive to the “subspace”? We’re both very much looking forward to this and I just want to make sure it goes as smoothly as is reasonable to expect.

Beth, to me it sounds like you’re doing everything right. All that communication up front is so critical and it sounds like you’ve done it in spades. With regard to breaking the scene, if I were in his position and had the requisite safewords, etc., I wouldn’t want you too. The more time spent deeply in the subspace, the better.

Your handsome gentleman is lucky to have such a thoughtful and considerate top.

John said:

Recently got in to chastity with my partner. Actually, he complained about my spanking the monkey too much and sort of took matters into his own hands. I am currently locked in a Bon4. Hoping for a jailbird or steel heart soon. I had reservations at first, but have since found it fucking awesome to hold back. The longest time so far is 5 days. He teases me mercilessly while i am locked up. We had to do some experimentation with different ring sizes, lubes, underware, etc., but thanks to the advise on your blog, things have improved significantly. Just wanted to say thanks for the awesome blog, and keep up the good work.

Have I mentioned how hot I find the idea of gay male chastity? Sweet Jesus. I’m glad things are going well for you guys, John. Send pictures. Really.

I apologize to those who sent in feedback. It took me far too long to get to it all this time around.

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How I should be

Got home Saturday after three days on the road. I love these trips, but the getting there and back is grueling. Before the sun went down, Belle was already saying I needed to go back in to the steel. Not until Sunday, though.

Sunday morning, she was up early getting the boy ready to leave for camp. I wanted some fun, but it wasn’t to be. By midmorning, I had the Steelheart back in place. But, you may be thinking, didn’t I have a new Jail Bird waiting for me? Yes, I did, but it wasn’t right. I ordered it with a security screw and it came with a hole for a regular little padlock. I tried it with the one and only little padlock we still have from the old CB6K days but it was one of those black Masterlocks with the plastic shell and it made the unit too bulky. It was quite visible poking through my sweats. Also, I’m not a big fan of the way the lock sits sideways on the JB.

I don’t really consider the screw omission to be Mature Metal’s fault entirely. The order started as an email exchange about getting a new base ring, the more observant of you might remember, and it evolved into a whole new device after several messages sent back and forth. We ended up using a non-standard channel for the order and they missed a detail. Had it gone through their site, I’m sure it would have been right. In any event, it’s going back to get screwed.

By Sunday night, Belle and I had found some personal time. Naked, I laid close to her with my head down on her chest while she fingered my sack and basically drove me crazy. She asked me how I was doing being back in and I, in that state with that sensation, would have told her anything. I said I was glad to be back in. I was happier that way. I told her how I never got used to having a normal penis during the trip. Each time I took a leak it felt weird handling a soft flap of meat rather than a steel tube. And in the morning, the unencumbered erection was a distraction. I felt like I was cheating somehow. It was wrong. She told me I was suited to being locked up. That it was how I should be. Then she let me get her off.

When it was over, I was amazingly turned on. The tube throbbed with beat of my heart, bit into my nascent erection and pulled on my nuts. I wanted…something. Not to be out, but to be out. Not to fuck her, but to fuck her. Not to come, but to come. All the conflicting and otherwise contradictory urges that come with the denial of orgasm.

I’m on my third day back in the steel and it feels like I was never out. Belle’s right. This is how I should be.

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Popular culture

Three things before I depart for the Great Western Mountains.

The Advocate has an article on a new book detailing Mick Jagger’s sexcapades:

Legendary Rolling Stones frontman Mick Jagger has long been regarded as a notorious ladies man, but a new biography claims he’s also been intimate with late bandmate Brian Jones, David Bowie, Rudolf Nureyev, and, excuse us, Eric Clapton, as well as an attempted tryst with Geraldo Rivera.

First off, this is a surprise to who, exactly? Mick is the consummate bisexual and I thought everyone in the world knew it. I admit, though, that the Geraldo thing totally squicked me out.

Jagger and late legendary ballet dancer Nureyev  “playfully trapping journalist Geraldo Rivera in the middle of a sexual sandwich at a party;” Rivera claims that this was Mick’s serious attempt to seduce him.

Oh, I see. Mick and stone cold fox Nureyev decide to have a little fun pulling the pompous straight dude’s chain and suddenly he thinks he’s a genuine target of their affection. Don’t get me wrong, Gerlado was a good looking dude in his youth, but I suspect he was always a bit of a prick.

Then, on the Facebook, Start Trek: The Next Generation (who I follow because I’m a nerd) asked, “Which Star Trek: The Next Generation character did you have a crush on?” And I thought about it. For a second I almost said Picard what with his calm commanding demeanor and fantastic flute talents. Make it so, indeed. But then I decided it was, of course, Worf.

Klingons, it turns out, like it rough. Biting is a prominent feature of their mating rituals and that weird chair thing in his quarters was an obvious BDSM prop. Of course, I’m talking about Worf from later seasons when he let his hair grow out and had that Samuari thing going on. Not first season Worf. Too skinny. Too “dead crab on the forehead” for me.

Thinking about it, ST:TNG didn’t have many really sexual female characters. Not like the original series, anyway. Uhura? Oh hell yes. Hail me, baby. Dr. Crusher? No thank you. Actually, I just remembered that episode when Beverly goes back for her grandmother’s funeral and lays on the whole Scottish lass thing and gets telepathic orgasms from a sexy entity who lives in a candle. So OK, maybe Crusher, though her whole “mom vibe” is still pretty strong. Diana? Please. Too touchy-feely. And those creepy black eyes. Shudder. Also, her and Worf. I’m jealous.

Thinking about it even more, am I the only guy who wondered if the holodeck had a lock on the door? Because I’d be running all kinds of personal programs in there in my off-dudy hours. I’d be staggering out all bruised and sweaty. Honestly, I’m surprised they ever got anything else done. Like all other cool technology, I assume the holodeck was invented by the porn industry.

Finally, of course, there’s Anderson Cooper. Turns out he’s gay. Shocking, I know, but I have a long standing and well known thing for the steely eyed elfin newsman. It’s nice to see I can put him on my celebrity fantasy list along with Zachary Quinto and Doogie Howser. And Mick Jagger, I guess. 1968 Mick, that is. I know it’s a fantasy list so I should be able to put anybody I want on it, but I like to keep it minimally plausible. So yeah, 1968 Mick.

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Fireworks

So it’s true, sports fans. The bunny did come over the holiday weekend. Once on Thursday inside Belle and once again the next day all over my stomach (with Belle in attendance, however).

She let me out in the morning and yet again chose not to get herself off on the penis and opted for my fingers. Once done, she let me go inside and have at it. I tried so hard to make it last. I felt very confident that I would. That I was in control and would have enough time to really enjoy the old-fashioned sex, but my mind started inserting images and thoughts into my head. The fact that Belle hadn’t needed the penis to get off and that it was usually locked up, forgotten, and unnecessary. That it and my ability to control it was a shadow of what once was since, of course, I have essentially no control over it at all anymore. That lack of control is what makes it such a worthless object for Belle. There’s really no way to stop the orgasm. I can’t stop it. It’s coming already…right now…there. Done. Well less than a minute and I was copiously pumping nearly six weeks of pent up ejaculate into Belle. It felt like it was over before it even started.

The next morning Belle wasn’t really interested in anything but allowed me to jack off next to her in bed. Again, I wanted it to last so I could at least really enjoy the build up to an actual climax as opposed to the stopping and retreat that normally happens when I have access to the penis. And again, while I lasted longer than before, it was over so soon. Just a hair trigger it all that remains (at least so soon after I get out).

Friday night, she asked me how I felt. Pretty flat, to be honest. Orgasm is a massive let-down now, though at least I’ve already started to feel the build-up again. The floppy-floppy weirdness of the penis will wear off in a few days (along with the odd jellyfish-like gelatinous nature of my nuts – they’re so much more orderly when trapped by a steel ring).

Next we’re in an interesting period. The boy and I head out later this week to go camping on the west coast. We won’t be home until the 21st. Based on the conditions we’ll be in and the lack of essential privacy, I won’t be able to go with the Steelheart on. It needs to much hygienic maintenance. But, if the new Jail Bird arrives in time, it’s possible I could wear that. It wouldn’t be to keep me from doing anything since the lack of hygiene privacy will mean no masturbatory privacy, either. It’s really more about the control thing. Even when it’s not necessary, it’s there. All the time, it’s there. That’s what we both want. But, if the JB doesn’t land before I leave, it’ll just mean one or the other will go on as soon as I get home.

Now that I’ve come (and assuming she won’t let me do it again before I leave), I’m thinking about the next time it might happen. Belle likes to attach these occurrences to holidays or holiday-like events. My birthday is close to Labor Day, so that’s a possibility. In mid-October is our anniversary. Closer in, there’s a couple of weeks here and there when both kids will be absent at camp or visiting relatives. Those are also viable options. Or, since she’s reading this and knows I know how it works, she might skip over all those options entirely. Or she may not care and pick one anyway. In either event, I won’t know very far in advance and will have little choice.

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No deposit, no return

I ran about four miles on Sunday and then another four on Monday. Tuesday, I started to feel a little twinge in the end of the tube. Like a pinch, but not. Wednesday, it was pretty much constant and had me readjusting the device frequently in an attempt to get whatever little piece of skin was trapped between whatever metal surfaces, but it wasn’t really working. I assumed the tender bits had rubbed against the tube too much, because of the running, and were sore. Or something. Yesterday morning, I finally asked Belle to let me out and check it.

What I found wasn’t a pinch at all. The 10 gauge PA ring I wear had a build-up of mineral deposits not unlike what you’d find if you had hard water. We do have hard water, but there’s also a fair amount of urine passing by that metal regularly, so it could also have been a result of the other kind of hard water. In either event, the white scaly build-up was accumulated near the ball in the ring and went around it about a quarter of the way (remember, I hadn’t seen it for a month). It was on the part of the ring that goes inside the end of the penis, between the natural opening and the piercing. It wasn’t pinching I was feeling, but irritation from the rubbing of this deposit against the inside of the penis’ head. Owie.

I left the device off all day yesterday as I went about my business. It was really fucking weird. The wobbly bits were moving all over and squishing and squashing and rubbing against the inside of my underwear and in general being very distracting. The couple of times I pulled it out to pee, I was like, “Oh! Yeah. That. Right.” Due to an irregularity in our morning schedule, I didn’t have much of a chance to take advantage of the penis freedom. It did allow me to wear a pair of pants I generally don’t wear while in, though. That was a nice treat as I think they make my ass look good.

I got home later than usual and the family was there. Again, no opportunity to abuse the penis. I put on my regular cut-off sweats (worn commando) and t-shirt only to find the penis being even more of a distraction. It’s freedom allowed it to rub against the inside of the sweats and that, combine with its wibbling and wobbling in general, caused it to chub out in an inappropriately noticeable way. So I locked myself back up.

I’m telling you, it’s just easier that way. It’s easier to pee (what with the PA and all) and it’s less of a distraction and it maintains a somewhat large yet totally static and manageable bulge. So that’s me now. The guy who had freedom due to injury yet gave it up because wearing a steel tube is who I am. I could totally see Belle leaving me out because she tends to completely defer to me when I say I feel discomfort (perhaps to a fault) and that would lead to a very difficult night which would have led to a very difficult workout this morning. All things being what they were, I opted for lock-down.

Not totally, though. I left the PA and fixing out in order to give it some time to recoup. That’s left the tube feeling a little more cavernous since the fixing isn’t there to take up any space or hold the penis into place. It’s been bouncing around off the sides as I walk. Also, it’s harder to clean since the water from the shower nozzle pushes the meat up the tube, blocking its escape. Were it hard enough, the water pressure would probably push the penis out entirely. The final weird thing is how a tiny circular piece of the penis pokes out the end of the tube (the PA fixing normally keeps the end of the penis secured just inside, even when under steam). I usually feel nothing on the penis when it’s trying to get hard except pressure but now there’s this little spot that’s intensely sensitive. It causes sharp jolts of electric sensation up and down my body when it brushes against something. For those interested, I’ve included a picture after the jump. Nothing too dramatic. Just one little eye winking though a porthole.

So anyway, I soaked the PA ring and fixing in vinegar for a while this morning and the deposit (whatever it was) dissolved away. Tomorrow I’ll tell Belle I’m good to go with the full meal deal if she wants it in there. Meanwhile, I’ll just keep jiggling (and peeking).

Continue reading “No deposit, no return”

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In response

Reader BT left the following monster comment on my last post. So monster, in fact, I decided the reply should get a post of its own.

I have followed your blog since it was fairly new and I have enjoyed it a great deal. Mostly because it isn’t focused on wank-fantasy stuff, but rather is much more about the day-to-day reality of embracing this alternative form of relationship for your marriage. This has made your blog a shining star for bringing this alternative life style out of the musty dark shadows of pornography and into the light of day, and hopefully a little closer to acceptance by non-participants.

I am a shining star, aren’t I? And adorably fluffy.

I was surprised at how quickly you and Belle took to the proposed arragement in the beginning, but until recently it seemed to me that there was still something incomplete about it. Something not quite fully formed. And that thing was that Thumper was still pretty much looking at the whole arragement (or at least writng about it) from the point of view of “What is this doing to Thumper?”

I’ve heard this criticism before. My response is that this blog is, among other things, a journal of what I feel and experience. I honestly don’t know what I’d write about half the time if “What is this doing to Thumper?” was off the table. If I knew what this was doing to Belle, I’d write about that, but I can only guess what’s happening in her head and heart. Also, remember that this blog is one of the ways I communicate with Belle. She expects me to say what I’m feeling.

With regard to how quickly we embraced our current lifestyle, it didn’t feel all that quick to me. We were at a place in our relationship when we were very open to new things and chastity was something I was very interested in (suddenly and unexpectedly), but how that morphed into the D/s dynamic we have today seemed to take a while. Even now, I’m not sure it’s done evolving.

But your most recent posts demonstrate that you have passed a kind of milestone at some point. I was very pleased and happy for you and Belle when you wrote the following:

“I’ll make sure her favorite vibrator makes its way into her suitcase. If she’s going to be so relaxed anyway, it’s better for me to know she’s able to take advantage of the opportunity. Even if I don’t get to participate.”

Although you rarely refer to yourself as such I hope you wouldn’t consider it an insult if I catagorized you as a “submissive male” while acknowledging that the ways and means of practicing male submission are as varied as there are couples. However there is one essential element common to all of them in my opinion: The focus of the submissive on bringing his Top pleasure and support even if this means not getting to do exactly what the submissive would like to do

I have no problem being called a submissive male. And I agree, what that means is quite varied. I know that now. I didn’t understand it three years ago. Back then, I thought all this BDSM stuff was quite orderly and logical. It’s not. It’s infinitely more organic than I expected.

So sure, I’m submissive. But I’m not a robot. Call me submissive-ish if you want, but I can’t always and forever only think of Belle’s pleasure over mine. Well, “pleasure” is the wrong word. “Satisfaction” might be better. I get satisfaction though her pleasure. I get satisfaction by being actively denied sexual release by her. I get satisfaction knowing that she’s enjoying (in whatever way she wants) my submission to her and how that affects me. Where our dynamic breaks down is when I get no feedback from her. When my submission turns into background clutter of daily life. It’s hard living how I do, though it’s enjoyably hard when she’s an active participant in the dynamic. When she’s not, it’s just hard. And then it’s depressing. And that’s not good.

This quote above shows that your focus has movied beyond yourself and you are begining to prioritize Belle’s comfort and pleasure above your own. And this no doubt because you derive your pleasure from knowing that she is pleased, which is the essence of a submissive’s focus in a relationship.

I do prioritize her pleasure and comfort, but I can only do that when I feel she’s prioritized me and our relationship in her life. I don’t disagree with what you’re saying, but I reject the concept that a sub should totally subjugate their feelings. This is a relationship. There must be emotional exchange underneath the D/s layer.

And once that bar has been crossed the following statement doesn’t come to me as much of a surprise at all:

Penises, it turns out, can be trained.”

Which is absolutely true. Somewhere in the makeup of a sub male’s brain some little bit that used to cause the penis to get erect at the mere whisper of a ghost of a chance of getting some action finally learns that THIS male isn’t in control of THAT outcome. And if the current situation is one in which there isn’t likely to be any need of an erection, it doesn’t bother with creating one. This is a remarkable phenomnina when you consider it: Essentially the sub male’s brain acknowledges his submissive condition at a very visceral and subconsious level. When that occurs it seems fair to say that the man in question isn’t posing as a submissive, or play acting as a submissive, or taking the submissive role in a scene… he simply IS a submissive (at least in the particular situation.) It has become part of his makup. Part of what and who he is.

I agree. And when it happens, it’s amazing hot and satisfying. When she makes me give her an orgasm and then teases me about how I will receive nothing in return I actually thank her for it. Feeling that way fills me with warmth and comfort and love. It’s fantastic.

Soon after that point the following to also becomes very true:

“I don’t need to be strung up and whipped or tied to the bed all night or facesat until I turn blue to know she cares. Sometimes, all it takes is a few words and a gentle touch.”

I think that the insatiable desire for the kinky stuff is the manifestation of the need to demonstrate to oneself or one’s partner the dominant and submissive nature of the relationship. At some point that is no longer as necessary as it once seemed. In its place is a special sort of intimacy between the sub and his top and a peaceful and contented acceptance of the dynamic by both parties.

Hmm. Perhaps. But for me, I really enjoy being tied up and hurt. I enjoy it a lot. Sometimes the pain she inflicts on me is a demonstration of my submission. When she decides to clamp my nipples out of the blue or smack my nuts around or apply Icy Hot to them. In those cases, whether I want it to happen or not, I accept it because it trips my submissive triggers. However, I really really like pain. I like being flogged and otherwise whipped and beaten and that’s really not about submission. That’s about feeling the wonderful buzz of masochism. The bondage is the same. I like feeling the powerlessness of being bound and abused. I like struggling against it. It turns me on.

I can’t say how these things would feel if I wasn’t a sub because I am, but I know there are dominant types out there who also like pain and bondage. It can’t always be about submission. In any event, while I don’t need her to engage in that kind of activity to make me know she cares, I still crave them. Deeply. That need is a part of me, not us.

I suppose that you may have already figured a lot of this out. But then again maybe you haven’t considered that the three quotations above are interrelated toward a common point. That point being the DS nature of your marriage transforming from a sort of overlay of your relationship with Belle to being an essential part of it.

Our relationship has to work on several levels. It’s not just D/s. But I do agree that we’ve both invested so much psychic energy into our dynamic that its removal would be traumatic for both of us. I’d say it’s integral at this point, though perhaps not essential.

I’d love to hear what your take is on all this. That is how do you see yourself and your marriage as a DS relationship, if you see yourself that way at all? As I mentioned you rarely refer to yourself as a submissive, nor do you refer to your marriage as a DS relationship. And you certainly have never referred to Belle as a Domme or anything like that. And why would you? Who really needs labels? Especially these labels that always seem to conjure up so many negative stereotypes. But at this stage I don’t have any better language to describe it.

The label thing is perhaps the biggest reason I don’t use them that much anymore. Belle doesn’t like being called a Domme and while I don’t have a problem identifying as submissive, I’ve learned there’s a lot of baggage that comes with the term (mostly in the form of what “real” submission is, etc.). I’m not embarrassed by how I am but I am aware that what it means for Belle and I isn’t what it necessarily means for others.

I guess the way I’d summarize this post is by saying I want and need to feel Belle’s satisfaction and pleasure, even if it comes at the expense of my own because, ironically and paradoxically, that gives me satisfaction. But I can’t be expected to live in a way in which neither of us is satisfied. I don’t want to live without sexual stimulation, I just want to live without ever having sexual release. It’s the old “chastity is not celibacy” thing. In the end, no relationship works without an exchange of what the other partner needs, even D/s relationships.

Thanks for your thoughtful comment.

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I neglected to add…

Belle got home late last night and wished me a happy anniversary. I had no idea what she was talking about.

“I read the blog,” she said. Ahh, I see. Four weeks. As in, my observation on Saturday that I’ve been locked for four straight weeks today. That anniversary.

And it was, truly, late – a school night, no less – so I didn’t think anything sexual was going to happen. And it didn’t. But even just hearing her acknowledge that my condition was known to her made a difference. That she hadn’t forgotten and, presumably, didn’t take it for granted. I laid next to her in bed, half rolled over on my side, and she left her hand in a spot where she could idly finger the hair just above the penis in its prison while we fell asleep. That minor, intimate contact along with the simple words charged me up. It was enough so that when I woke up this morning with the massively tight tube I didn’t feel grumpy or annoyed. I felt contained and comforted. I don’t need to be strung up and whipped or tied to the bed all night or facesat until I turn blue to know she cares. Sometimes, all it takes is a few words and a gentle touch.

Regarding the the thing I neglected to add as referred to in the title of this post, I forgot to mention in my previous missive that working out has become a sure-fire way of avoiding the dreaded chastity insomnia. I am trying like hell now to work out every day, not just because I crave it and want to feel good, but I’ve noticed that no amount of hormonal blood level can stop me from sleeping on the days I either see the trainer or run for three miles.

Friday afternoon, for example, I wanted to run badly, but the kids and I went out to see a movie and have dinner. We didn’t get home until after sunset and while I wanted to, I didn’t put the shoes on and take off. Subsequently, I was restlessly tossing around until after 2:30 AM. Not sure when I finally slept, but I knew as I laid there staring at the ceiling and doing everything except looking at porn (which is what I really wanted to do) that had I exerted myself, I would have been in dreamland.

Speaking of dreams, I’ve had several recently in which the chastity device was featured. I can’t recall the details, of course, but in one, the device just fell off of me. I’ve had that happen in dreams before and each time I remember feeling like I’m going to be in trouble. Try as I might, the device simply won’t go back together and I’m left with it in pieces in my hands. Other times I suddenly find myself in a situation where the device is visible in front of other people. I’m either all of a sudden naked or it’s out of my pants or something weirdly dreamy like that. At least one dream involved a urinal and other people. Not sure how, exactly, but the device was discovered.

Speaking of devices, I’ve ordered a new Jail Bird. There’s not a thing wrong with the Steelheart (obviously since I’ve been in it for a month) but sometimes a boy just wants some variety. For those keeping score at home, the previous Jail Bird went permanently out of commission when I accidentally snapped the post off the A-ring in an attempt to make it less constricting. I was going to just send the cage back and get a new ring, but I can’t find the damned thing. It’s got to be somewhere, but it’s not in any of the little hiding places I’ve used before. I suspect I got clever in where I put it but too clever to remember where that was. So, in any event, a new one has been ordered. I went with a slightly larger A-ring this time and opted for the oval option. We’ll see how that works. Expect a full report when it arrives.

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A pair of milestones

Two milestones to report on today. One of minor consequence, one not so much.

I’m coming up on four weeks in the Steelheart. Not a record or anything, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the little feller for a month (on Monday). Long term lock up and denial, like everything else in the universe, operates on a cycle.

  • I first go in, usually after just coming, and the best I can hope for is that the device doesn’t piss me off for the first week.
  • By the second week and into the third, I’m pretty horned up. Everything is sparkly and fun and the hormones leave me nicely buzzing.
  • Past the third week, absent any external boost, things start to drag. Occasionally, it’ll feel OK being in, but left on my own, everything starts to sag. I can get depressed, demotivated, and all around bummed out by the experience.

The third stage can be averted though some kind of sexual contact with Belle. I think it’s possible to stay in the second stage or very early in the third indefinitely as long as I’m getting the kind of stimulation that keeps the hormones fired up. Belle’s got a new job and is working a lot and has shown little to no interest in me, so I’m well into the third stage now. Plus, she’s out of town again this weekend so there’s no hope of any relief on the horizon. I’m not abjectly depressed or anything, but the bloom is off the chastity flower. Long term chastity is a team sport, as I’ve said. You can’t play it by yourself. I’m not to the point of wanting out or crying uncle, but something has to give soon.

The other milestone is with my personal training and exercise. Getting fit seems to be a bit of a trend in the kinky blogosphere of late. Must be something in the lube. Anyway, I though I was six months in, but doing the math in my head yesterday, I realize I’m not quite there yet. I started in mid-January, so mid-July will be six months. Right?

So. Progress. I have lost weight, but it’s not happened in way I’m familiar with. According to the scale, I’m down to 223 pounds from my peak of 237. On paper, that doesn’t sound too impressive over five months, but I think a lot of the fat loss has been compensated by muscle gain. I feel different. I’m harder all over, but especially in my legs and arms. I have muscles where I’ve never seen them before. Drying off in the bathroom the other day, I was shocked at what my shoulders and arms looked like. Plus, my clothes are fitting differently. It’s definitely working. My scale is one of those fancy ones that measures fat as well as weight and the fat line on its accompanying iPhone app is dropping faster than the weight line, so again, yippee!

I’ve found that cutting back on food has been very difficult, especially as I’ve started to run more. I just need more fuel than I used to. Eating like a bird now would impact my ability to function. I don’t really pay attention to the weight I’m using at the gym, but I know that I can now bicep curl 120 lbs (both arms at the same time) and bench press in the neighborhood of 150 lbs. Those aren’t Olympic numbers or anything, but they’re way better than I could have pulled off before. I’m also able to run for more than 4 miles on a treadmill (which is easier for me than running outside – the best I’ve pulled off on the road is like 3.3 miles) and plank for almost two minutes. I remember the first day working out I was only able to plank for about 30 seconds. God, what a lump I was.

The thing about all this working out is that once you start, it becomes kind of a perpetual motion machine. I wake up every day after the gym with some kind of muscle aching and the running can often cause my legs and feet to hurt the next day, but the only thing worse than doing the exercise is not doing it. I crave it. Running is not all that much fun, either when it’s happening or immediately afterward, but I really want to do it. It bugs me to go more than one day with no exercise of any kind now. That’s good…right?

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On weird

Ze Frank on weird versus normal.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZKXrLjCwa8]

 

He’s a national treasure.