I did one called “View from below” and now I’ve done the opposite.
Longer vs. harder
“It’s only been three weeks,” she said. “Maybe three and a half. I don’t feel at all sorry for you.”
So I tried to explain, it’s not just about duration. That is, my level of frustration/desperation is not an ever-increasing line on a chart that always goes up as it moves along the x-axis.
It’s true that I experience an extended refractory period now that I’m coming so infrequently. It seems as though after two orgasms, I can’t and/or am not interested in coming again for days. And I don’t feel really horny again for something like 10-14 days. A few years ago, I’d come and want it again 3-4 days later. Not anymore.
But, once I get past that time in which I’ve physically expended myself, it doesn’t seem to matter how long it goes. I can be voraciously horny (like I am now) after a few weeks and then not and then all hot and bothered again. It’s cyclical. How the cycle is timed, I have no idea. But, as I said, it’s not from a steady and constant build-up of tension. If it were, I’d eventually combust. In reality, it seems like I repeat the same up and down cycle over and over with more or less intensity each time.
It’s true I was super mega horny that one time I almost went three months. I was also major horny three and a half weeks ago when I had gone two months. But, truth be told, I’m just as horny right now as I was at those times. I think Belle’s a lot more perceptive of my state when she knows it’s been a really long time and perhaps more willing to indulge me, but from my perspective, there was no difference in how I felt last night as my fingers played across her clitoris than there was the moment she let me come after 90 days or the just before she let me come in the hotel after two months.
I mention this because I think there’s a perception among chastity and orgasm denial enthusiasts that longer is harder or better or whatever. I don’t feel that way (anymore). The plus side to that realization is, if you’re meant to wait for a long period, it should not be progressively more difficult to do so as time goes by. The minus side is, once you get past a certain point, there’s really no reason she ever needs to let you come. As long as you’re in a place where she’s satisfied with what you can do with regard to her pleasure, it isn’t like making you (the guy) wait for six more months will irreparably harm you.
It’s also to say, there’s nothing magical about longer periods. There’s a guy over on Chastity Forums who’s trying, right out the gate, to not come for a year. Except for the fact that it’s a nice round time-keeping unit upon which we hairless apes place a lot of significance, his experience won’t be “better” after 11 months than it might be at one. Of course, each guy is different. And, of course, I used to play the game where I tried to always beat my last longest period, so I totally get that. We’re guys. We’re wired to rise to challenges (so to speak – there’s actually not a lot of rising involved, if you think about it).
So, what am I saying? Am I saying I don’t want or need to be made to wait until the end of March? Am I *horrors!* trying to top from below with all my mumbo-jumbo fancy talk? No, not at all. It’s hot to be denied. It’s really hard sometimes (literally and figuratively), but it’s hot. I don’t deny it. If Belle thinks it’s hot to make me wait a long time, then wait I shall. From the standpoint of the guy who’s being denied, I don’t think long or short really matters as long as we’re still engaged with one another and both like how it’s going. Like I’ve said before, it’s difficult for me to differentiate between the “Jesus, I want to come so bad” kind of feelings and the “Christ, I wish this ordeal was over” kind of feelings, so I defer to her and assume that if I ever really and truly wanted it to end, I’d know.
In the mean time, I will wait for exactly as long as she wants, whether that’s another week, month, or year. I think she’s getting off on the control aspect, so that’s a huge plus. Knowing she wants to deny me more than I want to be denied is, in my calmer moments, one of the hottest and most erotic things I can possibly imagine. What I want her (and, by extension, all of you) to know is that the number of pages flipping by on the calendar without a squirt isn’t the driving force we might think it is. The true driving force is our increased intimacy and the mutual attentiveness that stems from my constant state of arousal. Lose that, and, to paraphrase Spock in Wrath of Khan, days could seem like months and months could seem like years.
Not tonight
Yesterday, after we went to bed and Belle told me to get naked, I was cleaving to her and I told her I really wanted to fuck her. After a few more minutes of cleaving and kissing, I added that I really wanted to come inside her.
“Well, that’s not happening tonight,” she said flatly.
This is a seemingly innocuous exchange for a couple our disposition, but in thinking about it afterward, I think it also ably demonstrates how mature our dynamic has become.
Of course, when I say, “I want to come inside you,” it’s implied that I also don’t want her to let me. In the past, I might have neglected to express either sentiment, but we’re a point now that Belle’s confident enough in her position and sufficiently cognizant of what cranks her bunny’s motor that I can say the first thing without having to say the second. Telling her I want to come very badly (even though, as she pointed out, it’s “only” been three weeks since my last time) won’t make her doubt what I really want or her authority over it.
And, you know, it’s way hotter not having to explain myself like that. In fact, I really do want to fuck her and come like a racehorse, but she’s not letting me. Yes, on a macro level, our orgasm denial dynamic is consensual, but down there in the sheets where it gets all micro, she is definitely not letting me have what I really want. She is denying the fuck out of my orgasms. And, apparently, will continue to do so for the next several months.
Natural high
Think of all the money I’m saving on Horny Goat Weed.
Playing chicken
The other night, Belle and I were talking. I can’t remember how it came up, but she made some joke about leaving me in the device for a year. I shrugged and said I didn’t think she could live without her cock that long. That led to a series of “Oh yeah? Yeah!” kind of statements and now Belle’s saying I won’t be in the device for a year, but she is planning on leaving me locked up until our family vacation at the end of March. That’ll be something like five months locked up and orgasmless.
Five. Months.
To be honest, I’m still not convinced it’ll be that long. I told her she’d be craving her cock well before then and she said she’d be happy with Mr. Darcy. But, I retorted, she can’t come with Mr. Darcy. So there. Also, Pink remains MIA. She’s gonna get an itch only the biocock can scratch way, way before the end of March. At least, I’m pretty sure she will.
I brought up again that back in the hotel we talked about a break (though there was some disagreement as to what it’d be a break from – the device or the orgasm denial). At this point, Belle has no interest whatsoever in letting me have a break. She says I can have a break at the end of March. Spring break. Until then, no. It’ll stay on me 24/7. I actually would like it off at the moment, but not so much that I’m going to make a federal case out of it. It’s hard for me to discern at this point between the normal “god, I wish I could get to the cock” kind of feelings and something more profound (as in, “I really don’t want to be in the device at the moment”).
So, with the question of a break well and truly settled for the time being, I tried to make a move. I wanted some pussy pretty bad. Before she’d let me in, she asked me if I had done anything to deserve it. What had I done for her above and beyond my normal expectations? Well, not much, to be honest. She kept pushing the point and I started to back off. Either it was going to happen or it wasn’t. I obviously had no control over the decision.
I backed off, but I also withdrew. This whole “how have you serviced me” thing is a bit of a grey area for us at the moment. There was a time when I was trying to play the part of a service sub, but the truth is Belle is very hard to serve. She does pretty much whatever she needs by herself and doesn’t like to ask for any help. In a sense, there’s a fair bit of her that wants to serve and the part of me that gets into it is far from dominent. It’s easy for me not to do it or even try when she’s in a groove. Yeah, I’ll do whatever she wants me to and I do still make her coffee in the morning, but I thought we had sort of come to an unspoken agreement that the service sub experiment had ended.
She asked me what I was thinking and I said most of the previous paragraph. Also, the only way I could conceivably handle five months without access to the cock would be through some kind of regular access to her. Since I don’t get any kind of extracurricular teasing, her sexual pleasure is my sole physical outlet.
She agreed the service thing was a little fuzzy. We didn’t seem to resolve its status, but she did open herself to me and let me make her come. She was quiet when it happened, but she assured me that it was good.
Ever since then, whenever my hand finds itself on the device or I’m especially hard inside its unyielding confines, I wonder if I’m really going to be in it for another four months. Just under three months is the longest I’ve made it in the past. Last time was “just” two months. Now she’s saying five.
Can she wait that long?
Three ways to O
Belle’s home now. She arrived Thursday afternoon following a day of air travel and promptly got her period. One of the interesting side-effects of chastity is that it makes me strangely attuned to her monthly cycle. There have been times when I think I’m more aware of it than she is, but I was thrown off this time because she was gone a week. Surprise!
My oddly sexless feelings continued even after she was home, though I felt a lot of comfort being in bed with her again. But then, yesterday as the boy and I were heading out to see what trouble Harry Potter had gotten himself into this time, I kissed her goodbye and POW something snapped. The feeling of her lips on mine, the taste of her, my hands on her breasts. Tube was full, blood was pumping. I wanted to eat her right up there, standing at the end of the bed.
So last night, I was whimpering freely. All of a sudden, a fairly strong sense of sexual frustration had settled in and I wanted OUT and I wanted to FUCK. She was having none of that and made fun of me since I had only been locked up for a few weeks. Then, she started making comments about how my chastity was not unlike an experiment where the male of the species was being taught to fight millions of years of evolution and become more attuned to the needs of the female rather than his own. How long, she mused, would men need to be locked up before they started to evolve in that direction? Ten thousand years? Fifteen? Should I keep you locked up for 15,000 years, she asked. I whimpered.
Regardless of my whimpering state and the steel wrapped around my struggling erection and her period, she said she would allow me to pleasure her to orgasm. I expected this to be fairly perfunctory and not unlike the dozens of other just-before-bed type orgasms I’ve given her, but after a few minutes of nipple sucking and clit fingering, she rolled over on top of me and started to rub herself against the tube. I now sucked both her nipples as I started to feel her heat radiate through the thick steel. No sensation at all for me other than pressure and heat.
“God, I wish we knew where Pink was,” she said while angling the tube up so she could fuck it. We still don’t know where her favorite toy is.
“I don’t know where she is…but I’ve got a cock you could use,” I helpfully reminded her. It seemed obvious to me she hadn’t come at all on her trip. She was acting like a cat in heat trying to rub up against anything that would get her off (but, you know, in the best possible way you can describe someone like that).
“Where’s Mr. Darcy?” she asked. I thought for a moment that maybe she misunderstood my “I’ve got a cock you can use” statement. Of course, I meant the real cock. The one on me. But she knew that…right?
“He’s right here in my nightstand.”
“Get him.” She rolled off. I got him.
There wasn’t much I could do with him other than rug his head over her clit because, you know, she was on her period and the rest of her was occupied by a female hygiene product. Clearly, though, my Belle wanted to get fucked since she told me to go get her some kleenex from the bathroom. She removed the offending female hygiene product and I got to busy with Mr. Darcy.
As I was laying there, my legs wrapped around her leg, solid tube pressing against her thigh as I fucked her with a silicone dick, I was able to reflect where we are and how far we’ve come. I know I’ve said this before in a number of ways, but this is for realsy now. Letting me out of the device so she could get what she so clearly wanted was simply never an option. The cock on me was not on her radar and my status as the frustrated lesser half of her sexual pleasure was secure. A year ago, I would have gotten the real cock wet and probably would have been able to come with no real consequences. Now, I have no clue how long I’ll be locked up and even less as to when I’ll come again.
I fucked her with Darcy for a bit and then pushed him home and used my fingers on her clit while she bucked and ground her hips around him. Her orgasm, which we had worked so hard to achieve, built over a relatively long period of time and seemed to hit her very hard. I could feel her clamping down on Darcy, the luck bastard.
As her passion ebbed, I could feel the last vestigial chance that I’d get any Thumper-centric action evaporate. Sometimes, the realization that I’ll be left high and horny burns with anguished intensity as it wraps around my brain like a blanket. She got out of bed to attend to herself and I pulled on the hard tube, futily. My period of feeling nothing was apparently over.
Bits and bobs
If you’ve been waiting for me to post about my solo adventures now that Belle’s in Asia and I’m just sitting here with permission to violate myself at will, you’ll be as surprised as I am hear that nothing’s happened. I can’t really explain it. I could take action, but I just haven’t felt like it. This is very unlike me. Truth be told, I haven’t felt much at all except the occasional surge of frustration at not being able to get inside the Steelheart.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I have felt a very tight device every morning within 10 minutes of 4:15AM since I first put the Jail Bird on more than a week ago. Even now that I’m back in the friendly confines of the Steelheart, I’m still waking up within 10 minutes either side of 4:15AM. You could set a clock by it. What’s especially weird about this is that I was sleeping right through ’till morning before switching to the JB. Sure, I’d expect a new device to alter my sleeping patterns until I get used to it, but what’s up now? Why is the SH suddenly acting as my all too early wake-up call?
So anyway, what I find now is that I really want Belle back. There’s still bits of that great night in the hotel reverberating in my head and I can’t seem to get all that jacked about the few self abuse options available to me. Would it be different if I had access to the cock? I can’t imagine I’d be as apathetic with free reign over my entire body, but right now as I am, all I want is my Belle back. I want to feel her come. I want to suck on her and taste her and lick her all over. Me though? Not so much interested in that.
One thing I forgot to mention the other day when describing the wonderful night in the hotel was that we talked about taking a break. It’s not that I’m unhappy or anxious or anything, but we both thought it would be a good idea to mix things up a bit. Interestingly, our definitions of “a break” seemed to differ quite a bit. She thought it would mean being out of the device for a while. I thought it would mean being out of the device and being free to do with myself anything I want (yes, even that). There didn’t seem to be much interest in that idea from the side that decides such things. We agreed to table the idea and talk about it later.
Thing is, if I’m not allowed to manhandle the goods and even make them squirt, I’d rather stay in the device. I totally acknowledge that I’m the weak kind of guy who can’t keep his hands off when there’s not a solid piece of steel between me and it. The temptation would be significant, let alone the extreme distraction it would present.
Before Belle left, I was sitting in a room with a bunch of consumer packaged goods people talking about their core consumers. See, if you work in marketing for a very large company (or, as I do, support those who do), you will occasionally create personas of the average consumer to help you think up new and interesting ways to make them do what you want them to do (i.e., buy more crap). So we’re all sitting there and this guy in the front is asking us to describe these mythical average people and what they’re like and what they do. Now, I have multiple issues with a bunch of well educated and affluent people pulling stuff out of the air about a person none of them actually know or can relate to, but the point is we kept talking about these working moms and how much they put into keeping their families together and on track. Especially interesting to me was one persona in particular where, under “hobbies”, it was listed “her family”. That kinda bummed me out. I mean, it’s not that I don’t love my family and all, but if they were my hobby? My only hobby?
And then I realized that the person they were describing wasn’t all that unlike Belle. Further, I realized that she hardly ever gets any time to herself. She works and works and then comes home to work some more on her “hobby” before falling into bed. In the past, I’ve tried to help her out and still encourage her to ask me to do whatever would give her a break, but she’s not very good at that and I’m not very good at seeing the things she wants done (as opposed to the things that really need to be done).
So I told Belle, when she’s back from Asia and everything settles into place again, that I wanted her to take one or two nights a week for herself. These should ideally be outside the house and, preferably, not spent at the office. She could go to dinner with friends or take that yoga class she’s been talking about forever or just go shopping. Whatever she wants. I’ll take care of the kids and homework and everything else. I don’t want her life to be consumed by the family. I want her to have some life separate from that.
And what does any of that have to do with chastity? I dunno. Maybe nothing. But I do think it’s helped me be more in touch with her needs and allowed me to be much better able to figure out ways to make her happy. Would I have thought of this without being starved of orgasms? I have no idea. I like to think I would have, but whatever. I did. And she’s very excited about the idea. Now all she needs to do is come home so we can start doing it.
Jail Bird nerdery
The Jail Bird will be sent back to Mature Metal for some adjustments. The cage is off-center and the inside of the cuff ring needs a little more buffing, as I’ve mentioned before. In the mean time, I have some observations regarding its general design.
The thing to remember in this before I start is that I’m not coming to the Jail Bird from a CB-X000. I’ve already been wearing a custom stainless device for a year now. I think much of the exuberance over the Jail Bird can be attributed to the fact that for most, it appears to be either replacing a plastic device or it’s the wearer’s first device. That’s not to say the JB is not a good device. I think it is. It’s not a bad choice for many based on its relative affordability and Mature Metal’s prompt and courteous customer service. However, there are at least two things in the way it’s designed that I think could be improved.
First is the cuff ring (AKA, A-ring or, as it’s referred to by Mature Metal, base ring). As you can see in picture on the right, the Steelworxx Steelheart’s cuff ring is about 20% thicker than the Jail Bird’s. A thicker ring adds weight, but in my opinion, it also adds comfort. I find the JB’s thinner ring bites more severely than the SH’s. It’s hard to compare them head to head, but part of the reason I think the SH is more comfortable is because its thicker cuff ring distributes the pressure of the erection across a larger surface area. Mature Metal offers cock rings that have two 1/4″ rings welded together. I don’t know if that’s an option for the Jail Bird or, if it is, how much it adds to the cost, but I’d advise those interested in an MM device to inquire.
Another aspect that may contribute to comfort is the fact that the Steelheart’s ring is perfectly circular while the Jail Bird’s it somewhat irregularly circular. It may be the case that the more consistant circle of the SH also helps distribute pressure, but I’m not at all sure. Mature Metal offers an oval ring as well as a circular one which, I assume, is for comfort but I’ve not worn that one so I don’t know for sure. It looks as though Steelworxx uses machine-made rings while MM uses hand-made rings. That would make the SW rings more “perfect” but with fewer sizing options (6) while the MM rings are less “perfect” but have many more sizing options (19). Again, this is mostly speculation on my part, but it seems correct to me. If MM’s rings are hand-made, then that may preclude them from using steel as thick as that used by Steelworxx.
The second area of Jail Bird design I’ll comment on is the placement of the post on the cuff ring relative to its mate on the cage. As the image below shows, the top of the cage on the Jail Bird sits offset from the ring.
The Steelheart, by comparison, benefits from its unique integrate lock so that the top of the tube aligns to the top of the ring. I prefer this for two reasons, one being purely aesthetic. With the cage lower on the device, extra space is created at the top which allows the scrotum to migrate up during wear. The cage ends up looking like it’s nestled in a pink meat pillow. On the Steelheart, the scrotum hangs more naturally. Second, the Jail Bird has a tendency to turn while worn so that the top of the device will end up down along the side somewhere (think 15-20 minutes before or after the hour on a clock an you get the idea).
I don’t know if the different cage location effects the performance of the device. I did find myself having to adjust my scrotum more often in the Jail Bird, but that could be due to the non-smooth interior of the cuff ring or the fact that the smaller cage size relative to the Steelheart’s tube caused everything to get pushed back more. I don’t know.
One benefit of the lower tube could be increased security. As you can see in the image on the left, the lower-set cage causes the penis to be pushed down by at least a 1/4″ before it goes into the cage. In effect, this seems to mimic the function of a KSD-type device. The down-side is it’s not ergonomically correct and could contribute to discomfort (and the tendency to rotate).
I’m not sure how this could be addressed. The post could be mounted on the top of the cuff ring, but then extra care would need to be taken to ensure the back of the post didn’t dig into the body uncomfortably. The approach I think I’d prefer would be to see the receiving hole moved down into the cage more so that it was lined up with the first penis ring, but doing that would necessitate a change in the locking mechanism. The security screw on my device could be mounted on top of the device, but I’m not sure how one would secure it with a padlock.
None of what I’ve written here should be seen as an indictment against the Jail Bird. As I said above, it’s a fine device and, in my opinion, likely to be better than a plastic device for most people. You have to remember that I’m a giant nerd and this kind of thinking is part of the complete Thumper package.
As always, YMMV. I’m interested in hearing the thoughts of other Jail Bird owners in the comments.
Belle away
Belle’s on her way to Asia. She’ll be gone until next Friday. In the greater scheme of things, that’s not so bad (in the old days, she’d go over there for weeks and weeks) but things are more complicated now. Chastity has tied me to her in ways I wouldn’t have thought probable before and I resent greatly any time we have to spend apart. I will miss her terribly, but especially at bedtime when I like to spoon into her and feel her warmth next to me.
Sigh.
In other news, the Jail Bird is off and I will be contacting Mature Metal about the ring shortly. Belle’s trip made making up my mind kind of a pressing decision and I went with tried and true over new and slightly skewed. Also, she agreed to let me order a new, shorter tube from Steelworxx for the Steelheart. That’ll just add onto the already impressive amount of money we’ve dropped on this little endeavor (two years, five devices, three I don’t wear anymore, one of which I’ve already paid to get modified once, now twice, plus the Jail Bird). But, as I put it to her last night, if you averaged that out to a per-day cost, it’s one of the cheapest hobbies around.
She left me with permission to enjoy myself in whatever way possible absent a cock and I hope to have the opportunity to take advantage of that soon. The njoy pure has been calling my prostate lately. Gory details to follow, no doubt.
Other than that, I don’t have a lot to say. Well, actually, I have a lot to say about the Jail Bird and how it differs from the Steelheart, but I kinda want to wait until it comes back before I put together a big review. Knowing me, though, I’ll probably buckle and start dropping pieces of it early. I have a lot of opinions about it, some good and some not, and seeing as everyone in the free world seems to be ordering them now, I suppose sitting on my thoughts would be antisocial.
Plus, you know, I’ll have all this free time…
Hotel
I apologize in advance for the extreme length of today’s missive. I didn’t intend for it to go on and on like this, but there was too much to say!
As I mentioned the other day, Belle and I had a kid-free few days this past weekend. We celebrated by spending Friday night at a luxe downtown hotel with an on-premises spa.
We checked in and decided to grab a light dinner downstairs before retiring for the night. I had brought along a number of toys and accoutrement, but wasn’t too sure what would happen. I was locked in the Steelheart and Belle had just come the night before, so if it were any other run of the mill Friday night, nothing would have happened. I braced myself for that eventuality and had an alternate checklist of activities if she happened to fall asleep or something. I didn’t wonder if she was going to let me out because it’s a given that my normal condition is to be exactly as I was.
Back in the room, she wanted to lay on the bed and talk which was great because I like talking to her. She allowed me to go naked since it’s the state I prefer to be in when it’s an option. So there I was, naked with a big shiny thing where the dick usually is, with her snuggled under the covers in her jammies. And we talked.
At some point – and I’ll tell you right now that most of this evening is something of a blur for me so what you’re reading is my best approximation of the events – she mentioned that she planned on letting me out that night. She had already told me I would be out for the massage the next day, but as I said, I didn’t expect to be released before morning. Once she said it I knew I really wanted out. You just don’t say no to these kinds of opportunities. I expect I was not unlike an excited puppy from the time she mentioned it to the moment she let me out.
Back on the bed, now totally naked, she made it clear that I wasn’t to touch the merchandise. It was at this point that I started to get the idea that something was going to happen, though I had no idea what. She had previously said I wouldn’t come until the end of the year, but there’s a ton of stuff you can do besides that with a hard cock if you’re imaginative enough.
“What did you bring?” she asked.
I told her: the flogger, the bondage straps, nipple clamps, my collar, handcuffs (but not the key) and Mr. Darcy with his harness.
“Not Pink?” she asked, meaning her favorite vibrator.
“No, I couldn’t find it. I assumed you brought it.” It hadn’t been in it’s normal positon in my nightstand (handy for when she wants it), nor was it in hers.
“I didn’t bring it,” she said. Come to think of it, we need to figure out where that went. Anyway…
“Get the clamps and your collar.” A thrill of excitement when through me. She hardly ever collars me. “And the cuffs.”
I brought the collar over to her side of the bed and kneeled and dropped my head so she could buckle it behind my neck. A low subbie thrum started inside me.
Back in bed next to her, I asked if she had ever wanted to try the nipple clamps.
“No, I don’t like pain.”
“How do you know until you try?” I asked, “Maybe you could try it just for a second on one nipple.”
She pulled her top down so her right breast was exposed and she placed the clamp gingerly onto her plump, succulent nipple.
“OWW!!!!” she said. So much for that idea.
She griped about it for another five minutes or so before attaching a clip to my left nipple. Then she strung the other through the ring on my collar and clipped it onto my right nipple. Then she pulled. And pulled and pulled. And the cock rose accordingly.
“You are so weird,” she said.
“I know,” I replied as the cock twitched and surged.
She snapped the handcuffs around my left wrist.
“You have the keys, right?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“You sure? Because this’ll be hard to explain during the massage tomorrow.”
She got up and got the keys to the handcuffs, showed them to me, and then placed them on her nightstand before closing the cuffs around my right wrist. They were tight, digging into me. Every movement caused them to bite harder.
Collared, clamped, and cuffed. I slipped a little deeper into my headspace. She teased me by running her fingers around the throbbing cock, over my balls (slapping them lightly) and back up to the chain connecting the clips. Pulling. I groaned. The cock flexed.
“Please touch it,” I begged.
“No.”
Whimper. Whine. I moved to kiss her, but she pulled her head away.
“Please let me kiss you. I want to kiss you.”
She moved her head back down, just close enough for my lips to graze hers, but not close enough for a real kiss.
“Please…”
She kissed me, full on the mouth, but just once and she didn’t linger, then she got up from the bed and started to rummage through my bag. She brought out the bondage stuff and strapped my ankles to each of the king-sized bed’s feet. I retained some movement, but couldn’t close my legs. Next, she started looking around the room as if she had misplaced something. She grabbed a cloth napkin from the bar and tied it over my eyes like a blindfold. I couldn’t see a thing. Then she made a little happy sound like she had discovered something she had lost. That was followed by a few metallic sounds. CLAMP CLAMP!
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Maybe I should go down to the bar and have a drink. Leave you like this to stew.”
Groan. I think she considered it. Really was thinking about it, but then I felt her get back into bed with me. She continued the teasing from before. My cock was desperate for real touching, preferably stroking, and I moved my hands down as if to oblige but she jerked them back over my head.
“No touching!”
They weren’t tied that way, but it was clear she wanted my hands up over my head or near my face.
“Please,” I begged again, “please touch it.”
“If I do, then what? What’s in it for me?”
“Anything. Anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“Yes, please, just touch it!”
“OK…”
I felt something cold and sharp on the hard shaft. It clamped down on either side of the cock and moved up and down, slowly.
“How does that feel?”
“Ungh! It hurts!”
“Hurts bad or hurts good?”
“Both!” I writhed.
I could feel the metal bite the smooth, silky skin of the shaft but also feel the internal stimulation of being stroked. I needed this so bad. Craved it. Two months since I last came, and she was jacking me off with some kind of sharp, painful metal device.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I paused. It hurt. But it also felt good. Really good.
“No.” I said quietly, then moved my hips closed to her, arching my back so she could get a better angle on the meat. What felt like sharp little teeth were biting into the stiff shaft and it hurt, but I couldn’t imagine it stopping. I was getting more than enough jacking off stimulation to hold my attention.
Occasionally, she stop the stroking and I’d feel her use whatever it was on my nuts. She’d clamp the sharp teeth round one of my nuts and squeeze. Then the other. Then back to the shaft. I could actually feel the rumblings of an orgasm, even against the pain of the metal.
“Oh, fuck!”
“Yes? Want me to stop now?”
“Oh FUCK, no. Don’t stop. Please.”
“Does it hurt?”
“YES! But I like it. I want you to jack me off.”
“You. Are. So weird.”
“I know,” I said softly, moving closer to her.
“And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
More stroking. More biting. More feeling the need to come, though I realized it was never going to get there with the level of stimulation I was getting from whatever it was she was stroking me with.
“What is that thing?”
She pulled the blind from my eyes and held the ice tongs in front of my face, snapping their little teeth together.
“Jesus Christ!”
She moved it back down to the cock and grabbed it with the little teeth.
“I thought you liked it,” she said.
“Ungh,” I replied as she stroked me some more.
She put the tongs aside and pulled off her shirt. I tried to kiss them, get my mouth on her nipples. She pushed me away.
“Not yet.”
Then she started to flog the cock and my balls. Gently, but then with some force. Not enough to damage me, but enough to get my attention. She’d slowly drag the suede lashes over the straining and, now thanks to the ice tongs, stinging meat. Then flick them across the shaft. Then the balls. Then dragging them again, seductively. Lovingly. Again and again.
“Please, will you fuck me?”
“No.”
Whine.
“Not yet, anyway.”
More flogging. More pulling on the clamps which had, by this time been on me for much longer than usual.
“I really should just leave you like this all night long. Tied up, nipples clamped.” I whined again.
“Please. Please fuck me. I don’t need to come. I just want to feel you. It’s been so long. Two months.”
“I know,” she said cooly, “That’s a long time, isn’t it?”
“Please…” was all I could muster. I wanted it so bad. Was so horny. She had played me perfectly all night, leaving me right on the edge of where pain turns to pleasure, but not going too far. I needed to feel something soft and hot and wet on her cock. I wanted her.
She took the cock in her hand. I moaned deeply. This wasn’t her pussy, it was pretty good.
“It stings.”
“Really?” and she stroked me harder.
The cock stiffened. I could feel my balls drawing up. I was getting close…
Then she stopped, leaving me bobbing in the air.
“Oh God!”
She waited, perhaps counting the beat of my heart by the bounce of the cock in midair. Then she grabbed it again and resumed the stroking.
“You want me to fuck you?” she asked.
“Oh, Jesus, yes! Please fuck me!”
“And…what’s in it for me?”
“Anything. Anything you want.” And I meant it.
She made herself completely naked and climbed on top of me. She straddled my hips and moved the abused, desperate cock in position against her pussy’s lips. Then she plunged down onto it. I lost my breath, unable to breath. It felt so good. So amazing. Hot. Everything I needed it to be.
Her breasts were in my face and I tried to get her nipples in my mouth, but her motion as she fucked her cock made them hard targets.
“That’s a good boy,” she said, “Good Thumper. You know what you’re supposed to do…”
But it was too hard. I couldn’t keep hold of them. Eventually, she moved off and I slipped out with a wet smack against my stomach. She removed the clips from my nipples and twin lasers of intense pain seared into me. Unmoved, she pulled them out of my collar and tossed them aside. She picked the keys to the cuffs up off the nightstand but didn’t have a good handle on them and they fell into the hot wax of the candle.
“Fuck!” she said. Then she got the tongs and used them to fish the keys out.
Clamps and cuffs off, she put her hand over the cock again.
“Oh good, you’re still ready,” but she stroked it a few times for good measure before mounting me again.
She fucked me slowly as I sucked her tits. Her eyes closed, she was enjoying it at least as well as I was. After the initial shock, I settled in to as useful a position as possible. She may have given me what I was begging for, but now it was for her.
Best intentions aside, I said, “I’m getting close.” She slowed down. I could see her working it out in her head. Would I come or not? It had “only” been two months. After a smal rest, she’d pick up her rhythm again. I’d focus on a place far, far away, but it was so hard. The two months and the stroking, both with her hand and the ice tongs, conspired against me.
“I’m close,” I said again. What would happen? Would she roll off of me? Make me finish her in the normal way?
“Go ahead,” she said, and started to fuck me faster.
“Really?”
“Yes. Fuck me.”
And I did. I fucked her as hard and as fast as I could. Moments later, I felt it. From somewhere deep, deep inside the orgasm started to build and grow and rush forward before exploding out of me and into her. Three, four, five giant loads of semen surged out of me. I cried out at the intensity. The entire world had gone away and all there was was this feeling. My orgasm.
It finally subsided and I was left a gibbering, gooey mess. She rolled off of me and I felt two months of pent up desire ebb from my pores. Fuck, that was awesome. Even as the cock was laying against me, fat and happy, it continued to ooze its payload. Now, of course, I was repulsed by it. The slippery, foul smelling paste. While she attended to herself, I got some tissues and wiped as much of it as I could from my skin.
She got back into bed and I cleaved onto her.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Awesome. Thank you so much for that. It was so great.”
“I haven’t come yet.”
“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”
I started in again on her nipples and fingering her pussy. It was super slick with my ejaculate and felt wider than usual. Well-fucked. She seemed to enjoy what I was doing, but it didn’t seem to be going anywhere.
“I want you to eat me out.”
Oh, fuck. I cringed. I whimpered again. “Really?”
“What’s wrong? I thought you liked that.”
“I do, but…” I just came in there!
“Well, you should have brought Pink. Come on, cowboy, get to it,” she said as she spread her legs wide. “You said I could have anything.”
Busted. I was groaning the whole way down. I could smell it. I had already felt it. I knew it was in there still. There had been so much.
I closed my eyes figuring it’d be easier if I couldn’t see anything. Don’t get me wrong, I love pussy, but I’ve never found it to be the most appealing thing immediately after an orgasm. Regardless, I figured the band-aid approach was best. Just get it over with.
My tongue stared to lap at her clit. That would be the area of least contamination, I thought, but she liked how it felt and started to move her pussy around, guiding my licking.
“That’s a good boy,” she purred. I licked. Oh, god. I licked and lapped and reached up to her nipples, hoping she’d come so I could stop.
“Can you taste yourself?” she asked.
I grunted noncommittally. Of course I could. Fucking hell.
When she finally came, she pushed my face into her and my tongue deeper into her pussy. She clamped her legs around my head. There was no getting away. Her orgasm spasmed across my tongue and she squeezed more of my seed into my mouth on onto my face.
When she unclamped, I moved out as quickly as possible, wiping my face with my hands.
“Good job, Thumper.”
Next morning, before we went to get our 80 minute deep tissue massages (can you imagine?), she allowed me to jack off one more time and finish with an orgasm. She was in the bathroom getting ready and would occasionally look in my direction, a look of bemusement on her face.
“What?! You said I could!”
“I know…”
I tried to draw it out as long as possible. To savor the rare moment of self gratification. I came again and, just like before, it was copious. Great globs of it oozed out of me. The orgasm was half as intense as the night before, but even then, was ten times better than I used to have when they were mine.
Later, after the rubbing and the fragrant oil and the fruit juice, as we were leaving the spa, she asked if I was relaxed.
“Oh yes,” I replied, “In more ways than one.”
—
In thinking about this after the fact, I can easily say that night in the nice hotel when Belle Fille abused me and then fucked me and then made me eat my own seed from her was one of the top five sexual experiences of my life. I’m so, so lucky to be married to such a wonderful and caring woman.
Thank you, Belle Fille. Thank you for everything.