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Out and about

As promised, Belle let me out last night and left me out until this morning. After she removed the lock, I took all the metal off – both the device and the PA ring. Experience has demonstrated that the heavy ring will cause irritation when in place during exuberant jack-off sessions, but I also wanted a very natural feeling. Just skin.

Laying in bed under the candlelight, she placed her hand lightly over the flaccid meat. I closed my eyes and reveled in the sensation, so unfamiliar and relatively rare, that was only happening because she allowed it to.

She was petting it like a hamster when she said, “Thank you for giving it to me.”

“Thank you for taking care of it,” I replied. “I should have given it to you a long time ago.”

Taking the rapidly swelling meat between the tips of her fingers, she started to slowly stroke it until it was fully hard. My hips twitched and my ass pressed into the mattress as her pace quickened. I felt the old stirrings deep in my balls as the preejaculation mechanisms started clicking into place, but she stopped well short of an orgasm.

Allowing it to rest, she ran her fingers down along the shaft and over my scrotum. I was moaning quietly as she lightly touched my balls, then she clutched them in her hand and started squeezing hard. Harder. Her fingernails were digging into me almost past the point of tolerance before she suddenly released them. Then she slapped them. Then she punched them. She landed two or three blows that sent tendrils of pain down my legs and into my guts. She’d give me just enough time for the red glow of pain to subside before striking again and harder.

“Please, can I touch it?” I asked. I wanted to feel my own hand around that cock. She said yes, and I started to beat the hell out of it. I was stroking the shaft while she kept her fingers playing with the sack, occasionally slapping, squeezing, or punching.

It was all supremely indulgent. All the attention was focused on me and, while she let me kiss her passionately, she turned down multiple offers for anything else. All she wanted to do was reward me, and I was grateful for it.

Before she went to sleep she told me I could keep playing with it as long as I didn’t come. I got close to multiple times, but it was never a serious danger. Clear precum leaked copiously, but mostly through my empty piercing.

After about another hour or so, I too went to sleep and felt the cock stinging from the attention it received. I had jacked it raw. I think that, because it’s in the steel tube nearly all the time now, that its skin has become much more sensitive. I felt this very much on its head. It really isn’t like a normal cock anymore. It’s been domesticated. It’s like a hothouse flower. No longer wild, it needs to be maintained and treated with care. Next time she lets me out for this kind of fun, I’ll have to remember the lube.

This morning, Belle’s off on a three day business trip and the cock, naturally, is back in its protective shell. She’s been gone less than 30 minutes, but I feel her absence acutely. I miss her so much already.

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Zoning

I am, right now, this second, totally in the zone. I’m feeling controlled, horny, and submissive. Belle asked me why and I told her I had no idea. After some thinking it over, I actually have a few thoughts…

  • I haven’t had a real orgasm in five weeks. I know, I had a kind of a thing a couple of weeks ago, but I’m not counting that. There was an emission, but no orgasm. An actual toe curling pleasure squirt has not come out of me since January (though the last time she allowed me to come was on Valentine’s Day). It may not be en vougue to admit it, but being denied and encased can contribute to my subbie vibe.
  • Belle’s exerting her control pretty well right now. Bossing me around, expecting me to serve and obey, etc. She just got her period which means she’s really not feeling like being pawed all over, but last night I was pretty much begging her to be let out so I could play with the cock and she told me no. She did say, though, that if I managed to finish all the laundry today she’d let me out for a little edging tonight. It feels good to be managed. Powerless.
  • Belle’s totally on board with the 100 days thing. She won’t give me permission to come until a hundred days from the 1st of March. I was already a few weeks into being denied when she picked that date as the start of the 100 days, so technically it’ll be more than that when, on June 8th, I’ll have permission. We’ll see if I can make it that long. In any event, the challenge is invigorating.
  • All that, plus she obviously enjoys leaving me in the device continuously. She strokes its surface and comments how smooth it is, tells me how sexy and sleek it looks – better than what it contains. And she’s not just saying that for my benefit. She means it. I am now essentially a permanently chastised man, only let out when she wants to use me, and that’s fucking awesome.

*happy*

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Thumper’s portfolio

My recent post on the kind of porn I’m drawn to gave me an idea. No, it’s not a particularly novel or even an original idea as it’s apparent that only about a gazillion other people have had done the very same thing, but that’s how ideas go sometimes.

It seems to me that if one of the purposes of this blog is to relate how my experiences are shaping my thinking and feeling, then how it effects the kind of pornography that stirs me is also relevant. In fact, the kind of porn I find myself responding to has changed quite a bit since Belle and I brought D/s, T&D and chastity into our relationship. As I’ve said before, in the past I was consuming mostly gay porn with rather occasional authoritarian overtones. Now, women are much more prevalent. In particular, the images with women suggest (at least to me) a dynamic like the one I have with Belle. It’s often not obvious or even what the photographer had in mind, but it’s what I see.

So anyway, I’ve started a Tumblr photo blog called Thumper’s Portfolio where I’m going to collect pictures I like, but also the occasional story or even video. It’s not going to be just any porn that turns my crank, but specifically the porn that, for whatever reason, speaks to me as a chastised submissive bisexual male. I’m not planning on adding any color as to why a particular image works for me. It’ll just be a stream of consciousness kind of thing.

I could have integrated this stuff into this blog, but don’t think that the majority of my readers are all that interested in seeing the stuff that turns me on. If you’re interested, check it out. If not, ignore it. If you do check it out, I hope you like it.

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HNThumper XIV

Underwear is a tricky thing. If you’re trying to hide the odd bulge in your crotch because the pants you’re wearing are especially “showy”, then I’ve found tight briefs to be the best bet. However, I’ve also found that the better a pair of underwear hide the device, the more uncomfortable they are. Holding the device down between your legs, squashing the balls into the tube, etc., can leave you feeling rather abused by the end of the day.

If you’re looking for maximum comfort, then I’ve found a simple string thong to be best. The pouch supports your package just enough but doesn’t push it around. Of course, the trade off is that it does nearly nothing to hide the device (it’s almost like going commando, which I’m not a big fan of in chastity), but the difference in comfort is noticeable at the end of the day.

This discussion, of course, is all a flimsy artifice to give me an excuse to post a picture of me in my underwear. Click the jump for the moderately NSFW image (and then click again for a slightly more risque reveal).

Continue reading “HNThumper XIV”

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Jim’s stiffies

I find that the more I’m locked up, the more I’m interested in seeing pictures of hard cocks. Now, I admit I like pictures of hard cocks as much as the next guy (OK, I probably like them more than the next guy), but this isn’t just about looking at porn. This is about seeing the thing I don’t get. The one thing that’s not on the menu for me in any way: hard, throbbing, occasionally dripping cock.

Surabaya Jim is a site that Maymay brought to my attention in a comment here. It’s a Tumblr blog that only posts pictures of cocks. Big ones, littler ones, really hard ones, sorta soft ones, fat ones, skinny ones, black ones, white ones – you get the idea. Just cocks. In the spectrum of porn sites, it’s not especially creative, but it does draw me like a moth especially when I’m where I am now. I’d post some of the pictures here, but on the NSFW scale, I’d imagine a close up of a big erection has to rate about a 9.5. I’ll put a list at the end of this of some of my recent favorites. I noticed in looking for those that the one attribute most of them share is that they either show or suggest that the model is playing with himself. Yeah, that’s the other thing I don’t get to do.

When I wear the device, it is a constant. It’s always hard and smooth and it pretty much always looks the same, regardless of what the state of its contents are. As I’ve said before, after a while (maybe 10 days or so), I stop thinking about it as a thing that’s on me and start to think about it as part of me. It starts to feel as though I don’t actually have a cock anymore. That I’ve become this third kind of person. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but as the cock transforms into this static steel member, I find that looking at the images on Surabaya Jim helps me stay connected with the real me. Makes me crave the living meat within. Stops me from totally transforming into a Pleasure Island donkey.

Anyway, here’s the porn:

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Random updates

My blogging performance has been substandard of late, so here’s a few random nuggets of information to get my wheels turning again…

—

I got the replacement lock to the Steelheart yesterday. This time, I noticed that Dietmar rounded the sharp brass edges before he sent it. Not sure if this is a change he made based on my review (or comments like it) or if the first one I got was an anomaly, but I was pleased to see the change. I’m also pleased now to be wearing a lock with two keys! Belle changed it out last night.

—

During the week she let me out of the device, there was a morning where my sexual appetite combined with the free erection caused me to snuggle aggressively into Belle. She, wanting to sleep a bit more, kinda rolled over and placed her hand directly onto the hard cock. And then fell back to sleep. Her breathing was deep and regular while mine was more shallow and quick while, for a relatively long time (like, twenty minutes), her hand just sat there and the cock underneath would soften slightly then harden again, over and over. I’d flex it just a little to get more stimulation, but I was afraid if I did it too much her hand would have rolled off of she would have turned over or something. It was torture. But, you know, I’m not complaining.

—

Belle had told me she was going to lock me back up on a Sunday, but the Sunday rolled around and nothing happened. Then, she said it would be Monday, but similarly, Monday night saw no locking. It’s not that I was anxious to be locked back up (after about a week, I like the freedom), but her laissez-faire attitude left me feeling a little anxious. When she doesn’t act decisive in her control – when she appears to not take it seriously – it tends to make me feel more insecure and unhappy. I know this is more my issue than hers, but I can’t control how I feel. I shared with her this observation and she had me in the device the next morning.

—

She fucked me just once during my time out and it resulted in an unauthorized emission. I’m not calling it an orgasm because I fought it really hard and clamped down when it started and basically ruined the whole thing (based on the fact that it didn’t feel like an orgasm afterward). I made it right up to the end when she was coming and I thought I was home free. Letting my attention wander for just a split second let it happen.

In any event, I was yet again disappointed in myself for not being able to better control my autonomic functions. The night before, she had said she was going to make me wait a hundred days for my next orgasm and there I was 24 hours later having a barely-controlled squirt that was about as close to an orgasm as a guy can get without actually going over the falls. This led us, more than a week later, to talk about our differing feelings about these events. On the one hand, she just wants to fuck her cock. It’s what she wants and she doesn’t really care what happens as a result of her getting it. I understand that and respect it. On the other hand, I’m not supposed to come and when I do (or get as dangerously close as I did that night), she doesn’t seem to care. There’s next to no consequences and most of the time she doesn’t even say that much about it. Just like not seeming to care when I’m locked up, not seeming to care one way or the other if I come makes me feel like I take this more seriously than she does. This is a difficult place for my inner submissive rabbit to occupy.

I’m not sure we have a solution, but at least we’re talking about it. I feel just as bad suggesting she shouldn’t get her cock when she wants it. I don’t want to deny her anything, let alone the thing I gave her to do with what she wants. Maybe it’s a question of defining consequences so when I fail to control myself, I still feel dominated as opposed to sneaking in a freebee.

I guess the bottom like is I need to feel like she wants to dominate me at least as much as I want to me dominated. This hardly makes me unique. I’m not questioning that she enjoys our dynamic. In fact, she told me the other night she never wants to go back to the way things used to be. Either I need to be in a place where I more consistently accept the way she approaches her end of the deal or she needs to make a few tweaks around the edges (or maybe a little of both).

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Double punishment

It’s late. I should be asleep.

Last night, I forgot to make Belle’s coffee so this morning she had to wait for it. I got up as soon as she told me, but still, she didn’t get her first cup until after her shower. Tonight, she told me I would be punished.

After the kids were down and out, she told me to take my clothes off like she does every night. I got up, stripped, and started to get back in when she stopped me. I hadn’t asked permission. Then, she showed me the tube of Icy Hot. I immediately started to whimper and whine. I told her how sorry I was for forgetting the coffee, that tomorrow’s was already set up, that I wouldn’t forget again. Didn’t matter. She already had a dollop of white paste on her fingertips.

I knelt on the bed and she reached under me. I felt her smear the greasy, cold liniment across my scrotum, stretched firm by the stainless steel chastity device. She laid back and opened her arms, inviting me in. I placed my head against her chest, still waiting for the first blast of heat. Once it hit, setting my balls on fire, I started to pull away but she held me close to her, face smothered in her breasts. I moaned, panted, and writhed the best I could, but she held me tight. One wave of fire would subside to be replaced by another, each time she held me firm and unable to move. Eventually, the waves of pain started to recede more quickly and crest a little lower each time, though the effects of the Icy Hot continued to linger.

She let me go, and I got back on my knees, legs spread, face to the mattress, letting my tender balls hang in the cool air. I cradled them and probed them with my fingers. Poor little things. It wasn’t their fault I forgot to make the coffee.

“Where’s Pink?” she asked.

“In my drawer,” I said, “but I’m afraid to use it on you. I have Icy Hot on my hands…”

“Get her out.”

I reached into my drawer and handled the little pink vibe as lightly as possible. “Give it to me,” she said, holding out her right hand. She had used her left to apply the Icy Hot.

The vibe disappeared with her hand under the covers and I heard the low thrum of the vibe’s motor kick in. I moaned some more. It had been days since Belle allowed me to pleasure her and I felt the need badly, especially after my punishment. I put my mouth on her shirt over her nipple.

“Did you ask?” she said sharply.

I retreated, still on my knees, sore sack suspended, and pressed my ear against her so I could hear the vibe better. The sound of its thrumming rose and fell as it slid it in an out of her. I could see it in my mind, wet with her juices, parting her full, pink labia, pressing against her clit. I wanted to feel it myself so badly, to press my mouth against her, to lick her soft folds.

“Please, can I do something?” I asked. She said nothing. Her head was back, jaw sharply defined in the candlelight, lips parted. She ignored me.

The rise and fall of the vibe’s motor increased its rhythm and Belle’s hips started to gyrate next to me. I closed my eyes and imagined how it would all feel under my hand, vibrations running up my wet fingers, her nipples hard in my mouth. The stainless tube was now filled and the tightness of the meat caused the Icy Hot to flare back to life. My crotch was on fire as she came quietly.

After a few moments of basking, she wordlessly handed me the warm vibrator. I replaced it in my drawer and she turned over, already half asleep.

And that’s why I’m here now, writing it all down for you.

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Belle’s experiment

Tuesday morning, Belle told me she was going the let me out for a little Thumper-centric recreation that night. As I went about my day (driving to work, sitting in meetings, eating lunch, etc.), I’d think about that and what it might mean and feel the tube between my legs tighten up. I was feeling pretty horned-up all day.

Later, in bed, she took out her only remaining key and unlocked the device. I removed it and put it all back together before she took it from my hands and placed it over on her side of the bed. She barely had anything to do with the old CB6K’s after I took them off leaving their care and maintenance entirely up to me, but she’s much more fond of the Steelheart. When it’s off me, she’s possessive of it and tends to want to keep it herself. That makes the act of being chastised by her much more potent. It’s her device she puts on her cock when she feels like it. Woof.

Anyway, we laid there for a few moments watching the end of a TV show, me naked under the covers, the cock and scrotum all splayed out like an octopus out of the water. As I’ve said before, the extreme flexibility of it after the equally extreme inflexibility of the steel makes for a very strange sensation after being locked up for so long. Once the TV was off, she started to move her hand slowly and methodically over the flaccid member. Even though I was hot and bothered over this moment all day, once it actually came, the cock didn’t seem too interested in responding right away. Maybe it was nerves. Stage fright or something.

It didn’t last long. Pressure started to build in the ridiculously flexible and stretchy meat as she ran her hands over it and my balls until I was sporting the first full erection I had had in weeks. No grasping or stroking, just touching. Tender, gentle, absolutely maddening touching. It was wonderfully loving torture.

Eventually, she did grab hold and start to slowly stroke it until my breathing started coming fast and then she’d let go, leaving it bobbing. I found my hands moving towards my crotch all on their own. She said, “You go,” and the gentle stroking turned into something much more impatient. I was beating the fuck out of that meat while her hands continued to move over my body. She started to flick her fingertips over one of my nipples and I found myself instantly on the edge of an orgasm and had to stop stroking. I laughed. That was so quick. My desire to come was riding very high.

After a few moments of rest, I started again and once more found myself quickly at the edge of another orgasm (or would it be the same one?). I lost count, but again and again I went up to the ledge and stopped. Before long, the sounds of my stroking were punctuated by the wet smacking sound of a hard cock whose slit was well-lubricated with precum.

I was lost in the joy of the ancient art of masturbation, but not so much that I didn’t notice Belle getting sleepy. I could have gone for quite a while longer, but felt doing it “without” her was wrong, so I asked, “Please, Belle Fille, can I stop?” Though I really didn’t want to, she told me I should. So I did and the fell asleep curled up into her, the cock almost painfully hard.

She left me out of the device all the next day. I expected to go back in last night, but she told me this morning that she’s conducting an experiment to “see how I do.” Since I have no explicit permission to do anything and she’s “seeing how I do,” I’ll be doing my best to keep my hands to myself until she says I can do otherwise.

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A sub or not a sub?

To paraphrase Bill Shakespeare…

What’s in a name? That which we call a sub
By any other name would submit as sweetly.

Recently, there was a bit of a kerfuffle in the comments to my post The 10/100 plan in which Mykey suggested that coming makes being submissive more difficult while Maymay suggested that was poppycock.

Mykey:

The denial after [lots of orgasms] is much harder and much sweeter for it, and the submission deeper and more fun. Of course during those periods its hard to be as submissive, then hey perhaps you could consider taking a break from that too? Perhaps for all or some of the period. It might also make you both appreciate the submission when you start again that much more.

To which Maymay commented (in part):

Attaching a physical experience such as having an orgasm to a motive such as being submissive or not is oversimplifying the entire issue to a point I find demeaning of my masculinity and sexually submissive expression.

Mykey came back with (in part):

How I (and others like me that are so often derided for it) react to orgasms is part of who we are and what makes us tick, and that is no statement on your submission at all. Perhaps you are lucky enough not to get sub drop. Perhaps you are better at managing it. Perhaps you are wired differently, and perhaps your submission is a deeper one than some. Who knows. But you should accept that others can be different to you, with a different style of submission and different drivers for it.

Then they had a little more back and forth, but that’s the gist of it. Go read the whole thing for yourself as I’d hate to characterize their points of view incorrectly. Anyway, it all ended with Maymay saying he’d blog on the subject himself. I am eager to read it.

That being said, I find myself more in the Mykey camp than Maymay’s. I admit that I’ve struggled with coming to terms with my inner sub and probably should not be considered an expert on the matter, but I can totally relate to losing my sub mojo after orgasm. In fact, I’ve always felt that my interest in being submissive and wanting to be denied rises and drops in directly opposed correlation to my level of sexual arousal. My center of attention moves inward when I come. I’m sure Belle would agree with me on that.

So, am I a real sub? What’s the difference between me and Mykey versus Maymay? The web it littered with examples of both kinds so those of us who feel the ebb and flow of submission do, in fact, exist. Are we just psyching ourselves into believing we’re subs when we’re really not?

I wonder, for at least me, if it isn’t the orgasm itself that makes the difference but the way Belle acts when and after it happens. For instance, in the past, a planned orgasm for me has also meant a break from the device for at least a couple of days (usually at least a week, though not last time). Also, she allows them to happen inside her in a very outwardly-appearing vanilla way (just like the old days). Then, I detect just the slightest drop in her sexual dominance (usually by letting me get away with things she wouldn’t normally). Could it be that I’m less of a sub when she’s “less” of a domme? I’m in no way criticizing how she performs her role or suggesting she change a thing, it’s just a thought.

Also, while I can’t speak for Mykey’s experiences, I can say that one big difference between me and Maymay is where we are in our lives and when we discovered our submissive sides. I had cruised all though my adolescence with no inkling I was what I was (though I can see some signs that were there all along). Maymay, being significantly younger, came to his awareness much earlier than I did. That means I had an entire adult life living a way very different than I am now. Perhaps where we are relative to one another makes our experiences very different (at least, how our submissiveness manifests). Is there an inherent difference between someone who comes of age as a submissive versus someone who finds it later in life?

No matter, I can’t change what I know to be true about myself. Denial + arousal = submission. That’s how I work. That’s not saying I’m in no way submissive when my sexual appetite has been totally sated. I think I would be accepting of domination even then. In fact, that was something I was interested to test with the 10/100 plan: would forcing me to orgasm more than I would otherwise leave me feeling dominated just as a near-total absence of them does? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll find out some day.

In the mean time, I’ll be interested to read what my readers think about this.