Posts

Posted on

Crossing the Rubicon, Part 2

[Don’t miss what happened last time on a very special episode of Denying Thumper.]

Truth be told, most of the weekend involved laying about in front of the fire with me reading and Belle sleeping/lounging/being lazy. Much of the time I was naked, though I’d occasionally put on pajama bottoms if I got cold or for some reason felt like being partially clothed was more appropriate. I love being naked and I seldom get the opportunity to indulge myself as I did this weekend, but even so, sometimes being the only naked guy in a room can turn from feeling sensual to awkward fairly quickly. Also, going out to get firewood in the nude when it’s 18 degrees outside can be a challenge. In any event, in between naps, Belle and I also took a walk, sat in the hot tub, ate, and otherwise just hung out together. I tell you this so that you understand it wasn’t all debauchery and sex, despite evidence on this blog to the contrary. Then again, I know you’re probably not interested in the non-sexual sitting around stuff so I’ll omit it for brevity’s sake.

Later in the day, Belle and I were in the hot tub looking out over a frozen lake. (If you’ve never sat in a 102 degree hot tub when it’s so cold out the water in your hair freezes, you’ve not yet lived.) She was naked, I was naked, and, even though I had a supernova of an orgasm hours before, I started pawing her like she was a drunk bridesmaid at a Catholic wedding. Belle tells me we once had sex in this very hot tub, but I have no recollection of that event (which is odd since it’s the absolute kind of thing I’d usually remember). I really wasn’t thinking about doing it again, but I guess she was since she positioned herself such that I was able to gain entry. Honestly, it was somewhat akward. I had a hard time positioning myself so that I was able to fully penetrate her and the water wasn’t really helping with the lubrication so it eventually petered out. After we left the hot tub and were back upstairs, I guess the tub fuck was just enough to get her motor humming since we were back in the bedroom again using Pink, the little vibe who could. Orgasm this time took maybe three minutes, but was still intense and I was still more than little worried.

Later, just before dinner, we were sitting by the fire when Belle awoke from her second nap of the day (or was it the third?). I was reading Come Hither: A Common Sense Guide to Kinky Sex (a wonderful book, BTW). After a while, she asked me a question and I read to her the entry in the book related to an answer. That lead us to keep reading the book aloud and thusly we found ourselves snuggled on the couch with me reading long passages to her and occasionally stopping to discuss how it related to us. It was really very nice. I bought a bunch of books for her and I to share and we had not yet had much time to ingest them so this was just about the perfect outcome for me, someone who wanted her to learn as much as she could about me and the way I was trying to direct our relationship.

At some point, Belle started petting her cock through my pajama bottoms. She laughed and remarked that in the past it was something she’d never do and now she was doing it absentmindedly. I smiled – a lot – and kept reading. After a bit, she slid her hand down the front of my pajamas and lazily pet her pet directly. I dutifully kept reading, though I admit the words were starting to lose their meaning on me. Finally, she untied my pajamas in order to gain more maneuverability within them. At this point, I simply stood up, let them fall to the ground, sat back down, and continued reading. Sometimes, as I said, you feel odd being the only naked guy in the room but other times it seems the only logical course of action. In any event, as I continued to read chapter eleven, A View From the Top: Sexual Dominants, to her, she started slowly and lightly stroking the rapidly lengthening meat between my legs. I started to read more slowly with longish gaps appearing between words, which, as far as I could tell, were written in a different language. “Keep reading,” she’d tenderly command me, and I did. Next, she started to repeatedly rub her thumb from the underside of the cock’s head to the top and back again. My reading comprehension rapidly approached zero and my eyes started to close as I stuttered the last word over and over. “Keep reading,” I was told. I kept reading. After god knows how long of this glorious treatment, she told me to go to the kitchen and start making dinner. She took over the reading.

We read three chapters this way, back and forth while eating. I was drinking beer, she white wine. I had just two beers, while she consumed more than half a bottle. She was supremely relaxed when she finally told me we were going to go sit in the hot tub for a bit before going to our room where I was to massage her feet. Afterward, Pink would work its magic on her and we’d go to sleep. Normally this would be the recipe for a grand evening, but I admit to feeling a certain amount of disappointment. I badly wanted Belle to tie me up and we had gone through nearly the entire day – the only full day or our trip – and the straps and cuffs never came out of the toy box. If she hadn’t drank all that wine, I thought, then maybe I’d have a chance. But I could tell by the drowsy expression on her face my window of opportunity had closed.

Back in the tub, she maneuvered me between her legs and I found myself giving her a watery fuck again. This time, I had found the right position and probably could have brought at least one of us to orgasm, but she stopped me just as I was getting going in earnest and told me she wanted instead to come by the vibe. Oh god, I thought. It begins. In the past, the cock was her number one path to orgasm. Now, it had been bumped in favor of the petite pink dynamo. If the cock was in her, there was a good chance it would be allowed to erupt. If not, then I was out of luck. Luckily for my team, she was far too gone due to the drink and the hot water to be able to come. Pink had failed on only its third outing. My batting average was way, way better than .666, so I was still winning on points. However, she was snoring and I was hard. At least Pink could be turned off.

I know I originally said this would be a two-parter, but I’ve now decided it needs to be three. So…

To be continued.

Posted on

Crossing the Rubicon, Part 1

[I’ll be relating the events of our romantic weekend alone over three posts. Even so, I’m afraid this one got kind of long. I apologize in advance for asking to you to read through 1,370 words that don’t even get you past Saturday morning!]

We arrived at our secluded woodland retreat late Friday night. Belle had already informed me that I wasn’t going to get out until Saturday, so her refusal to release me as soon as we arrived was no surprise. What was a surprise (at least to me) was her acquiescence to my suggestion that we try out her new toy. Earlier that day, a discrete box had arrived containing a pretty, pink Onye “discrete massager”. The little vibe, which we’ve named Pink (because we’re creative that way), is surprisingly powerful. After working on her nipples for a few minutes to get the juices flowing, I started to rub the deactivated Pink over her clitoris to help her get used to its feel. My Belle has not been one to partake in sex toys (with the exception of a single use of the latex dildo I got her about a month ago and one very lucky banana in an overseas hotel room), so I wanted to take this new sensation slowly for her. I pushed Pink’s little pink button and she started to purr. Belle released a yelp and a startled little, “Oh!” After a few moments of surface stimulation, I was somewhat taken aback to hear her instruct me, which some insistence, to put Pink in her. I complied and a string of high volume exclamations followed. Then, not even 60 seconds after I turned Pink on, Belle had what I can only describe as a screaming orgasm. I had never seen her carry on in that manner. Truth be told, to a boy enduring a week of chastity, to see the physical manifestation of his sexual desire (and the very gatekeeper of his sexual satisfaction) come in under a minute through the directed use of technology was, to put it lightly, somewhat intimidating. I was very happy for Belle but also somewhat distressed to consider a future of extended lock-up where my unique contribution to her sex life was rendered not just inaccessible, but also redundant and entirely out-classed.

The next morning was one of the most amazing of my adult life. The preceding night was fitful, both from the extended build-up of precious fluid but also the knowledge that I might get the chance to release said fluid at daybreak. However, when dawn finally came, Belle was awake before I was. After padding around a bit and letting the dog out to do his business, she came in the bedroom, sat down in front of me on the bed, and, with my head bowed, put me in my collar. The carnivorous butterflies started flapping in earnest at this development. My collar, all by itself, puts me into a heavily submissive headspace. Combined with the ten days of denied sexual release, I suddenly found myself suckling her toes. Now, I do not have a foot fetish of any kind and have never, to the best of my recollection, sucked her toes. Nevertheless, here I was worshiping her feet. She did not instruct me to do so and I’m not even sure she recognized the significance of the act, but it was either an autonomic submissive response or the influence of reading countless malesub blogs and sex stories. In either event, I did not consciously decide to apply my mouth to her foot. I just did it. And it was sublime.

After a few minutes of slobbering on her foot, Belle told me to lay down on the bed. She sat at the head of the bed, with her back to the wall, and I laid with my feet next to her with my head pointing to the foot of the bed. She took the key to my cock and unlocked and removed the CB6K. My hand immediately and reflexively shot down to feel my released member. Belle just as quickly reminded me that I was not to touch her cock until she told me I could. I moaned and writhed, but complied. I begged her to touch the cock. She replied that she was stroking it with her eyes and that would have to be enough for the moment. I moaned and a large glob of precum oozed from the semi-erect flesh. She laughed and marveled at how the cock seemed to have a will of its own as it lolled about and a second string of precum came oozing from its tip.

Finally, she touched me, but not on the cock. She ran her fingernails lightly up and down my legs and across my stomach. Then, without warning, she’d dig her nails deeply into my flesh sending me into tortured flailings. More than once she took hold of my testicles and cruelly twisted and pulled on them sending further waves of ecstatic pain through me. Eventually, I rolled over so she could apply the same loving attention to my backside, but also so I could grind into the bed. She was wise to that and told me I was not allowed to pleasure myself with her cock and to knock it off, which I reluctantly did. At this point, it’s probably safe to say a week and a half of denied orgasm and just over a week of chastity, along with the deliciously sensual torture, was causing me to experiencing one of the most intensely sexual experiences of my life. Luckily for me, it was eclipsed 24 hours later, but we’ll get to that in due time.

Belle rearranged me on the bed so that I could kiss and fondle her breasts. I had my mouth on her right nipple, my left arm under her back and my left hand on her left nipple, while my right hand manually stimulated her clitoris. Meanwhile, I freely ground into her leg like the dog in heat I was. She was extremely wet and seemed to be greatly enjoying the attention her nipples were receiving when I started to pick up those tell-tale signals that her orgasm was approaching. She stopped me, rolled me onto my back, and mounted me. The poor, neglected, aching cock – her cock – slid into soft, warm, wet flesh. I was understandably close to coming immediately upon insertion, but – ten days or not – I was determined to avoid a repeat of my previous failure. To help with this, I didn’t think of baseball or NASCAR or whatever other stupid things men are supposed to think about when trying to avoid orgasm. Instead, I repeatedly told myself that it was not my cock. It was her tool and hers alone to receive pleasure from until such time as she allowed me release. I was only the caretaker of her favorite sex toy and could not – would not – allow myself to fail her and get in the way of her pleasure. It was difficult. Very difficult. But I willed the orgasm back. In fact, I was so successful that, after she came and told me I was free to come myself, I had some work to do to get back to the edge of coming. But come I did in the most explosive, most intense, most abso-fucking-lutely mind blowing orgasm of my entire life. I actually felt the hot, thick slug of ejaculate surge up, out of my prostate and through every inch of her cock in a way I had never felt before. Regardless of all that talk from before of mourning the orgasm – of regretting the passing of the denial – I can say without reservation that I wanted that orgasm and loved every second of its existence.

This moment of pure orgasmic bliss is why I so enthusiastically embrace orgasm denial. When I think back on all the hundreds of meager, lonely orgasms pulled manually from my body over the bathroom sink or in front of the glow of internet porn, they couldn’t – not even in combination – compare to this one, single event. This one perfect orgasm allowed to me by the love of my life, my keyholder.

To be continued.

Posted on

The beacon has been activated

As has been previously mentioned, the affect of orgasm denial on my sleep patterns is of interest to me. Lately, I have been sleeping really poorly. I think I’ve had about 10 hours of sleep over the past three days, and it’s not due to the physical discomfort of being in the CB6K. I seem to be teeming with hormones and they just won’t let me fall asleep or stay asleep. I’ll wake up in the middle of the night perfectly alert, hard-on stuffed into its plastic home, and vivid sexual images passing though my head. Last night, I experienced the sensation of waves running up my body from my waist to my chest and down my arms. They seemed to be waves of pure electric excitement like some kind of emergency beacon activated by my cock to tell the world it’s been abandoned and for someone to please send help. Putting an arm over Belle or her holding me seems to calm these feelings, but does nothing to help me really relax. Yes, I’m calmer, but now I’m touching her.

Last night before she went to sleep, Belle was kind enough to use her nails on my ass, back and my stretched ball sack. We kissed deeply and basically had a heavenly time. It was like pouring gas on a campfire, but I enjoyed every second of it. I told her how happy she was making me and how lucky I considered myself to be since I’ve found many examples on the web of husbands trying to bring OD or chastity into their marriages with little interest from their spouses. I told Belle I am really starting to think of the meat between my legs as belonging to her. I believe that she controls and owns it and, through it, me. She’s exploring what that means to her and on what terms she wants to live with it, and that’s what makes me happy. She’s not just doing it because I want her to. She’s making it her own. And I love her so much for that.

I keep wanting to fuss with the fit of the CB6K. For most of my current stint in the device, I’ve been wearing the second to largest ring (1 7/8″ I think) and the second to smallest spacer. Based on Maymay’s fitting advice, I feel I should be wearing the middle sized ring (1 3/4″) but have a hard time with it. I put it on last night while cleaning the device, along with a larger spacer, but once erect found myself in too much pain. I remember the 1 7/8″ ring also caused pain at first, so I suppose I just need to eventually suck it up, wear the 1 3/4″ ring and make my cock adapt. But I chickened out and reverted to the larger ring just before bed.

So, that’s the state of affairs on this, my ninth day without orgasm and first full week in chastity. Belle and I are leaving town tonight for a weekend in a cabin deep in the woods (without internet). I know she’s not going to let me out until tomorrow, so that will be eight days locked up. I suspect she will allow me to orgasm as well, but if she really wanted to demonstrate her position, she won’t let it happen right away. Or maybe not even until Sunday. That would be delicious. However, I absolutely want to come this weekend. Ten or eleven days without release is enough for this little bunny, thanks.

Posted on

Teasing by text

Belle: Hi Thumper I hope you are having a good day and I adore u and it’s only 2 more days

Thumper: I adore you too. And actually, I *don’t* know it’s only two days. Last I heard, only the plastic’s coming off in 2 days.

Belle: Oh u r so right. It’s 2 days for me… 🙂

Thumper: You’re evil. And I love you.

Posted on

Carnivorous butterflies

It’s obvious, based on my last two posts, that there’s a certain amount of conflict within me. I guess this is to be expected. I am profoundly horny and deeply frustrated. Perhaps more so than at any time in my life. I have never felt so submissive or more easily manipulated.

For those keeping score at home, it’s now been eight days since my last orgasm and I’ve been in lockup for six. In addition, for various reasons, I have not been able to engage Belle in any significant sexual play in several days. I am left with no outlet. No way for my seed to spill, no pleasurable sensations for my meat, and no emotional release through satisfying my Belle. My chest is filled with quivering, delicate butterflies yearning to get out and consume human flesh. It is torture.

But let’s be real. Don’t for even one second think I’m not the happiest, horniest little bunny in the forest.

Posted on

WTF was that all about!?

OK, all that “gee, wouldn’t it be swell never to come again” crap from earlier today is out the window.

Belle had a work thing to go to so was home later than usual. As soon as she got home and was in my sight, I wanted her. I wanted her so badly. I managed to contain myself for a few minutes, but as she was standing next to me sorting through the junk mail, I kissed her. Deeply and wetly, sucking on her lips and breathing in her smell mixed with the odor of cheap bar food and wine. In fact, I more than wanted her. I needed her.

After a few moment of kissing, I staggered off to the bathroom and noticed that in that short time, with nothing more than the kissing, I had managed to leak precum into the device. Thick, sticky, and clear. I’m not normally a copious producer of precum, so this was somewhat surprising.

In bed later, she informed me I was to attend to her grooming. She allows me to keep her pubic hair trimmed and tonight I was to go down there and play barber. This was after my basically begging her to let me out of the device. I really really really need to feel my hard cock in my hand. I want so badly to stroke myself, knowing full well I’m not going to come but just desperately needing to feel the sensation of a free and happy erection. She said no and told me to get trimming. I went to work, moaning slightly at the sight of her pussy knowing all I could do was groom it and not touch it or otherwise play. Her aroma was intoxicating.

After, when the trimmer and towel and all the other grooming accoutrement had been put away and she was once more in my arms, I begged again for release. She again said no, that I wasn’t getting out until Saturday. Oh, and I wasn’t going to come once I did get out, even though she had previously told me I would. She said she was going to ride her cock and I was going to get nothing. And then I realized. I really did want to come. Really and truly. All that rubbish about not coming from earlier? Well, it’s fine to go on like that when she’s not around, but once I was in her presence and could feel the small of her back and taste her mouth and inhale the aroma of her womanhood and she said I wasn’t going to get to come…well, something in me went click. I will do whatever it takes to get an orgasm on Saturday.

Whatever. It. Fucking. Well. Takes.

Posted on

Hardly ever vs. never ever (ever)

Today, I stumbled upon this on the web and I find myself reflective. It’s a quick read, but allow me to quote the salient point:

I told my boyfriend, David, if we are going to be married, he would haft [sic] to surrender himself to me, which included chastity for life. He would never be allowed to masturbate, or enter me.

So after fifteen years of marriage, the dude has never come. Not once. I have to admit that the idea of never being allowed any kind of sexual release ever again is a little thrilling. I have found myself recently resenting the idea of orgasm since I’m finding myself so satisfied with denial. Once I do come, I know it’ll be two or three days to get back in the same mental and physical state as I was before the orgasm. Maybe more since I’m finding I’m actually building up a resistance to the affects of not releasing. I know I just told Belle I’d be happy with 2-3 releases a month, but could I ever want it even less? Once a month? Every ninety days? Once a year!?! Egad, when will it end?

I know I’m a more attentive mate since I’ve ceded control over my sexual destiny to Belle. But what drives that? If I resent the idea of an orgasm (and, incidentally, finding myself intrigued by the concept of ruined orgasms) then from where am I deriving my motivation? I assumed that I was more attentive and sweeter and all that because I was trying to get her to allow me to come, but what if I find myself never wanting to come again? And why do I find the idea of not being allowed to come actually arousing?

Unsurprisingly, Tom Allen has already tread this ground:

I mean, the orgasm denial was pretty hot, but much of what made it hot was the tantalizing hope of being allowed to come, even if that was “tomorrow.” Like the White Queen’s promise of “Jam tomorrow, jam yesterday but never jam today,” at least there was a hope that today would sneak up on tomorrow. But for the first time I began to be concerned that this might turn into a long-term arrangement with no hope that she would allow me to come.

No hope of coming. Ever.

Goddamn, that’s so freakin’ hot.

No, no, no – it’s scary and frightening and making me very insecure. I want to come, of course. Orgasms are fun. They feel great. Gotta clean those pipes once in a while, blow off some steam, relieve the pressure. Right? Right?

Then why was the idea of it making me hornier than ever?

Unfortunately, I’ve not been able to find the post where Tom explains why he’s so horny (and yes, that passage is where I stole this site’s motto). Here I am on the brink of going away to a no-kid romantic weekend in a secluded cabin in the woods with Belle and I’m actually a little taken aback by the idea that she’ll at some point give me permission to come. And I’ll have to do it. *shudder*

Twenty years ago, my entire reason for being revolved around shooting my wad into or onto anyone who’d let me. Now, I find myself thinking about sex and my partner maybe even more than I did as a hormonally charged youth with the exact opposite desired outcome. How does this make any sense? I honestly have no idea.

Posted on

Big day

It was a big day today for those of us in acrylic imprisonment. First, I was able to pee standing up each time I went while at work. No, I’m not sure my aim’s good enough to do it at home into the toilet, but standing close to a urinal worked just fine, thankyouverymuch. I just poked the tip of my pinky through the slot (or, at least the tip of the tip of my pinky) and maneuvered Mr. Winky into a position more or less in alignment with the opening and BINGO! Man, I can’t tell you how happy I am about that. Peeing like a grown-up has been, after intimate contact with my cock, the number one thing I’ve missed while being in enforced chastity. Seriosuly, now that I’m able to pee normally and I’ve got the fit issues figured out and can sleep through the night (at least those nights when I am able to fall asleep), I could be in this thing indefinitely. Which reminds me…

I told my Belle Fille the other night that I’d be very happy only coming two or three times a month. Mind you, this is a dramatic improvement over our sex life of midsummer, but I’m not talking about only having sex 2-3 times every thirty days. I’d like to have sex as often as Belle will let me and I want to make her come each and every day (twice on Sundays), but I only want to come occasionally. I want to be denied because I find I am really very happy being denied. I love the mist of sexual frustration that hangs in the air among my thoughts all day. I love how acutely aware of her presence I am whenever she’s anywhere near. I love constantly thinking about what she will or will not allow me to do to her or with her each evening. I love the slightly dopey feeling that comes over me when I smell her while close in, nose on her neck, kissing her jawline…***…um…what? Sorry, where was I? Oh, yeah. In short, I love just about everything to do with denied orgasm. She’s getting pretty good at teasing me (making tremendous progress considering it’s still very new to her and she has no idea where I’m coming from when I say I want her to frustrate me 27/30’s of each month). As I said in a previous post, I am very happy to be where I am and consider myself incredibly lucky to have a mate who will make this journey with me. I hope (and think) she’s getting something out of it along the way.

Oh, almost forgot. The second thing that happened today was I found some underwear and a pair of flat-front dress pants that, when worn together, totally hide the plastic between my legs. The underwear is a pair of low-rise jockey-style briefs that hold my package close in and down between my legs. The pants have a looser crotch. Combined, they allowed me to cruise through the day well camouflaged, comfortable, and peeing on vertical surfaces whenever it struck my fancy. Yes, indeed, a big day it was.

Posted on

Broken bunny

I slept about 2 hours last night. Yes, I seem to talk about sleeping a lot, but that’s when the roosters come to…well, roost, isn’t it? Last night wasn’t about discomfort in the chastity device, though. It was about my own body turning on me.

It’s been six days since my last orgasm and four days locked up in the CB6K. I’ll say again that many old hands at chastity and orgasm denial will laugh at my proclamation of six and four days as anything like meaningful milestones, but for me they are. Not only have I not had a release since last Wednesday, I haven’t been allowed to engage in any meaningful sexual activity with Belle since Saturday. That night, after I brought her to climax with my mouth, she teased me mercilessly in an interesting new (for us) way.

After her orgasm, I wanted her to caress my stretched balls and perineum (since my encased cock was unable to receive stimulation). I really wanted her to feel how hard I was and how strained I was in her device. Instead, she touched me everywhere but where I craved she would. I was on all fours above her and constantly trying to reposition myself so my cock would be where her hand was only to see her hand move elsewhere. It was excruciating and she knew it. It left me very, very aroused.

Sunday night, it was more of the same. No touchy the cocky. I wasn’t quite as horny afterward, but I was still running pretty warm. Last night, we talked a lot and she used her nails on me and bit me a little. Also, she said she really wanted to feel my cock in her, but that it was not to be. Maybe tonight (which means, of course, she’ll need to release me if only for a little while). Three nights of teasing led to one night of little sleep.

Basically, the lust – combined with the confinement of the device – finally got to me. I awoke about 30 minutes after we went to sleep with my brain buzzing. I spent some time online reading a few blogs and browsing FetLife which eventually brought me to this video of runied orgasms. Well, needless to say, sleep was out of the question after watching that. Read some more sites and eventually posted my first entree into pornographic fiction before laying in bed for hours and feeling sorry for myself. I almost woke her to beg for release since I knew 12.6 seconds after cumming I’d fall deeply asleep, but I didn’t bother her. I just laid there and buzzed. Until 3:00 in the morning.

Maybe I can come home early today and take a nap.

Posted on

Go read this

Ferns gets me on a couple level with her newest entry. First, of course, there’s the poor little malesub all tied up and under her control. Second, she’s inflicting pain on his nipples. Pain + nipples = happy bunny. Third, it’s about piercing. I have an almost fetishistic fascination with nipple piercing.

It’s amazing what she can do with so few words. It may not be to everyone’s taste, but I find it beautiful.