The Submissive Rabbit

If you follow me on Twitter, this is old news, but I’ve decided to spin up a new blog called The Submissive Rabbit to run side by side with this one to cover other aspects of my sexuality that don’t fit here.

I’m doing this because Denying Thumper is and always has been primarily about my relationship with Belle and my chastity and denial by her. But, as I’m a very lucky bunny, there are other things I’m experiencing that I find helpful to write about since that’s primarily how I process things. Also, you know, I’m a bit of a show-off. Back in the day, I put this kind of stuff on Tumblr but then they went and nuked their platform so I found this other aspect of me to be blogospherically homeless. Hence, TSR was born.

I wanted to make this announcement about TSR on DT to continue to be open and honest in my relationship and sexuality. If you’re interested in the further adventures of Thumper, here are a few links to get you started. If you’re not, welp, just ignore this whole thing I guess.

Another fucking blog from Thumper?

Weekend by the lake, Part 1

Weekend by the lake, Part 2

Weekend by the lake, Part 3

Weekend by the lake, Part 4

Avoiding temptation

Recently, due to travel, I’ve been in and out of the Steelheart and the Holy Trainer Nub. Since I was most recently traveling either with coworkers or family, the experience of my recent TSA run-in has caused me to go through security unsecured which has led to putting devices on in bathrooms immediately after.

I traveled for work a few weeks ago and took the Steelheart through in my carry-on. Same when I went to visit Frodo. It’s never caused any TSA agent to want to inspect it though I assume it shows as a very metal object on the X-ray, just not in a shape that they find interesting. There’s no telling if it ever will get flagged for inspection, but so far it hasn’t. Since on the work trip I knew where I was going to be the whole time, I felt comfortable being in steel, but this trip we were on last weekend was in touristy areas and occasionally steel becomes an issue so I was in plastic.

Someone messaged me to ask how I avoid temptation when locking and unlocking, especially when I’m alone, and does the penis ever get ideas of its own and make putting the device on difficult.

Starting with that last point, yes, it can get difficult. Though that’s the exception. I’m usually moving too fast and with too much purpose for the thing to get to a difficult state. It’s not uncommon for it to be plumped from the act of being contained, but if I keep my wits about me and don’t think too hard about it, it stays in a workable state. I’d guess more than 90% of the time there’s not much more than a little plumping that occurs. Barely amounts to a chubby.

With regard to the avoiding temptation, I think the thing about that is I don’t want to be unlocked. Not ever. I resent having to be that way. And because I want to be locked up, I can generally be trusted with the key. Belle lets me have it when I need to take it with me and we don’t get hung up on where it is or what I’m doing with it (though when I went to see Frodo she asked for proof I was locked which is just sweet and hot).

While with Frodo, I did have to unlock a few times due to concerns about possible metal detectors (which were unfounded, it turns out), but again, I am never thinking of ways to cheat and/or get out of chastity. There is simply no way I could be with Frodo like that. I’d hate it. It’s impossible to consider. The Rules are the rules and I’m so invested in them the idea of not following them is totally alien to me. Luckily, Frodo gets that and has never even joked about me not being true to Belle’s expectations. To the contrary, when I was unlocked while we were out and about he made a point of telling me I didn’t need to be that way.

No, it’s not unusual for me to crave the contents, but it never goes beyond that. Just this morning on the way to work, I was distractingly horny and intensely aware of the Steelheart and what it was keeping me from and the desire to have access was achingly palpable, but that’s as far as it goes. I crave the crave. That is the point of what I am: always yearning, always struggling, never satisfied. Controlled. Obeying. Denied.

Unf.

Popping the lock and letting it out would destroy everything. Temptation only works when the prospective object is something one desires. I do not desire the penis as a penis. I desire what not having access to it creates.

Freedom to feel

It occurred to me very shortly after I hit the publish button on that last post that I was going to have to think out the significance of this:

“I feel that this past weekend I allowed myself to really feel for Frodo how I have felt for him for years and express that to him as honestly as I ever have. And it’s exactly because we are both married to who we’re married to that that love can exist as it does. And it’s no less intense and no less valid than any other love I feel.”

Especially when compared to everything I’ve said here before about my bisexuality and my Twitter profile where I say I’m a “bisexual heteromantic submissive masochistic underwear enthusiast baseball fan. Usually locked in chastity.”

I mean, the submissive masochist underwear baseball stuff is totally true. As is the chastity. And I’m absolutely, 100% bisexual. But heteromantic? I am very definitely feeling something that would seem to exceed the bounds of heteromancy (full disclosure, I have no idea if this is a word). So what’s up, rabbit?

The time in my life when I was struggling the most with feelings of sexual attraction towards men combined with a deep desire to be with a woman and create a family was more or less the same time Frodo became so important in my life. When we were transitioning from childhood to adulthood. One of the main reasons I never pursed a romance with him at that time (and we’re talking like 30 or more years ago at this point) is that I already had in my head what I wanted in life. I had known it for as long I could remember. A wife. Children. I remember pretending I had kids from a very young age and by the time it was getting close to when I could make some it was the late 80s and early 90s and all the options available to same sex couples today (marriage, adoption, surrogacy) were pipe dreams or non-existent. And I think every time I started to get emotionally closer to Frodo around this time I would freak out and hit the eject button (which, in turn, hurt Frodo and was totally unfair). Because Frodo lacked a uterus.

So, to me, heteromancy was my destiny and I would not let anything get in the way of that. And since that was the case and Frodo was the only male I ever felt anything close to romantic love for and I never bothered to pursue any other men for that kind of connection, I could easily say (once I found the word) that I was heteromantic. Sex with men was great and totally something I was up for, but beyond that? Nope. They couldn’t give me what I wanted from life.

But the is future now. I’m not 20 anymore (sigh). I have a kid who’s that age and another right behind him. I got what I wanted from life. A woman who I love and two amazing children who have turned out better than I had any right to expect. So the imperative to reproduce has been satisfied (and is now all about patiently waiting for the grandkids).

So not only has that factor been lifted, I am also not single. I have that relationship with a woman I craved. And it’s healthy and happening right alongside whatever else might be happening in my life. So that need for female companionship and my urges to feel her body and get her off in the specific and delightful ways women get off is still available to me.

What I’m saying and where I’m netting out on this is that we are never complete beings. Things are always happening and time grinds forward and as such what was once thought to be immutable aspects of ourselves have to evolve, too. I feel that I am now more free to feel how I have felt for Frodo for decades. I can be more honest to him and myself. And the reason it’s possible is a combination of things the 20-year-old version of me never could have comprehended, let alone predicted.

So I’ve changed my Twitter profile.

I suspect it will change again. Because that’s what life is. And it’s only really over when the change ends.

Rebound

I spent last weekend with Frodo (for the noobs: Frodo is the guy I met and had a relationship with in high school and who was subsequently the best man in our wedding and no his name is not really Frodo — I’ve written about him before so search his name if you’re curious).

It was…a lot of fun.

In the midst of if, I started to become kind of emotional. Not like in bad way. Like, all my emotions were just kind of floating high near the surface. I was overcome with gratitude and happiness that I somehow managed to find myself at this place in my life with a wife I love and who understands me and cares for me how I need to be cared for and allows me to go off on weekends like this one so I can spend time with my oldest and dearest friend who also understands me and accepts me for how I am and OH MY GOD the confluence of all these people who I love and love me back was just too much to take at points. This may or may not have led to some gushy and sentimental Facebook posting.

When I got back, I was being very affectionate to Belle. Not on purpose. Not in some kind of calculated way. I just couldn’t be near her enough. I couldn’t express myself enough. A house full of home-for-the-summer children not withstanding, I wanted to take her to bed and make her scream with delight. She was like, WTF is up with you, Rabbit?

And…it’s like I said. So much gratitude. So much love. Everywhere for both of them. I think right now I’m about as close as I’ve ever been to really understanding how polyamory can work when done right. Ethically and openly and without guilt or shame. I love both these people. Part of that love is the same, but a lot of it is different. They’re different. They have played different roles in my life. But I’m so happy they’re both in my life at the same time and I can (occasionally) bounce back and forth between them. It makes me so, so happy and Belle is the primary person responsible for this arrangement thanks to her understanding and acceptance and, ultimately, confidence in me and our bond.

Like I said, the love I feel for these two people is not the same because they’re not the same. But I feel that this past weekend I allowed myself to really feel for Frodo how I have felt for him for years and express that to him as honestly as I ever have. And it’s exactly because we are both married to who we’re married to that that love can exist as it does. And it’s no less intense and no less valid than any other love I feel. Frodo is quite simply one of the two most important people in my life and has been for more than 35 years. I would not be the person I am today if not for him.

And Belle is the other most important person in my life and has been for more than 20 years. I would also not be the person I am today if not for her. It’s not an exaggeration to say all the best parts of my life today are due to her.

Thing is, people, there is no limit to love. It is not a finite resource. It’s renewable. It’s bottomless. Our capacity for love is only contained by our lack of imagination and our petty jealousies and insecurities. I am the luckiest fucking rabbit in the world to find myself in this place and there isn’t a moment I don’t realize that.

I am so grateful.

The Rules (updated)

The rules under which our dynamic operates have evolved over time, but the last time they were updated was almost three years ago. My previous post discussed a rule I put in place for myself about not touching the penis, but rules I put on myself are easily waived or bent. Rules Belle puts in place carry much more weight. So this morning…

Therefore, here is the updated list of Rules that I follow.

  • I can only come when Belle tells me to and, if she tells me to, I have to.
  • I must be wearing a chastity device at all times, unless she says otherwise.
  • When unlocked, I cannot touch the penis except for maintenance purposes or to swap devices. Never for pleasure, unless she has released it for sex.
  • I am not to volunteer how I feel about having an orgasm and must never ask for one.
  • If I have sex with someone else, the penis must always be locked. No exceptions.

The revised “no touching” rule replaces one that said I wasn’t allowed to play with it. Touching leads to playing so, in reality, this is better. The definition of “playing” isn’t as definite as “touching.”

These are the rules she expects me to follow. I vow to do so. Of course, it’s hard. If submission were easy, it wouldn’t be worth much.

Paws off, Rabbit

Traveling again. In an attempt to not repeat the weirdness of my last expedition, I chose to go through security unsecured. Since I was flying at 6:00PM, I was out all day. And, in an irrational burst of caution, I packed the Steelheart in my checked bag rather than carry it though the checkpoint as I’ve done in the past.

I should note that Belle is also traveling. She’s overseas and will be getting home the same day I do. She left traveling west and will return from the east, which is nifty, but it means I’ve been more or less self-locking for the past ten days or so. Having already figured out my game plan for the this trip, I let myself out prior to my shower to use the opportunity to properly clean everything and shave the bits the device conceals, etc.

It should not have been surprising, but nevertheless was, that even simple and utilitarian contact with the contents caused it to start to swell. The very concept of “penis” changes when it’s continuously locked away. It goes from being a (most of the time) low level nag of desire to something 100% real and pressing and actionable in seconds. While locked, even when I have the key, I know the penis is there and smoldering like Smaug under the Lonely Mountain, but like a dragon laying on a pile of gold, it’s an abstract threat. Once the cage comes off, the fire returns to its belly and it becomes fucking ready.

I was able to tend to its maintenance without doing anything untoward but the simple feeling of the water from the shower head striking the tip of the thing made my knees buckle and the shaft stiffen. It took every bit of will power to avoid going to a Bad Place. And knowing I’d be on my own recognizance for over 16 hours…

I decided that my own personal rule was going to be that if I was unlocked for some reason other than maintenance (cleaning, shaving, etc.) or when Belle was with me and also naked and she was expecting me to use it for her, I would not touch it. Not ever. Not even to pee. I bargained with myself about touching through clothing and had decided through my jeans was OK but not my underwear (which, if you follow me on Twitter or Instagram, you know is often skimpy and sheer) but then scolded myself for such a thought since there was no legitimate reason to touch it through my pants other than to make it hard and feel pleasure. So no touching at all. Side effect of that means I have to sit to pee, but guys like me are used to that already.

I’ve never done the device-less chastity thing. It was…interesting. As soon as I finished my internal debate and set this new limit, the exposed contents veritably loomed before me. Tempting. Yet radioactive. All of a sudden I became massively aware of it. Its every movement. How it moved when free, how its plumpness caused that to accentuate. At one point, the tip of it bumped the bathroom counter as I was getting ready and the contact caused a sharp intake of breath. I was relieved when it was stowed into underwear and then packed away in my jeans. And even then, the hypersensitivity that comes after being inside a steel tube for weeks was incredibly distracting.

I thought peeing would be pretty straightforward but in realty, absent steel pulling it down, it turns out the penis doesn’t naturally drop so that, untouched, its stream would go into the bowl and not spray over or against its edge. I eventually figured out if I spread my legs wider than usual and pushed down above the shaft I could get it in a usable position.

Hours later, I got into my hotel room, exhausted and ready for bed. Like most men do, I absently put my hand down my pants and BAM felt it. Fuck. Get that Steelheart, I said to myself. After turning the key, the steel weighed the newly secured penis down. The pull of the cold metal set me at ease.

I know, I know, I know, I’ve said this before, but it never ceases to amaze me how much more normal being locked makes me feel. To not feel cool air on the device contents and to not feel it move naturally and flop around. To instead feel the the tug of gravity or just the snug tidiness of compression. To be unable to touch any part of that part of myself except for what I can reach with my finger.

I’ve written before that I feel I was born for chastity. How I was pre-wired for it. Over the years, it’s been so firmly planted in my existence that the object involved is something my body and mind feel are an internal part of my body. I don’t feel comfortable or secure when it’s not on me. In it’s absence, I feel more exposed. Vulnerable. I am left with the assumption that, for some of us, being in chastity is 100% natural. For some of us, it is how we’re supposed to be. Which, by itself, is a comforting notion.