Posts

Posted on

Belle’s big blue boyfriend

As I’ve recently mentioned, Belle’s admitted to me that the penis is not, as she’s previously said and occasionally still says, strictly speaking, perfect. She claims not to be into really long cocks, but she does like some girth. The penis on me, while not freakishly thin, is on this side of average girthiness. So, in my continuing quest to provide Belle the optimal sexual experience, I picked up an Oxballs Dude Cocksheath. My review forthwith.

Continued after the jump thanks to several totally NSFW images…

Continue reading “Belle’s big blue boyfriend”

Posted on

Chastity at the gym

Been in the Looker 02 recently. Couple of random observations regarding it and my thrice weekly personal trainer sessions.

  • He’s made me do Supermans recently (and today). This is a totally cake excercise for me usually, but, since I’m basically putting all my weight onto my hips, it ends up feeling like I’m being impaled on the L02’s urethral insert. The other day, I had to do them rolled out onto an exercise ball. Not painful, but like, “Oh, yeah. I’ve got this thing shoved up me. Right.”
  • Shoulder shrugs are a standing exercise where you lift a bar hanging down around your hips using your shoulder muscles (like a shrug, right?). No issues except for when, instead of sliding smoothing up and over as it would with an unencumbered penis, the bar gets caught by the rigid cage of the device and noticeably flips it up and then back down. It just looks in no way natural.
  • When you’re laying down on a bench doing decline crunches, the odd little lump in one’s workout shorts will often be visible. This can also happen when you’re doing any other kind of recumbent bench press, but is more pronounced when you’re laying in a position where your head is lower than your knees. In particular today, while doing barbell skull-crushers, the penis felt like it was moving down the insert while I was exercising (like, I could feel the insert sliding along inside the shaft of the penis), making the entire package at least feel a lot more present.
  • Occasionally, my sessions will end with my trainer stretching my hip flexors by laying me on a mat and pushing my knee forward into my chest while my other leg stays flat on the ground. Lots of stretchy crotch bits being stretchy and pulling the shorts flat along the line of my legs except, of course, for the bits that don’t stretch and just stand up all perky and weird. Bad enough, but worse when one of the other gym rats is standing there looking down at you and your trainer and chatting while your pronounced little bump sits there being pronounced. Worse yet when you’re wearing the only gray shorts you have rather than the black ones you normally wear and you notice that not only is the lump prominently visible, you can even see the bars on the sides of the L02’s cage and the ridge made by the device’s lock pressing through the material.

When I first started working out with this guy, the idea that my condition would be noticeable by him was mortifying. Now, even when I may be getting busted by other random gym goers, I just let it roll off me. I haven’t a clue what anyone thinks if they’re even noticing the weird little lumps and bumps (and I’m pretty sure they are) and I really don’t care. I’ve wondered if the trainer would ever bring it up and what I’d say if he did. He’s also Belle’s trainer. I think I’d probably come clean, but I don’t know for sure.

In any event, for the prospective chastity device wearer, all these things are totally doable while locked up. Doable while being as stealthy as possible? Maybe not so much.

Posted on

The end (and the beginning)

The other night, in the middle of the night, I was seriously fucking horny. Like, the kind of horny that wakes you up. I kept finding my hands on Belle and putting them under her bed clothes and generally getting all worked up by feeling the hot, smooth skin up and down her ass and up her back and all that. I’d fall asleep for a bit, wake up and do it again, the tube would get all full, then I’d fall back asleep.

Next day (yesterday, actually) I asked her if I was bugging her when I did that. I didn’t want to bug her but honestly couldn’t stop myself in that half asleep horned up state without her coming out and telling me to stop. No, I wasn’t bugging her, she said. She kind of liked it.

Not sure what we talked about then, but I mentioned something to the effect that if I ever did bug her too much, she could always just let me come and I’d be manageable for a little while. She scoffed at that saying I’d also get all moody and pissy and grumpy and she preferred the hot and horny version of me over that. She keeps saying that I was a pill after she made me come over July 4th, but I still think I was pretty OK with it. Whatever.

That led me to asking something about when my next orgasm was going to be because if there’s one thing a guy in denial likes to talk about it’s his denial. We’re all over that shit. A few other things were bandied back and forth before she just came out and told me something she’d already decided.

I wasn’t going to come again.

She won’t go so far as to say “never” because that’s a long time. Suffice it to say she has no plans whatsoever to let me come and is inclined to leave me in my current state indefinitely. As far as thinking about orgasms or wondering when they might happen or whatever, I might as well stop because they’re not on the table. They’re not next to the table or under the table. They’re not in the room with the table or in the house with the room with the table in it.

Of course (OF COURSE) as soon as that sunk in (while I was hugging her and kissing her neck and generally feeling very submissive and lucky, etc.) a little part of me suggested I remember what an orgasm felt like. I tend not to think about that, but now, for some reason, it seemed OK. So I did. I thought about the mental fireworks and the wave of release and the euphoric afterglow and…how I would not be feeling that again. At least not intentionally. At least not for a really long time.

I remember back when we first started at this and my denial periods could be easily counted in hours and reading about guys who were permanently denied orgasms and how I thought, OH JESUS FUCK WHO WANTS THAT!? It was both scary but, I should have known, terribly stimulative. But here we are. I have no problem admitting I’ve wanted this. I think it’s the next logical extension of the path we’ve been on.

Some might wonder what the point is of living a permanently denied life. Some might think that taking the orgasm out of the equation might somehow alter the outcome such that its no longer appealing. Basically, some guys, even denied and locked-up ones, might still like the idea of occasionally coming (or, at least, the promise of it). I get that. That’s not me.

I’ve changed a lot. I’ve stopped directing my desire for sex at Belle as if its something she owes me. I still want it, yeah, I and still feel OK making her know I do, but I don’t feel compelled to push her on it and don’t feel in any way slighted if she doesn’t produce. Not like I used to. I’ve written on this recently so I don’t need to dwell, but at some point, I feel like I passed the “me” phase of sex. Now it’s minimally “us” and, more often, “her.” And to me, that’s what’s natural and right. Orgasms change how I feel about that. They short circuit it. I don’t want to come because when I do it fucks with how I like my brain chemistry to be.

I guess what I’m saying is I’ve willingly traded in my ability to orgasm so that I’m left in this constant state of needing and wanting and totally subsuming my needs to her will. For some people, that might sound scary or even unhealthy. It is, for me, the most total and comforting and satisfying submission I can imagine. We have sex when she wants. Period, end of story. How she wants. Period, end of story. The only release and climax I get is whatever I can sap off of her when she comes. I don’t come because doing so upsets the balance we both prefer.

I’m not concerned about the health implications. I ejaculate plenty. At least if “plenty” can be defined as “every week or two when she lets me inside her and the penis leaks semen right after I get close to coming.” It’s kind of like milking, really. Or ruined orgasms. I get myself up to the edge and then stop and it comes out. Lots of it. Prostate problem solved.

Now that we’re here, I’m going to try and change my behavior a bit.

  1. I will never ever ask Belle if I can come. Not once. This is the bed I wanted and I’ll have to lie in it.
  2. I will never ever tell her I want to come, even if I do. She already knows me well enough to know when I’m feeling that way. She can assume that if I’m fucking her, I will be feeling an intense desire to come in her.

I don’t know why I feel it’s important to do these things. Maybe it’s because she’s made this decision and I need to show that I respect it and will live by it. Maybe it’s because in the past I may have sent mixed messages and I don’t want her to feel even a microscopic iota of guilt or doubt. Maybe it’s to show that I’m ready to live like this, fully and completely. It almost feels like a new commitment between us. A new level of marriage or something. As marriage is an outcome of dating, this new commitment is an outcome of our several year experiment with denial. The next stage of the journey is starting.

So, you know, NO, I’m not going to say this is the route everyone should take. But I’m very happy she’s decided this is our route. I’ll follow her right along it until she decides to take us in another direction.

Posted on

Mailbag

A couple of quickies.

Reader Rudi writes:

I’m reading your blog for some months. You’re doing a good job by writing about your feelings and the effects of the chastity thing on your relationship.

I read that you have children. They must sometimes feel your device, as they climb on your lap or you’re hugging them. Are you never afraid that they discover your secret?

Sure I am. I try to keep things situated so that unintended contact with oddly hard bulges is as unlikely as possible. My son’s 14 and can barely bring himself to acknowledge my paternity most days and has quickly mastered the fine art of the bro hug, so he’s not a problem. My daughter is 10 and likes to hug and snuggle so, when standing, I usually turn my hip into her and hug her kind of sideways. Whenever I’m in bed or sitting or whatever and she comes in, I’ll shift my legs or place the TV remote next to the device or otherwise make contact harder and/or plausibly explained by something else. I’ve even gone so far as to move her hand if it gets too close. The girl can be quick, though, and I know she’s hit it before, though it wasn’t more than a glancing brush.

Keeping them out of our sex life is one of the reasons I like silent devices. Integrated locks and lighter PA jewelry make a big difference.

Bob bloviated:

Having been locked into my metal cage for a few weeks I’m starting to find out some of its flaws.

Did you ever find yourself chafing at areas where the cage/ring was deep in folds of your skin?  How did you combat both moisture & chafing?

Chafing is minimized by using a persistent silicone-based lubricant like System Jo Premium. I know a lot of sites (and even some manufacturers) call for water-based lubes, but it dries too quickly and then it’s useless. Others promote the use of petroleum jelly, but I found that to be too sticky. A small dab of JO under the balls at night and in the AM after I shower is all I need. I don’t even use that all the time when I’m in the Jail Bird or Looker (the rings are little bigger).

Which, of course, leads to fit. It could be your A-ring is a little too tight. Assuming your balls don’t turn purple and go numb when you get hard-ons, it might only be a little too tight (like Belle’s Steelheart). If it’s tight, lubrication is more important.

Another thing to consider is support. I can get some irritation like you describe if I go commando (not enough support) or wear tight underwear (too much support). I really like John Sievers Natural Pouch styles. It’s the Goldilocks underwear.

With regard to moisture, are you talking outside the device or inside? Looking at your blog, you appear to have an open cage device, so you’re probably talking about moisture outside. I make sure I dry very well after showering. I don’t generally have issues, but find that when I’m in wet conditions a lot (like on the boat or by the pool or whatever) it can get uncomfortable. Again, it’s about fit. The tighter the A-ring, the greater the issues.

Posted on

Winces, ointments, and fantasies

“I love that sound.”

That’s what Belle said after she gave me the key to the Steelheart and, as I was removing it, I made wincing grunty noises as each of my swollen balls popped through the device’s A-ring. She loves the sound of my balls being released because it means she’s going to have some fun with the penis.

But I wasn’t. Following our previous experiments with lidocaine lotion, reader nagadikandang related their experience with a similar product called Tattoo Soothe. It comes in two varieties, but the one I got is 5% Lidocaine, 20% benzocaine and 5% tetrazine. It’s pretty damned expensive. Fifteen grams of the stuff costs about $30 on Amazon.

However, the additional ingredients seem to make it more potent than lidocaine all by itself. The consistency of Tattoo Sooth is thicker and stickier than the lotions I’ve used in the past. It doesn’t go on as easily and is a little more difficult to wipe off. I applied it, rolled a condom over everything to ensure it didn’t dry out, and waited exactly 15 minutes before removing it. I was totally and completely deadened. I felt nothing. While I used to think lidocaine left me totally numb, if it’s possible, Tattoo Sooth left me feeling even more than totally numb. Like there was a sensation vacuum left at the end of the penis.

That may have been too much of a good thing. I couldn’t get hard enough to penetrate Belle so she could get off. That’s the bad news. The good news is she was a chatty little thing that night.

“Have I ever told you that I sometimes fantasize that you’re a girl? A girl with a cock.”

N-o. Nope. Never told me that. Definitely would have remembered hearing that before.

“Ever had a three way?”

Once, but it didn’t work out.

“Two girls?”

No, one girl and another guy.

“What if we had a three way with another girl?”

Oh, yeah, I’m there.

“What do you imagine that would be like?”

You’d be riding the numbed penis while she sat on my face and the two of you kissed and played with each other’s tits.

“Purrr…”

Then we talked about the flirty policeman.

“I imagined that I took him into one of those below-street brownstone entrances, under the stairs, and fucked him right there…”

Ung. Yeah?

“His cock was so thick and fat I had a hard time getting it in…”

The one and only deficiency she’s admitted to feeling about the penis is its relative lack of girthiness. She doesn’t like them long, but she likes them hefty. I’m not hefty, but the imaginary policeman lover was.

At one point, she demonstrated on me how she sucked the cop’s cock, but of course, I couldn’t feel it in the parts that mattered. I could feel the warmth of her mouth and the softness of her lips, but only at the base of the shaft where it did me no good.

It’s interesting to me that in her fantasy encounter with the cop, she was clearly dominant. In my fantasy, he was, but she told it to me as if she was the aggressor and controller of the encounter.

As I said, I couldn’t get hard enough to let her fuck me (which could have just as easily been a little bit of stress I was feeling regarding how long the numbing agent would last), so she sat on top of me and ground her pussy against whatever condition the penis was in. I didn’t know because I could feel nothing. But she did come.

Afterward, she told me I could fuck her. And I did, after a good deal of coaxing, but I felt almost nothing. Just enough to get hard from the activity, but not nearly enough to ever come from it. Not even close.

As I fucked her, I told her how I wished my orgasm was something physical I could actually give her. Take it out of my body and place it in her hand. I saw it as a small red gem glowing steadily. I told her how I dreamed of watching her close her fist around it and squeezing it until it shattered and its dark pieces fell out onto the floor. Extinguished. How that would leave me with an hollow place that would only be filled with an unquenchable desire for something that was physically unable for me to achieve.

I fell asleep before the penis came back to life. The next morning, she let me fuck her again, only this time I could feel it. I got close to coming several times and leaked a few surges of sticky ejaculate into her before she told me my time was up. She left me out of the device until this morning when, while kissing me goodbye for the day, she whispered into my ear that I needed to lock myself back up.

So I did. So I am.

Posted on

More mailbag

This, from reader AB, came in right after I posted the last one:

After ordering an ill fitting Steelheart, I’ve bought the sizing rings from Mature Metal to try out some “mock” chastity. I’ve been wearing a larger ring around the base of my cock, which is tied onto another ring around the bottom of my shaft. I think i have a good size picked now due to fact that when flaccid, it’s almost unnoticeable, yet doesn’t move around.

My question to you is in regards to getting hard in chastity. When i get hard (and i do get fully erect without a cage to contain it), my junk has a dull ache, not quite pain, but almost, and the skin turns purple-ish (not flesh damaging extreme, but obviously showing that the cockring is too tight when erect).

Is this a normal part of the chastity experience? I’m imagining that this is why guys have trouble sleeping, but just want to be sure before shelling out more cash for a new device.

Your description of the sizing set-up reminds me of the Double Cockring I got from Steelworxx. With that, I ended up ordering the penisring (which is what Steelworxx calls the ring that…wait for it…goes around the penis!) to be just about the same size as the erect penis shaft (maybe just a tad smaller). I wanted to feel some grip, but not have the throbbing and purplish thing. 

Remember, though, when the penisring is attached to a chastity tube, you’re not going to get fully erect. Not even close. In my experience, the penisring and tube shouldn’t be any bigger around (or longer) than the normal size of your flaccid member. You don’t want to give it more room than that so as to avoid the issue you’re describing. I mean, yeah, it’ll still throb because it’ll be locked into a steel trap, but in a good way, and, as I’ve said before, smaller tubes and cages are more comfortable overall than bigger ones. I know for a fact that the penis on me doesn’t get purple in the Jail Bird, for example, but I know it would if the cage wasn’t there to keep shit under control.

Also, regarding your cages, does the jailbird have any of the pull out pins, and if so, what is your review on them.

Never messed around with them. I did use something similar in concept with the CB6K. They made the device a lot more uncomfortable (not always in the bad way) and perhaps made it a little teenie bit harder to pull out, but not much. A soapy soft penis can get out of any predicament. I’d think of them more of a CBT thing than a security thing, but I invite other readers who have used them to chime in.

in your SH-s, how much space did you leave to accommodate for the PA, as well as the tube size (with the addition of the PA fixing)

I think you’re asking how much additional space I left in the tube for the PA. Not much. The different devices measure tube and cage length differently, but if you see the comparisons of Belle’s SH-S and Jail Bird, the usable space inside them appears to be about a quarter inch different. I certainly wouldn’t allow for more than that.

Are you going to try wearing a PA with the JB? I find I can’t do that due to pinching. I also can’t use it for security with the JB for the same reason.

And finally, you blog is so hot. I would gladly suck your cock and let you lick my armpits.

You’d be sucking steel, but that could be hot, too. The armpit thing we might be able to work out, depending on how Belle feels about it. In either event, thanks for the compliment!

Posted on

Mailbag

Reader thehonourmethod opined:

I’ve been following your blog for some years now. I think you have a very refreshing outlook on male sexuality, one that chimes with my own experiences over the same period.

I too came to this ‘male chastity’ experience following an infidelity (well, several, actually). I introduced my then-partner to the concept at the same time as a full confession. In retrospect I overdid it and only ended up hastening the end of that relationship. Still, it was an interesting experience, hopefully for her as well as for me.

It’s pretty easy to overdo things at the beginning, idnit?

One of the things that I discovered during this rather turbulent period of my intimate life was that, although I came to the concept of ‘male chastity’ as an ostensible ‘cure’ for infidelity, it quickly became apparent (both to myself and to my then-partner) that it was actually just another way of me obtaining sexual gratification at her expense. Albeit, not ‘gratification’ in the traditional sense. But you know all about that…

In my opinion, chastity play (especially the long term flavor Belle and I employ) is an advance relationship technique. It’s not a cure to infidelity all by itself. I reject that notion mostly because stock chastity devices are so easy to defeat. The only cure to infidelity is to address the issues that led to it in the first place (or restructure your relationship to allow for outside activities so it’s not being unfaithful). I think the communication and openness necessary to do chastity well is exactly the kind of infidelity-snuffing thing I’m talking about, but the resulting chastity play is the effect of the cure, not the cause of it.

When I subsequently got together with one of the ladies I’d met during my ‘summer of love’, I wanted to keep this concept going but without the more disturbing implications (e.g. that if she didn’t lock me into a chastity device I’d probably cheat on her).

I’ve got a feeling that your relationship with ‘Belle’ is quite unique in the sense that this dynamic is genuinely present but you are also capable of genuine mutual intimacy.

I did buy my current partner a chastity device to lock her cock in but, although she found it very amusing – charming even – , there’s not the slightest chance of her ever taking it seriously as lifestyle accessory.

Why is that? I ask only because there was a time when Belle didn’t take the devices all that seriously (or even liked them that much), but she does now. At least as seriously as I do. She’s not into them for the sheer gear-heady gadget lust reasons I am, but she totally appreciates their purpose and role.

What I’m wondering is, what do you think about the role of the actual ‘device’? Is it ‘just’ a kind of metaphor, which is used to represent and provide a talking point for the kinky / intimate nature of your relationship, or does it play an ‘actual’ role, without which the dynamic would no longer work?

I ask because my partner and I are currently in a ‘long-distance’ phase of our relationship and I find that our intimate communication is enhanced if I act ‘as if’ her cock were locked into a chastity device, even though it isn’t.

There are two main problems about this. The first is that, although I am now three weeks in and only have another month to hold out until I see her again, there may be a moment of weakness. I really don’t want to have to confess that I have failed in my mission; even worse to keep it a secret (I do sometimes neglect to tell her about infractions, although I am always truthful if asked).

The second is that, although the whole beauty of the dynamic that is thus set up is due to our increased intimate long-distance communication (especially concerning her tell me about her sexual dreams, flirtations or – in a perfect world – orgasms), sometimes she tends to forget or ignore what I’m going through, assuming that it is as easy for me to simply refrain from sexual activity as it apparently is for her.

My question to you is: would you consider a ‘male chastity’ relationship dynamic that didn’t rely on a physical device to be ‘more ideal’ than one that did? Could you imagine discarding the reliance on devices and simply using her word instead? Would the dynamic be enhanced or destroyed by taking such a step? Or do you think I should renew my efforts to persuade Her to take responsibility for our intimate communication in this dynamic by ‘requiring me’ to wear a device?

I hope to hear back from you! Either way, keep up the good work!

The perennial question. On the one hand, if you don’t use a device, you’re not really in chastity. On the other, if you need one, you’re a pathetic sub with self-control issues.

We’ve done it both ways. Obviously, we mostly do it with the device. I like it better and so does Belle. For me, it’s a talisman representing her power and my position. Also, I’m into bondage and like the, well, bondage. I like feeling my erection compressed and fighting the steel. I like feeling the heft of it swing around as I move and have grown to prefer the feeling of my balls being kept orderly by the A-ring. I’ve talk about it kinda recently.

When I’m on my own recognizance, the entire thing has a different texture. It’s much more distracting since the penis is always there and often reminding me of the fact. It’s more likely to respond to stimuli and I’m forced to engage more willpower. I won’t say one way is better than that other as a way to do orgasm denial  (no, you can’t force me), but for me, no device is a lot harder. We have chosen the enforced brand of chastity for us. It’s just a better fit, so to speak.

You say you’ve already cheated (not on the relationship, I mean the no diddling thing). You don’t volunteer this information, but admit it when asked. To me, that says you need the help of a physical device. Your “first line of defence” device (ie, your brain) isn’t yet up to the task of controlling your dick. Honestly, I can’t even imagine trying to be good (ie, not playing with it, let alone resisting orgasm) when separated from her for weeks or months at a time. It would be nearly impossible for me, I think, so I don’t say this with any kind of judgement.

So how about this. How about, when you’re away from her, you’re in a device, but when you’re not, you’re not. She doesn’t have to see it or deal with it or anything. All she has to do is hold the key. That way, you’re less likely to cheat (but unless you’re pierced, even that will still be possible) and get to enjoy the feeling of being kept. Tell yourself you’re doing it because she told you to. Don’t let your brain fuck around with the chicken and egg conundrum. Just don’t do it. If she buys off on this idea, you will be locked up because she told you to be. Period.

I’d also advise trying to get to the bottom of her not taking the device seriously as a “lifestyle accessory.” Does she know they come in sexier finishes? Belle didn’t really get into the devices until the first metal one came along. If she’s really GGG about all this and it’s no skin off her nose either way, it seems like you should be able to come to some agreement about it. Perhaps, in time, she’ll come to appreciate what the device can help you bring to the relationship, just like Belle. Maybe someday, she won’t even think of letting you be alone with your dick all free and floppy. But you can’t get there until you impress upon her how you feel about it and how important it may be to you.

Posted on

Das penis

Bondagebuddy asked:

I’ve been following your blog for well over a year now and obviously enjoy it. However, I’m curious about one thing. Why do you always refer to your penis as “the penis”? It is still very much a part of you. I think you are to be commended for your devotion to chastity, but it is noteworthy that proper reference is never mentioned.

Early on, Belle and I had kind of a contract that said I wasn’t allowed to refer to it as mine anymore since I had given control of it over to her. I was supposed to call it “her cock” or “the cock” or whatever. Some time later (I can’t find the post at the moment found it), I stopped thinking that the noun “cock” was the proper term to use since cocks have a very specific (to me) connotation about them. They have attitude and purpose and even a bit of pride and in general seem to me to be somewhat aggressive. The member I carry around isn’t like that, in practice or intention. It didn’t feel right to me to call it that so I started calling it by its more clinical term. It’s a penis, not a cock, even if it’s unlocked and fully erect.

When I first started at this blogging thing I’d read this kind of twisted phraseology and roll my eyes (the whole personal pronoun capitalization thing still bugs me, but I get it and why people do it). They’re confusing (as you’ve demonstrated) and cause sentences to sometimes be awkwardly structured. Honestly, I find it to be a bit of a pain to not be able to just write the very plain and straightforward “my cock” and, every time I have to do it, I consider just dropping the practice entirely.

The reason I don’t (even though Belle’s no longer invested in what possessive I use) is because awkwardness and inconvenience are part of the chastity experience. Referring to it as “the penis” is a literary reflection of wearing a chastity device all the time whenever she wants me to regardless of how I feel about it. To me, talking about it like it’s a thing separate of me is a perfectly honest way to write. It reinforces the reality that I don’t control it and can’t use it how I want. Even when I’m unlocked, she’s explicitly forbidden me from playing with it absent her permission.

At the moment and under the terms of our dynamic, I don’t really have a man’s cock. It’s a penis. And it’s not mine.

Posted on

Focus

Something I was thinking about late last night when, in one of those random moments of wakefulness, I reached over and spooned into Belle and let my hand run under her nightclothes and over her smooth ass and the contents of the Steelheart pulsed and craved. It directly relates to my previous post about finding a Zen-like place to keep all my pent-up desire.

I mean, I wanted her. I needed her. Her pleasure is mine and I am really, really wanting to feel that. Distractingly so because it’s been so long since I had it. In the early years, it was remarkably easy to find anger in that. To want to throw all the internal stress out at her. But I don’t anymore. I know she knows how I feel and I know she’ll take care of me eventually. In due time. Not yet.

The way I was able to get through this period last night was to, as they say, see the glass as half full rather than half empty. Yes, I’m desperately needy, but I’m also exactly as I wanted her to keep me. Exactly. I am locked up, unable to touch my own body or attain a normal erection or in any way pleasure myself. I’m totally under her control in that way as I wished to be. It’s all I wanted for her to control my sex and now she does, completely. The best part is, she wants me this way. It’s impossible to imagine that she would have left me unlocked while she was gone last weekend. That’s just not an option for me anymore. And while I was unlocked while I was gone the weekend before (unavoidably, perhaps), she put me back as soon as I got home. I rarely get to stay out for more than a night at time now unless something external intercedes or it’s a special occasion. So I have the best of all possible situations. I’m locked and controlled because that’s how she wants me. That’s how she prefers me to be. I asked for exactly this.

Back around Labor Day, we talked some about that. How she considers my willingness to be locked by her a romantic gesture. She sees my sacrifice of orgasm and self-pleasure as a token of my dedication to her and our marriage. She finds comfort knowing what I’m not doing when she’s not with me. I allow this to happen to me because I acknowledge it makes me a better and more attentive partner. It makes our relationship stronger.

Yes, of course, that’s all true. But it’s not like I don’t get anything out of it.

And what I get out of it is what I concentrated on last night. The feeling of the hard steel pressing up between me and the mattress, squeezing my wannabe erection. The knowledge that I wasn’t getting what I wanted in that moment but I was getting all I wanted in the bigger picture. How, in only the way possible in this kind of dynamic, even not getting what I want is exactly what I want.

I’m desperately horny for her. That’s the reason we do this. We have sex when she decides. Period. I’m supposed to crave what I have no control over. Her pussy. The penis. Our sex. Everything. I’m not ignored, even though circumstances have conspired to make me feel a little neglected. I’m actually quite loved and cared for.

That’s what I focused on.