The last thing I’ll ever post about “Fifty Shades of Grey,” I swear to god

A reader calling themselves Elle left this comment and I think it’s exactly what I was trying to say with my original post:

Of course Fifty Shades isn’t high brow literature. It’s not the best written, and there are surely faults. I found some. But then, I rarely read a book and get to the end and say “Everything about this was perfect!” My biggest disappointment from Fifty was that the kinkster had to have a traumatic background. Not the best message to send to the masses, but overall – the book has accomplished good things. In my opinion.

In my life personally? I recommended it to my best friends. And you know what? They loved it. Told me they liked their sex a little rougher than they’d ever hinted to me before. They even said, quite salaciously, *they liked to be spanked*. Wide-eyed but delighted by this information, I got brave and took the plunge. I told them I was kinky. That’s right! I told my best friends I was kinky, and it was all facilitated by this book. So maybe the way Fifty was written did some harm to the BDSM community’s image. But it surely also did a bit of good, even if we’d rather it were better.

Walking through Target this morning on a quest for children’s cough and cold elixir, I saw the entire series of books massed out at the end of a checkout aisle between packages of Oreos and The Avengers Blu-Ray preorder cards. I’m telling you, when books about kinky sex (even objectively bad ones) penetrate the popular culture to the level of blockbuster comic book movies and fucking Oreo cookies, it is a good thing.

Shades other than the 50

According to the dear readers of this blog, Fifty Shades of Grey sucks. Here’s my question then: If you could choose the work of erotic literature with which to introduce the unsuspecting masses to the world of BDSM, what would it be? As I said in my other post, I’ve never read Fifty Shades but I’ve also not read much else other than a large number of pornographic ditties.

So let’s have it. What deserves the attention Fifty Shades is getting? What’s a better choice?

Fifty shades of get over it

Over on The Facebook, I follow a technology website called The Verge. Great site. Probably one of the best tech sites on the web. This morning, they posted a link to an article about how Fifty Shades of Grey has become the top-selling series of books in the United Kingdom, surpassing the seven Harry Potter books. Along with the link, they added…

The correlation between popularity and quality grows ever weaker

Before I go any further, what correlation between quality and popularity?! It seems more often the case that things that are popular and of high quality are a happy accident than the norm. But I digress.

The article itself just covers the facts of the situation, but the comments are enlightening.

How sad…

I have no words to describe the sadness that I am feeling because of this.

Human kind has deteriorated.

I just died a little inside.

Etcetera, etcetera. It reminds me of the comments from the recent article on Karezza Tom pointed out. Discouraging.

Now, I haven’t read Fifty Shades because M/f dom/sub stuff just doesn’t do much for me. I’m more a little M kinda guy, after all. But I can’t think of anything better for those of us espousing non-traditional sexuality than this book. I mean, I’ve got boring, middle-aged hausfrau friends living in Connecticut reading this in their book clubs. Like, out in the open. And talking about it. With their friends. As a culture, we’re so hung up in our own fucking undies over sex that any popular work that helps thaw our icy Kegels has to be a good thing, high literature or not.

Four millions copies of these books have been sold in the UK alone since March. Imagine how many thousands of people may have been inspired by the story to open up to themselves and their partners about their own kinks. Something made somewhat more easy, I assume, since the work has been embraced by the popular culture. And if it leads to further interest in non-traditional erotic literature (like the works of Anne Rampling/Rice, for example), even better.

Fifty Shades makes being weird slightly less weird, so I don’t give a shit what it means to the Boy Who Lived. He defeated Voldemort, after all. He’ll get over it.

Mailbag

Matt Cook hasn’t had an orgasm in seven months, and he hopes never to intentionally have one again.

Now that’s an opening line. Certainly one that will grab my attention. It comes (ahem) from an article found by the inimitable Tom Allen in which the practice of Karezza is described. Kareeza, also know as “coitus reservatus”, is described by Wikipedia as “a form of sexual intercourse in which the penetrative partner does not attempt to ejaculate within the receptive partner, but instead attempts to remain at the plateau phase of intercourse for as long as possible avoiding the seminal emission.”

The article on Matt Cook wasn’t the first time I’d heard of Karezza, though. I received the following from reader Athena an embarrassingly long time ago:

I would be very appreciative to read a mans view, in particular your view regarding “Coitus Reservatus” or aka Karezza. I’m requesting this because you’re very gifted at expressing yourself in a manner that is easily understandable for your Female readers.

I want to approach the topic with my boyfriend, as I’ve been researching the practice lately. But finding contemporary and relative articles has been a challenge.

Would you agree that Karezza can be, for some the next step in the progression of chastity within a relationship?

I’m not sure I’d compare Karezza to enforced male chastity for a couple of reasons. First, chastity is, as we practice it, more than incidentally about power exchange. It’s a form of BDSM. Karezza, as I understand it, has no element of power exchange whatsoever. The man willingly controls his orgasm to promote the “deepest human affection.” Secondly, it sounds is if there is regular penetration by the man (and some kind of preternatural ability to avoid orgasm on his part). In my experience, the penis rarely gets wet, especially for recreational fucking without possibility of orgasm (alas). Of course, the end product of both is similar. The girl comes and the guy doesn’t. The resulting feelings and attitude of the man are likely very similar, but the getting there is all different.

But that doesn’t mean I disagree with you that it (or some form of it) could be a “next step in the progression of chastity within a relationship” for some. Honestly, I’ve felt for a while now that I was doing this chastity thing all wrong. I want to be denied. I do not want to come. Oh, I do, from time to time, get the urge and feel the need and she does let me, but immediately afterward I invariably wish I hadn’t. Even as I’m building toward the orgasm, in the back of my head I’m hoping she won’t let me. In all the hawt chastity porn, the man is desperate for orgasm all the time and his evil wife is constantly dangling the possibility out there but rarely letting him have it. That’s not me. I want to be denied and denied and denied. I’ve felt this way for a long time and, I recall, when I first said on this blog that I didn’t like having an orgasm as much as not having one, some readers suggested I was Doing It Wrong. Perhaps my denial has led me to a place not unlike where practitioners of coitus reservatus find themselves. Like Matt, I’d be happy if Belle told me I would never intentionally come again.

So yeah, the idea of coitus reservatus does appeal to me, but the lack of any kind of domination or submission doesn’t. I am where Matt Cook is, mostly. But I still want the D/s, bondage, and masochism. I’m a kinky bastard, after all.

Anonymous said:

After few months with playing with CB-6000 and some doubts, my wife came to conclusion, that she like benefits of using chastity device (short term, not permanent), but not the device itself. Reason – tube-like shape and imagination of everything inside swollen, sweaty, and without much ventilation, works for her rather as a turn off. We looked for some cage-like devices, but I still don’t get it – how to take it off with full erection, while most of them (all?) has closed, one-piece rings? I know the ordinary method (one potato, two potato, weenie to get in, and backwards to take it off), but HOW, when my precious member, when full erected, is pointing straight at my face, when I look at him? is it even possible to take off the ring with an erection?

If the ring is fitted correctly, you can’t get it off when you’re hard. Impossible. But, (again) if it’s fitted correctly, you probably don’t really need to. At least that’s my experience. The A-ring of the Steelheart, when left on, is like an almost but not quite too tight cockring. It has the benefit of making the penis’ erection a tad larger and it gives me a bit more staying power (plus, it’s kinda uncomfortable which pushes my masochism buttons). I’m not sure that a device without the integrated lock would work as well, though. My Jail Bird has a post sticking out for the lock to engage the cage and, while we’ve never tried it, it’s likely that the post would poke Belle.

My advice: Figure out a way to get the ring off before you’re too hard and/or make a fun little game of defeating the erection so the ring can come off (bag of ice water on the cock, for instance).

Beth said:

I’ve never commented but I’ve enjoyed reading your blog immensely for the last year or two. I was hoping I could get a piece of advice. I’m a lady in a 5+ year relationship with a handsome gentleman- I’d say he’s a switch/sub and I’m a sub/switch. We’ve been doing light BDSM play for 2-3 years now but in a couple of weeks we’ve decided to try a 24 hour power exchange since it’ll be the first time we’ll see each other in 3 months (!). I’ll be domming but as we’ve never done anything like this for more than an hour or 2 I figured I’d ask if you had any particular “care and keeping” advice.

From our earlier play I know some of the standard considerations (plenty of conversations ahead of time, sit down in an uncharged situation before to revisit soft/hard limits, yellow/red safeword system, have quick access necessary safety equipment (trauma shears for rope play, etc), plenty of downtime afterward to process and recharge and snuggle) but a scenario of this length is new territory for both of us and I imagine there are things I haven’t thought of. Should I try to break scene every few hours to check in or is that too disruptive to the “subspace”? We’re both very much looking forward to this and I just want to make sure it goes as smoothly as is reasonable to expect.

Beth, to me it sounds like you’re doing everything right. All that communication up front is so critical and it sounds like you’ve done it in spades. With regard to breaking the scene, if I were in his position and had the requisite safewords, etc., I wouldn’t want you too. The more time spent deeply in the subspace, the better.

Your handsome gentleman is lucky to have such a thoughtful and considerate top.

John said:

Recently got in to chastity with my partner. Actually, he complained about my spanking the monkey too much and sort of took matters into his own hands. I am currently locked in a Bon4. Hoping for a jailbird or steel heart soon. I had reservations at first, but have since found it fucking awesome to hold back. The longest time so far is 5 days. He teases me mercilessly while i am locked up. We had to do some experimentation with different ring sizes, lubes, underware, etc., but thanks to the advise on your blog, things have improved significantly. Just wanted to say thanks for the awesome blog, and keep up the good work.

Have I mentioned how hot I find the idea of gay male chastity? Sweet Jesus. I’m glad things are going well for you guys, John. Send pictures. Really.

I apologize to those who sent in feedback. It took me far too long to get to it all this time around.

Mailbag

Catching up on some mailbag items…

Thanks for a great website.  I am about to start a long time in a CB-6000 with PA cable on Thursday.

I do have an odd question for you….

I need to wear an athletic cup for sparing in martial arts.  I know I can get the cup over the device but I suspect if I actually get kicked, the device and cup will work together to rack my balls badly.  Any advice on this?  (I wear the cup to prevent damage to my balls… I can handle some pain… I THINK!)

I know for a fact that one can wear these devices during physical activities, but I wouldn’t wear one while participating in a contact sport. A device ties all the squishy bits together in a way they weren’t designed so that as one part moves in one direction during a hit and another part might move in an opposite direction, they’re forced to move together and that might be bad. Especially if you’ve got a cable running through the whole set up that fixes the end of your penis in place with a ring that’s been punched through your urethra. Man. I get creeped out just thinking about it.

The cup might offer some measure of protection, I suppose, but if it’s like ones I’ve worn there won’t be much room in it for all the extra plastic. If it were me, I’d figure out a way to take it off while kicking and being kicked.

I have recently found your blog about male chastity, actually, I have recently found out about male chastity.  I have been looking for a way to spice up my marriage a little.  I have been married to a great wife for 14 years now, 3 kids and the spice is not what it used to be.  We are both just starting to get back into wanting sex more.  Although, she likes missionary only.

I am researching this as much as I can and like to talk with normal people that are doing this and what I can learn from them. Bringing this up to her and getting her to go along with this will be difficult, so wondering if you have any suggestions.

If you’re asking about how to approach her, I’m not a very good resource. I don’t really have a strategy because when I first found out about enforced chastity I immediately shared it with Belle and we were on our way. We were in a particular place in our relationship where I felt comfortable sharing this interest with her. The best advice I have would be to explain that normal people really do do this. Really. Yes, it’s kinky, but not like taped up hamsters. It’s pretty tame, actually.

If you’re looking for things to share with her, I more or less think Sarah Jameson’s stuff is pretty good. That’s not a bad place to start. She puts things in a way that might appeal to the average woman and, as long as you can see through her submissive male bigotry, is reasonably practical. Obviously, I think the stuff Tom’s written is another great resource. Belle in particular has appreciated his point of view. Don’t forget Dev, either! I also think the gang over at the Chastity Forums are pretty levelheaded. That’s another good place for you to go as you figure out a strategy on how to move forward with your wife. Finally, I’m asking others to add their two bits and/or links in the comments. I know there are smart people reading this who could help.

Good luck!

I read your blog because you are an honest writer.  You don’t pull punches or shy away from topics that um, well might embarrass others.  However, having said that, you may not want to tackle the subject I am about so ask you to write about, because it’s so full of emotional, political, and even religious focus.  The subject is homosexuality versus bisexuality. I have commented before that I find the idea of gay male sex a real turn on, but I have never felt a “man crush” for any man. Conversely, I have had many a crush on woman that don’t physically turn me on.

I also am one of the many guys that finds lesbian sex a huge turn on, but other then the fact that its usually two very attractive woman doing things that I like to do with a woman, I don’t know why it turns me on.  Just watching two beautiful women kiss drives me crazy.  And although two guys can talk about lesbian sex with zero social stigma, you rarely hear two guys talk about gay male sex.  Kind of a double standard there, I think.

So, that double standard got me to thinking that bi-sexuality might not have the “falling in love crush” attached to it, but rather is simply physical pleasure derived from both the physical act and the “taboo” nature of the act. (not unlike anal sex for some). The hardcore homosexual organizations talk about bisexuals as a cop out or as an out right denial of sexual identity.  And mostly they take this position for political reasons.  They seem to be saying “We’ve worked so hard to get our rights established in the law, we don’t want any of you fence sitters screwing it up, come out or shut up.”  That’s why I think that bisexuals get this horrible rap of being confused or closet homosexuals. I call bullshit on that. I’m not confused, I like the same kind of sex that homosexuals do.  I just don’t feel like I could fall in love with someone and have a “pair bonded” relationship with them.  Thank god there is strap-on sex…the closes thing I’ll ever get to gay male sex!

Help me explain this better can you?

I spent many years of my life essentially paralyzed by my seemingly contradictory impulses with regard to sex. I kept trying to find a paradigm I could fit myself into and it just wasn’t there. By the time I decided to stop obsessing and get on with things, I was approaching thirty. I lost most of my twenties, sexually speaking. It is a waste of fucking time.

Fact is, people are going to feel how they’re going to feel. Kinsey nailed it back in the Forties with his scale. Human sexuality is a fluid continuum that simply cannot be diced into orderly blocks to suit anyone’s moral preferences. We are all born this way, to one degree or another, as are many other animals. There is no right answer and its society’s problem that this isn’t recognized and accepted, not ours.

I’ve recently started reading a book called Straight: The Surprisingly Short History of Heterosexuality. Here’s a snippet from the Amazon description:

Like the typewriter and the light bulb, the heterosexual was invented in the 1860s and swiftly and permanently transformed Western culture. The idea of “the heterosexual” was unprecedented. After all, men and women had been having sex, marrying, building families, and sometimes even falling in love for millennia without having any special name for their emotions or acts. Yet, within half a century, “heterosexual” had become a byword for “normal,” enshrined in law, medicine, psychiatry, and the media as a new gold standard for human experience.

I recommend you check it out! It’s an eye-opener.

The following came from a comment to another post.

This is from http://chastewench.blogspot.com/ and has nothing to do with your recent post, but it does describe my exact situation and I hate it! Any suggestions you might have that would smooth out the ups and downs?

Rollercoster

Various blogs suggest that the way to motivate a man is to keep him desperate. It’s so scarily true.

A few days of tease and denial and I’m ready to do anything the Empress of my cock says. Yet once I’m sated it’s difficult to relate to why I was so malleable and so desperate to be dominated. It’s like looking at another person, one you don’t quite get, and finding yourself a little shocked by their antics. Thinking ‘was that really me?’

The peculiar thing is the more I’m denied, and the nastier she is, the more I crave submission, discipline, humiliation, abuse, pain. The desire to be dominated builds and builds. The constant forfeit of control and state of excitement is so addictive. Crazy as it sounds it’s almost as if the more she denies me the more a part of me wants it to continue. The more I sink into submission.

Then she lets me cum and then buzz is gone. I’m left bemused, shaking my head at my own behaviour. Having to remind myself that I signed a contract, try to rationalise putting the chastity belt back on, when I no longer really want to be locked away, I’m no longer in the mood. Then with a snap of the lock the ride starts all over again.

So, so familiar with that particular ride, as would be anyone who’s found themselves locked up for more than a single play session. It gets to the question of what is a true submissive. If one only feels that way after being denied (or feels it much more strongly), then is that person a real sub? Honestly, I leave that question to others to decide. For Chaste Wench and for me and for many others (maybe even you), we like that eventual feeling of profound submission. The part where you can’t get enough of whatever she’s dishing out. As far as I’m concerned, you need at least a seed of submission in you somewhere for it to grow, but really, if it feels good, who cares?.

The cratering of desire for all this chastity play after orgasm can’t be helped (assuming it’s a pleasurable orgasm). It’s chemical. Once you come and the brain releases its happy juice into your bloodstream, it snuffs out the other chemicals that drive the need to be locked and disciplined and abused. There really is no way around it, other than either always ruining the guy’s orgasm or never ever letting him have another (which is rife with its own set of issues). After the spurt, you feel kind of embarrassed for ever wanting to wear the thing in the first place and wonder what all the hubbub was about. If you have a blog like this one, you go back and read things that, even though you wrote them, you have a hard time feeling.

Personally, my advice would be to enjoy the ride. When it’s up, it’s the best fucking thing in the word (or at least feels that way). When it’s down, you simply need to take solace in the fact that, given time and a secure device, all will feel right in the world eventually. For me, assuming it’s just one orgasm, that’s about 2-3 days. Hardly any time at all!

Reaffirmation

The other day, we asked our 12-year-old son to put some meat into the deep freeze in the garage. Well, actually, Belle asked me to do it and I delegated the task to the boy thinking carrying meat and operating a freezer door was within his operational capabilities. Well…about 1:00 AM the next morning, Belle was woken up by some oddly muffled beeping sound. Following it downstairs, we found the freezer door to open just a smidge and the air in the freezer, instead of being its usual -3, was 31. The beeping was the freezer doing its best to tell someone, anyone, of the impeding food disaster.

Back in bed and unable to sleep, I prompted a discussion about the recent series of posts and the revelation that if I was allowed to break the most basic tenant of our dynamic without consequence, then what did it mean to either of our commitments to that dynamic? Long story short, she’ll be deploying a series of punishments for the offense (as she thinks of them, I assume) and I have promised to reaffirm my commitment to never having an orgasm again without her permission. We’re both reaffirming this arrangement.

The first part of my punishment is not being allowed to sleep naked. It’s not that big of a deal, on the face of it, but I really like sleeping naked and have been very good about respecting that rule. Only Belle can permit me to be naked in bed. If she falls asleep before giving me the green light, I sleep in pajamas. Period. Well, kinda period. That’s something else that’s slipped in the past few weeks. I’ve slept naked under the assumption that she’d let me, which is not at all the same thing. So, as of now, I’m not allowed to be naked in bed. Not even when I’m pleasuring her, which I did this morning. I was entirely covered while she was exposed. Part of the punishment.

During our talk, she prompted me to tell her how she might punish me. It’s often been a challenge for her. How do you punish someone who would otherwise like all the normal tactics? It’s hard for me to tell her how to punish me because it seems like cheating somehow. I do tell her things I genuinely dislike, but the act of telling her turns me on. So anyway, a few ideas (only the first two I said at the time) are:

  • IcyHot on the nuts – It’s been a long time since she used that on me. I really do dislike it as anyone who’s ever had IcyHot on his nuts would appreciate.
  • Caning – I bought a nice flexible cane and we’ve yet to use it. If she were to take a couple three whacks at my ass as hard as she could without warm up, you can be sure I would not like it.
  • The nasty nipple clamps – Yes, I usually like them, but they’re pretty cruel. If she put them on me, twisted them around a bit and them ripped them off by force, I would be in a great deal of pain.
  • Extra long denial – Yeah, yeah, I can hear you thinking, a la Admiral Ackbar, “It’s a trap!” but hear me out. I know, based on past experience now, that really long denial gets very hard after 2-3 months and at the moment I really do crave an orgasm, so instead of making me wait until November as she’s doing now, what if I had to wait until January? Or March? And every time I whined about how badly I wanted to come or be inside her, she could tell me that under normal circumstances that would be allowed, but there was that one I stole from her in a hotel room back in August, so…

Leaving me out of her orgasms, as I’ve said before, is maybe the worst punishment but that only works if she’s actually getting off without me. If she never masturbates, then I’m just left to float and that ends up being counter-productive in the end.

In other news, I was forced out of the device for about 36 hours due to a nasty hot spot under the right side of the cuff ring. It was already acting up before I went to the doctor’s the other day, but somehow going back in afterward made it a lot worse. I put it back on yesterday but it was persistently annoying so I’ve swapped out the 40mm cuff with my original 45mm ring. It feels ridiculously large but the irritated spot doesn’t seem to notice it, so it’s better than nothing. It’ll be interesting to see how it feels tonight under “full load” since I’ve never worn this combination of tube and ring before.

Also, I had an interesting dream last night. In it, Belle and I were with an assortment of friends having dinner somewhere (I can’t remember who it was or where we were, of course, but they were friends) and at some point the name of someone we both used to work for came up. We’ll call him “Dennis”.

In the dream, she said, “Dennis? Oh, he kicked the ass of Randy in bed last night!” Randy was another guy she used to work for.

Conversation stopped at the table (in the dream) and I said somewhat nervously, “Sweetie, you were at home last night with me, remember?” But the night before that, in the dream, she had been in New York with Dennis. I had no idea she had been with either Dennis or Randy before she blurted this out.

There was nervous laughter at the table and that’s all I remember.

And yeah, I found that to be pretty f’n hot. Both at the time and in retrospect. I told Belle this morning and we both had a good laugh because Dennis was a pretty good looking guy who may have been good in bed, but Randy wasn’t and didn’t look it. I told Belle how it had turned me on.

“Dew on a blade of grass would turn you on,” she said.

A bit of an exaggeration. But just a bit.

Six pinchy things

I only have the two nipples, but over time, we’ve collected six different types of pinchy things with which to torture them. I realized the other day that they’re not all created equal so I thought I’d write a little missive on each explaining why I like some but not others.

Each will be rated on three attributes using a scale of 1 (worst) to 5 (best):

Pinchiness — In short, how much to they pinch the nipple meat? Admittedly somewhat subjective, but it seems an important measure for those who like things clamped to their tits.

Grippiness — How well do they stay on, either when just hanging there, during play, or when being pulled on?

Viciousness — Another highly subjective measure, but exactly how mean and nasty is each? You know, in case that’s what you’re into.

I’m also including pictures of each, both in situ and a detail of the business end. Click on any picture for a ridiculously larger version.

KinkLab Mandible – $18.50

One of two newly-added items to our collection, they have a threaded adjustment feature that allows them to be made more or less tight. There is no spring mechanism, so the only way to make them grip is to screw them on. In practice, I found that to be somewhat futsy, though once on, their rubberize tips make them difficult to remove by pulling alone. They’re unlikely to come free by themselves, assuming they’ve been screwed on well. However, they’re also surprisingly unpainful. To such an extent that they’re essentially useless for me. I like it when it hurts.

Pinchiness: 2 — Grippiness: 5 — Viciousness: 1

Pierced Nipple Chain – $14.50

While my nipples are not pierced (alas), I got these because the Stockroom description said, “After testing, we also found that they work well as nipple clamps.” My initial impression was not good and I almost chucked them out as they seemed rather weak and unimpressive. However, given a good fat chunk of nipple flesh to bite onto, I found they’re anything but. In reality, they’re intese little fuckers which stay on well even though they’re nothing but bare metal. The chain is nice and heavy so you know when you have them on. They can be pulled off with enough effort which can be fun, too.

Pinchiness: 3 — Grippiness: 2.5 — Viciousness: 3

Chrome Mini-Clothespins – $9.00 a pair

We got these very early on in our acquisition of kinky toys but don’t often use them anymore. One of them fell apart when the two metal halves came out of the spring (and getting them back in was a bitch). In use, they’re tricky to get on properly and tend to slip off after a little while since they’re very slick. The biggest issue I have with them, though, is the fact that one spring carries considerably more tension than the other meaning one nipple gets pinched much harder than the other. Also, I wish they had a connecting chain for tugging and yanking (turns out, they do make some like that).

Pinchiness: 3 — Grippiness: 1 — Viciousness: 2.5

Japanese Clover Clamps – $26.50

The first really satisfying clamps we got, these things are classics. They grip really well thanks to the little nibs on their white rubbery pads. They have a nice heft and a good chain to yank and pull around with. Their large size makes them exceptionally well-suited to twisting. Plus, they look really cool in black. It’s very hard to go wrong with these.

Pinchiness: 4 — Grippiness: 4 — Viciousness: 4

Alligator Nipple Clamps – $16.50

Of all the clips, these are the ones that grip the best. Underneath the vinyl coating on their tips is a set of pointy-toothed aligator jaws which, if used unprotected, would undoubtedly sever the tips of my nipples. With the vinyl coating, however, these little bastards hold on like rabid badgers. With a good mouthful of pink meat, they resist coming off even while being pulled with much force. In addition, they bite pretty hard. Originally, they had some little screw-in things to keep them from clamping down fully, but I chucked those pretty quickly. Of all the clamps in this post, these are probably the best combination of bite, grip, and price.

Pinchiness: 4 — Grippiness: 5 — Viciousness: 3

Pervertable clips from some cargo shorts I got from Old Navy several years ago – Priceless

These are bad-ass motherfuckers. They originally came off three pairs of shorts I bought from Old Navy maybe eight years ago. Each pair had two clamps attached to one another by a striped shoestring, one end clipped to a belt loop and the other end…well, I can’t remember. Honestly, I have no idea what they were supposed to be used for. I took them off the shorts and stuck them in a drawer and forgot about them. Then, one day several years ago, I rediscovered them and realized what they could represent. This was before I was “out” as kinky, so I experimented with them in private. Their bite is so intense, I could never keep them on for more than ten or twenty seconds, but as I’ve expanded my repertoire of pain (and my overall horniness levels), I’ve found I can sometimes leave them on for long periods. But fuck, do they hurt. Even just moving them around at bit while they’re biting can be an eye-wateringly painful experience. Usually, they leave my nipple aching for at least 24 hours. In short, I love them.

As you can see in the detail image, their pinchy ends are off-set and fit into each other so that the entrapped meat is twisted in an especially tortuous way. In addition, their edges are rough and sharpish. Their bite is so hard and nasty that their overly enthusiastic use will actually cause scabs to be formed on my nipples in the days following. They don’t cause me to bleed, but they do break the skin enough that it has to heal afterward. Here’s a detail of one of the other clip images where, if you look real hard (or just where the little red arrows are pointing), you can see the scabs left over from their use almost a week ago. Not for the faint of heart.

Their upside is that they’re wickedly horrible. Their downside is…that they’re wickedly horrible. They are so intense that I really, really have to be in the mood to get any enjoyment out of them. Also, they’re getting kind of old now and I’ve found that the spring mechanisms in a few are getting unreliable. Two of them stick so that they don’t bite as hard as they used to which makes them slip off relatively easily when pulled. I’ve replaced the shoestring in one set with a black chain and another set I keep free for maximum flexibility (sometimes, when I’m feeling especially wicked, I can get two on each nipple). The third set is still like they were when I got them and, since I use them the least, are in the best shape of the bunch. Bottom line is these are absolutely fantastic implements of torture, but you couldn’t buy them if you wanted to any more than I could and that’s a shame.

Pinchiness: 5 — Grippiness: 5 — Viciousness: 5+

So you might think six sets of nipple tormenting devices would be enough. But no. I’m always on the lookout for more. If there’s a type I’ve not covered in this post that you have experience with, please leave details in the comments. I’d love to hear how my readers are abusing their tender pink spots.

Bits, bobs, etc.

I’m back in, if just for a few days. Belle let me out, as you may recall, a few days before I left on my hiking trip and even let me come (having said previously I’d get to orgasm in August). I was hoping I’d get another chance to get the penis wet before I left, but she came down with a cold and I was trying not to do the same either right before or during my trip, so excessive personal contact was kept to a minimum.

Luckily, she was in the mood (and I was way in the mood) and she let me give her an orgasm with my fingers on Saturday morning. For a second, it seemed like maybe that’s all that was going to happen and she wasn’t going let me have the pre-trip do-over, but in the end she did. I climbed on top and went to town, trying like hell to make it last, but failing as miserably as I usually do when the infrequent pussy time is granted. That orgasm was better than the one I had the week before and it’s left me wanting more, though she’s given no indication of how long it’ll be.

Last night, the steel curtain came back down and she’s secreted away the key. I’m actually pretty fucking horny right now. It was hard to clean the penis and its tube this morning because it wouldn’t get small enough to allow water to freely flow around inside there. I seem to be walking around with a semi-permanent semi. Whenever my thoughts even fleetingly head south or towards something sexual, I can feel it push against the walls of its prison.

Thursday, I head out of town for one night on business. If I’m still this horny then, I doubt I’ll be able to keep my hands off of it unless she very specifically says I’m not allowed or lets me take a device with me on the trip. Since I’ll probably be doing carry-on, it’d have to be the trusty old CB6K which I haven’t worn in well over a year.

In other news, the kids are out of our hair for the next nine days due to some construction in our house and this being the weeks between summer and school when they don’t have any daytime care options. So, up to the cabin they went with the grandparents. We won’t see them again until Labor Day weekend. I’m hoping the lack of company in the house will mean Belle hurts me or ties me up or both. I’d quite like to feel the sting of some hitty device on my ass or back or upper thighs. Maybe with some of the unspeakable nipple clamps in place…and my collar…

Oh look, there goes the penis again.

New shiny

Belle gets home today. She’s currently over the north North Pacific on a beeline for San Francisco, completing the second to last leg of a four-flight journey back to me. She’s been in China, Cambodia, Indonesia, and Vietnam on this trip. Obviously, I’m very excited for her to get home. It’s been a long couple of weeks.

While she was gone, I picked up a new shiny piece of steel, though not one I wear between my legs. In this case, it was a stainless cuff from House of Collars by Dom Wolf. I’ve been looking at them for years and almost bought one on several occasions. I finally pulled the trigger. It locks on using itty bitty headless torx screws. Here’s what it looks like on yours truly.

There’s lots of reasons I love this thing. First, it’s stainless. I have a real thing for shiny steel. It’s nicely made yet still a bit rough around the margins as something befitting a slave should be (though that’s not really me, is it?). Also, it’s a piece of genuine bondage equipment I can wear 24/7, out in public, that’s practically invisible as such to 99% of those who see it. Over the course of the week or so I’ve had it on, only one person said anything about it but didn’t seem to recognize it as anything other than a chunky bracelet. And it is pretty substantial. It’s not simple jewelry. It feels like a handcuff on my wrist.

Which, of course, turns me the fuck on. After putting it on for the first time, every time I felt its heft shift on my wrist, I thought what it’d feel like to have one on both wrists and on my ankles and even around my neck and the tube contents would swell. I imagine the cuffs around my wrist being locked to the ones around my ankles, a chain attached to the collar, tube dripping…*shudder*.

Anyway, it’s a nice feeling having a little sliver of what’s going on in my pants out there on my arm for the world to see. I didn’t talk to Belle before getting it so it’s not like I’m wearing it for any other reason except that I want to and I like it, but it represents more than just a chunky bracelet. It represents the enforced restraint and lack of control that turns my crank so lustily.

If you’re in the market for such a thing, I highly recommend Wolf’s work.

Hotel

I apologize in advance for the extreme length of today’s missive. I didn’t intend for it to go on and on like this, but there was too much to say!

As I mentioned the other day, Belle and I had a kid-free few days this past weekend. We celebrated by spending Friday night at a luxe downtown hotel with an on-premises spa.

We checked in and decided to grab a light dinner downstairs before retiring for the night. I had brought along a number of toys and accoutrement, but wasn’t too sure what would happen. I was locked in the Steelheart and Belle had just come the night before, so if it were any other run of the mill Friday night, nothing would have happened. I braced myself for that eventuality and had an alternate checklist of activities if she happened to fall asleep or something. I didn’t wonder if she was going to let me out because it’s a given that my normal condition is to be exactly as I was.

Back in the room, she wanted to lay on the bed and talk which was great because I like talking to her. She allowed me to go naked since it’s the state I prefer to be in when it’s an option. So there I was, naked with a big shiny thing where the dick usually is, with her snuggled under the covers in her jammies. And we talked.

At some point – and I’ll tell you right now that most of this evening is something of a blur for me so what you’re reading is my best approximation of the events – she mentioned that she planned on letting me out that night. She had already told me I would be out for the massage the next day, but as I said, I didn’t expect to be released before morning. Once she said it I knew I really wanted out. You just don’t say no to these kinds of opportunities. I expect I was not unlike an excited puppy from the time she mentioned it to the moment she let me out.

Back on the bed, now totally naked, she made it clear that I wasn’t to touch the merchandise. It was at this point that I started to get the idea that something was going to happen, though I had no idea what. She had previously said I wouldn’t come until the end of the year, but there’s a ton of stuff you can do besides that with a hard cock if you’re imaginative enough.

“What did you bring?” she asked.

I told her: the flogger, the bondage straps, nipple clamps, my collar, handcuffs (but not the key) and Mr. Darcy with his harness.

“Not Pink?” she asked, meaning her favorite vibrator.

“No, I couldn’t find it. I assumed you brought it.” It hadn’t been in it’s normal positon in my nightstand (handy for when she wants it), nor was it in hers.

I didn’t bring it,” she said. Come to think of it, we need to figure out where that went. Anyway…

“Get the clamps and your collar.” A thrill of excitement when through me. She hardly ever collars me. “And the cuffs.”

I brought the collar over to her side of the bed and kneeled and dropped my head so she could buckle it behind my neck. A low subbie thrum started inside me.

Back in bed next to her, I asked if she had ever wanted to try the nipple clamps.

“No, I don’t like pain.”

“How do you know until you try?” I asked, “Maybe you could try it just for a second on one nipple.”

She pulled her top down so her right breast was exposed and she placed the clamp gingerly onto her plump, succulent nipple.

“OWW!!!!” she said. So much for that idea.

She griped about it for another five minutes or so before attaching a clip to my left nipple. Then she strung the other through the ring on my collar and clipped it onto my right nipple. Then she pulled. And pulled and pulled. And the cock rose accordingly.

“You are so weird,” she said.

“I know,” I replied as the cock twitched and surged.

She snapped the handcuffs around my left wrist.

“You have the keys, right?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“You sure? Because this’ll be hard to explain during the massage tomorrow.”

She got up and got the keys to the handcuffs, showed them to me, and then placed them on her nightstand before closing the cuffs around my right wrist. They were tight, digging into me. Every movement caused them to bite harder.

Collared, clamped, and cuffed. I slipped a little deeper into my headspace. She teased me by running her fingers around the throbbing cock, over my balls (slapping them lightly) and back up to the chain connecting the clips. Pulling. I groaned. The cock flexed.

“Please touch it,” I begged.

“No.”

Whimper. Whine. I moved to kiss her, but she pulled her head away.

“Please let me kiss you. I want to kiss you.”

She moved her head back down, just close enough for my lips to graze hers, but not close enough for a real kiss.

“Please…”

She kissed me, full on the mouth, but just once and she didn’t linger, then she got up from the bed and started to rummage through my bag. She brought out the bondage stuff and strapped my ankles to each of the king-sized bed’s feet. I retained some movement, but couldn’t close my legs. Next, she started looking around the room as if she had misplaced something. She grabbed a cloth napkin from the bar and tied it over my eyes like a blindfold. I couldn’t see a thing. Then she made a little happy sound like she had discovered something she had lost. That was followed by a few metallic sounds. CLAMP CLAMP!

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Maybe I should go down to the bar and have a drink. Leave you like this to stew.”

Groan. I think she considered it. Really was thinking about it, but then I felt her get back into bed with me. She continued the teasing from before. My cock was desperate for real touching, preferably stroking, and I moved my hands down as if to oblige but she jerked them back over my head.

“No touching!”

They weren’t tied that way, but it was clear she wanted my hands up over my head or near my face.

“Please,” I begged again, “please touch it.”

“If I do, then what? What’s in it for me?”

“Anything. Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, please, just touch it!

“OK…”

I felt something cold and sharp on the hard shaft. It clamped down on either side of the cock and moved up and down, slowly.

“How does that feel?”

“Ungh! It hurts!”

“Hurts bad or hurts good?”

“Both!” I writhed.

I could feel the metal bite the smooth, silky skin of the shaft but also feel the internal stimulation of being stroked. I needed this so bad. Craved it. Two months since I last came, and she was jacking me off with some kind of sharp, painful metal device.

“Do you want me to stop?”

I paused. It hurt. But it also felt good. Really good.

“No.” I said quietly, then moved my hips closed to her, arching my back so she could get a better angle on the meat. What felt like sharp little teeth were biting into the stiff shaft and it hurt, but I couldn’t imagine it stopping. I was getting more than enough jacking off stimulation to hold my attention.

Occasionally, she stop the stroking and I’d feel her use whatever it was on my nuts. She’d clamp the sharp teeth round one of my nuts and squeeze. Then the other. Then back to the shaft. I could actually feel the rumblings of an orgasm, even against the pain of the metal.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Yes? Want me to stop now?”

“Oh FUCK, no. Don’t stop. Please.”

“Does it hurt?”

“YES! But I like it. I want you to jack me off.”

“You. Are. So weird.”

“I know,” I said softly, moving closer to her.

“And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

More stroking. More biting. More feeling the need to come, though I realized it was never going to get there with the level of stimulation I was getting from whatever it was she was stroking me with.

“What is that thing?”

She pulled the blind from my eyes and held the ice tongs in front of my face, snapping their little teeth together.

“Jesus Christ!”

She moved it back down to the cock and grabbed it with the little teeth.

“I thought you liked it,” she said.

“Ungh,” I replied as she stroked me some more.

She put the tongs aside and pulled off her shirt. I tried to kiss them, get my mouth on her nipples. She pushed me away.

“Not yet.”

Then she started to flog the cock and my balls. Gently, but then with some force. Not enough to damage me, but enough to get my attention. She’d slowly drag the suede lashes over the straining and, now thanks to the ice tongs, stinging meat. Then flick them across the shaft. Then the balls. Then dragging them again, seductively. Lovingly. Again and again.

“Please, will you fuck me?”

“No.”

Whine.

“Not yet, anyway.”

More flogging. More pulling on the clamps which had, by this time been on me for much longer than usual.

“I really should just leave you like this all night long. Tied up, nipples clamped.” I whined again.

“Please. Please fuck me. I don’t need to come. I just want to feel you. It’s been so long. Two months.”

“I know,” she said cooly, “That’s a long time, isn’t it?”

“Please…” was all I could muster. I wanted it so bad. Was so horny. She had played me perfectly all night, leaving me right on the edge of where pain turns to pleasure, but not going too far. I needed to feel something soft and hot and wet on her cock. I wanted her.

She took the cock in her hand. I moaned deeply. This wasn’t her pussy, it was pretty good.

“It stings.”

“Really?” and she stroked me harder.

The cock stiffened. I could feel my balls drawing up. I was getting close…

Then she stopped, leaving me bobbing in the air.

“Oh God!”

She waited, perhaps counting the beat of my heart by the bounce of the cock in midair. Then she grabbed it again and resumed the stroking.

“You want me to fuck you?” she asked.

“Oh, Jesus, yes! Please fuck me!”

“And…what’s in it for me?”

“Anything. Anything you want.” And I meant it.

She made herself completely naked and climbed on top of me. She straddled my hips and moved the abused, desperate cock in position against her pussy’s lips. Then she plunged down onto it. I lost my breath, unable to breath. It felt so good. So amazing. Hot. Everything I needed it to be.

Her breasts were in my face and I tried to get her nipples in my mouth, but her motion as she fucked her cock made them hard targets.

“That’s a good boy,” she said, “Good Thumper. You know what you’re supposed to do…”

But it was too hard. I couldn’t keep hold of them. Eventually, she moved off and I slipped out with a wet smack against my stomach. She removed the clips from my nipples and twin lasers of intense pain seared into me. Unmoved, she pulled them out of my collar and tossed them aside. She picked the keys to the cuffs up off the nightstand but didn’t have a good handle on them and they fell into the hot wax of the candle.

“Fuck!” she said. Then she got the tongs and used them to fish the keys out.

Clamps and cuffs off, she put her hand over the cock again.

“Oh good, you’re still ready,” but she stroked it a few times for good measure before mounting me again.

She fucked me slowly as I sucked her tits. Her eyes closed, she was enjoying it at least as well as I was. After the initial shock, I settled in to as useful a position as possible. She may have given me what I was begging for, but now it was for her.

Best intentions aside, I said, “I’m getting close.” She slowed down. I could see her working it out in her head. Would I come or not? It had “only” been two months. After a smal rest, she’d pick up her rhythm again. I’d focus on a place far, far away, but it was so hard. The two months and the stroking, both with her hand and the ice tongs, conspired against me.

“I’m close,” I said again. What would happen? Would she roll off of me? Make me finish her in the normal way?

“Go ahead,” she said, and started to fuck me faster.

“Really?”

“Yes. Fuck me.”

And I did. I fucked her as hard and as fast as I could. Moments later, I felt it. From somewhere deep, deep inside the orgasm started to build and grow and rush forward before exploding out of me and into her. Three, four, five giant loads of semen surged out of me. I cried out at the intensity. The entire world had gone away and all there was was this feeling. My orgasm.

It finally subsided and I was left a gibbering, gooey mess. She rolled off of me and I felt two months of pent up desire ebb from my pores. Fuck, that was awesome. Even as the cock was laying against me, fat and happy, it continued to ooze its payload. Now, of course, I was repulsed by it. The slippery, foul smelling paste. While she attended to herself, I got some tissues and wiped as much of it as I could from my skin.

She got back into bed and I cleaved onto her.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Awesome. Thank you so much for that. It was so great.”

“I haven’t come yet.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

I started in again on her nipples and fingering her pussy. It was super slick with my ejaculate and felt wider than usual. Well-fucked. She seemed to enjoy what I was doing, but it didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

“I want you to eat me out.”

Oh, fuck. I cringed. I whimpered again. “Really?”

“What’s wrong? I thought you liked that.”

“I do, but…” I just came in there!

“Well, you should have brought Pink. Come on, cowboy, get to it,” she said as she spread her legs wide. “You said I could have anything.”

Busted. I was groaning the whole way down. I could smell it. I had already felt it. I knew it was in there still. There had been so much.

I closed my eyes figuring it’d be easier if I couldn’t see anything. Don’t get me wrong, I love pussy, but I’ve never found it to be the most appealing thing immediately after an orgasm. Regardless, I figured the band-aid approach was best. Just get it over with.

My tongue stared to lap at her clit. That would be the area of least contamination, I thought, but she liked how it felt and started to move her pussy around, guiding my licking.

“That’s a good boy,” she purred. I licked. Oh, god. I licked and lapped and reached up to her nipples, hoping she’d come so I could stop.

“Can you taste yourself?” she asked.

I grunted noncommittally. Of course I could. Fucking hell.

When she finally came, she pushed my face into her and my tongue deeper into her pussy. She clamped her legs around my head. There was no getting away. Her orgasm spasmed across my tongue and she squeezed more of my seed into my mouth on onto my face.

When she unclamped, I moved out as quickly as possible, wiping my face with my hands.

“Good job, Thumper.”

Next morning, before we went to get our 80 minute deep tissue massages (can you imagine?), she allowed me to jack off one more time and finish with an orgasm. She was in the bathroom getting ready and would occasionally look in my direction, a look of bemusement on her face.

“What?! You said I could!”

“I know…”

I tried to draw it out as long as possible. To savor the rare moment of self gratification. I came again and, just like before, it was copious. Great globs of it oozed out of me. The orgasm was half as intense as the night before, but even then, was ten times better than I used to have when they were mine.

Later, after the rubbing and the fragrant oil and the fruit juice, as we were leaving the spa, she asked if I was relaxed.

“Oh yes,” I replied, “In more ways than one.”

In thinking about this after the fact, I can easily say that night in the nice hotel when Belle Fille abused me and then fucked me and then made me eat my own seed from her was one of the top five sexual experiences of my life. I’m so, so lucky to be married to such a wonderful and caring woman.

Thank you, Belle Fille. Thank you for everything.