Tag: CB-6000

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Three days and out

My Belle told me last night that she was letting me out of the device on Wednesday. That’ll be around eleven days in, give or take depending on how you count the night I bled, which is about the longest I’ve been locked-up, but I can’t recall the record at the moment. Isn’t keeping score like that such a guy thing to to, BTW? I want to break records here, people! Hopefully, she’ll keep me in for a month next time. No, wait. Really?

We were very chatty since she’s fighting off a bug and didn’t feel much like doing anything else. I got out of her that she really likes where we are now. She likes that we’re so much closer. In fact, I don’t think we’ve ever been more intimate with each other. She can see and likes how the denial and chastity are affecting me. I have to admit, the idea that her control is actually modifying my behavior to such an extent that she’s noticing it and that she likes it and wants it to continue sends a thrill through me. I mean, that’s the whole point of it, right? Mutual exchange of pleasure. I get off on being controlled – in fact, mentally and physically transformed through her control – and she likes the resulting changes. They should feed on each other over time. Last night was the first time I can think of that she spontaneously volunteered a positive opinion about what we were doing. Or, at least, one so obviously positive.

She also commented on how differently I act each time she has me locked up. Last time, she thought my mood was fairly flat versus my increased arousal and submissiveness this time around. I was flat last time, but I was also heading into some treacherous emotional waters brought on by her trip, etc. Also, I went into chastity that time all on my own. This time, she decided that I’d be locked up. There’s a vast psychological difference between the two.

In fact, upon further consideration, I think my new-found interest in serving her (that is, relieving her of stress, making her happy, and otherwise doing whatever I can for her) is a rechanneling of sexual energy that before I didn’t know what to do with. Doing things for her gives me a focus and a way to burn up some frustration in a positive way. That’s my theory of the moment, anyway.

So, while I get out on Wednesday for who knows how long, I will not be coming any time soon. She still doesn’t know when that’ll happen. If it doesn’t occur by this Thursday (and I have no reason to think it will), there’s no way it can possibly happen before next Friday, what with the family all sharing one hotel room on our trip. That will be about three weeks and will break my old record of 19 days. I think I’m excited about that. I mean, breaking records is good, right?

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A conundrum

The fear of death by blood loss kept me out of the device Friday night. As I said, I was fairly upset that I had, once again, done something that had forced me out of chastity prior to Belle wanting me out. I really want to play by the rules with these things and the rules state she decides, not me. She said she wouldn’t punish me since it was an accident, but I felt bad just the same. I decided to make the best of it and try to get a good night’s sleep without the usual early morning bulgefest.

At about 4:30, I woke up anyway. Not because my erection was encased in plastic but because it wasn’t. The change in sensation was enough to throw me off and there I was, as usual, awake and thinking about a boner I couldn’t do anything with. I was, however, happy to see the ‘lil gusher from the night before had been sealed and no more blood had leaked from it. Over the course of the next few hours, I tried to find a comfortable position for my big, stupid hard-on and drifted in and out of sleep.

At about 6:30 or so, we were both awake and I was nestled into her, trying not to impale her on my early morning, sex deprived firmness. We continued a conversation we started the night before about how were we feeling with where the relationship was evolving. I told her I need to find ways to serve her better. That somehow my submissive inclinations were pointing me towards needing more ways to please her and that I wanted her to help me find those ways. There was a lot of close contact and kissing and me feeling dreamily subbie. Her body, being so close, tempted me and my hands wandering all over it.

At this point, she rolled onto her back and moved her arms away from herself. I took this as a sign she wanted me to go further, though I didn’t get clarification on what she wanted. It felt a little to me like she was opening herself for me to enjoy. I can’t say why, but I sensed a tenseness in her that didn’t suggest she was really in the mood. I thought to say she didn’t need to do anything she didn’t want to, but the words never came out.

After a few moments, my mouth was on her breast and my hand was on her snatch and it really became clear she wasn’t ready. I pulled back and asked if this was what she wanted. No, not yet. Damn, I should have said something when I thought to. We held each other again and she said sometimes, that’s all she wanted. I said she should only do what she wanted and no more. I had assumed she wanted what I was doing. I should have asked and she should have said something. We came to a new understanding: I am no longer allowed to initiate sex without expressed permission. I can ask or she can offer, but I’ll never assume again. I wanted her to understand that this meant I would not try to read her or seduce her or in any way take the initiative without permission. In essence, I was finally and fully letting go of the last threads I still held of the traditional male prerogative of sexual initiation. When it came to sex, she was now fully and completely in control. She said that was exactly what she wanted.

Later in the morning, after the kids were settled with their media and food, we were back in the bedroom. Now it was time for me to make her come. Since the cock was unexpectedly available, she wanted me to fuck her with it. I told her I was worried and asked to use the desensitizing gel. No, that was no good for her because it would mean using a condom and she like to feel my skin. OK, super. I guess we’ll do it your way.

She was very ready for me. I’m not sure what it was that got her so wet (perhaps it was the thought that she now held all the cards with regard to sex), but just the act of sliding into her nearly made me shoot my load. I tried to keep most of my attention focused on her upper body and only let every third or fourth processor cycle think about what I was doing down below. I was fucking her sort of shallowly hoping that might help me keep control, but she started to move her hips counter to my thrusts and I found myself going deeper and deeper. Soon, my cock was fully engaged with her snatch and I felt the need to pull the emergency brake. A very tiny amount of my fluid spilled out, but I had stopped the orgasm.

The entire time I was trying to keep the lid on my orgasm, she kept her hips moving so that I never really stopped fucking her even though I was trying to stay still. I started in again, more slowly than before, but that caused our rhythm to be out of whack. She wanted faster and, honest to god, so did I, but if I had tried I’d lose control. She stopped me and said it was no good. She wanted me to go faster but knew if I did I’d come.

Belle’s the kind of girl that, once you start her down the path to orgasm, any deviation or delay could cause the entire trip to go bad. With that in mind, I quickly slid down her torso and pressed my mouth against her pussy. My arms were wrapped around her legs allowing my hands to pinch and play with her nipples while my tongue danced over and dove into her depths. I expected to taste my own semen, but couldn’t really make it out mixed with her juices. Eventually, she came really hard. It was a terrific orgasm for her, even though getting there had been a little messy.

I had moved back up her body so I could kiss her while she basked in her afterglow. I could feel my still wet, chilly dick slap fatly against her invitingly warm pussy. After giving her a respectful amount of basking time, I asked if I could go back inside her. She said yes and I slid in the best I could without a full erection. She was everything I knew she would be: warm, wet, amazing. It was a supremely indulgent moment and I simply enjoyed being enveloped by her. After a few moments of this bliss, she started biting and sucking on my neck in the way that makes my knees wobbly. I experienced the unusual sensation of becoming fully erect while motionless and inside her. Jesus, the biting felt good. I told her to bite harder. Harder. Oh fuck, harder! She pulled away, leaving me panting and spent (and with two giant monkey bites on each shoulder). I rolled off, hard yet satisfied.

So now we’re left with a conundrum. She likes it best when it’s my cock that makes her come. However, she won’t let me use the numbing gel since that would mean I’d need to use a rubber and she wants to feel my skin. As I have gone on and on about, I’d really like to use a strap on with her, but no dice. She want to feel me. I’ve tried to say it will be me since I’ll be doing the fucking, but she’s not interested (damn it). All she wants is my naked, hard cock but that’s the one thing I can’t use in the way she wants me to. I have no solution. Unless she’ll allow us to experiment with other options, I’m not sure what to do. I want her to be as fully satisfied as possible but am physically incapable of doing so while maintaining her control over my orgasm. Maybe with time and practice I’ll develop the technique necessary to become the lover she needs.

After the sex, I cleaned up and she locked me back into the CB-6000. That’s where I am now, way, way more frustrated and turned-on than I’ve ever been after only a single week denied. She still hasn’t told me when I’ll be released from the cage, though she knows the date. She has no idea when I’ll come again, so I’m operating under the assumption that it won’t be before we get back from our trip – two more weeks minimum. Since I only get nine more orgasms this year, it’s entirely possible I won’t come again until March.

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Blood

I am in a never-ending battle with my body hair. I really hate most of it. Not so much that it’s there, but that it doesn’t grow where and how I want it to. It just sort of pops up in random places and patches. I want things to be a certain way, and my body hair just doesn’t care.

So that’s why, before my daily chastity hygiene regimen, I was using the razor to neaten up the stubble growing around the device. I’ve cleaned up my pubes literally hundreds of times, though not usually while locked up. And, because it’s a razor on uneven and stretchy skin, I’ve nicked myself plenty of times. No big deal.

This time, Belle had headed off to the airport to pick up her parents which left me time to clean myself up for whatever she might want when she got back. I had already pulled the skin out from under the CB6K ring and shaved off the stubble and had moved to my scrotum. I love a smooth scrotum and its hair in particular is difficult to maintain since it seems to start growing out 12 minutes after you shave it off.

Next thing I knew, there was blood running down my hand and dripping onto the floor. Not just a little, but a steady drip drip drip of bright crimson. I felt nothing. No pain at all. I pulled out a handful of kleenex and sopped up the blood trying to find the source. Apparently, I had made a teeny, weenie, itsy, bitsie, infinitesimal (you get the idea?) little, tiny nick on my scrotum. In fact, the work “nick” makes it sound bigger than it was. The hole in my skin was no bigger than a flea on the butt of the mayor of Whoville. It was small. But blood coursed out of it. I kept dabbing at it waiting for it to stop, but it didn’t. It just came and came.

For a few seconds, I started to panic. I had nothing with which to stop the blood if it didn’t stop by itself. I would apply pressure by holding toilet paper over the cut for a while only to see the blood well back up once I pulled it away. I called Belle and asked her if we had anything to stop bleeding with, but didn’t really get into what was bleeding. We had nothing, so I asked her to stop on the way home to pick up a styptic pencil. In the mean time, I used one of our grabby clothepins to hold the toilet paper over the wound. That way, at least, I could put the kids to bed without blood running down my leg. So there I was, walking around the house, wearing my chastity device and a bunch of toilet paper pinched onto my bloody scrotum with a clothespin. Very sexy.

Belle came home with the styptic and met me in the bathroom. Seeing my condition, she was afforded the opportunity to roll her eyes at me and point out how high-maintenance I was. Yes, but worth it, right? At that point, I had had the TP clamped over the cut for at least an hour, but as soon as I lifted the clothespin, the blood came right back up. I could see it actually pulse out of me with each heartbeat. Visions of Dan Ackroyd in drag danced in my head. I applied the moistened tip of the styptic to the cut and…nothing. Now I had a bloody styptic pencil. Fuck. I started to wonder what the smallest wound was that I could bleed to death through. Would I need to go to the emergency room? How would I explain this? Well, at least it wasn’t a duct-taped hamster stuck in my rectum (Which, BTW, is why I think girbels are better for that since they have those handly tails. Just sayin’).

Belle suggested we remove the device. It wasn’t really in the way, but dealing with the wound would be easier without it. I really didn’t want it off since the last time I was locked up I came out early through similar (though less Terentino-esque) stupidity on my part. The thought occurred to me that even if we could stop the bleeding, this same skin would be stretched tight in a few hours by my nocturnal erections pulling on my balls. Would that reopen the cut? Would I wake up in the morning laying in a sopping pool of my own blood? I felt a great deal of disappointment as she unlocked the little chrome padlock and I slipped the tube off my dick. Fuck, again.

I reapplied the styptic and got the same non-result. This was really starting to piss me off. The cut was so little but wouldn’t stop being a tiny fountain of blood. I can only assume I nicked a blood vessel just under the thin skin. I had never seen anything like it.

Pulling back the tissue from the cut, I thought it looked like it might actually be slowing. I applied more styptic. Yes, it was. Big exhale. A few minutes later, it had stopped. The great bloody ball crisis of ’09 had finally come to an end.

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Beware the biting rings

I’m on my sixth day back in lock-up and the CB-6000 and I are starting to settle in with each other again. I’m using the middle-sized ring exclusively now and most of the time it’s fine but the nights can still be a little challenging. I like the fact that the entire device seems not to droop as much and it’s definitely more secure, but those sharp corners were biting pretty hard this morning. Even though I only woke up twice (which is a 33% improvement over the previous few nights), it seemed like the 5:00 AM wake up call was more intense than any of the others from the previous week.

I’m still trying to figure out what causes some nights to be harder than others. I lube up the same and make sure my bladder’s empty, etc. The only difference between last night and the others was Belle finally let me bring her to orgasm (her first in five days). All the other nights were foot or back massages. I should keep an eye on that. I wonder if experiencing direct sexual frustration at bedtime (as opposed to the general background noise of sexual frustration I float through all the time) leads to more nocturnal discomfort? Worth watching.

So anyway, I woke up all painful and whiny and told Belle as much (including that I’m in the smaller ring). She asked me why I torture myself like that and I told her I really would rather consider it her torturing me since it was entirely her will that had me in there to begin with and that it would be better for me if she referred to it that way. She said, yeah, it was because of her that I was imprisoned and that it was too bad she wasn’t going to give me the key so I could move up to a bigger ring. *bing*

Upon her saying that, it was possible for me to time exactly how long it takes a sexually stimulating thought in my brain to convert into an order for my cock to get hard(er) and then for the cock to actually carry out that command and further engorge since about a heartbeat after her words entered my ears I felt a ratcheting up of pain in my groin and let out a little whimper. Of course, now I’m worried she’ll take pity on me and let me out soon. It’s not that I really, really like the pain and discomfort (no, I only really like them) or that I’m in any way trying to control indirectly when she locks me up and for how long, but I’m just getting past that part in the lock-up period where my flesh is adjusting to being encased all day long (evening issues excepted). I’d much rather be locked up for fewer, more lengthy sessions than more frequent, shorter ones. She knows when I’m getting out, though she won’t tell me. I’m thinking it’ll either be this weekend or just prior to our trip. I have to admit, I’m interested in staying in until we get back before being let out since I’ve never been in that long and would like to see what it’s like. Of course, that’s entirely her decision.

Other than that, I’m just trying to get past the first-week-of-no-orgasm hump. I don’t think I’ve been locked up for this part of the orgasmless period and the combination of the sensory mind-fuck of chastity on top of my body trying to absorb all the unused hormones has been interesting. As I touched on the other day, my sexual frustration and submissiveness are both running higher than I would have expected at thing point. Even Belle’s noticed the difference (in a good way, I think).

I’ve posted before that, when I’m wearing the device, I think everyone’s looking at my crotch all the time. I still think that, but I’m starting to not really care as much. It’s not that I want to go around and tell all my employees what I have in my pants, but by the same token, being too hung up on what they see or think they see is unproductive. I do my best to make sure I’m situated as unobtrusively as possible when I stand up and walk around, but otherwise really don’t care as much as I did before. Worst case, they think I’m sporting a big fat boner all day (it’s not too far from the truth). There are worse things.

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You learn something every day

Guess what I found out this morning? Gold Bond Medicated Body Lotion contains menthol. Guess when I found that out? After putting it on a Q-Tip and using it to lubricate the tube of my CB6K. Guess what else I found out? I liked it.

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Back in the plastic

Second full day in the cage. It’s been a few weeks since I was last in and there’s all these little things I need to relearn each time. Like, don’t forget to put a bunch of Q-Tips in my pocket before I leave in the morning and which underwear hides the tube best.

I think I’ve spent enough time in with my piercing to say that it definitely has a negative impact on hygiene. Back before the PA was put in, I could pee standing up and otherwise align all the holes such that a minimum of urine got into the cage. Now, depending on how misaligned things are, I can actually feel the warmth all over inside the tube. The urine sprays all around inside it and I’m left needing to clean myself much more often and thoroughly than before.

On the plus side, the piercing is healed enough that it can take some pulling so I think I’m ready for a PA cable. I took a trip to my closest Home Depot and couldn’t find the simple pieces I needed to construct it, so I might just bite the bullet and buy one. I am concerned about prolonged pulling on the piercing, though. My dick will often pull back up the tube about half way. If it was secured by a cable and that cable basically kept the ring in my piercing at the opening of the tube, I can imagine periods of persistent pulling. Not sure if this would lead to damage after a while or cause the hole to migrate or just plain hurt.

Mentally, I find myself more aroused, frustrated, and submissive than I would have expected only a few days after coming (especially in such a spectacular way). I’m not nearly as bad as I was that morning Belle allowed me my orgasm, but I can feel myself getting there faster than usual. I think this could be caused by a few different things. One, I now know the path to this mindset better than before. Also, I just came from a really sweet subbie place and would very much like to get back there. Also also, Belle usually does not put me right into the device after coming, so the constant reminder of her control coupled with my inability to in any way interact with the cock has quickly reminded me of my position on the sexual org chart.

She still doesn’t know (or is not saying) how long I’ll be in here. The first logical window of opportunity for escape would be next Thursday. We’ll be leaving on a family vacation early next Friday and I can see her being nice and letting me out beforehand. However, I’ve already fallen behind in our Covenant’s requirement that I be physically chastised at least 50% of the time. If she left me in there over the vacation and let me out when we returned, I’d be back on schedule. We’ll have to see which Belle wakes up next Thursday; the sweet one or the one that likes to rip clothespins off my nipples.

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New bird on the block

Over on FetLife, I found out about a new chastity device on the market called the Birdlock made by a company called Novamedia. At least I think it’s new since Tickleberry just started carrying it and the manufacturer’s website appears to be fairly new. Why it’s called “Birdlock” is anyone’s guess. The company that makes it is from Switzerland so maybe it’s a translation thing (the site’s English copy looks like it was translated by a machine which is the only explanation for the page that says the Birdlock fits perfectly with the male face).

This device is interesting to me for a couple of reasons. First, it’s made of silicone, not polycarbonate like the CB-X000 devices or stainless steel like other trapped-ball devices. This should make the Birdlock significantly more comfortable to wear than my CB6K or a similar stainless device since it will give and stretch with movement. Another benefit of the silicone is that it would probably lead to less of a profile when worn beneath clothing. I’m assuming the tube would collapse and be less noticeable than the hard plastic of the CB6K. Additionally, it’s basically all one piece with a simple locking strap so it appears to be a lot less bulky and complicated than the CB6K (which has six separate pieces to assemble, not counting the lock). Fitting this should be a snap since it has no extra rings or spacers and obviously the issue with tube splitting would not be a factor for a single piece of silicone. Finally, all this simplicity seems to have helped make it one of the more inexpensive devices on the market (but not a lot cheaper than a careful shopper will pay for a CB6K).

On the downside, I wonder if the stretchiness would allow some manual stimulation to be felt through the tube. I can see how the device would reign in an erection (though more forgivingly than the CB6K), but, as I said on FetLife, one of the more interesting features of the hard tube is that it’s impossible to give oneself any kind of penile stimulation while wearing it (at least, once one has a hard-on). I can imagine the Birdlock would at least allow some pressure to be felt through the tube making a form of masturbation possible. This would not, in an of itself, be a show-stopper for me, but it would seem to remove one of the control and bondage features I appreciate in the CB6K. Novamedia trumpets the fact that, since it stretches, nocturnal erections are less likely to wake a wearer up in the middle of the night. When I first started wearing my device, this would have been a very welcome feature, but now I’ve come to appreciate this feeling. Once I wear it for a few days, I sleep right though them or only wake up a bit. Either way, there’s a security blanket-type thing I get from the feeling of the tube clamped around my meat that I would miss if the tube was too forgiving. Also, since it is basically a one-size-fits-all design, it’s possible it won’t fit some. I assume it will stretch enough for most guys, but if it’s too small, it won’t stretch smaller. This won’t be an issue for my totally average penis, but it may be for some. Finally, as anyone with a silicone iPod case can tell you, silicone can pick up a lot of dirt and discoloration through use, especially in lighter colors. I would be concerned about the clear and glow-in-the-dark(!) models discoloring after a while (a point I didn’t think of until Belle mentioned it). A nice thing about solid poly is you can make it very clean.

Chances are, I will eventually get one of these new Birdlocks. The potentially lower profile of the device and its simplicity outweigh the possible downsides enough that I should at least give it a try.

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Piercing problem

And then, as if I wasn’t in a bad enough mood, this happens.

Yesterday, in the early afternoon, I was sitting down to pee (don’t get me started) and one of the little metal balls from my PA’s curved barbell dropped into the toilet. Luckily, the bowl was fresh so I reached in to the very cold water and fished it out. Unfortunately, since I was locked up, there was no way for me to get the ball back on, so I fiddled around a bit and was able to get the jewelry off. I figured I’d get let out by Belle that evening and I’d replace it.

BUT, by the time I got around to it (less than eight hours later) I found the hole and shrunk such that there was no way I could get the 8g bar into it. I tried and tried. I mean, I really tried and eventually gave up for fear of hurting myself. I’m about to head off to Saint Sabrina’s to see if they can help me out. I know the hole isn’t closed entirely because it still drips when I pee.

So I’m laying there with Belle last night and the entire thing started to play on my newly enhanced insecurities. If I hadn’t been wearing the stupid fucking chastity device in the first place, I could have gotten the ball back on. If I hadn’t pierced my stupid fucking dick, I wouldn’t even have this problem. Why, oh why, does it all have to be so complicated? Why can’t I just have a nice, unpierced dick like all the other boys? And why do I want her to lock my cock up in the ugly plastic thing?

Please, don’t inturrupt my pity party. It’s almost time for cake.

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Emotional vomit

It’s been too long since my last post. One reason for this is that we were up at the cabin for the long weekend and, as I’ve said before, there’s no internet up there. The other reason is that I’ve been kind of in a funk and didn’t really know what to write, even if I could.

It started over week ago. Belle and I were laying on the bed and she said something that caused me to ask her why I was locked up. Funny that I can’t remember how I came to be asking her that, but it’s been so long that the details are getting kind of fuzzy. In any event, she said it was because I wanted to be denied. Yes, that’s technically true, but in fact, I would have rather heard it was because she wanted me to be locked up. The moment passed, but it kind of gnawed at me for the rest of the evening until later that night when she said, innocently enough, that she didn’t want all this stuff about denial and chastity and yada yada to be all that we ever talked about. She wanted some balance.

A couple of things. One, I was trying to give her balance before she said that. I know that I think about it and want to talk about it more than she does. I think that’s natural. For one, I’m a male and think about sex, like, all the time. For another, being a sexually frustrated and an “orgasmically challenged” male makes me think about it all the fucking time. But really, what most struck me about her comment wasn’t that. It was that this whole new twist to our sex life isn’t really about us as much as it was about me. That is, I feel as though I’m “coming out” to both her and myself regarding this side of my sexuality that’s been bottled up for so long. Yes, it’s also about us and our relationship, but not entirely. So, when she said she wanted balance and not to have to talk to me about all this sex stuff so much, it sounded like she didn’t want to deal with me and everything I was discovering and exploring about myself. No, that’s not what she meant, but it’s what I heard. It played perfectly into my own self-doubts. I lost it.

For a couple of days, I was a total disaster. Every time we talked about it, I cried. Not just a little. I fucking sobbed. Inconsolable. I really don’t know where all that was coming from, but I can still feel it within me. It’s as if all my insecurities fused together to form some kind of emotional shark that never stops swimming just beneath the surface of my psyche. It’s unnerving enough to be unearthing all kinds of new urges and desires, but to do it along side your wife of eleven years who, it turns out, doesn’t have any of the same proclivities is really, really hard. At least it is for me. Nothing she said was meant to reject or marginalize me or my feelings, but it all felt that way. As someone who is typically quite confident and who approaches life accordingly, this has been a difficult set of feelings to come to terms with.

At the end of our conversations, we decided that maybe limiting me to three orgasms this year was way, way too aggressive. Not only would that make it very hard for me to give her the balance she was looking for, it would also place a lot of responsibility on her shoulders in dealing with me and my constantly needy and sexually charged state. To be able to successfully take that on would require that she actually enjoy it and I just don’t think she does. Not enough, anyway. I’ve asked that we target ten more orgasms and see how that goes. If, as we go along, we want to take that number down, I’m all for it, but to jump right to three seems crazy for both of us.

So then, since I was such an emotional wreck, she took me out of the CB-6000. Not only that, she allowed me to have sex with her and I came. The actual orgasm was intense – almost too intense to be pleasurable. I found afterward that I wasn’t very happy about having come. I almost felt a sense of mourning for the period of denial I had achieved and let slip by. As if the coming was just a punctuation on my failure and bizarre fetishes.

ARGH. I hate this post. I hate how it shows how much doubt and insecurity I carry around and how uncertain I am about who I am and how to make that work in my marriage. I have a wonderful, supportive wife and yet I’m still kind of a wreck about all this. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic. Not for the first or last time, I wish I could just be fucking normal. Whatever normal is.

I should not even post this. I should delete it. But I feel like I need to emotionally vomit before I can start blogging again and I guess that’s what this post is: my projectile vomiting of all my inner demons upon you, my unknown reader. God, I fucking hate feeling like I’m not even sure I am what I think I am. I’ve been here before. Back when I was struggling with my bisexuality and not thinking you could be such a thing. But that was primarily a private struggle. Now I’m married with kids and a house and a dog and an expensive car and everything. Back in the day, I could withdraw. But not now. Now, I have to deal with it.

Someone please slap me across my face and tell me to snap the fuck out of it.

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The most effective chastity device

Over on Tom’s site, Miss Tease (the author of yesterday’s super-hot link) said this in a thread about the CB-6000:

…[T]he CBx000 series provide almost zero protection against masturbation. The vast majority of males seems to be able to pull out their penis of the device even when additional accessories such as points of intrigue are applied. Getting back into the device also does not seem to be a problem using a certain technique incorporating a nylon stocking or pantyhose. A potential solution could be a piercing, but this always bears the risk of migration or being ripped out of the wearer’s skin during physical activity.

Altogther, I would not call a device that can cause significant health problems while not fulfilling its intended purpose adequate. I agree that as a sex toy for beginners, the CBx000 devices make for a hot fantasy, I am just a little disappointed that they are so inadequate as real chastity devices.

While I greatly enjoy Miss Tease’s prose, I have a fundamental issue with her POV regarding chastity devices. What she seems to be looking for is the mythical undefeatable belt (you know, the one those guys are locked into against their will for years and years in all the hawt chastity p0rn). One that will never allow her man access to his wee-wee without her knowledge and frustrate his every attempt get it. I suppose an actual metal belt-type model would do this, but I’ve never seen one that didn’t cost north of $500 (and usually, well north).

For me, there seems to be two ways to cheat at “enforced” chastity. One is slipping out for a quick wank and then slipping back in with hopes no one noticed. The CB-X000’s, unmodified, certainly allow this, as, I suspect, do most of the other “trapped ball” devices out there. The other way to cheat is to physically defeat the device (cutting the lock, etc.). Regardless of the caliber of your device, there is a tool that will break it (and a lot of guys probably already own it). As far as I’m concerned, there’s not a huge difference in either scenario because the commitment to chastity isn’t made at the moment the device is placed on you. You have to bring that with you beforehand.

My best advice for Miss Tease (or anyone else, be they the keyholder or the locked) is to depend on the chastised male’s brain as the ultimate chastity device. The physical representation of the keyholder’s control hangs off your dick. The actual control exists between your ears. All any CB can be is a deterrent. It’s there to help you through moments of weakness or extreme arousal (or maybe even create moments of arousal), but none ever devised can absolutely guarantee denied access.

So, that said, where do I come down on the whole “the best chastised male is the one who doesn’t need a device” argument? Well, as usual, Tom’s got it covered pretty well. As he says, “Some of us just happen to kink on the physical restraint. It’s okay. Really.” That’s why I’m in it. Not because I can’t control myself, but because I like carrying her control around with me. It turns me on.

Which brings me back to Miss Tease (or, more specifically, her boyfriend). He shouldn’t wear it if it’s because he needs it. If he needs it, she’s already lost her control. If he wants it or likes it, bingo. If that’s the case, then she’s already got a lock on his mind and, as everyone knows, that’s the most dangerous sex organ of them all.