Questions from a reader III

Part one and two.

I have to admit, that last asnwer kinda knocked the wind out of me. There was a lot of stuff in there that I hadn’t dragged out in a while…

Here’s the next one:

Do you think that your infidelity in any way still informs the relationship between you and Belle Fille?  I know it’s simplistic to say it, but it is tempting to note that your cock got you into a heck of a lot of trouble and nearly cost you your marriage.  By handing over control of it to Belle Fille and denying yourself orgasms, you achieve 2 things: (a) you ensure that it can’t happen again, and (b) you could be seen as punishing yourself, or atoning, for your transgression.  I don’t think that’s why you have chosen this dynamic, but it does achieve both those things.  The main reason that I ask if your infidelity might still be present in some form is because of an entry in which Belle Fille came home after a night out and a few drinks and, at your request, repeatedly punched you in the balls.  Now I know you wanted it, but I don’t think I could bring myself to do that to someone I loved, even if they wanted me to.  Or not unless I was really, really ANGRY at them.   It’s the ultimate response to a cheating husband – to really hit him where it hurts.  I know you love her for doing it, and that she is getting in more and more touch with her inner domme,  but is there any anger or resentment present in her enjoyment of your submission?

I understand how on the surface my chastity and denial might be seen as a result of the affair (and, were I in a hawt chastity porn story, not only would that be the case, but the device would be somehow magically and permanently attached to me while she enjoyed a succession of lovers with ever-larger cocks), but in reality, experimenting with chastity was my idea, not hers. I have reflected on the apparent irony of the former cheater being denied access to the weapon used in the crime, but I am totally unaware of any connection in my mind in wanted to be locked up and what I did. They’re two separate things divided by personal revelations and events and aren’t connected.

You’re correct that, by keeping the cock locked up, it is ensured that I’ll never put somewhere it doesn’t belong again, and it’s also true that the last time I saw TOW, Belle had me locked up. Belle will have to answer herself if making me wear it then was a safeguard against her or to keep me from playing with myself in a hotel room (I think the latter). Belle and I have regained trust in our relationship with or without the device. With regard to the idea that I might be punishing myself or atoning, that’s not the case either. I admit that the idea of being punished and forced to atone is super-hot, that’s not what’s happening at all. I am locked up and denied because Belle loves me and knows I want to be controlled by her in that way.

As far as I’m concerned, the only way chastity and denial are somehow involved in the affair is how they make impossible a repeat of the conditions which brought it about in the first place. When we were vanilla, my sexual gratification wasn’t connected to our relationship. For the most part, it happened outside our bedroom. Now, since she’s in control of my orgasms, I will never find relief without her. Before, my cock would lead me away from her while now it leads me closer to her. Sex and our relationship are now intertwined in way they’ve never been before. Had it not been for the affair, we wouldn’t be here today.

Regarding anger or resentment in her domination of me, I don’t believe it’s present. She’ll need to address that herself, but I don’t sense it. Rather, I sense her domination comes from her love for me and an actual enjoyment on her part in playing that role. When she punches me in the nuts, it’s not to express anger or relieve frustration with me, it’s because she cares for me. Yes, kicking a guy in the nuts is a great way to get back at him for something terrible, but for me, it’s also a way to make love and that’s how she approaches it. Truth is, it took her a long time to really let loose and hit me as hard as I wanted to be hit. If she was doing it to make me suffer, I suspect she would have let loose from the beginning.

I note a comment by Belle Fille that your submissiveness makes her feel “desired, appreciated, respected”.  Did she not feel like that before you became submissive?  Or did she feel it less?   I can understand why she did not feel it at all on learning of your infidelity, as that could destroy those feeling.  But I feel desired, appreciated and respected not just because my partner treats me like that, but also because I know, with or without that relationship, that I am desirable, appreciated and respected.  I don’t need someone to fold my laundry or put a ring around their cock to generate my feelings of self worth.  (Reading that back it sounds really harsh and critical, which is not what I intended, but I am not sure how else to say it and make the point).  Or am I making too much of her comment?

Previous to the affair, neither of us felt especially desired, appreciated, or respected. The affair wasn’t the cause of that condition, rather that condition was the cause of the affair. Now, my submission to her allows her to feel those things, but her domination of me makes me feel them, too. It’s not just because of the D/s that we feel that way, but because we have an active, healthy, and engaged sex life. It could take many different forms, but for us right now, it’s D/s. The laundry folding and cock hardware don’t create her feelings of self worth, but what they represent in our relationship do for both of us. They mean we are committed to one another’s needs in a way we may never have been prior to the affair.

Your confusion over this point is, I think, very common for people not engaged in our kind of relationship. Focusing on the trappings of D/s is wrong. All the D/s is is a type of commitment we’ve made to each other’s satisfaction. It may look one-sided or like she needs to force me to behave a certain way, but that’s just wrong. We do it for each other because we love one another and like how it feels and how it feeds our foundational relationship.

Time to start the day. More to come later!

Change of plans

So yeah, last night was my supposed to be my next chance at an orgasm, but no, it didn’t happen. Belle came down with menstruation early in the afternoon and, since she prefers I come inside her, she decided to postpone the event. Instead of coming, she said I’d get a little personal abuse time. To be honest, I felt it was more than a fair trade. Like last time, it consisted of using the butterfly clamps on my nipples combined with testicle pain. The thing that made it especially notable is that Belle’s getting really good at this stuff.

She started out by attaching the clamps flat against my chest as opposed to perpendicular as before. This meant any pulling of the chain not only pulled on my nipples, but also twisted them. In addition, she clamped just the very tips. How they stayed on without gripping any of the fleshy bits is beyond me, but the sensation was a laser-intense pain on either side. Instead of just pulling randomly, she would wind the chain around her finger, slowly and purposefully, raising my expectation of the coming hurt several notches. Then she’d pull. The shorter chain meant more intensity and sensation with her every movement. She also used the chains to more purposefully direct my movement, like a bridle on a horse. God, they still hurt right now, almost 24 hours later.

She also mixed up how she slapped my nuts around. Instead of single hard impacts, she’d perform a series of light slaps that escalated in force until she was rapidly slapping me rather hard. Again and again, she’d build a cascade of slaps up to nearly a hard punch at the end, intermingled with light and really rather pleasant stroking of what had become a very tight scrotum thanks to the steel ring and swelling cock. Before long, the lingering pain from each assault coalesced into one long, aching torment. That unique pain radiated into my guts and down into my inner thighs as she moved back in for each round, pushing my legs out of the way if necessary. It was…fucking awesome. I passed over the threshold of involuntary self-preservation and started to open my legs wider, leaning into her strikes. Craving them. Silently urging her to hit me harder.

When she was done with me, she gently stroked my inner arm, a place of heightened sensation for me. She uses that place to calm me down and it works. Even with throbbing, burning nipples and aching balls, shortly after she started I felt the bite of the Steelheart’s ring ease as the meat inside released its erection.I felt very spacey, very warm, and very happily hurt.

“I’m going to do this for 30 more seconds, and then you’re going to get Pink,” she whispered in my ear.

She didn’t seem interested in having an orgasm earlier in the evening. Had the infliction of pain on me aroused her? I don’t know. I still haven’t asked. But as soon as she stopped, I reached into my drawer and took out her favorite sex toy. As she came, she grabbed the device out of my hand and pressed it hard against her clit.

Another intense orgasm for her. An awesomely satisfying scene for me.

A dream, a thing, and a scene

I had another dream a few nights ago. In it, I reached down to feel the device (something I find myself doing quite a bit, actually) and discovered that, somehow, the cock was outside it, long and hard. I couldn’t process this as it was unharmed and yet the device was still in place underneath. I was very confused. Then, instead of acting on the unexpectedly free meat, I started to try to stuff it back in the tube before Belle found out. I felt guilty and even somewhat ashamed and very much annoyed that the perfectly secure device had somehow failed. Then I woke up, hard and stuffed into the tube, ring biting. Still perfectly secure.

I feel like writing a post that probably covers some old ground, but I’m sure you’ll humor me. What choice do you have, right? I want to talk about how things have changed with regard to chastity and Belle and I. How her attitude and the new Steelheart have combined into a new thing. A better thing, from my point of view. Then I’ll tell you about a hot little scene to make up for it.

Like most guys, I guess, chastity devices are part of our relationship due to my interest, not hers. For the better part of the first year we used them, I always suspected she was humoring me when she had me wear one. She didn’t seem willing to push my tolerance and acted as though being out was preferable to me than being in. At some point, though, in the past three months that changed. She wants me in a device more than not now.

A week ago, when the new and improved Steelheart went on, she and I were standing in the kitchen together. I had been chastised for all of about 30 minutes at that point, and for the first time in weeks. I was standing very close to her and put my face against her neck.

Belle laughed a little. “I can tell you’re wearing it,” she said.

“I feel different when I have it on,” I replied.

“Good!”

“You haven’t like me out of it?”

“I always love you. You know that. But I’ve come to prefer you the way you are when you’re locked up. You’re more focused and attentive. I like that.”

I think I may have whimpered a little. Shoving your meat into a chastity device because you want to is plenty fun but doing it because it’s expected of you – because she really wants it that way – is another game altogether.

One of the things those of us who wear these devices often hear from those who don’t is that we really shouldn’t have to wear one. We should be strong enough to maintain our chastity through no other force other than our desire to do what our dominant wants. I don’t really argue with that point of view since it’s just another way to play the game, but I think it misses out on something that, for me, is pretty huge. Something I’m only just experiencing now.

The first ingredient is what I just talked about and has been present for a little while now. That is, she wants me in the device more than I want to be in it. The second ingredient is the Steelheart’s newly inescapable features. If one kinks on submitting to their dominant partner, then great. I get that since I do, too. But I also kink quite hard on not having any control. In the past, when the device I was wearing was one I could escape from, I always maintained a certain amount of control since it was only my self-control that kept me in it. I wasn’t really interested in escaping, but knowing I could meant I still had control. Now, I can’t get out. And I don’t decide when I go in. Or how long I’ll be in there. All my control is gone because she’s taken it. That’s hot.

I told Belle this night before last. I told her it made me happy. I’m in a very good zone right now with regard to the D/s and my new found total lack of self-determination has a lot to do with it. That night was also one in which I could, according to Belle’s Rule, initiate sex. She wasn’t really in the mood, but she told me to get undressed and to bring her the butterfly clips anyway. I gave them to her and she kind of played around with them a little by clipping them on the fleshy webbing at the base of her thumb.

“Ouch!” she said, “That hurts.”

“Yeah,” I said, sounding not unlike a stoned surfer. I’m a pretty big fan of those clips.

She experimented with pulling on them and saw for herself how they clamped harder that way. I was getting kind of dreamy watching her fiddle with them. I could feel the tube’s contents plump up.

She finally attached the clamps to my nipples, first the right, then the left. They’re so intense. Wonderfully intense. Belle picked up the chain and started to pull. Gently, then with more force. The tube fully pressurized, biting into the shaft and pulling my scrotum tight. I got up on all fours to help ease the strain of the heavy device pulling on the erection.

That gave Belle a vector into my balls. At first, she stroked them and the hard steel making them tight.

“So smooth,” she said, “I love how smooth it is.”

I looked down and watched her stroke the steel. “I wish I could feel that.”

She pulled me closer and my face down to the mattress with the chain. Then she gripped my balls hard and squeezed them. I instinctively pulled away which caused her to yank on the chain again. In this way, I found myself to be something of a human yo-yo. She’d pull the clamps to make me come closer, allowing her to punch me in the nuts. I’d pull back and she’d yank on the chain and start the whole thing over again.

Pain flashed up and down my body. My balls were aching, both from the device and the abuse. And my nipples were on fire from the yanking and pulling. She was being wonderfully cruel. So thoughtfully, lovingly cruel. As usual, when she’s hurting me, I lose my sense of time. I have no idea how long this went on, but when it was over and the clamps came off, it was as though my nipples exploded. Incredible surge of pain. And as I laid next to her, spooning the solidly filled tube into her backside, my balls throbbed.

I felt completely abused. Thank you, Belle Fille.

The Steelheart returns

Back on the 15th of December, Dietmar shipped the modified Steelheart back to me. I had sent it to him sometime around the 23rd of November. Based on the amount of time it took to receive it the first time, I didn’t expect to see it again until after the New Year, but lo and behold, there is was all nestled in my mailbox yesterday evening. A Christmas miracle.

new_sh_rings-pTo summarize, I had wanted two things done to the device. First, the original A-ring turned out to be too big. Even though it was roughly the same size as the 45 mm ring I had grown accustomed to on the CB6K, it turns out that 45 mm of steel is not the same as 45 mm of polycarbonate. For one, the Steelheart’s ring is thinner than the CB6K’s and doesn’t grip the same. Also, the Steelheart is significantly heavier (duh). Also also, the CB6K’s ring, being made up of a top section designed to fit all the differently sized bottom ring sections, ends up not being round. It’s 45 mm from side to side, but less than that from top to bottom. So anyhoo, I wanted a smaller ring. My options under 45 mm were 42, 40, 38, and 36 mm. The 42 would have been better, but I decided to go with 40. Thirty-eight and 36 seemed ridiculously small.

new_sh_fixins-pThe second modification I asked for was a new PA fixing design. The original fixing didn’t work for me. My PA ring kept slipping off the end. I sent Dietmar a drawing of a continuous design that would allow the cock to be withdrawn partially (even mostly) but would not allow it to come all the way out. This seemed a good compromise to me between security and comfort.

So as soon as I realized what the unexpected little box in the mail was, I rushed off to the bathroom to open it in private. Even though Belle had said on Saturday she wanted me back in a device, we had both forgotten to put me in it on Sunday. I was free to test out the fit. First off, 5 mm is a pretty big deal. I found getting the ring on involved a second or two of testicle twinge as the second ball popped through. It’s a very snug fit. Getting the cock though, even when totally flaccid, required a fair bit of pulling and squashing. I find the device sits a lot higher now, though I need to lubricate the ring to avoid discomfort. Sleeping is very different now in that the ring bites a lot harder into the base of the erection and also pulls against the balls causing a fair bit of testicle pain. This may sound like a negative, but I found the old fit to be too forgiving. It never got close to waking me up at night and never caused me a bit of discomfort, even when fully erect. Personally, I like a tolerable amount of discomfort from a chastity device. The new smaller ring makes the Steelheart just a bit more intense than the CB6K was. Just on the edge of what I can tolerate.

I’m very happy with the fixing so far. In short, when wearing my 4ga captive ball ring, the new fixing turns the Steelheart into that most mythical of chastity devices: totally escape proof. I mean it, totally. I can only open my PA ring with a heavy tool and I can’t get that tool down into the tube where the ring is. The cock will only slide out so far before it stops and starts to pull on the piercing. I could probably get hard with it partially pulled out, but then what? The head of the cock would still be inside and pulling against the rail of the fixing. In short, I now have a system of stainless steel parts going though and around the cock that interlock in such a way as to make any kind of stimulative access totally impossible. This is not a toy. I cannot break it off and I don’t have any tools that can cut though the steel. When it’s on, it’s not ever coming off without the key. In other words, totally fucking hot.

I had a dream last night that after pulling the cock out to show Belle how secure it was that it somehow pulled though the piercing and ripped the PA ring out. That freaked me the fuck out. Like, big time. I woke up kind of shaky and groping at the device to make sure it had just been a dream and that I was still whole. So yeah, hot, but also very serious. I don’t need to convince myself anymore how secure my device is. Even my subconscious gets it.

This morning, I took the device off so I could take the pictures included in this post, then I put the Steelheart back on. Belle had left me with the key just in case, but I handed it over this morning. I suspect I won’t see it again for a long time.

Punished

Apparently, I was being snarky. That’s what Belle said, anyway. I certainly was poking fun at her, but, you know, in the most respectful and loving way possible.

Whatever. She didn’t appreciate it.

“You think that’s funny, do you?” She asked.

“Kinda, yeah.”

“OK. Get the Icy Hot.”

“What!?”

And it went on like that with me begging and squirming and trying to talk her out of it. Eventually, she made me get up and retrieve the tube of devil paste from the bathroom. I got back into bed, placing it on my nightstand, and tried to distract her. I was hoping to be able to wait her out. Soon, she’d be sleepy and maybe I’d get off the hook.

After a few minutes, “Get naked and under the covers.”

I did so, still hoping there’d be a reprieve. In theory, I want her to punish me when she sees the need. In practice, Icy Hot hurts like fuck. Plus, I wasn’t really prepared mentally since I wasn’t even aware I was committing a punishable offense.

“Give me the Icy Hot,” she said. I gave it to her while still doing my best to talk her out of it. She seemed to very much enjoy my pathetic protestations.

“Close your eyes.” Whimper. I closed my eyes and opened my legs, exposing the poor, unsuspecting scrotum.

I heard the cap open…I heard the paste squeezed out…I heard the cap snap shut…a few moments of silence…then I felt her fingers smearing the cold lineament across my skin. As usual, for the first several moments it just felt cold. Then even colder as whatever hellish combustion process it utilizes started to take effect. Then hot. Then really hot. Motherfuckinghot.

I tried not to make too much noise, but each wave of burning was greater than the last. I rolled over on my knees and spread my legs so my nutsack would hang freely. She placed her hand on my back in a gentle, loving way as I clenched my eyes shut against the burning. The fumes of the Icy Hot were traveling up my crack and started to provide my ass with a contact burn. That was new.

She must not have put nearly as much on as last time. The burning waves seemed to start to subside after the forth or fifth. Soon, all I felt was a lingering, low-level heat. As I moved about, the burning would intensify for a few moments and then retreat again. I felt well and truly punished.

The next morning, all the burning just a memory, I still felt the difference. I was much more contrite and feeling the subbie vibe. Icy Hot is almost too intense for us to use in a scene now, but as a punishment it was quite effective. I enjoyed the psychological afterglow of being punished even though the actual act was hard to take. From her perspective, its impact far exceeded the effort she needed to put into it. All she’d have to do in the future to make it a more severe punishment would be to increase the amount applied. Since I really don’t like it all that much, I will truly want to avoid it.

I’ll have to do something about the snark.

Birthday loot review

The birthday presents arrived as scheduled.

hi yo silver, away!

Belle let me put the new CB6K on right away. I think my total time unencumbered was about 30 seconds (just enough time to clear away those hairs that can’t be shaved when packing). Physically, besides the color change, the two devices are very similar. On the new device, the two pieces that form the top of the A-ring snap together with an audible click, while on the old device, they simply slid into place. Also, the spacer I was wearing (second smallest) was slightly longer in the new device. I dropped down the smallest spacer to compensate. The silver finish is beautiful and highly reflective. Both Belle and I find it much more attractive than the old clear option. The parts other than the tube are all made from black plastic, though to me it doesn’t feel like the same material used in the clear device. The tube does not appear to be black. The best I can tell, it’s clear underneath the silver.

Functionally, the devices are identical. Psychologically, they’re different. In the old clear device, my connection with the cock was never really broken. While I couldn’t touch it, I could always see it in there. Kinda like visiting day at the prison, I’d knock on the plastic and wave while he pressed his face against the window of his cell. In the new device, though, I can’t see it anymore. Instead of looking like a cock in a plastic tube, this new device looks like a silver phallus. Before, it felt like the cock was locked away, but now it almost feels as though the cock’s been replaced by Robocock. Losing that visual connection with the flesh has, in a way, lessened my thinking about it. Out of sight, out of mind, as it where.

In short, I’m very happy with the new device. I’ll be curious to see how it wears over the next year. I’ll be sure to keep you posted.

Also in the box with the chrome CB6K was the Tantus G-force. As I said before, my experience with other prostate simulators (mostly the Aneros) has been disappointing. I find it difficult to experience any significant sensation and find them hard to manipulate. As recently as this past weekend, at Belle’s instruction, I tried to relieve myself of accumulated fluids to no avail. However, the G-force is a tool to be reckoned with. The longer shaft, bulbous head, and easy-to-grip handle allowed me to quickly find and assault the magic gland. Eventually, I produced a respectable amount of thick, milky fluid. The G-force gets a thumbs up in my book.

I also bought a heavy steel ball stretcher, but for obvious reasons, have not had a chance to try it out yet (though I am very much looking forward to doing so). The Japanese nipple clamps had been back-ordered, but arrived before the end of the week. These things are wicked. They grab on very firmly thanks to little rubber pads on the clamps and, due to their design, grab on more tightly as the chain that connects them is pulled. Unlike other objects I’ve had clamped onto my nips, the Japanese clamps hurt from the moment they make contact. I look forward to seeing these used on me by Belle.

I haven’t had this much fun with my birthday presents since I was a little kid.

Birthday presents

Belle’s back and the world is right again. We were both pretty tired last night (she from getting up early for her flight, me from getting about seven hours of sleep since she left), so nothing of consequence happened other than I got to lay with her, spoon into her, be naked around her, etc. When you’re in my position, you glean what you can from what you get.

Even though I was totally exhausted and I felt the kind of contentment her presence always brings to me, I still had a hard time falling fully asleep. The weather is more humid and warm than it has been, and that contributed, but I just couldn’t get to the point where the buzzing in my head finally succumbed to the fuzzy blanket of sleep. I’m sure her hand resting on the top of my naked, uncovered ass had something to do with that. I was sort of half dozing for I don’t even know how long, well after she was totally out. The cock kept swelling up inside the device at random intervals and I once again experienced its autonomic rhythmic pulsing as though it was trying to pump out the contents of my swollen prostate.

For those of you keeping score at home, tomorrow will be three weeks since I last came.1 Three weeks where nary a drop has escaped me. Driving around today, I swear I can feel it in there. The pressure from sitting on the firm seat in my truck and the vibration from the engine and road worked together to pinpoint the area under my perineum that feels plump and overly sensitive. This morning, as I went about my business getting her coffee, bringing her the paper, etc., I found gobs of clear, sticky fluid leaking from the end of the tube.

The right tool for the jobWith that condition in mind, and also thinking about her statement that I would relive that pressure though milking rather than ruined orgasms (not that I could ruin an orgasm with this thing on me), I started to release some of the money I collected on my birthday and bought a specialty tool from Stockroom.com. It’s called the G-force and it’s a hard silicone dildo with a handle on one end and a bulbous knot on the other. It’s specifically designed for reaching those hard-to-get-to spots. I have a few different items (one, two) designed to stimulate the prostate, but I find they’re hard to manipulate in tight quarters. I like the look of the G-force’s Kung-Fu grip. Usually, I play with the toys I already have all alone, but I’m hoping that the G-force will prove easy and effective enough that Belle will use it on me. More and more lately, anything I do of a sexual nature by myself feels inappropriate with respect to our arrangement.

I picked up a few other things, too. One was a heavy steel ball stretcher that I’ve kinda sorta been obsessed with for a long time now. It comes in two halves which screw together with an allen wrench and pulls down on the testes with over a pound of weight. I’ve played around with suspending weight from by balls in the past, so I know I can take it for at least a little while. For me, this has been one of those objects I’ve just been unable to stop looking at. So, you know, perfect thing to blow some birthday money on. I also got a pair of black Japanese clover clamps, but they’re on back-order.

The other thing I got, even against the assuredly correct advice of Tom, is a replacement for the cracking and soon to fail CB6K we’ve had for almost a year now. I considered a stainless steel model, but eventually decided to go with another CB6K since doing so would leave me extra cash to blow on other objects of perversion. While I could have just replaced the tube, I instead went for the chrome-looking device. I like the shiny appearance, like the idea of it hiding the cock away from view, and I like that the other parts are black, not white. I’ve never been a huge fan of the clear and white parts. It’s makes the device look almost clinical or something.

With the exception of the nipple clamps, it should all arrive by Tuesday. Now I need to figure out what I’m going to tell people when they ask what I spent my birthday loot on.

1 When I mentioned to her that I up against three weeks (and my record, BTW), Belle would only say I had “a while to go yet” before I could come again. I have a feeling I’m not even half way there.

Chastity fetishist?

Reader Jane Docent asked this in a comment to my post We Talk:

More to the point – are you kinky? Or have you fetishized this one element of arousal – enforced chastity?

While I’m pretty sure I know the answer to her question, I did stop and think about it for a second. And then a few more.

The Random House Dictionary describes kinky this way:

Marked by unconventional sexual preferences or behavior, as fetishism, sadomasochism, or the like.

While the American Heritage Dictionary says this:

Showing or appealing to bizarre or deviant tastes, especially of a sexual or erotic nature

So, according to Random House, even if I was just a fetishist, I would still be kinky. Either way, I feel very comfortable identifying as kinky. My sexual tastes are “unconventional” and, IMO, “bizarre or deviant”. Way. But, more importantly, have I developed a fetish over enforced chastity devices?

To be sure, enforced chastity turns me the fuck on and my interest in its implements is extensive. I’m pretty sure I’ve looked at the websites of all the commercially available devices (some dozens of times) and would love to have any number of them locked onto me by Belle (with a special proclivity towards the stainless steel variety). But, the operative part of that statement is “locked onto me by Belle”. More than the device, I kink on the power exchange. The device neatly dovetails into other kinks and interests (CBT, bondage, masochism, gadgets), but I also obsess over things like this and that and the other which have nothing at all to do with enforced chastity but do have a lot to do with my other kinks.

The reason enforced chastity and the device gets so much play here, I think, is because, of all my sexual perversions, power exchange is the one we engage in the most. For whatever reason, I don’t find myself tied up and beaten very often, but she can deny me orgasm several times a week and leave me locked up for weeks and weeks. All of that energy and desire gets channeled into orgasm denial, enforced chastity, and – ultimately – the device itself.

Your sandwich, Mistress

Last night was one of those choreographed movements of people only those with multiple children can really appreciate. The boy and I had a ballgame to attend, Belle had an after work bar thing, and the girl was hanging with the in-laws. The original plan was for Belle to go get the girl at about 8:30 since she figured the boy and I would be at the game until later, but, as is usually the case, after a few hours of baseball, the boy was ready to go. I texted Belle to tell her to stay and have fun and I’d deal with the kids.

She didn’t get the text until she was walking to her car, but when she did, she turned around and headed back to bar. She called me and, and since we were in my car, the Bluetooth picked it up and she was on speaker.

“Thanks for getting the kids, Thumper.”

“No problem. Stay as long as you want. Have fun.”

“You’re the best husband ever,” she said with a particular tone in her voice, “I want you to light the candles, because when I get home…”

My fingers flew to the phone to take her off the speaker. Did she forget the kids were listening?!

“Um, yeah? What did you say?”

“I said, when I get home, I’m going to reward you.”

Wow. Nice! Get in the house, kids! Time for bed!

I guess a little back story is necessary. In the past, the frequency, duration, and activities surrounding these after work drinkfests used to annoy me. Sufficiently that we’d argue afterward (or get close) or I’d stew. I’m not going to get into all the reasons why, but it was mostly thanks to the fountain of resentment that existed in our sexless marriage. Now, with her pleasure being my first priority, I wanted her to stay and live it up with her girlfriends/co-workers.

Three hours later, she came home. Previous resentfully stewy me would have been pissed, but current submissively Belle-focused me was happy she was happy. I did not expect any “reward” since it was after midnight and I had already drifted off to sleep. I heard her out in the kitchen making noise for longer than seemed necessary, so I went out to her to see what was up. I found her stooped over a take-out box containing BBQ ribs from the weekend, gnawing on the slabs of bony meat they contained.

“Didn’t they feed you at this thing?”

“No. I’m starving. I’ll be back there in a minute…” *GNASH* *CHOMP*

I went back to her bed and kind of floated between states of consciousness until her carnivorous moment was over. She crawled under the covers, still smacking her teeth and smelling of alcohol and food.

“Get your clothes off, Thumper.”

Mkay. Done.

Punch in the nuts.

“Miss me?”

“Ungh.”

She then proceeded to inflict several types of abuse on her cock. Presumably, my reward. I could tell the evening’s libations had left her in a different mood than usual. She was being much more forceful. Cruel, even.

At one point, she grabbed the loose skin near the end of the shaft with two fingers and pinched and twisted it in the most hurtful, wonderful way. That was new. The attacks to the balls were not the usual tentative slaps, they were balled-fist punches. She was really trying to hurt me. I found myself closing my legs and involuntarily grabbing at her arm. It was crazy since I did not will myself to do this, it just happened.

“Open yourself to me, Thumper,” she said in a cool, even tone. It sent a warm flush through my body. I slowly opened my legs, exposing myself to her blows.

Then she started abusing the shaft of her cock. Punching, slapping, squeezing and cruelly bending and twisting it, even in it’s hard state. Any previous inhibitions she may have had with regard to inflicting raw pain on me had dropped. There were no intermittent loving strokes or touches mixed in with his action. It was all about the hurt. I was feeling wonderfully spacey from it all.

She grabbed my nuts and started to squeeze. Hard. Harder. My face twisted in agony. It felt like my scrotum was going to burst.

“You like this, Thumper? Is it doing anything for you?” Harder still, a cruel, almost mocking tone to her voice. Where was this strength coming from?

She released me and I could breath again.

“God, I love you so much,” I panted.

“I know.”

After a moment to collect myself, I asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes,” she said, thoughtfully, “Go make me a turkey sandwich.”

Not exactly what I expected, but her wish is my command, right?

“And use the swiss. It’s in the bottom drawer on the left…”

So I got up and made her a sandwich. Never has a turkey sandwich played a role in one of my sexual encounters, but it’s at least nice to see she can still surprise me after nearly 12 years of marriage.

“Here’s your sandwich, Mistress,” I said three minutes later as I reentered her bedroom.

She was asleep.

“Belle?”

Nothing.

I smiled at the absurdity of the scene. Candlelight everywhere, the cock between my legs engorged, me holding a turkey sandwich, her asleep.

I put the sandwich in a baggie in the fridge, blew out the candles, and curled up next to her in bed. Happy.

My Mistress

Belle and I spent a nice portion of yesterday in the sun, floating on two innertubes bound together with a bungie, Coronas in hand, tethered to a pontoon in the middle of a northern lake. The water was chilly but the sun was warm on our skin as we let the gentle breeze move us around. It was lovely. Afterward, back at the cabin, I found Belle in the hot tub all alone.1

After asking for and receiving permission to join her (the kids were upstairs getting their fill of Sponge Bob, the in-laws doing whatever it is they do), we soaked in the bubbly warm water. Lately, I’ve felt the need to gush endlessly about how happy she’s making me. I told her – again – but also added that I find her to be a remarkable woman. I know from reading enough guysub blogs that the majority of SOBs like me out there don’t generally find their spouses amenable to a D/s arrangement (or, just as often, they don’t have the nerve to even find out). Yet Belle has been wonderful. She and I have found a way to relate inside this headspace that makes me over the moon happy. My only fear is that I’m happier than she, but she tells me that when I’m feeling very submissive (like lately) and my urge to service her in every way is running its highest, that yes, she’s very happy, too. So I’ll just need to be happy and try to accept that she’s also as happy as she can be. Constant communication is, as usual, one of the secrets to our success.

So, back in the tub, I was down toward her feet, holding them, rubbing them, massaging her calves, when she realized our relative positions gave her feet a perfect vector into my balls. Up until this point, she’s always used her hands when hitting me there, but I’ve fantasized about her kicking me. There wasn’t enough room for a full-on kick in the balls, and the water slowed her movement somewhat, but she managed to make a few connections without me even asking (one of which that was especially painful). By the time she needed to get out, I found I was unable to do so due to the massively hard erection she had produced (and the cock ring had enhanced). I bobbed around in there all my myself for a while until I was presentable to any in-law or offspring I might have happened upon as I exited the water.

Later, in bed, I told Belle that I have been feeling the need to call her something more formal that just “Belle Fille”. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, but yesterday when I wrote in my previous post that she and I didn’t have any formal honorific for me to use with her, I think I finally realized how much it meant to me. In the past, we had discussed our options, but none of them seemed to strike her fancy. This time, I said to her that I needed to call her Mistress. My Mistress. Mistress Belle Fille. Even writing it out embarrasses me, so imagine how saying it to her made me feel. In any event, I got it out and she acquiesced. From now on, I will, in the appropriate setting, address her as Mistress. *blush*

I can’t say for certain why this is suddenly so important to me. I like how it makes our power exchange more formal. I like how it elevates her. I like how, in my mind, when I think about what I should or should not be doing (either with her cock or just in general), she’s not just my Belle Fille, now she’s Mistress. The female version of Master. I am mastered by Belle Fille. And I like it.

So after that was decided, I asked my newly minted Mistress if she’d punch me once in the nuts. I know what you’re thinking. WTF is it with all the testicle pain? For the love of god, isn’t there anything else to do? My answer is twofold. First, the ROI of testicle abuse is quite high. Very little effort (and no tools or toys) can result in enormous pain. I dig that. Second, and this is the part I really can’t explain logically, I find my desire for nut torture goes up in direct proportion to how long she’s denied me an orgasm. Of course, my overall desire for pain increases as well, but in particular, testicle pain in something I find myself craving. Dreaming about. I am simply addicted to it at the moment.

In any event, I asked.

“Will you punch me in the nuts if I hold them? Just once?”

“Yes,” she replied calmly. My heart raced and my breathing became heavy. I wasn’t sure which way the answer would go.

She pulled back the covers exposing my crotch. I encircled my nutsack with my fingers, pulling the skin tight and causing my testicles to be completely exposed. They could be no more vulnerable.

“Now I’m scared,” I said, looking into her eyes. She touched the cock gently, lightly, as she ran her fingers over the engorged meat. Her calm green eyes seemed to say, “It’s OK.” I kept my gaze fixed upon them, the eyes of my Mistress, my tormentor, my love.

She has never hit me harder and caused me more pain. One strike on my right nut. The pain irradiated my whole body. Lovely, glowing pain. I fell asleep as the dull throb ebbed in my groin, clutching her tightly to my naked body.

1 We have it rough, don’t we?