Quality time

It’s always nice when the various orbits of family life occasionally align so that parents can find some good old fashioned quality time for themselves. Saturday was one of those days for us.

The second child was going to be at a friend’s house at a sleep-over birthday party and the first child is more than able to take care of himself so Belle bought tickets to a movie and made dinner reservations for us. Dinner and a movie. I mean, crazy. Just like the young people do it. Never mind the movie started at 4:30 in the afternoon and the dinner reservations were at 6:30. Not quite senior special hour at Denny’s, but close. What matters is we had a real fucking date.

Earlier in the day, Belle had rewarded me with a nice long list of things to do for the weekend. They were all mundane domestic-type things, but they weren’t things we needed to do, they were things I needed to do. And that makes a big difference. Also, since I was doing them, Belle was free to go for a run and otherwise just focus on things she wanted to do for herself. That kind of thing feels like warm honey poured on my soul.

So I was able to get most of my tasks finished in time for the movie (we saw The Skeleton Twins which was good but often felt too much like a couple of well-known comedians trying very hard to show they have serious actor chops). We had dinner at a nice upscale casual spot on a city park. Belle commented that it wasn’t as crowded as she would have thought and I reminded her city folk don’t do dinner at 6:30 PM. They’re barely breaking out the cocktails at that time. Sure enough, by the time we were finished eating, the place had filled up dramatically with young and beautiful people (some of whom were veritably spilling from their bodices).

During the meal, I got a text from the first child asking if it was OK with us if he went and spent the night at a friends house and we were more than OK with it. That meant our afternoon and evening alone would be capped off by an entire night alone. What kind of decadent fantasy world had we entered?

I had already arranged with Belle that I’d give her a massage when we got home but having the house empty meant we didn’t have to be creepy parents with the door closed and romantic music playing behind and got to leave the door open. I lit up all the candles and turned on an old k. d. lang album we used to have on tight rotation when we first started our relationship and we both got naked. And I mean naked since she gave me the key to the Steelheart beforehand.

Not that she wanted the penis. Maybe she thought she was being nice or maybe she just didn’t want to mess with it in the morning, but once the meat was free, I had lost my interest in the massage and was singularly focused on getting it wet. She redirected my attention and that’s how I found myself sitting on her ass rubbing lemon verbena scented oil into her skin.

The penis didn’t get totally hard, but it laid on the small of her back pointing up her spine and plumped out to about 70%. I could feel the end of it hypersensitized from being in the tube for a week brushing against her skin as I rose to get better leverage against her shoulder muscles. I felt stupidly horny but she said I just had to “be strong” and wait until morning. As usual, such a demonstration would be good for me. So I was good and, even after she was fast asleep and I was Tumbling through the porn, I very specifically did not play with the erection.

I woke up several times as the end of the erection was fired by simple contact with the sheets. That would invariably cause my chest to fill with the old familiar carnivorous butterflies fluttering around and feeding on my previously contained sexual energy. But still, I was good. No playing. Nary a squeeze. All this was made more difficult by the fact that she was uncharacteristically sleeping nude like I almost always do. Every time I touched her, I felt her hot skin and the butterflies roared.

I was awake hours before her. I checked my phone and looked at Facebook and more Tumblr and all kinds of things. I managed to fall back into a light doze just before she woke up for good. Again, like good modern adults, we were quickly back on our respective glowing screens and I took the opportunity to tweet:

Since the house was empty, she was able to come as loudly as she wanted and she usually wants to come pretty loudly. Her orgasms are such a big deal to me that I nearly shot my load myself just hearing her climax. Fucking hell, but feeling her come is the greatest thing ever. I’m so much more aware of how it impacts her whole body now. It’s just glorious.

After her basking period, she told me climb aboard. As soon as the penis slipped into its warm and wet home, she said in my ear, “You will come.”

Called it.

How did I know? No clue. I could just feel it, though. It was right there. As obvious as the boner between my legs. She was kinda miffed later that I knew it was coming.

So I started to fuck her and was pretty pleased with myself that I didn’t shoot immediately. But not too long into it, when I felt the orgasm coalescing in that familiar way I’m usually really good at fending off, I lost control. I had wanted to edge several times in the hopes that the eventual orgasm would be plentiful and enjoyable, but at the first edge I felt as though a third party stepped in and took over. My old friend the lizard pushed the fuzzy bunny out of the way and forced me to keep fucking. It’s an odd sensation to feel one’s primal forces take control from the higher brain, but that’s what happened. I even remember thinking, “No!” But it was too late.

The orgasm wasn’t pleasurable. Not at all. I was also noisy because I could be, but I cried out in such a way that Belle asked me near the end if I was OK. No, I wasn’t. I felt like I passed a marble through my prostate while someone simultaneously slammed me in the small of my back with the flat side of a shovel. The intensity removed any pleasure. I came too hard.

The dopey glowy part after was kinda nice, but didn’t make up for the fact that I felt somehow violated by my own psyche.

In the hours that followed, whatever salutary benefits my denial creates evaporated leaving behind only the gritty residue of pent-up frustration. I fucking wanted to come again. NOW. But she wanted me back in the Steelheart. She’s no dummy. She knows how this works by now. So, only a couple hours later, I was felt the cold tube envelope the needy penis just as she wanted.

I finished my remaining tasks, but without enthusiasm. I forced myself to let the subby rabbit come forward and be good even though my temper was very short and I felt pretty irritable. I did all I could to shield Belle from that. As the day wore on, I could feel a slow steady drip start to refill my sub reservoir, but the dominant feelings I had were far from subby.

The new thing for me this time around was Drew lurking in the background. I wondered how coming would change my enthusiasm for having a guy on the side. Not only that, but a guy I was supposedly subbing to. I will admit (as I already did to him), that enthusiasm took a big hit. Had it been up to me, I wouldn’t have volunteered for any contact with him and would have retreated into myself. That’s my default behavior with regard to men and sexual release which is why I could never have a romantic relationship with one. After I come, I’m just not into them and actually actively avoid them.

But I wasn’t rude and I soldiered through my default inclination. I felt bad for him because he’s been away from home for a while now on the other side of the world for business and has been feeling the isolation. So I was nice. I admit I had to work at it, but I didn’t want to make him feel worse than he already did. In any event, I was honest with him and he understood. It’s all new and weird, and not only for me. For him, for Belle. For all involved.

I feel like I’m a better sub now than I was in the past. Before, this one orgasm would have sent me spinning. I had no leverage against the changes it causes in my chemistry and no way to shield anyone around me. I’d spiral down and get depressed and angry at wanting more and not being where I wanted to be. I’d resist going back in the device and conveniently forget to put it on even though I knew that’s what she wanted. But now I feel much stronger. I feel like I know how to deal with it and know it’s not the end of the world. A lot of this is because I’ve really and truly let go of resisting her control over my orgasm even (and especially) when it involves giving me one I’d rather not have. There’s freedom in that and, surprisingly, strength.

Also, Belle’s more confident in her role. She’s not feeling sorry for me and is less willing to accept my backsliding. She has a better handle on how my chemistry works and has no qualms manipulating it to both of our advantages.

I can’t say I’m back in the groove this morning. Not even 70% there. But I know I will get there and I’m choosing to focus on the glimmers of my subby groove I can feel out there and not on the shards of willful lizard thinking. In my forty-seventh year, I feel more confident in who I am sexually than at any time in my life. And more accepting of it. I’m very lucky that the light of my life is right there with me.

Buying advice

Since I just got back from my last week-long camping and hiking extravaganza of the year, I really don’t have much to blog about. Luckily, I received a question via the feedback page and have decided I could cheat my way into having a post by answering it here.

Reader Chris says…

I am planning to order a Steelheart device and have used your blog as a primary resource on learning about it’s pros and cons.

I appear to be similarly equipped (endowed?) as you (although no PA piercing) and use similar settings in my CB-6000. Although I use the second smallest spacer and the middle sized ring. (I think you use the smallest spacer instead)

Back in the day, yes I did.

 I am pretty sure that I want the 35mm wide tube and the 42mm a-ring.

I’m also certain that I want the integrated lock.

I have a few questions for you if you don’t mind:

1) Your SH-S is 70mm… the longest available steelheart length is 105mm, which is roughly the same the cb-6000. I’d like something smaller in length than the CB-6000 but don’t wish to encounter any nocturnal pain (pain which you dont seem to mind so long as tolerable)…

What length do you feel would provide the better fit w.out the night time discomfort you get using the 70mm tube? I’m thinking 85 – 90mm… thoughts?

In my experience, having a tube that arrests the erection at a size as close to the penis’ flaccid length as possible is more comfortable than one that allows it to reach half-mast. However, the more the erection is compressed, the more pressure is placed on the cuff ring. Were I to do it over, I would have ordered a tube that was perhaps even a little shorter than the SH-S tube (70mm). I do need a little extra space in there for the PA and fixing hardware, but I bet I could lose 3-5mm as still be good.

In short, I think the nocturnal pain is more a function of the ring, not the tube, and shorter tubes tend to be better than longer ones.

2) the extra tube ring added for comfort… you mentioned that it occasionally causes discomfort, lol. Do you still recommend the extra feature? I see you have it on both steelheart tubes that you’ve ordered

The weld holding the “comfort” ring on is the culprit. I wish Dietmar would not place it at the bottom of the tube where the pressures between the erection and the thin skin attaching it to the scrotum is the greatest. Perhaps two offset a centimeter or so in each direction would be better, but I don’t know for sure. I’ve ordered both my tubes with that ring because I suspect the thinner, relatively sharp edge of the tube by itself would be problematic. I would advise getting it but seeing if Dietmar could either ensure the weld is very smooth or offset it as I described.

3) I can’t stand the idea of squishing the boys through a solid ring so I plan to order the Bipartite ring instead (http://steelworxx.de/Bipartite-A-Ring-for-all-cb-47p.html ). Any experience with such a ring and/or any opinions?

From my experience with the CB6K, I think any nook or cranny is a problem, especially when on the ring. I think having it hinged is asking for problems. Popping my nuts though the ring has become a bit more twingy lately as I think they’re larger than they used to be, but it’s a very fleeting sensation and way worth not getting any hot spots from a hinge. I would not pay extra for that feature.

4) Finally, any other advice of any kind that you feel will help me in ordering the best device is greatly appreciated. Thank you for your time… and your blog!

I think your wearing the CB6K first is the right approach. As I’ve said before, it’s not a perfect analog to moving to steel, but it helps get you in the ballpark from a sizing perspective and allows your body to adjust and “settle in” to what it probably your true size. You don’t say how long you’ve worn the CB6K, but I’m assuming it’s been long enough that you started at a larger sized ring and spacer and moved down over time.

I also think when buying custom steel, you need to prepare yourself for the likelihood that at least part of it will need to be adjusted after you wear it. I had a too large ring and tube, though only the ring was immediately obvious to me. Based on what I read in the experiences of others, it seems like 30-50% of guys will replace a piece within a few months and north of 75% will replace another chunk or even order an entirely new device after a year or so.

Good luck! Moving to steel was the best thing we’ve done with regard to chastity play. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.

Quinta dispositivo

Yesterday morning, I guess Belle woke up with a bee in her bonnet since I opened my eyes to find her wide awake and staring at me. She told me to close the door and get naked. Morning has always been the best time to fuck Belle, but what with kids and all, it’s a rarity nowadays.

In any event, I got naked as requested and got into bed and, sleepy or no, quickly found myself all worked up. My hands were everywhere and I fought a strong urge to chew on her and soon my fingers were deep in her soaking snatch. She came nice and hard and complimented my technique and I laid there and throbbed in my tube. Fucking hell, I wanted a piece of that. But, you know, it’s just been five weeks. I have at least seven to go.

Later, I was taking the device off for a good clean and shave (and also to put the PA fixing back in I took out Friday morning), and I found the tube full of clear, viscous precum. It was everywhere and all over the cock. I think it hadn’t dribbled out the tube because, with the PA fixing out, I tend to fill it entirely and therefore block the hole. As Belle was working her Kegels on my fingers, I was leaking what seemed like a tablespoon of useless natural lube.

By the time I took the tube off, though, I found the cock to be as flaccid as it seems to get so I took the opportunity to measure again for our new device, the Mature Metal Jail Bird. It seems to be the trendy device all the cool kids are getting these days, so what that heck. Belle said we could get one.

It’s not that I’m unhappy with the Steelheart. Far from it, though I have been thinking lately that I might be needing to get a smaller tube for it. No, it’s not that chastity’s making the cock smaller (contrary to a fairly common misconception), but over time I’ve found my body’s changed and the fit of the device now seems kinda big and clunky. I will probably still order a smaller tube from the Fatherland and, of course, having another device in the mix will make living without our main axe easier.

The proprietor of Mature Metal recommends as close a fit as possible to your penis’ flaccid size. I measured once on Friday and got a length of 2.25″. On Saturday, it was 2.5″. Over on Chastity Forums, a lot of guys seem to get 2″ or so, and as I said, MM advises smaller over longer for comfort (though, of course, that’s entirely nonintuitive). I ordered 2.25″ and then sent an email asking him to make it 2″.

A big reason why the length of the tube is so important is I’m asking MM to add an extra steel bar just under where the head of the cock will be in order to lock it on with my 4ga PA ring. That ring’s impossible to take off without tools, so it should provide really good security. Maybe not quite as good as the Steelheart’s (since that’s all internal and unreachable without the key), but way better than nothing. In any event, since the Jail Bird fits so closely to the size of the flaccid cock, I’m hoping there won’t be any movement relative to the piercing and I won’t end up with pulling on the ring.

Belle and I had a date last night and I asked what the longest period was she’d leave me locked. After a moment’s pause, she said six months.

“But that depends on how the new one works,” she added. “I’m not sure leaving him in the current device for months on end is a good idea. It’s like he’s a little Chilean miner in there. I want him to get out once in a while and breath. I imagine he needs sunglasses every time he sees sunlight.”

I reminded her that the Jail Bird is an open cage design.

“I know,” she said, “and if I like that one, I might just leave you in it indefinitely.”

So. According to Mature Metal, we’ll find out what Belle thinks of it in 2-3 weeks. Then…who knows?

Two birds, one stone

Responses to two commenters that I, in my fevered brain, think tie together into a unified arch.

First up, palemale said:

I am a little disappointed that you were allowed to orgasm. So many site have men claiming to be in chastity for a year and they just aren’t believable. You on the other hand seem exceedingly truthful and I was hoping that Belle would deny you an orgasm for a full year.

A year.

OK, we’ll come back to that.

Disappointed? Well, not me. Not this time. I think there’s a point up to which I want to be denied longer but after which I’m really OK with being released. This time, when she told me two months in that I was going to orgasm, I was able to shift from indefinite denial mode to really wanting to come mode very quickly. I’ve become so accustomed to being denied and, frankly, enjoy it so much that it has to be a really long time before I get there. A few weeks wouldn’t cut it. A month wouldn’t. Two months – at least this time around – was enough. Yeah, I was prepared to go longer. I would have loved if she had made me go longer. But it didn’t make much difference since I was ready.

With regard to other blogs, I can’t say of course. I think some of them are pure fantasy. I think others are truthful. The thing I’ve come to realize is each guy is unique and each guy is at a different point at the path in their orgasm denial journey so what’s long for me might not be for another guy. And, of course, being in chastity and being denied orgasm are different things. Belle seems to be treating them as one and the same (i.e., I will be locked up and denied for at least three months). Honestly, without the device, I don’t think I could be denied three months. I’d never make it. But I digress…

A year. I’ll admit that a full year is a personal goal. But, until such time Belle decides that’s going to happen, it will remain just a goal. I don’t yet know if there’s a difference between two, three, six, nine, or twelve months. And if you get to a whole year, what’s next? Indefinitely? Forever? The thought makes my heart race, I admit. But again, it’s not my decision.

Palemale went on to say:

I particularly liked your comments about the let down you feel after being allowed to orgasm. I would love to hear more about the specifics how your natural urge to have sex changes with exceeding long periods of denial, even denial of milking your prostate.

Which is related to what the next commenter, NaamPC, said:

Myself, if I had been released after two months of captivity and told I could cum, my first though would have been, “Bend over, please.” After all, you have been doing what and how much with her with so very little for yourself that by denying yourself the very first cum after your incarceration being inside of her, and letting your hand do the work, it seems to me you cheated yourself out of that experience.

I didn’t feel cheated at all. Because, and in regard to palemale’s question, I find that the longer I go the more I want come by my own hand. Or, to be more precise, the more I hope she’ll let me come that way. Of course, I want to fuck her, too, but when I dream about it (and claw at the device and writhe and grind into the mattress), more often than not I want to get a hold of it and pull an orgasm out. I also crave to be inside her, but that’s not equitable anymore to having an orgasm (that is, fucking ≠ orgasm). Those are separate urges for me now. Remember, I was denied not just orgasm for two months, I was also denied access to an important part of my body (for all but a day). When locked up, I am physically disconnected from something I’ve had easy access to for over 40 years. The urge to reconnect with myself becomes just as strong as my urge to connect with her. And, of course, I do connect with her, even when I’m locked up, since I get to make her come with my hands or my mouth or whatever. My connection to her sexual pleasure is so strong now that it’s as if it never existed before.

Long way to say, I desire not just orgasm at the end, I also desire jacking off. A lot.

With regard to palemale’s question about prostate milking, I don’t find it offers any kind of relief from the frustration of denial. It only serves to make me even more horny afterward. I enjoy it immensely while it’s happening, but that’s all. It never culminates into anything that blows off steam.

NammPC then said:

With me, arrangements would gave been made before-hand to let her have whatever time she felt she wanted for herself and after that when it’s my turn, I really am going because it’s my turn. Yourself, you think and feel what you’re going to. That’s my thought on it.

You’re assuming there is a “my turn”. Be that as it may, it’s also true that when the first opportunity to come after a really long time presents itself, the old boner’s on a hair trigger. If she wants a nice long fuck by the biocock, that’s not going to be in the cards right out of the gate. That’s what led to the idea of letting me come in the morning. Didn’t turn out this time, but I still think it’s the right strategy. When she finally did get her ride, I didn’t come and wasn’t really all that close when she did. It would have worked…if only I could have gotten it up.


I think I’m going to come this weekend. Belle’s been dropping hints. I think, after the month and half (or whatever it’s been), that she wants her cock inside her.

On the one hand, I could describe the usual angst that goes along with coming, etc., but on the other hand I’m really fucking horny. Really. No, I’m serious. Really. I was looking forward to the challenge of staying in and orgasmless until October, but yeah, coming would be nice too.

Thing is, I don’t want to come just a little. I want to come and come and come. I want to spew for days. And, of course, because I’m the charmingly complicated fellow that I am, I also don’t want to come. Not at all. Like, ever. Complicated.

The other day, she offered me a session with the njoy Pure if I accomplished a small list of chores over the course of the day. What I really wanted, though (and what I’ve wanted for weeks) was to feel the cock, nice and hard, getting stroked. Besides, she wouldn’t want to be there when I fucked myself with it and I really wanted to connect with her. I wanted to be with her, no matter what happened. The Pure is a solo activity with Belle. So, after finishing my tasks, I asked if I could exchange the Pure time with a 15 minute edging session. She agreed.

That night, she unlocked me and I placed the various metal bits that came off onto my bedstand. She started to play with the cock. It seemed a little dazed in that it took a while for it to start to plump up. Like it was being duped or something. Like it didn’t trust what was happening. But it eventually came around and she started a nice rhythmic pumping on the rapidly inflating meat that caused me to arch back and close my eyes. It was fantastic. Stroke stroke stroke stroke stroke. It was so fucking nice.

Then she let go. I panted. I wasn’t really ready to come, but I was getting into the groove pretty well. After a few minutes, she started again with the pumping. Same story as last time, except I could feel the disused ejaculation mechanism warming up just before she let go again leaving the meat hot and bobbing. My left hand grasped and ungrasped wanting so badly to wrap around the hard cock that was so close, but she hadn’t said I could and I sensed I wasn’t allowed.

She started in again and I felt myself fall into the sensation of her handjob, the thin, sensitive skin sliding under her hand, over the flare of the cock head, back down the shaft. I closed my eyes again and felt nothing but the strokes: up down up down up down, again and again. Nothing else existed except that hand job. And just as I was slipping away – just as I felt the orgasm that had been waiting six or more weeks to come into being start to build – she let go. I groaned. Sweet Jesus, I wanted that back. More than air.

“Can I do it? Can I stroke it?” I pleaded as calmly as possible.

“Do you think you deserve it?” she asked, “Did you do a good enough job to have earned that?”

I thought about it. Fuck it, I thought. Say yes! Just say yes, yes you did and get to it!

“No,” I said quietly. Meekly.

“I don’t either,” she replied as she placed the baggy fully of icy water onto the still-hard cock.

It was so cold, that water. It hurt. The blood in the engorged flesh fought back, but I could feel it deflating just a bit with each thump of my heart. We had previously agreed that I’d go back in the device when the session was over, so once I felt the cock wither sufficiently to allow me to put it on, I reached for the metal.

“You can stay out for the night.”

ARGH! The cock was now cold and small. Useless. And she was rolling over to go to sleep.

“I might jack off in my sleep, you know.” It’s true. I’ve woken up doing that more than once.

“Try not to,” she said back to me, shortly.

So anyway, yeah, now I think she’s going to really fuck me. This weekend, I bet. Maybe I’ll come, maybe I won’t. Maybe she’s just fucking with my head. I don’t think so, though. At least, I don’t think I don’t think so.

Like I said. Complicated.