Tag: chastity devices

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All in one night

Based on a true story. 😉

“Get naked and give me the clamps,” she said. Then, after a moment, “And the floggie croppie thing, too.”

I did as she said, then climbed back into bed.

“Lay on your back.” I did. She attached a butterfly clamp to my right nipple, then the left. She tugged on the chain connecting them to test their grip. Twin lasers of sharp pain lit up in my brain.

“Roll over. Get up on your knees.” I did. She found my balls with the wide end of the crop. I could feel the hard, smooth leather cold against my scrotum. She held it there for a moment in an almost soothing way. Then she started to hit me. Lightly at first, then harder. Then harder. I took as much as I could, my ass rising into the air a little bit with each whack, before pulling my right leg off the bed and away from the blows. She yanked down on the chain attached to my nipples and pulled until my face was against the sheets.

This cycle repeated several times. Between attacks on my testicles, she’d pull and twist the chain, searing the soft pink flesh with the bite of the clamps. The blows to my balls didn’t make the kind of deep internal pain one usually associates with the most vulnerable part of a man’s body. It was more like surface slapping, but uncomfortable just the same. Difficult to take.

Finally, she took the shaft of the crop and shoved it roughly into my mouth, holding it there like the bit on a horse’s bridle. She pushed my head back and away from her while simultaneously pulling the chain closer. My back bent sharply as I tried to lessen the agony on my nipples, but it wasn’t enough. First the right clamp, then the left ripped off. I cried out as she removed the crop from my mouth, collapsing on the bed, whimpering. Nipples throbbing, balls stinging.

—

“Now you’re going to take care of me.”

“How?” I asked quietly. “How do you want me to take care of you?”

“In the usual manner,” meaning with my long fingers and soft lips, “but have Pink ready just in case you’re not enough.”

I took the little pink vibrator from my dresser drawer and placed it under me to get warm, just in case. Then I ran my hand across her body, stopping on the mound of her pubis. I could feel the cleft of her pussy lips, hot beneath the fabric of her bedclothes. I exposed her breast and started to lick her nipple.

She moaned. “Mmmmm, that’s good, Thumper. My tits were hot for you. They missed you so much.”

I licked and sucked one while fingering the other. Her moaning deepened while her hips gyrated beneath the sheets. My free hand wandered down and slipped under her draw string. My finger found her snatch, soft and radiating heat.

She moaned again. “Of, fuck. God, Thumper, my pussy missed you, too. It’s so hot and wet. Hot and wet for you, Thumper. Does that make you hard? Hard in your steel tube? Knowing how badly my pussy wants you? Knowing you can’t have it?”

This time, I moaned. I felt the relentless steel bite into the base of my swelling erection.

“I want you to eat me. Now.”

I moved over her, stopping to lick her opposite nipple. Her hips rose up and she ground her crotch into the steel trap on my manhood. Her trap and her manhood. I dropped down and placed my mouth against her pussy, lapping it like a hungry animal. My hands reached up and played with her nipples.

“Get pink,” she gasped, “Put it in me. All the way in.”

I turned the little vibe on and fumbled trying to get it in her. In the dim candlelight, I couldn’t find the right spot fast enough for her. She grabbed it out of my hand and slid it deep into her pussy right before my eyes.

“Like that,” she admonished, “Now leave it there.”

I went back to licking her clit, my chin bumping up against the end of the humming vibrator nearly disappeared inside her. As her pleasure increased, she started to whisper, “oh, fuck” again and again. Faster and louder as my tongue worked rapidly and my steel-clad erection pressed hard into the bed. She started to say something, but clamped her legs onto my head, shutting off my ability to hear her.

She reached down and grabbed twin handfuls of my hair, pulling my face into her pussy, bucking her hips up to meet me, tension and energy building throughout her body. Then, she stopped…holding it. Holding. At the top of the crest, her orgasm coursing through her, my tongue stationary and pressed against her in the way she’s taught me. Then, release. Her legs relaxed and she let go of my hair. I removed the vibe and pressed its little button, turning it off. Everything was silent as she basked, glowing.

—

“Get on your back,” she told me again. I did. I could still taste and smell her. My nose, mouth, and chin were all wet and redolent. She was moving next to me and then was doing something with the device. I realized she had the key and was looking for the lock.

I’m wasn’t sure what this meant since she told me just that morning that I wasn’t going to come for another 27 days, but there she was, apparently trying to unlock me right after her orgasm. In the 12 years we’ve been married, I can count on one hand the number of times she’s come twice in one evening. I couldn’t imagine why she was doing this.

“Um, what are you doing?” I ask.

“What does it look like I”m doing,” she said, still struggling to get the long key into the brass locking mechanism.

“Don’t break it in there.”

“I have a spare.”

“Yeah, but if you break the key off in the lock, I’ll never get out of it again.” Besides, I think, I have to fly on Wednesday. How will I ever get through the metal detector with this thing forever locked onto me? Then it occurred to me that she may be unlocking me early as some sort of reward. Oh!

“Can I do that for you?”

She handed me the key and I quickly removed the lock, handing it and the key back to her. I pulled off the tube, the metal rod that secures it to my piercing, and the ring. She immediately started playing with the freed cock which, unfortunately, was still flaccidly stunned to be suddenly out in the open air. After a few moments of rhythmic attention, it began to lengthen.

Then, fully hard, she stopped to climb up onto me. She lined the cock up with her swollen, slippery pussy and it slid in easily. She said nothing so I had no idea what was expected of me, but I knew better than to think this was for my benefit. I tried to put my mind as far away as possible from the sensation of her sliding up and down on the stiff shaft.

She was plainly enjoying herself and, except that I was servicing her breasts while she was fucking me, didn’t seem to care much for what I was doing. I tried to hold still and not reciprocate so as to help minimize the sensations I was feeling and was pleasantly surprised at how well I was holding off. As she got closer to her second orgasm of the evening, she started to get vocal and this time I didn’t have her legs to help muffle the sound.

Hearing her so vociferously get her rocks off on me brought my own orgasm into being. Just like that I was grunting and exploded inside her – zero to 60 in one second.

As soon as she felt me start to come, she cried out, “FUCK ME!” and boy did I. A millisecond later, she came all over again.

—

She got back into bed and found me totally unmoved from the position she left me a few minutes before. She propped her head up on her elbow and said, “I don’t want you to feel guilty about that one.”

“I don’t,” I said, and I didn’t. Not remotely. “It’s not like I had any choice.”

She laughed. “I love it when we come like that. At the same time. That was something special. Totally worth it.”

“I agree. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said while handing me the key and lock, “Now go put that thing back on.”

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Alien flesh

Penises are spatially variable things. They get bigger, they get smaller, they’re hard then soft, they twirl around and get squished and squashed. Their friends, the testicles, are the same way. They move around all on their own and, like octopi, have the strange ability to fit into the narrowest spaces. Sometimes, the scrotum splays out like a jellyfish that swallowed a couple soft-boiled eggs, while other times it’s like a tight, wrinkly little meatball. Frankly, it’s all very weird and random.

This is top of mind as I’m still out of the device and have only just reacclimated to all the ways this strange appendage behaves. When you’re in a chastity device, everything is more or less static. Yes, things tighten up and feel different from time to time, but by and large, they don’t actually look any different (unless, of course, your device is see-through). When your cock is in a big steel tube, it’s the big steel tube you have to deal with all the time. The cock eventually fades into the background, especially since it’s out of site. And while the balls are still out there, the A-ring tends to shepherd them into very reliable configurations. The phrase “a place for everything and everything in it’s place” comes to mind.

To be honest, being out is a big distraction. I was locked up for almost a month and dealing with that condition became second nature. While I appreciate the flexibility a free cock has (both physically and in application), trapping it in a device makes it a known, fixed variable. And of course, temptation stays at bay.

It’s like when your best friend across the street from when you were a kid went away for half the summer. You missed him at first and learned to have fun without him and of course always looked forward to his return. But when he did get back, you had to readjust all the things you figured out how to do when he was gone. The dynamic between you and your other non-best friends had to shift around to make room for him again. That’s how it is now with free meat. Suddenly, it’s back and demands attention. I’m not supposed to play with it, but it’s very insistent.

There’s a part of me that really misses the confinement, even though it’s only been five days of freedom. I like the controlled feeling of device. I like feeling her control. I’ve been wearing the A-ring off and on as a reminder and think I’ll leave it on permanently now. It simply feels too weird not having something down there, even if it leaves the cock free to be a strange alien thing.

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He comes laughing

I woke up Saturday morning at our family compound in the North Woods at 5:28. That’s within 5 minutes of when I woke up every day for the previous week or so. Usually I get up and pee since, as any guy knows, peeing helps alleviate morning wood and some days the wood’s so woody that the ring of the device is biting harder than a snapping turtle chomping on a guy’s tit. Not every day, but most days. I guess you could say that beside all the other reasons chastity is good for us, it’s also convenient having a reliable alarm clock with you wherever you go.

The night before, after rolling in moderately late and getting the kids settled down and asleep, Belle and I were laying in bed sipping Bailey’s, me naked at her direction, talking about the Steelheart again. I had been wearing it for 25 days and, while maybe not a record, it was pushing it. You leave something like that on yourself for so long and you start to lose physical memory of what it was like before it came along. We have both come to think of it as the cock and not just something over it. I told her how happy it made me to be wearing something she liked so much.

“Oh no”, she corrected me, “I don’t just like it. I love it.” Whimper.

The next afternoon, she unlocked it so I could prepare myself for that night. I was happy to see no surprises lurking under the steel. It all seemed perfectly normal (though I imagined it blinking and covering it’s eyes after so long in the dark). I cleaned both it and myself and shaved the spots I can’t normally get to. For the remainder of the day, I was commando in my pajama bottoms.

As the fabric rubbed against the head of the cock, I found the skin more and more sensitive to it. I don’t know if it’s something to do with the material of the device or if the PA fixing holds it such that it doesn’t come in contact with anything when it’s in there, but by the time we went to bed, it was really kind of driving me nuts. There’s nothing apparently wrong with it (maybe a little red), but it remains extraordinarily sensitive, even today.

The evening’s sexual activities were pretty standard fare. She let me give her an pretty great orgasm using my fingers and mouth (while she gently abused my balls) before I entered her. Once it was in the friendly confines of the warm and wet, any discomfort I felt on the head of the cock disappeared. The now thoroughly defeated sex lizard stirred just enough for me to lose myself in the act of fucking her, but not so much that I forgot to do as Ms. Rika suggests and ask to stop just before I came. I knew Belle wanted me to, and I figured I was going to, but Belle also liked Rika’s tactic of always having the man ask to stop before he comes (to ask if he can’t as opposed to asking if he can). In any event, the question surprised Belle and by the time she answered that she did want me to come, it was too late anyway. Nothing in the world was going to stop it.

I felt between four and five fat, healthy squirts followed by a large number of post-orgasmic flexes and throbs. It felt. So. Good. Seriously, top 10% of all orgasms. I even laughed. I once had a boyfriend who laughed when he came and I never really understood it since I’ve always felt orgasms were deadly serious business, but there I was, laughing. It was wonderful. Belle later commented on the prolific nature of the orgasm’s payload and I reminded her that it was 28 days worth with no relief (no milking and very little ancillary leakage).

Sleep reached up and forcibly pulled me down into its grasp. I slept incredibly hard and can remember no dreams. Just deep, deep sleep. And I didn’t wake up until Belle did at 7:30.

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High as a kite

I haven’t had a fitful night due to pent up sexual frustration in a while, but I did last night. Belle got home pretty late due to a work thing and, even though she was tired and went pretty much right to bed, I tried my best to get into her pants.

“Fine,” she said, “Get Pink. Make it snappy, though, because I have a busy day tomorrow.”

I have a proven ability to get her off in less than 10 minutes, and while I’d prefer a longer session, I’m too fucking horny pass up even a quickie. I grabbed the little pink vibe and got to work. By the time she came, I was fucking her with it and fingering her clit all at the same time using the same hand. It’s good to have long fingers and lots of practice getting her off.

It nicely stoked my subbie fire because her entire attitude was “make me come and make it fast” and she didn’t even touch me. It was reward enough to have her nipple in my mouth and a hand wet from her juices, though of course I was five time more frustrated afterward than before. At the very beginning of this adventure, I’d have laid awake for hours with all those hormones surging around, but I’ve developed the ability to actually fall asleep that way now. In fact, her orgasms make me sleepy in a way not unlike mine used to.

So anyway, yeah, I can fall asleep, but it’s a light, fitful sleep. All kinds of graphic mental images flashed though my mind as I drifted off, pleasantly full tube pressed into the bed. I dreamed the same way. Short sexual scenarios, none of which I can remember now, jumbled together like an Xtube montage. Belle, too, was tossing and turning and reaching out to me so that her touches mixed with what was in my head and I couldn’t really tell the difference between the dreams and the reality, wakefulness and sleep. Every little touch drove the tubal pressure up several notches, though it seemed like I had a boner all night long. At one point, she had her bare legs up against my naked ass. That odd, unexpected skin-on-skin contact was like jet fuel on a campfire.

Today, I’m still feeling it. The repressed sexual electricity is everywhere in my body and permeates my every thought and conversation. I feel simultaneously energized and powerful yet hopelessly distracted and nervous. To feel the spark and arc of abject desire with no outlet is almost like the perfect goal state for someone like me. Bathing in the hormonal high. I’m a total junkie.

And that makes me approach this weekend with a bit of apprehension. On the one hand, I want to come. It’s all I think about. I dream of having a real, free erection and the kick of ejaculation. On the other, I hate losing this. The energy, the excitement, feeling of being vibrant and alive. Regardless, I’m comfortable with whatever happens. I’ve given myself over her and I’ll either come like crazy or keep riding the wave. Honestly, they both sound great to me.

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Waiting patiently

According to the dates I pulled out of a hat last fall, I was supposed to get an orgasm back on the 2nd of January. If you remember, Belle decided to postpone my release for a week because she got her period and apparently prefers I come inside her. So this past weekend came along and my son had a sleep-over with friends at our house and there were family outings and such and, before you knew it, it was Monday and I still hadn’t come. Of course, I thought about it all weekend and wondered when she was going to let me do it, but she wanted it to be “good” and put it off again. The plan now is to let me come this weekend.

According to the BunnyTrack 2000 release tracker, Saturday will be my 28th orgasmless day (and my 25th in the Steelheart). I’ve gone longer, but I have to say I am really fucking horny. Like, really, really, significantly, profoundly, quite tragically horny. And Belle knows it. And she doesn’t really care. Well, she cares, but she’s not moved by my predicament. Last night, I was kinda all over her (being outside my 72 hours no-fly zone), but she wasn’t much interested.

She rolled over and I spooned into her, moaning quiet piteous moans, and she said, “I love how smooth it is.”

She had her hand down her side and was fingering the Steelheart. “I can’t even feel when you do that,” I said, “I really wish I could feel that.” Moan.

Tap, tap, tap. “Can you feel that?” Moan.

Every random little thought causes a stirring in the tube. Every little casual caress or throw-away verbal tease from Belle makes me weak in the knees. I reach down and grasp the steel and its sensory-deprived contents and stroke it and touch it and wish it would respond. With the CB6K, I’d get the urge to rip it off, but I don’t feel exactly the same way with the Steelheart. It’s less “on” me and more “part” of me. I don’t necessarily think, “God, I wish this thing was off of me.” It’s more, “God, I wish I could jack this off and spray all over myself.”

Which brings me back to Belle’s thinking that the only good orgasm is one that happens inside her. Of course, it’s entirely her decision when and how I come, but I’m not going to split hairs over the mechanism. What’s really important to me is that I do it at her direction and that she’s with me when it happens. Where the goo flies afterward isn’t all that important to me.

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Steelheart vs. CB6K

I’ve finally completed my comparison of the CB-6000 an the Steelworxx Steelheart. I’ve written for someone who hasn’t been around to read all the posts related to the stainless saga, so some of it will be repetitive for regular readers. As always, I’d appreciate any constructive feedback.

Steelheart vs. CB-6000

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A dream

I had this dream last night…

In the middle of the night, Belle and I are in bed, and the doorbell rings. She comes back to the room and sleepily tells me the hooker she got for me has arrived. I get up, as if this is normal, to greet the hooker out in the living room. It was our house, but not our house, in only the way it can/can’t be in a dream. So I start chatting the hooker up, feeling pretty good about Belle letting me have her but wondering what I’m supposed to do with her since I’m locked up. I can’t remember what she looked like, but she was young and had sandy blond hair. I wanted to get her clothes off and, at various times, they were, but then not again. The entire time I’m doing this, the hooker just won’t shut up. She keeps talking and showing me pictures of herself in yearbooks and pornos she made on the internet, etc. Eventually, we find ourselves in the kitchen of my mother-in-law’s house (but, you know, not my mother-in-law’s house). Somehow I’m not real clear on, I find myself behind the hooker and feeling her nipples by reaching around. They’re really small. Like, freakishly small. But very hard. I decide it’s time to get to business since it seems like we’ve been beating around the bush (so to speak) for hours. I go back to the guest bedroom where Belle is and tell her to go to her bed and that I’ll take the hooker in the guest room (seems the only gentlemanly thing to do). She groggily gets up an goes to the other room. I think to ask her to remove the device so I can, you know, do something, but before the words come out, I find the brass lock on the Steelheart in four pieces in my hand. It’s somehow broken (at least the third dream where the device I’m wearing breaks). I take the device off and put it next to Belle in bed, who by this time has fallen back asleep. Like she doesn’t care one way or the other what I do with the hooker. So I go back to find the hooker in the living room and she’s trying to show me another video she made and I suggest we go back to the bed. I start to walk down my mother-in-law’s (but not) hallway and it just goes on and on and on with twists and turns and it’s all dark and crowded with big dressers and bureaus and giant oak coat racks and stuff way too big for a hallway. I get to the room, which has the only lit lamp in the place, and find the fucking hooker’s not with me so I go back and find her somewhere in the hall, still talking about whatever the fuck she’s been talking about the whole time. I get her into bed (wondering, frankly, if Belle’s paying her by the hour or by the fuck) and try to get her to focus on her damned job for just a second. All I need is one second. Somehow, it seems like something’s about to happen, but she’s still not focusing on her task, and I’m starting to get hard. I’m crawling on top or behind or somewhere and I feel the erection and it’s starting to get heavy and hurt. I’m just about to actually, finally, slip it in when…

The pain from maybe the most intense erection I’ve had in the Steelheart wakes me up. I’m laying next to Belle, arm up her shirt against the skin of her back, leg thrown over hers, and hornier than I’ve felt in a really long time.

Fucking dreams.

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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.