Tag: chastity

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Random tidbits

Just a couple of unrelated things…

First, I’ve been locked up again since last Thursday and have found it to be significantly more comfortable than previous stints. I’ve moved back to the 1.875″ ring (second largest) but down to the smallest spacer. Typically, I get some irritation from the backside of the right-hand post rubbing against the spot where my scrotum bunches up, but not this time. I figured the smaller spacer would make this worse, but in fact it’s entirely disappeared. For me, it’s usually taken a week or so in the device for things to settle down and feel good, but I seem to have skipped that part this time. Maybe it’s because I was just in for two weeks with only a week off in between? Dunno, but I’m not complaining.

Second, I received in the mail yesterday a 6g segment ring (like this one). I was hoping to be able to sneak it into my 8ga PA hole, but no dice. (In case you’re wondering, she let me out for a few minutes to try it out.) It’s really beautiful. Heavy, chunky. When I finally get it in, it’s going to be pretty hot.

I had to use needle-nose pliers to pop it open (wrapped in tissue so as not to scratch it), and getting it closed again was pretty hard. If the PA security cable didn’t bother me so much, this ring would provide absolute security for me. Oh well. Now I’m looking at stretching tapers and opening/closing tools.

Finally, Belle has started to expand her authority. Now, she calls what used to be our bed her bed. She’s allowing me to sleep with her in her bed, but I must sleep naked. Yes, I find this incredibly hot. She was dead tired last night, so we had a chance to talk a lot about that and other things. I told her that for the bed thing to work (and it’s surprising how quickly I felt I was in her bed once she started calling it that), I need to feel that I can’t take sleeping in it for granted. Some nights, she’s going to have to make me sleep elsewhere, either because of some displeasure I give her or just because. This might be tricky with two kids in the house, but we’re thinking about it. I didn’t say this to her, but I think it’d also be hot if  I wasn’t allowed in without her permission and only after demonstrating my subservience in some way. I should bring that up. In any event, I dig it and love that it was all her idea.

I feel as though the D/s aspect of our relationship is really starting to take root. Having the Covenant signed is a huge psychological hurdle, but I’m feeling more and more comfortable showing that part of me to Belle and she’s gaining confidence as she starts to get a feel for her role. I’ve never been happier. Now, if I can only remain patient and let it unfold at its own pace.

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Legal fig leaves

I noticed the other day the following at the bottom of all the pages on A.L. Enterprise’s website:

Disclaimer: All of our products are sold as novelty items only.
A. L. Enterprises, Inc. does not accept responsibility for any misuse or possible injury resulting in their use.

And then, yesterday, looking at the ExoBelt V1, I found this in the footer:

For obvious legal reasons we cannot recommend any ExoBelt product for use on the body or in any capacity as a medical device. It must be understood that some acts discussed or depicted on the ExoBelt website on in email correspondence may be medically unsafe or harmful and that the description and discussion of and such act(s) is intended as purely anecdotal or “fantasy” material. You choose to engage in any such act(s), discussed or depicted, entirely at your own risk.

I am not a lawyer, and it’s been well over a year since I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express, but these disclaimers seem to be absurd attempts to shield them from possible legal action from someone injured by their products. I’m not even sure what ExoBelt is trying to say. So using their product as they demonstrate with pictures may be unsafe so pretend we’re all talking about fantasy here and somehow it’ll all work out all right?

I’d much rather see these companies list out the possible side-effects of using their products along with how those side-effects can be avoided or corrected. Also (and I’m only familiar with the CB-6000 version of this), thorough usage guidelines included with the product would be very helpful.

I’m not saying they shouldn’t try to protect themselves against frivolous lawsuits, but it seems to me that pretending as though people aren’t using these things for exactly what they were designed to do is duplicitous in the extreme and shows a remarkable lack of respect or concern for their customers. For example, requiring purchasers to agree to a terms of use outlining risks and limiting the companies’ liability would be far preferable to saying after the fact that whatever happens to you is your own problem.

Instead of hiding behind stupid legal fig leaves, these companies should be investing in educational materials and usage guidelines. To do otherwise is remarkably irresponsible.

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The organ of the dominant paradigm

I wasn’t going to write about this. It seems as though I’ve been running over here to tell everyone each time we have sex and, I suppose, that would get a little tiresome after a while. I mean seriously, who wants to sound like that guy in high school who told you each and every time a chick let him get to third base?

I wasn’t going to, but I figured out an angle – a way to use what happened to make a point. And my point is, last night we had terrific, mind expanding, deeply satisfying sex and at no time whatsoever were any penises involved in any way. Just the idea of that kind of blows my mind. Never would I have said such an thing could be possible four months ago.

It started in the kitchen. I was throwing together dinner and I think Belle was emptying the dish washer when she slapped my ass with a spatula. Even though it was through my sweats, it kind of stung. She was just fooling around, but when she saw my apparent interest in the sensation (I think I grabbed the granite and bit my lower lip), she did it again. And again and again. Ouch. But, you know, in the good way. She had previously said that that night she was going to do something painful to me, but hadn’t really settled in on what it was going to be. A few seconds swinging a spatula and she knew. That night, she was going to hit me on the ass with a kitchen utensil.

She hasn’t really hit me all that much and never on the ass. Yeah, she’s bitten me there (fucking awesome) and scratched and dug her nails into it, but never hit me. I’ve very much wanted to be hit there and, lucky for me, she found something she wanted to hit me with. Apparently, she finds it amusing that such a common item could be used for such an uncommon purpose. I told her we could find kinky shit to do with all kinds of stuff, if that’s what she wanted.

So, of course, I’m thinking about getting whacked with the spatula all during dinner. Afterward, while I was cleaning up and she was lounging on the couch in front of the fire, I went to her. I needed to kneel there and just be close. The idea of being hurt by her always makes me the most submissive I can be and so I wanted to be near her and show her how grateful I was for what she was going to do. I feel like there’s a room I go to when she’s abusing me and, when I know it’s coming, I kind of stand in the doorway – half in and half out, a foot on each side. And that’s where I was there, kneeling on the floor. Standing on the threshold of my secret room of pain.

Later, in the bedroom, candles all lit and semi-dark, I felt a trembling anticipation. I had placed the spatula on her nightstand (she let me pick which one she’d use). I got up to make sure the kids were both asleep and came back in and closed the door behind me. She told me to strip. I did and stood there naked before her wearing nothing but my chastity device. I’m quite self-conscience of it when I’m like that and the feeling layered on top of the knowledge that I was about to be hurt. I climbed back onto the bed and again, without even thinking about, put myself in a very submissive posture – face down, ass up, rubbing my head up against her torso. I was as deep into the headspace as I can get.

She ran her hands along my back and up and over my ass. At first, gentle caresses, then light scratching, then, suddenly, hard, deep scratching. She raked her nails from my ass all the down my back to my neck, then would pick a spot and dig her nails into me deeply. I whimpered into the sheets and she switched back to the gentle before attacking again with the harsh. She had me on edge and jumpy, hurting me randomly in a way I hadn’t been expecting.

Then she picked up the utensil and moved into position. At first, she hit me lightly getting me used to it. Even then, it stung more than I thought it would. Beforehand, I asked her to eventually hit me as hard as she could just to see what the worse could feel like. It didn’t take her long to get there. Left cheek, right cheek, left, right, left, left, left. She’d rain down a quick series of blows, then stop and stroke the burning surface of my ass with the cold, flat black plastic. I probably would have dealt better had I been tied down. As it was, I writhed and whimpered and cried out with each hard thwack.

At first, it was very hard to take. I liked it, but it was so intense. Much more than I’m used to or was expecting. I didn’t think of asking her to stop, but it was getting difficult to imagine it continuing. After a few minutes, she asked me how I was doing. Was I OK? Long pause. Yes, I was fine. The hitting continued. My ass was stinging and I could feel it radiating heat. At some point, I felt myself start to draw away from the intensity of the pain. It still hurt, but the harsh jagged edges of it were smoothing out. Just as it seemed I was settling in for the long haul, she stopped.

We laid there, kissing, my eyes closed and ass on fire. She asked how I felt. I said I felt like getting hit some more. But she was tired, so it was over for the night. And seriously, I basked. In whatever chemical afterglow follows that kind of punishment, I laid there and wallowed in it. I can’t put into words how it felt. Kind of like after an orgasm, but not. Different. Higher. Warmer. I don’t know. But how I love my Belle for taking me there.

After that, it was more typical of our recent sessions. I gave her a back and shoulder massage with the scented oil while my ass kept up it’s pleasant throbbing sting. Once she had had enough rubbing, she turned over and I used Pink, the little vibe that could, to bring her to orgasm (preceded with multiple soft yet forceful exclamations of “oh god” in quick succession – that was a nice touch). Afterward, she giggled saying the residual sensation of the vibe tickled.

It wasn’t until this morning that I realized we never, not once, even touched the cock during the entire scene. It simply wasn’t a factor, yet I was more than satisfied and she had a terrific orgasm. They can’t all go down like that, of course (she’s too big a fan of her cock), but to be able to pull it off not only absent the organ at the focus of the dominant paradigm’s version of sex but without even considering it is awesome.

Maybe it’s time for a new paradigm.

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Things that are hard

You know what’s hard? Well, besides that. What’s hard is not being Mr. Gropesalot in the morning with Belle. Based on the most current version of our still-evolving Covenant, I’m not allowed to make sexual advances, including random grabs at her tasty bits. The past two mornings I’ve had to grapple with myself and not do what I’ve always been able to do in the past. I could almost see the little angle and devil on my shoulders. “Go ahead, squeeze her tit,” says the little red me with the horns and sexy tail. “No, no! You really shouldn’t!” says Jiminy Cricket on the other shoulder.

Most other married men (assuming they have decent relations with their spouses) can take for granted the open access to their wife’s body they enjoy. He can roll over in the morning, slide his hand under her shirt, play with her nipple. No, she may not let him get much farther (and she may not be thrilled with the advance), but he can do that. Not me. She’s drawn a line. I cannot make any assumptions as to her availability to me. I cannot initiate sex through my actions. There are places I cannot put my hands. I have to ask. And I only get to ask once.

From what I can tell, she loves this arrangement. Yesterday, because I listened to Jiminy, I left her alone and she was able to sleep in until 9:00. For a woman with two young kids, that’s close to an act of god. This morning, I told her I wanted her to know that just because I wasn’t coming after her didn’t mean I wasn’t interested. That’s my sly way of saying, if you want a little something, I am so ready to give it to you (pretty cleaver, huh?). She said she was totally aware of what I was interested in, but that I wasn’t going to get it. She just came last night and didn’t want another one yet. So, we cuddled. I wanted to nibble her nipple through her shirt and shove my hand down her pants, but instead we hugged. It was all very…sweet. Totally non-sexual, but sweet. The entire time, the plastic tub between my legs was filled to capacity.

So yeah, I guess that was hard, too.

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Revised and expanded CB-6000 tips and tricks

I’ve finally finished a page I’ve been working on, off and on, for a while now. Back in December, I put together a couple of CB6K-related tips. Since then, that page has received a lot of traffic from Google, so I decided about a month ago to do it properly. The end result is the new, improved, and expanded CB-6000 Tips & Tricks.

Please feel free to add your perspective via the new page’s comments. I hope to be able to integrate the experiences of others as time goes on.

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The big pathetic mess of a post

I cleared my schedule so I could pick Belle up at the airport Thursday afternoon. It’d been three days since I had seen her and wanted some one-on-one time with her before the kids came home, etc. I was hoping for a little action but wasn’t positive I’d get any (nor did I expect to).

We unpacked from the trip and she was off doing something in the back of the house while I started writing the post of going gay. Eventually, I realized all the busy noises had ceased and that she was probably back there answering email, so I went back and nuzzled into leg while she clickity-clacked on the computer.

Even though I had been without orgasm for 19 days, I wasn’t feeling especially submissive. Hot and bothered, yes, but submissive no. It seemed as though the trip had drained all those feelings from me since we had basically zero personal time. Whatever it is that triggers that frame of mind within me, time from last emission isn’t the only factor.

In any event, I asked her if she wanted to mess up the bed a little. All the planets had aligned: I was unlocked and free, she was awake, and the kids were at school. She decided it was a good time and told me to get naked. After a little kissing, groping, etc., she said she wanted me to fuck her to orgasm. It may have been a shadow of insecurity that passed over my face, but I definitely wasn’t exude confidence. I’ve only been able to get her off that way without coming myself once this year. She had previously told me I wasn’t coming again in February (a goal I was completely committed to achieving), but I felt the odds of me being able to successfully restrain myself were low. Then, she dropped the bomb.

In fact, she did want me to come. She didn’t want me all worked up over not coming and she really wanted to get her orgasm from penetrative penile pounding. In retrospect, I should have stopped and talked this through. I was confused and a more than a little let-down that the previously stated goal of one month had been swept away so suddenly. Also, I should have pointed out that it wasn’t my concern that I couldn’t get her off with the cock, but that I couldn’t keep myself from erupting before she got her O. Seeing all this behind my eyes, she told me to suck it up and get going. This is what she wanted and she decides when I get to come, not me.

So I got to work. Again, in retrospect, I should have spent more time warming her up with my fingers before jumping right in (though in my defense, I was a little off balance with this surprise orgasm being sprung on me). With a minimum of foreplay, I climbed up and started to fuck her. It was my intention to resist my orgasm, even though she had given me permission. If by some small miracle, I got her off without coming, I was going to stop and see what she wanted me to do next. However, as expected, I lost control and came in a huge torrent. I fought it every step of the way until it happened. I maybe enjoyed three or four strokes, but kept right on going even as the head of my dick felt like it was going to implode from over stimulation. After a bit, she figured out what I was doing and told me to stop.

In short, I had failed. Again. I came (with permission) but had failed to give her the orgasm she wanted in the way she wanted it. Worse, once I stopped, my erection started to deflate rapidly so my ability to perform was basically nil. I felt terrible. Again, she told me to snap out of it and accept the fact that I did exactly what she wanted me to do, but all I could do was hide how I felt, not change it.

It’s pretty clear to me now that I’ve lost my ability to enjoy having a spontaneous orgasm. It seems I’m only able to enjoy those I know are coming and can prepare for. I’m not sure if she felt like she was doing me a favor by letting me come or if she really thought it would allow her to get what she wanted more easily, but in any event, I was left feeling stressed, unsatisfied, and ultimately a little depressed that I hadn’t achieved the one month goal. After scolding me to snap out of it, she told me to get Pink so I could finish her off. She had a pretty good ride at the end of the little vibe (at least, a really loud one).

Following this event and the last, I no longer think her goal for me of 12 orgasms in 2009 is achievable. She likes it best when I make her come with the cock. I can’t do that reliably. Desensitizing gel might help, but since it would require using a condom, I’ve never been able to find out since she hates them. And, she has thus far refused to let me experiment with a strap-on stand-in. She seems to have zero interest in that.

I feel as though our journey down this road of orgasm control has progressed so far that I really don’t ever want to go back. I can’t imagine coming every time we have sex. The weird and somewhat scary truth is, I’m not sure I even want to come. Or, more accurately, I don’t want to stop not coming. Does that make sense?

—

I wrote the above yesterday but didn’t get a chance to finish it before I talked to Belle last night. I told her what I told you – that I was unhappy with what happened on Thursday and that by saying so I wasn’t complaining or trying to assign blame or anything. It’s just what it was. She didn’t accept any blame and didn’t apologize for how it all went down (which is good – I wouldn’t have wanted her to). I told her I was worried about the 12 in ’09 goal and wasn’t sure it was achievable (at least not in a way that would allow her to experience pleasure in the way she preferred). She told me we’d figure it out. In the mean time, she’s not going to let me come until April. That’ll be a nice round 40 days from the last time I came to my next earliest opportunity.

While the prospect of not achieving orgasm for more than a month excites me, I’m still going to obsess over the fact that while she’s denying me orgasm, she’s also denying herself the pleasure of being fucked. I will continue to try as often as she’ll let me, though. I’m assuming that, with practice, I’ll get better at putting off my own climax. At least, I hope so.

Now to finish the post I started yesterday. She told me on the way home from the airport that she was going to lock me up that day. The usual mix of being excited and somewhat dissapointed that my freedom was about to end passed through me. If I had a choice, I would not have gone in, but it wasn’t my decision to make. Later that evening, I showered and trimmed and put on the device with the lock in place, but not closed since she likes to be the one to make it click. However, as I got out of the bathroom, I found her dead asleep. The long days had caught up with her. I closed the lock for her. Funny thing is, she didn’t even know I was in the thing for the first 24 hours. It wasn’t until last night that she found out I had put it on. I could have bought myself a whole extra day of freedom.

After our talk last night and her decision to keep me denied through March, I found the warm and fuzzy submissive veil fall over me. This active expression of her control combined with the physical restraint of the CB6K seemed to be enough to send me over the edge, even though I had just had an orgasm. In fact, it now seems as though orgasmic release isn’t a huge factor in how I feel with regard to being horny or submissive. There just aren’t enough of them and they’re not of high enough quality to absorb all the desire I carry around with me.

In rereading this, I realize this post has been all over the place and is probably too long. Why anyone would want to read me kvetch about all this is beyond me, but it’s nice to have a place where I can do it.

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She bit my ass

Oh yes, she did. She let me out of the device and then bit the fuck out of my ass. Hard. And it was good. She had me naked and on my stomach – unrestrained as she was all flummoxed from packing, etc., for the trip and just wanted a quickie – and started going to town with her teeth on my exposed, white ass. Oh, sweet mother of god, I love the biting. It is the best. And did I mention I wasn’t allowed to talk or make noise? Guess what. I did make noise. There’s no way not to. It was just so crazy painful wonderful amazing. I’d start to rise off the bed and my newly liberated balls and hard cock would hang under me in a way I had almost forgotten they could and she’d reach in there and squeeze those little melons like she as trying to make them pop. *deep breath*

She wouldn’t take anything in return. Just some kissing. My reptilian sex monster had risen (the one that eats little subbie rabbits for breakfast) and every cell in my body wanted to take her and fuck her into a quivering orgasmic puddle and – oh yes – I wanted to come all over her. I wanted to spew forth in the most manly of manly ways and demonstrate to the whole world exactly how manly those ways were…but she said no. No, I wouldn’t. She drowned Godzilla in a pool of cool feminine control and then shoved him into his cave and rolled the boulder back to seal him in. And now he’s sitting in there – inside the deepest pit of my pits – glowering at her. Plotting.

At one point, before she chewed me up, she said I was like a race horse who could see the track in front of him and wanted to run…but who she wouldn’t let out of the gate. The cock I gave her was so hard, so ready, and so badly in need of attention and she barely touched it. Never stroked it. It’s as if it wasn’t even there. All that existed were her teeth in my ass and her absolute control over my reptilian sex monster.

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Quick review: PA Security Cable

One of the reasons I got a Prince Albert piercing was because I wanted to make the CB-6000 more secure. I do not believe the device needs to be a lot more secure (for me, anyway) but the idea that it’s been made to be impossible to escape from is much hotter than knowing I could always slip out if I really and truly wanted to. (The other, and main, reason I got the PA is because I think it’s fucking hot to see stainless through the head of my dick. But that’s just me.)

The first step toward greater security is getting the hole made. Check. The second step is wearing a trapped-ball ring or other closed ring jewelry through the hole. Check. The third step is to acquire something like Kept For Her’s PA Security Cable. Triple check.

The cable, including shipping, costs ten dollars which hits the sweet spot of giving KFH an incredible amount of margin on each sale but not so much that you’d be bothered to go make something yourself. Ordering was a snap and they shipped and delivered it very quickly. The product itself is made from a short length of nylon-coated 1/16″ stainless steel cable with loops on each end affixed with brass ferrules. Very secure-feeling. The nylon coating makes the cable smooth to the touch and should, with wear, keep it from damaging the polycarbonate of the CB6K.

I got mine on Monday and immediately ran it though my ring and secured it in the lock. Here are some NSFW images (shot as demurely as possible so as to protect my delicate sensibilities) of the cable in action: through the lock, through the ring. Of course, the Achilles heel in this scheme is the ring. If you can push the ball out of the ring without tools, you can defeat the cable and, eventually, the entire device. KFH recommends a ball that’s too big to fit through the slot, which would enhance the security greatly. I can just get the ball out of my 8ga ring and it does fit through the slot, so I’d advise others to use 6ga or larger as those are more difficult to manipulate without tools and generally come with larger balls. I am planning on going to 6ga eventually (and maybe even 4ga), so I guess I’ll find out.

A bigger issue for me than my ring, though, was comfort. KFH says on their site, “This cable is totally comfortable to wear, you won’t even know it’s there.” I found that when my penis was extended and its head was up against the slot, their claim is true. However, my dick likes to move around in there and will sometimes retract about half way up the tube. When secured by the cable, this is impossible. It places a steady stress on the piercing which, at first, wasn’t too painful, but after 2.5 hours I found to be unbearable. This may be due to my hole not being fully healed (though I think it is). It may also be due to the jewelry being too thin at 8ga. I’ll try again at 6ga and see if there’s a difference.

Bottom line, based on my experience, I cannot reccomend the PA Security Cable. However, the concept of it is still incredibly hot and I would love to hear the experiences of those who have tried it and found it to be wearable.

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Dreamy

I forgot to lubricate the ring last night and I could really feel the difference this morning. At about 4:15 its bite woke me up. I relieved myself, which brought the, um, swelling down a bit – at least enough to be able to go back to sleep.

Then, I had this weird dream. I was in a strange, dimly lit house but all our stuff was in it, even the full length mirror upon which Belle hangs her key on its silver necklace. The whole family was there, except for Belle. Even in my dream, the device was hurting me, so I went looking for the key so I could move up to a bigger size (note, not to take it off, but to leave it on with a bigger ring). As I went into the bedroom where the mirror was, a little rabbit (I am not making this up) stopped me. Looking up at me with his big, Disney-esque eyes he said, “But what about my suffering?”

Apparently, I shrugged off the little rabbit, found the key, and turned my attention to the device. That’s when I found that the tube and KSD-G3 had fallen off in my hands, but the ring was still locked to my body (and I know that doesn’t make any sense). I fiddled with the little silver key and went to put it in the keyhole only to find my little chrome lock had been replaced with a big clear plastic one. Her key was useless. I couldn’t get out of the ever more painful device.

Like I said, weird.

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Three days and out

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

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

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

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

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