Tag: D/s

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Control

First off, happy new year, everyone!

In response to yesterday’s post, Celtic Queen said:

It’s not so much the absence of orgasm that drives my hub but the control he has handed over and the randomness with which he is allowed to orgasm. He says he feels “lost” without the device, uncentred and unhappy and hates the feeling of his penis re exerting control over him.

Of course, it’s going to be somewhat different for everyone. I agree that the lack of control aspect is key. I don’t know that I could (or would necessarily want to) do this by myself. Belle is clearly the controlling partner when it comes to the penis and what I get to do with it and that’s pretty awesome. I suppose control and denial are not welded together and that either are valid dynamics alone or in combination with other aspects. Yesterday, I was only addressing the denial part since it’s the thing that’s been missing for the past month. Obviously, I’m happiest when they’re served together.

Speaking of which, I know there must be many men reading this blog who wish they were being controlled and denied by their partners (or, conversely, some women who wish they could talk their men into being denied and controlled). I think that limiting a man’s sexual release to only those times he’s with his partner (or has explicit permission by them to do it himself) is a really valid alternative to chastity as Belle and I do it. While I’d lose interest in the dynamic as soon as I came, it was only a matter of a few days or so before I was interested again and, therefore, interested in her. While I was still coming, I was still dependent on her for the pleasure. I think a guy who hasn’t been able to get his wife interested in control and denial would be well served by living as if he was anyway. That is, don’t come when you read the chastity porn. Reserve that for when you’re with her. For a woman in a similar situation, this kind of arrangement might be less intimidating for her guy.

Anyway, I also totally get CQ sub’s point about feeling lost without the device. I’ve written several times how I feel incomplete when I’m not wearing it. I haven’t worn it for like six weeks and I’m really ready for it to return. I suspect it’ll be tricky readjusting (and not just mentally), but I’ve missed it. I thought about asking for it yesterday, but she said Sunday so I didn’t.

What day is it again?

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In it for the want

I go back in tomorrow. Belle told me on Friday, so that’s a month out and nine (so far) orgasms.

She observed last night over dinner that I didn’t seem to like being out as much as I like being in. It’s true. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed the orgasms Belle’s let me have (especially the last couple), and being able to feel the penis whenever I want has been nice (as has been the uninterrupted sleep). But that’s not how I’m wired anymore. Now, I’m in it for the want. For the not having. For the everything but.

Over the past month, I have had periods of feeling desire and frustration, but they’ve been short-lived. A few days at most before Belle and I fucked or she let me take care of myself (only two of the nine have been by my own hand, thought I might get another that way before tomorrow). Yesterday morning, she woke me up by stroking the peachy fuzz on my ass where its cheeks and my legs come together. I rolled over a bit and she fiddled with the penis. One thing led to another and soon she was coming hard on my fingers. The penis was as stiff as it gets and I was cleaving to her side in a very familiar way, surging with the need to fuck her. I knew it was going to happen, but at least as much of me wanted it not to. For her to leave me that way. She didn’t and I came really well.

There must be a term or set of words to describe this feeling. When one decides they don’t actually prefer the destination as much as the travel. The unending trip to the mall looking for the unfindable perfect ski jacket. Traipsing through the woods with your rifle and never finding a deer. Forever connecting though airports and never arriving to the vacation. I guess that’s me now.

Sitting here at the fulcrum point between the ebb and flow of my own sexual desire, I can say with all honesty that she could never let me come again and I’d be OK with it. More than OK.

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Four after ninety-nine

I’ve started this post like three times. When it comes to writing for my blog, my muse is my frustration.

So, yeah, she let me come. Two times in each of the last two weekends. I know I reported here before that she was going to let me do essentially whatever I wanted to do with the penis, but the rubber’s hit the road and she’s told me I can’t come without her being present.

And, honestly, I’m perfectly happy with that. In fact, the other night I was begging her never to let me come without her again. She cautioned me to think about what I was asking for, but I was all rapturous and liked how her hand felt around the very stiff meat and maybe wasn’t thinking too terribly deeply about what I was saying. Regardless, I meant it (and still do).

Therefore, I am not, at the moment, Thumper denied. I am at best Thumper restricted. I can pleasure myself and fiddle around with the penis but orgasm can only happen when I’m with Belle. So far, that’s meant in Belle, though I don’t know for sure if that’s part of the rules I’m working under. I’d like to feel an orgasm of my own doing, but she hasn’t let me.

The orgasms she’s let me have were interesting in that they were all different. The first, after ninety-nine days of denial, really wasn’t all that good. How could it have been? It was more like sneezing after feeling one coming on for a long time but being unable to make it happen. Not so much pleasurable as it was just a release. The next day was number two and it was a little better, but still just OK. Then everything cratered. Belle went to NYC and I lost any and all interest in sex or sexual thoughts. Even this blog curdled for me. I couldn’t think about it. It embarrassed me. So I ignored it. I also sank into a shallow depression that probably wasn’t entirely driven by the sudden change in my brain chemicals but couldn’t have been helped by it. I was pretty miserable.

Then the next weekend came around and my libido stirred like a sleepy cat in a sunbeam. I came twice more and cratered again, but only briefly. At least these two orgasms were pleasurable. By Wednesday, I was feeling horny again (which was quite the rebound). It’s amazing how low I go now after I come. My sex drive doesn’t just drop to zero, it goes into negative numbers. It creates a vacuum.

Yeah, so anyway, this shift in the rules isn’t at all what I thought it’d be. I’m very happy to find I’m not entirely free to do as I please because I don’t ever want to live like that again. I’m also pleased that Belle seems to be getting whatever she wanted out this little experiment. I’m sure she’s missed getting fucked by an apparently normal male and I’m also sure a girl likes her guy to squirt inside her every once in a while. But, if I’m honest, I’m also looking forward to the day we can go back to “normal”. After two weeks, I still can’t get used to this squishy floppy bit of meat between my legs. It’s just not right. (The DCR, BTW, hasn’t been on that much. Belle hasn’t wanted me to wear it.) And while I like the idea of coming, the aftermath turns me off (literally and figuratively). I’m actually kind of afraid of it.

I don’t know. I’ve been so far away from normal for so long now that even this not normal approximation of normal leaves me feeling off kilter. I’m still controlled and there are still rules and I like that, but it’s not the same. I’m not complete without that steel tube. I miss its company and crave its confinement. I want to see my reflection looking up from my crotch, not a pink prick. I’ve thought of locking myself up during the day just to feel it again, but have resisted. I will remain as I am without complaint for as long as Belle wants me to, or course, though I look forward to the day she puts things back they way they should be.

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December’s come, I haven’t

You may have noticed that the entire world is now in the month of December. Even here, it’s definitely the 12th month of the year. The month in which I will have an orgasm after more than three without.

In not unrelated news, it’s remarkable to me how long I can jack off now and not come. I have become amazingly well tuned to the stages of orgasm and know within a hair’s breadth where I am from actually going over the falls and squirting all over, how long to let it chill before going back in for more, and when even breathing on the head will cause an eruption. Also, that I can essentially walk away from it even though I’m thoroughly juiced, primed, and ready to blow. “Oh, look at the time.”

The other morning, I was looking down at the penis, all greased up and nestled into my fist, and could practically see it begging me with it’s silly sideways mouth. Sometimes, jacking off is just a thing you do to another thing for a particular purpose, but other times there’s this circuit made between the cock, your hand, and your brain and they become one functioning, pumping unit looping feedback between one another. That’s what it felt like when it looked like it was begging. “Pleeeeeease!?” it seemed to be asking. But no. I was going to abide by the rules.

Perhaps Belle could sense how close it and I have become lately because last night she laid down the law. First of all, when I come, it will be in her. She wants to catch it all. Oh, and by the way, she’s on her period, so no, it won’t be for a few days. Also, I’m to stop touching the penis. No more yankie the wankie until after she says it’s time for me to come. Regarding that timing, she jets off again in a few days, so the window of opportunity will be small before then. If I have to wait until she get’s back, then it’s about a week from now. If she leaves on the trip without allowing me to come, I will beg to be locked up.

The double cock ring continues to be on me and, indeed, feels to be just as much a part of my body as the Steelheart can at times. I’ve found that the inside of the penis ring is not smooth like the rest of the device. It’s rough and somewhat unfinished feeling. Not sure if there’s a way to polish it up, but I may try and find out. It’s not a problem, but I can feel it and it bugs. Other than that, I have no complaints. Sleeping, by the way, is cake. If I happen to wake up with an erection, I can feel it filling the rings, but it doesn’t wake me up by itself.

Well, that’s about all I got. Today is ninety-eight days. Tomorrow, ninety-nine. Almost there. I hope.

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Rubbed raw

Today is thirteen weeks, four days since the Unfortunate Incident. AKA, ninety-five days since my last orgasm (and officially over my previous record).

The earliest I’ll be allowed to come is day after tomorrow: December 1. However, knowing my Belle like I do, I’d bet she’ll make me wait until the weekend. Saturday will be 99 days. Will she make me wait until Sunday for the even 100? Will she allow me to be out of the Steelheart until then? As I mentioned yesterday, she let me out of the tube on Saturday. Since then, I’ve literally rubbed the penis raw in frustration. Is it any wonder I prefer to be locked up? Do you have any idea how long it takes me to get out of the bathroom in the morning like this?

As an aside, I may need to come up with a better term then “locked up” since the double cock ring also has a lock, the key to which is not in my possession. I am, technically, still locked up, but not at all in the way I am in the chastity device. 

Speaking of rubbing, the new Steelworxx double cock ring (DCR) has forced me to modify my technique. As I pointed out yesterday, when fully erect, the skin on the penis isn’t as loose with the DCR in place. Based on my own first-hand experience with other erect male penises, the skin on “mine” is relatively pliable. I hardly ever have had to use lubrication when jerking off. One guy I know with a particularly fine specimen had to lubricate. When he was hard, it was all monolithic and tight (and so wonderfully hefty). I have always suspected this difference was due to how our individual circumcisions took place (i.e., how much did the doc cut off), but I’ve never been with an uncut guy to verify.

But I digress. My point is, the rings keep things tight down there and that’s partly why I’m raw. I didn’t use enough lube. The other factor is how the skin on the shaft seems to get more sensitive after it’s been locked away for a long time. The other other factor is overuse. Plain, simple self-abuse. Having not been told by Belle not to do it, I have been indulging myself repeatedly.

Besides that, the other new wrinkle the DCR has added to my style is how it’s effectively reduced the length of the penis’ shaft. The penis, as I’ve said here before, is, when fully hard, a perfectly average 5 5/8″ long. The DCR takes about an inch of pullable meat away. Then, on the other end, is the PA ring which can be tricky to masturbate over. Typically, I rub up to it and let my fingers open so they go around. Too much pushing and pulling on the ring can make the hole sore. Take that into account and I’m left with less than four inches of beatable meat. My palm is about 3.5″ across. You see my predicament.

Which, of course, I like. I am, technically, free. And in December, I’ll be even freer since Belle has said I’ll be able to come whenever I want. But the DCR complicates that a bit. I can jack off but it’s awkward. I can get pleasure, but there are still some boundaries and issues. I’m all about boundaries and issues.

I’ll close this post by thanking Tom for the nice call-out the other day on his blog:

Thumper is one of the few — very few — “chastity blogs” that has managed to stay fresh and interesting. I don’t always agree with him; hell, I don’t even always understand him. But there’s no question that Thumper is writing from a special, deep place, and you simply can’t doubt his honesty and emotional openness.

At first I was like, “Aw, that’s nice,” and then I was all, “Wait, doesn’t always agree with me?” and then, “Doesn’t understand me!?” before thinking, “Am I disagreeable? Am I that weird!?” Which, of course, is one of the things about me I’m sure Tom doesn’t understand. In any event, I truly appreciate the props. I’ll do my best not to obsess over the agreeing and understanding bits. As I said…boundaries and issues. That’s me.

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Regret/relief

We were laying in bed, talking.

“What are you doing down there?”

“Where?”

She lifted the covers and saw my hand wrapped around the stiff penis.

“There.”

“Nothing. Just…nothing.”

“You’re jacking it.”

“Only a little.”

“Maybe it’s time to put you back in.”

She got the device and brought it to me. I waited until the erection had subsided enough to push it all through the little ring. Each testicle, swollen with desire, went grudgingly before popping through with a twinge and a yelp. The penis, in that transitional state between plump and stiff, pliable enough to push through if I thought about anything else than what I was doing in front of her and at her direction. I put the security fixing though the PA ring and stuffed it and the still-chubby penis into the tube. I had to force the tube and the ring to join, compressing the swelling contents so the pieces would align. I held the package up to her and she slid the small brass lock into place and turned the key.

“There, that’s more like it. That’s how you should be.”

She placed her hand on the package, but I only felt her finders on my balls.

In my chest, I felt a wave of emotions. Regret that access to the penis was gone, relief that it wouldn’t be a distraction anymore. Satisfaction that my status was no longer in doubt (had she forgotten about me? did she have plans for it?). But mostly just a warm blanket of love and affection for the woman who kept me this way. I sank quickly and deeply into the comfortable fuzziness of my submission.

“Thank you.”

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Say hello to my little friend

Belle let me out on Saturday. The idea was she was going to have me put lidocaine on the penis so she could fuck it without having to worry about me enjoying it too much. But then one kid had a friend over and other went to a party with a bunch of other preteens and needed to get picked up at 10:30 and, the next thing you know, she’s asleep and I’m all drowsy with a totally numb wiener.

Next night didn’t work because (duh), football (she’s the fan, not me) and then it was Monday and yet another football game (and besides, it goes without saying that Monday is not the night anyone has sex) and now it’s Tuesday and she’s at work dinner thing and, well, so it goes. All the while I’ve had to deal with a free penis. Like, four whole days. This is excruciatingly difficult for me since, as they say, the flesh is weak. It’s especially weak 82 days since it last had an orgasm. I usually get my mornings to myself and yesterday the penis and I had a pretty good time (check back on HNThursday). Too good a time, actually, and I eventually covered it in the handy lidocaine so it’d stop bothering me. This morning, I went right for the stuff and slathered it all over to help blunt the distraction. Belle said something about needing to lock me back up soon, but I don’t know when that’s going to happen.

What I do know is I’m only about two and half weeks from an orgasm and a promised “break” in which I’ll get to come whenever I want for a while. I’m fixated on this. Whenever I think about the penis or get turned on by Belle or whatever, my mind goes straight to how it’ll feel to finally get to have an orgasm. And not just one. As many as I like, apparently. It sounds ridiculously indulgent, even as I write it out. As many as I like. Imagine getting to sit down as soon as you’re done trick-or-treating and eat the whole damn bag of candy. That’s what this impeding spurtathon feels like to me.

Several weeks ago, I ordered a double cock ring from Steelworxx. I just got notification today that it’s been shipped which means it should get here right in time. I bought it because, the truth is, I just don’t like how it feels not to have anything at all around the penis. Totally natural feels unnatural now. I also like that it locks and even if I get to do with the penis whatever I want, Belle can still hold my key. That’s important to me.

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Thirty before sixty

“It’s nearly November, Thumpie.”

“Yeah…?”

“November’s your month.”

“No it’s not. You said December was.”

Pause. “I did?”

“Yes! You said December!”

I pulled up the relevant blog entry on my phone and showed her.

“Oh,” she said, “You’ve still got a ways to go, don’t you?”

Fuck.

—

We were out Saturday night on a date when that exchange took place. We saw a movie and were having a late dinner (by Midwest standards). Apparently, she forgot I was being punished. Had I just gone along with it, I’d be coming in a matter of days. As it is, 30 more days before it’s even an option.

After we had that misunderstanding resolved, she surprised me by telling me that once I come in December, she plans on leaving me out for up to two months during which time I’ll be allowed to do whatever I want. She says she recognizes I’ve settled into a nice place living without orgasms and she likes what I’ve become, but she wants to see what I’ll be like if I go back to living like I used to. As if I’m Pinocchio and she’s the Blue Fairy come to turn me into a real boy. Regardless, she says I will be locked up and denied again at some point and she expects me to be whiny and complain about it when it happens but that I will have no choice.

This news has left me with mixed emotions. On the one hand, as soon as she told me her plan I wanted immediate release. Why wait, I asked. Let’s just go now! But no, I have 30 more days, like it or not. Knowing that I will not only come in about a month but likely come a lot has got me so horny I can feel it in my teeth. She’s perfectly happy watching me squirm over it.

Then again, I admit to also feeling a sense of loss at the prospect of regaining this element of my life. When you live as I do with a deep well of desire never far away and a piece of equipment immovably affixed to your body, there’s a certain sense of specialness that goes along with it all. The device and my denial demonstrate that someone cares for me enough to take on the responsibility of tending to my sexual release. I’m not like the other boys. Once it’s off and I can squirt away to my heart’s content, I become like any other guy who can masturbate in the shower and come weakly whenever he wants. After living as I have for the past three years, I don’t ever want to go back.

Which, of course, is not to say I don’t have the raw desire to jack off daily. Of course I do. That’s nature. It’s my lizard brainstem pushing to execute its programming (and right now, it’s pushing pretty hard). But enveloping that is the belief (perhaps enhanced and perpetuated by the very hormones it produces) that being denied my orgasm has made me a better person. Once I come (and I will, a lot), this sense of “enlightenment” will evaporate. That’s the thing about denial. It’s like a perpetual motion machine. Once you start, you want to do it forever but once you stop, you barely want to do it at all.

I think what Belle wants to know is if any of my “better spouse” mojo will stick after three years of building it up or will I revert to what I was. I think I know what will happen. Knowing that she’ll eventually force me back to where I am now is a comforting thought.

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Creamery

Belle let me out of my confinement last Wednesday night in anticipation of our family trip to New York the following day. I had been encased for two solid weeks at that point, but I didn’t get much chance to enjoy my freedom since we were up late packing and the alarm went off in the wee hours of the next day so we could catch our flight. Then, three nights with the four of us in a Manhattan hotel room didn’t exactly lend itself to any penis play time.

But that’s not to say I didn’t get something out of it. Like any great city, New York is all about walking. Having not seen the light of day for so long left the head of the penis extraordinarily sensitive. As I’d walk, the motion would cause the penis to move against the fabric inside my pants and I’d find myself very distracted. What’s more, I’d eventually develop a raging boner, all from nothing more than incidental contact with my clothing.

We got home very late Sunday night and Belle told me I’d go in the next night. Monday morning, I found myself edging in the shower. It’s been two months since I came and I’m too weak to keep my hands off when I have the opportunity. Getting out of the shower, I decided to conduct an experiment that would provide me with practical information and make sure I didn’t spill any seed.

I’ve played around with lidocaine cream in the past and found it to be a really good way to temporarily deny myself the ability to orgasm even without a device in place. Recently, I’ve read several accounts of men in my position who’ve used it to allow their partners full penetrative sex while removing worry that it’d make them come (like this one). I told Belle this and she seemed somewhat interested in the idea since the most limiting factor of my denial is her enjoyment of riding the erect penis. Also, I have felt guilt in the past in not being able to give her this activity that she likes so much.

So, I bought a new tube of the stuff, this time at a 5% strength versus the 4% cream I’ve used in the past. What I wanted to find out was A) how long would it take before the penis was numb enough to safely use, and B) what parts of the penis could I leave with sensation and still not be concerned with orgasm?

First off, this stuff ain’t cheap. I got a 2 ounce tube (this one, marketed as an anorectal cream – sexy!) and paid $50. I don’t recall how much the 4% cream I got last time was (and I can’t find it on Amazon any more), but it wasn’t anything like that much. The 5% version is more expensive, but I figured it’d also be 20% faster/longer lasting. Good news is, it doesn’t take much of the stuff to do the job so we should be able to get many session from the one tube.

The reason I wanted to know how long it took for numbness to set in is, of course, I don’t want to leave Belle waiting. Plus, I wanted to know how much advance planning it’d take to use. Turns out, I was sufficiently sedated after about 10-12 minutes (which is a bit faster than the 4% cream). I could still feel a little, but not enough to come. I applied it only on the head and maybe 30% of the end of the shaft, making sure to use the PA ring to get it down inside the urethra, too. I left some of the shaft with sensation since I’m worried that total lack of penile feeling would make keeping an erection difficult. Interestingly, once it had taken affect, the penis felt warmer than it had before. I assume this is because its skin couldn’t feel the air around it anymore. In any event, that was my clue that it was ready to try. I washed the remaining cream off and towel-dried the meat.

I jacked off pretty intensely for about 10 minutes. For most of that time, I had the sensation of wanting to come (my nuts even drew up as if I was about to), but I could never quite get there. It was like having a sneeze ready to come out, but never being able to get it out. I could feel the lower half of the penis pretty good, so my brain knew what was happening, but all the nerve endings in the business end were silent. After maybe 15 minutes, I started to feel like an orgasm was about to happen and I found myself edging again, even with a mostly numb dick. Unlike last time I tried this, there still was sensation in part of the shaft and that seemed to be enough after a long while to move the internal machinery in place. Next time, I’ll make sure to apply the cream further down the bottom of the shaft as feeling in that area seems to be integral in achieving orgasm even when the head has none. Also, if I have the time, I might also apply a second coat.

I think Belle wanted to have sex last night, but it was not to be. She told me I could stay out one more day, but I find being unprotected to be maddeningly distracting. Especially after two months with at least one more to go. Based on that, she allowed me to lock myself back up. After she fell asleep, I did (though not before giving the penis one last round of wanking). If she wants to use it tonight (or whenever), I can get it out quickly enough. If she gives me 15 minutes of warning, I can even make it safely fuckable.

I woke up at 5:00 AM for the first time in days with the incredible pressure of a secured erection. It was intense, as always, but not in a way bad. The discomfort was actually comforting. It’s a feeling only a happily denied man can appreciate, to be sure. The feeling of not being tempted by the annoying penis and there being zero chance of accidentally squirting. It felt safe and secure and perfectly natural.

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The one with the urine in it

I was supposed to be out last weekend. Belle had said I would be, but it didn’t work out that way.

The plan was for the family to go camping with another family we’re friends with at a local state park. Not real camping since there would be electricity and a bathroom nearby (with real running water), plus about a hundred other people in neighboring campsites. Not at all like I’m used to. But, in a tent with a fire so it would kinda sorta feel like camping. Earlier in the week, though, Belle had returned from a business trip with a cold that did nothing but get worse until Friday rolled around so it was just the boy and I who went.

The Steelheart came along, too. Belle had forgotten about it. There were several times I thought to say something, but I never got around to mentioning it to her. So I was still locked (as I have been for two straight weeks). I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do about it. It wasn’t like being in the device would get in the way of any of the activities we were doing and it was only for two nights. My biggest concern was one of hygiene. Turns out there were hot showers there for the “campers” so Saturday morning I was in there swishing myself clean. Well, cleanish.

I observed something interesting, though. As any guy who is often locked up knows, it’s not always spring fresh down there. And what I’ve discovered is how long it’s been since a good cleaning isn’t necessarily a correlating factor to how it smells. Urine is, after all, distilled continuously and from constantly varying sources. Sometimes, it’s apparently odorless and not unlike hot water while at other times it’s not (as in the morning, for example). What I found was, as contrary to common sense as this may sound, peeing is one way to freshen up one’s steel tube, especially if it’s done after recently drinking a lot of fluid.

So anyway, I came back in reasonable working order and have been feeling pretty randy since Belle has recovered from her illness. She very subtly drove me crazy a few nights ago night by stroking my head and resting her hand on the device, finger tips brushing lightly against my tight scrotum. The next morning, we had some aggressive snuggling that left me feeling a little light-headed. I’m pushing eight weeks since my last orgasm and have only been out of the device for maybe 7-10 days total. I’m minimally seven weeks away from my next orgasm, though it’s hard to say since I’ve only been told “Decemeber”. It could be longer than that.

Anyway, I was moderately turned on this morning but not as frothed up as I can be. So I was surprised to find that I had passed quite a lot of thick, ropey white goo during my morning leak. Not only that, but I kept leaking all morning long, even after my shower. That slick n’ slippery stuff just kept drip, drip, dripping out of me. Plus, I have to say, my nuts felt absolutely massive to me. Fat and swollen as I groped them in frustration.

Last night, she finally let me get her off. Her pussy was so wet and so hot that just touching it made me moan. It’s remarkable how just feeling her there can electrify me. In the past, it was just a junction to get past before inserting the penis. Now, I crave just that. When she came, I had two fingers in and felt the post-orgasmic spasms perfectly. For me, more moaning and an overwhelming desire to bite something. For her, bliss.

Once we had settled down to sleep, me spooning into her from behind, she rapped her knuckle against the device which was at about the same spot as her hand.

“I just love that steel tube,” she said.

*wimper*