Tag: D/s

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Clarification

Celtic Queen, in response to my last post, left the following comment:

Thumper, this sounds like a trite question (it isn’t meant to be) but are you happier as a person now?

Put another way, did control of your sex make you unhappy?

Then Chaz added…

You state that your OK with it. I think those that say you are trained might offer congratulations, yet I get more a sense of resigned acceptance from this post. It almost has a BCWYWF feel to it. I would echo CQ’s comment. Are you happy? You say you have changed, I would like to ask is it change for the better? Are you a better husband lover friend father? “BROKEN” as a title I would take to mean your will, but could it refer to something that needs to be fixed?

As I started to formulate a reply, I realized I might need a little more room, so here we are.

Starting at the end and with the title “Broken,” that was just a play on words. I used the “broken horse” metaphor in the post to describe how I was feeling about my sexual urges and it was a reference to that. Also, as I alluded to in the post, “broken” might have been how I would have described those feelings at an earlier stage in our dynamic. I wasn’t trying to say I was broken or my sex drive was (hell no!) or we were or anything ominous like that.

With regard to resigned acceptance, I guess that’s not an inaccurate description. What other option do I have? I could rail against my confinement and the generally low level of sexual activity we’ve had lately, but to what end? To put extra pressure on her? To make her feel guilty? To suggest I want out of the device and from under the dynamic? I don’t want any of those things. Hell yes I want more sex, but the timing wasn’t right and no matter how horny or frothed up I get, there’s nothing I can do about it. So yes, resigned acceptance. Acceptance that being the object of long-term enforced chastity isn’t always a crazy pornfest type of existence. Sometimes, things don’t work out how you’d like them to. You might be able to characterize resigned acceptance as negative, but you might just as well call it a healthy frame of mind and more productive than moaning and pissing about my grievances.

With regard to the “be careful what you wish for” vibe, yeah, totally, I was going for that. I can remember how incredibly turned-on the idea of chastity made me even when I was actually in that kind of relationship. I can remember how surreally horny I used to get and hopped up on hormones I’d be. This, though, is perhaps what the long tail of chastity looks like. Once your body adjusts and the new device smell goes away, you have to figure out a way to live with it. Be careful because sometimes it’s not all that hot. Sometimes, it’s freaking boring.

Am I a better “husband lover friend father”? I would really have to let Belle answer that, but I think I am a better husband. I think I was already a pretty good lover, though now I’m not able to use the penis on her in the way I know she likes. I was already very attentive in bed. I’d say that’s a push. Better friend? No, we’ve always been good friends. Better father? I’m not sure any of this has impacted that aspect of my life much at all.

Now, am I happy? That’s a bit trickier.

CQ asked, “Did control of your sex make you unhappy?” In a way, yes, because control of my sex led me to cheat on Belle. But, larger than that, control over my sex also led me away from her as it was easier and more convenient to pleasure myself than to seek that pleasure from her. I’m not making that “masturbation addiction” argument as I think it’s crap, but had I been able to jack off at will over the past few weeks, I wouldn’t be at all drawn to Belle for my needs. And isn’t that pretty much the entire point of enforced chastity? To bring a couple together so they can enjoy sexual intimacy only with each other and not by themselves? That morning we finally had sex was fantastic even though I was fucking horny as hell and left literally dripping with desire afterward.

No, I won’t say control over my sex left me unhappy, but having her control my sex does make me happier more often than not. Nothing in this world in perfect. There are no silver bullets. Living as I do is the same. There are good days, there are bad days. There are fucking amazing days, there are god awful days. In balance, though, I am where I want to be.

So, as a coda to my previous post, I should say having that one sexual session has changed my attitude remarkably. I’m feeling much hornier and more connected to my desires than I was before. Even to the point that holding the device in my hand as I clean it makes me think so much about what it means to have it on that it fills up with chubby penis meat and I can’t flush water through it. I’ll find myself fingering the hard ring under my waistband and, again, the stupid penis will try its best to plump out.

I am denied. My sex is totally controlled. And I am so fucking turned on by that.

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Broken

After almost three years of living with a penis locked into some kind of device, it’s often felt like a battle was going on inside me. My inclination to want to be dominated and denied going up against my hormonally-supercharged sex drive. It didn’t help that the very nature of being denied by a device is, in itself, a kind of sex play that kept desire for actual sex play top of mind.

If you’ve read this blog for a while (or from the beginning), you’ll know what I’m talking about. The number of nights I’ve laid in bed frustrated and angry at Belle for ignoring me and my needs have been numerous. I submitted to Belle in body only. My mind and spirit wanted more.

You might be wondering why things have been quiet here and it’s because things have been quiet here, in the real world, as well. Due to travel and nighttime work obligations and whatever else, we haven’t had sex for at least two weeks. Instead of being petulant or grumpy or in some way pressuring Belle, I just sort of cruised. I didn’t feel angsty inside. I didn’t feel much of anything. It was like my sex drive had been taped up in a box and put away somewhere out of reach.

Sure, I wanted her. I wanted all kinds of things, but I didn’t dwell on it or let any of those feelings back up on her. There was a sort of zen-like calm over me. Had I been out of the device, I’m sure I would have been rubbing the penis at every opportunity, but I didn’t have access and it was like it wasn’t even there. Before, not only would this have been hard for me to imagine, but I would have hated the very idea. Not having a great urge for sex and not really missing that urge would have been a state of mind I would have actively resisted.

Be that as it may, here I am. I’m not unhappy about it. I should be. I would have expected myself to be, but I’m not. How is it possible that I’ve gone over six weeks without an orgasm and have been denied access to the penis for nearly all that time and am not pissed off over the lack of sex? I dunno. If you were so inclined, you’d say I’ve been successfully trained. That the spirit of my inner male has been broken and the animal that once resisted control has now taken to its tack and saddle with equanimity. I think that’s about right. I am not, fundamentally, the same man I was three years ago. Not even one year ago. The experience of infrequent orgasm and nearly perpetually locked manhood have deeply affected me. Sometimes, I don’t even feel like a man anymore. I look like one and sound like one, but I’m not one. I’m something other. And, against all expectations, I’m OK with that.

We did eventually have sex, though. Yesterday, she let me feel her and suck her and finger her to orgasm. When it was over, I was quite hard and packed tightly into the tube. I wanted more. She started gently fingering my nuts and I opened myself to her, silently begging for more of her attention. Instead of more gentle caressing, she slapped me. Smacking my nuts instead of what I really wanted. I didn’t say anything. I just took it. She’d stroke and caress then SMACK! Inside, I was begging her to stop that and only be gentle, but whenever the words got close to being said, I felt them get trampled by the heavy boots of my domination. I don’t have the right to tell her what to do with those nuts. If she wants to make me feel good through them, she can. If she wants me to feel pain though them, she can. If she wants both, she can do that, too. And, while it hurt, it also really turned me on. And it made me appreciate all the more those moments of gentle caressing.

“Fuck, I want to be inside you,” I moaned on all fours, her body beneath mine.

Smack, smack! SMACK!! I cringed. It was as if she was reminding me of my place and punishing my impertinence.

Gently caressing the tight nutsack, she said, “Not now, Thumper. Soon. Maybe. It’s better for you to wait.”

Of course. She’s right. I should wait.

Later that morning, as I walked around the house in my baggy pajama bottoms, I could feel cold sticky strands of precum dripping down my inner thigh, getting caught up in my leg hair. Reaching inside, I could feel the end of the tube slick and covered with the gooey byproduct of my position. Bringing it to my face, I inhaled its subtle aroma and sucked it off my fingers. And I moaned.

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Tale of the tape

It’s been a month now since I came in that nice hotel room all by myself and against the rules. Well, not so much against the rules. More like against The Rule™. Belle says I have just one more night of having to sleep with clothes on but at least two more months before she lets me come again. Just this morning, right after she came, in my charmingly squirmy and needy way, I asked her if she was craving the feeling of her husband inside her. She said yes, but that was too bad. I had, after call, come without permission. Then she laughed at me. Ah, love.

There’s really not much else to say around here. Belle was having her period for a while and then I had a very minor medical procedure that nonetheless messed me up for a day due to anesthetic. There’s hasn’t been a lot of action to report. The one thing I can say is that any speculation on the interwebs about long-term chastity having an adverse affect on the size of a man’s erection should cease. There’s one or a couple bloggers who suggest that keeping a guy locked up for a long time shrinks erections once they’re allowed out and, I suppose, there’s a sliver of logic at work in thinking that. In reality, however, it just doesn’t happen.

As I mentioned last week, I was out of the device for a day and a half due to some irritation. During that time, I found myself with a hard penis in my hand (purely for research and reporting purposes, of course – I’m always thinking about my readers) and decided, since it seemed like it was about as hard as it gets, that I’d check to see how things were going. I got the measuring tape and verified that Belle’s cock is every bit the 5 and 5/8s inches it has ever been, even though it spends almost all the time locked inside a very short steel tube.

I’ve said before I thought all this “chastity makes dicks smaller” stuff was wrong, but it’s worth saying again, I suppose. The root of this talk is two-fold, in my opinion. First, even something as small as the Steelheart Short seems relatively gargantuan when compared to the average flaccid penis. I know while I was out how shockingly small Belle’s seemed when it was soft, especially with a 4 GA circular barbell through the end of it, but as I said, it was exactly the same size as always. Free meat always seems amazingly uncomplicated but also much less substantial and put-together somehow. Second, I think at least some men who have come to the point where they’re kept in a device nearly all the time have also found themselves in a place very unlike that of other men. Specifically, their sex life and the satisfaction of their lover very often has little or nothing to do with their penis. It’s relative importance becomes less and the oversized role it plays in their sense of self diminishes. Some of them could start to wish their dicks were less significant because it plays into the nullification kink they might also be getting off on. They start to want a little penis, it feels smaller when it’s out, therefore, chastity makes it so.

No, ma’am. I’m not buying it.

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Option 4

Mykey said, in response to my suggestion that Belle could punish me with an extension of my denial:

Can’t see the denial working. Belle doesn’t like that control not being hers, as you’ve found when trying fixed long periods before.

If I had suggested the denial extension and Belle had said, “Oh, yeah, good idea. We’ll do that,” then I’d agree with you. It’s why I’m hesitant to suggest these things. Whose idea is this, anyway? But, Belle told me last night that “option four” was one of the ways she’s been considering that I be punished, so it’s not my idea. Also, since she came up with it and has chosen how much extra time will be added to my denial, it is her control. Before when we’ve done “extended denial” the periods were always somewhat arbitrary. Not so this time.

She told me this morning that I won’t come again until December. That’s about a one month extension, but since it was only “November” before and now it’s just “December” we could be looking at up to two extra months, depending on timing. In any event, it’s possible I’ll only come one more time this year. If it happens in the middle of December sometime, then I’ll have gone four months between orgasms. The longest I’ve gone before that was a hair under three months.

I mentioned yesterday that I moved back to the 45 mm cuff ring due to a nasty hot spot under the 40 mm ring. There is, of course, no difference at all with regard to security since the device is still affixed to me by my PA piercing and cannot be removed, but the looser ring makes it feel as though it’s not as secure. Getting it on was a total breeze. I am now able to report with certainty that my testicles are bigger around than 40 mm but smaller than 45 mm. In fact, they more or less fell through the larger ring. No wincing whatsoever. I was interested in how it’d feel overnight, but I can’t tell you. I wasn’t awaked at 4:00 as usual. Not even a little. I slept through all the nocturnal hydraulics. I guess that’s a good thing, but I have to admit that it kinda feels like cheating.

The healing is coming right along so I’ll stay in the 45 mm for the time being. Who knows. Maybe it’ll be the way I go from now on.

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Reaffirmation

The other day, we asked our 12-year-old son to put some meat into the deep freeze in the garage. Well, actually, Belle asked me to do it and I delegated the task to the boy thinking carrying meat and operating a freezer door was within his operational capabilities. Well…about 1:00 AM the next morning, Belle was woken up by some oddly muffled beeping sound. Following it downstairs, we found the freezer door to open just a smidge and the air in the freezer, instead of being its usual -3, was 31. The beeping was the freezer doing its best to tell someone, anyone, of the impeding food disaster.

Back in bed and unable to sleep, I prompted a discussion about the recent series of posts and the revelation that if I was allowed to break the most basic tenant of our dynamic without consequence, then what did it mean to either of our commitments to that dynamic? Long story short, she’ll be deploying a series of punishments for the offense (as she thinks of them, I assume) and I have promised to reaffirm my commitment to never having an orgasm again without her permission. We’re both reaffirming this arrangement.

The first part of my punishment is not being allowed to sleep naked. It’s not that big of a deal, on the face of it, but I really like sleeping naked and have been very good about respecting that rule. Only Belle can permit me to be naked in bed. If she falls asleep before giving me the green light, I sleep in pajamas. Period. Well, kinda period. That’s something else that’s slipped in the past few weeks. I’ve slept naked under the assumption that she’d let me, which is not at all the same thing. So, as of now, I’m not allowed to be naked in bed. Not even when I’m pleasuring her, which I did this morning. I was entirely covered while she was exposed. Part of the punishment.

During our talk, she prompted me to tell her how she might punish me. It’s often been a challenge for her. How do you punish someone who would otherwise like all the normal tactics? It’s hard for me to tell her how to punish me because it seems like cheating somehow. I do tell her things I genuinely dislike, but the act of telling her turns me on. So anyway, a few ideas (only the first two I said at the time) are:

  • IcyHot on the nuts – It’s been a long time since she used that on me. I really do dislike it as anyone who’s ever had IcyHot on his nuts would appreciate.
  • Caning – I bought a nice flexible cane and we’ve yet to use it. If she were to take a couple three whacks at my ass as hard as she could without warm up, you can be sure I would not like it.
  • The nasty nipple clamps – Yes, I usually like them, but they’re pretty cruel. If she put them on me, twisted them around a bit and them ripped them off by force, I would be in a great deal of pain.
  • Extra long denial – Yeah, yeah, I can hear you thinking, a la Admiral Ackbar, “It’s a trap!” but hear me out. I know, based on past experience now, that really long denial gets very hard after 2-3 months and at the moment I really do crave an orgasm, so instead of making me wait until November as she’s doing now, what if I had to wait until January? Or March? And every time I whined about how badly I wanted to come or be inside her, she could tell me that under normal circumstances that would be allowed, but there was that one I stole from her in a hotel room back in August, so…

Leaving me out of her orgasms, as I’ve said before, is maybe the worst punishment but that only works if she’s actually getting off without me. If she never masturbates, then I’m just left to float and that ends up being counter-productive in the end.

In other news, I was forced out of the device for about 36 hours due to a nasty hot spot under the right side of the cuff ring. It was already acting up before I went to the doctor’s the other day, but somehow going back in afterward made it a lot worse. I put it back on yesterday but it was persistently annoying so I’ve swapped out the 40mm cuff with my original 45mm ring. It feels ridiculously large but the irritated spot doesn’t seem to notice it, so it’s better than nothing. It’ll be interesting to see how it feels tonight under “full load” since I’ve never worn this combination of tube and ring before.

Also, I had an interesting dream last night. In it, Belle and I were with an assortment of friends having dinner somewhere (I can’t remember who it was or where we were, of course, but they were friends) and at some point the name of someone we both used to work for came up. We’ll call him “Dennis”.

In the dream, she said, “Dennis? Oh, he kicked the ass of Randy in bed last night!” Randy was another guy she used to work for.

Conversation stopped at the table (in the dream) and I said somewhat nervously, “Sweetie, you were at home last night with me, remember?” But the night before that, in the dream, she had been in New York with Dennis. I had no idea she had been with either Dennis or Randy before she blurted this out.

There was nervous laughter at the table and that’s all I remember.

And yeah, I found that to be pretty f’n hot. Both at the time and in retrospect. I told Belle this morning and we both had a good laugh because Dennis was a pretty good looking guy who may have been good in bed, but Randy wasn’t and didn’t look it. I told Belle how it had turned me on.

“Dew on a blade of grass would turn you on,” she said.

A bit of an exaggeration. But just a bit.

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Hmmm

In the comments to INYIM, Part 2 (which was a post about comments to another post which makes this a post about comments to a post about comments which is getting awfully darn recursive for my tastes), reader chaz said:

Have you considered that your current state could be related to your unfortunate incident? I don’t recall this happening before and it would seem that perhaps it has somehow changed the dynamics and how your relating to something you have developed over an extended time.

To which I responded:

I have thought about that. In a way, what happened in the hotel room seemed to pop the chastity bubble I was living in. I had talked myself into thinking I *couldn’t* come, but in fact, I could and did and only because I wanted to. The two things seem linked to me.

To which chaz responded:

I don’t know but IMO the fact that there were no repercussions to what happened is why your having trouble embracing your device, and feeling comfortable again. When you violated one of the basic constructs of your agreement with Belle and nothing adverse happened chastity lost something for you.

After which I thought:

Hmmmmm.

That right there is some insightful shit.

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INMIY, part 2

nuts4belle said:

That is interesting how when “forced” lockup goes from being a fantasy to reality it is no longer appealing. That tends to happen a lot in life and it doesn’t look like chastity is immune. Hope you snap out of it and enjoy yourself soon. It is more fun when it is a cock cage and not a ball and chain.

Perhaps I overstated it. It’s not that it’s unappealing. I’m still on board with the practice and am nowhere near withdrawing my consent. Somewhere in my head, the usual feeling that the device and I are one hasn’t been allowed to set in and rather than feeling I am in my normal state, I feel the opposite. It’s not as appealing to me, but it’s not unappealing. I’m not not enjoying myself. The other morning with Belle was fantastically intense and really fucking hot.

That being said, yes, even your life’s sexual fantasy, if practiced long enough, can become mundane.

Mykey said:

The sleep. It’s a killer. If there is one thing that kills me it’s lack of sleep. The one big downer to denial those sleepless periods.

Agreed. Typically, I’ll not sleep for a few days then, due to exhaustion, sort of collapse into sleep for a day or two. That’s what’s happened this time, too. I’ve slept relatively well the past two nights and was only woken once by the stupid penis at 4:45 each morning.

Randy/Rachel said:

Seems like a you want what you want until you have it situation to me. Enjoy it for the rest of us whose wifes didn’t like the idea one iota.

Hmm. Perhaps. However, after living this for three years and writing about it the whole time, I don’t think I’m the kind of person who “likes what I want until I get it.” It’s far more complicated than that. Also, I expend no effort trying to “enjoy it” for all those reading whose wives are uncooperative in making real their husband’s fantasies. I’m not unsympathetic to those guys, but this isn’t a porn soap opera here. It’s my life.

After Belle read the post, she said she didn’t care much for the title. I can see that. It does have a bit of an accusatory tone that I didn’t intend at all. Sometimes, the title of posts are obvious, other times I struggle with them. That happened yesterday. I wasn’t trying to send a message with it.

She mentioned the idea of a break, but we didn’t really discuss it. Even though I wrote about it, I wasn’t prepared to talk about it. Since I’m not miserable or “in a bad place”, I don’t think I need a break. I would like one, sure, but I don’t need it. She will allow me to have it or not.

Going back to the metaphor of the relationshop stack made up of layers dependent on those below them to operate properly, the D/s layer is near the top. All the stuff I’m feeling is happening in there, not lower down. This isn’t a crisis at all, just a different manifestation of my submission. Therefore, the “solution” can come entirely from within the D/s stack. That means it has to can happen on her terms, not mine.

Meanwhile, I have a doctor’s appointment today and, while I don’t expect it’ll involve any groping or xrays or anything, you never know. Belle’s left me with the key so I can take the device off before I go. I’m working from home until my appointment and am painfully aware that I have at my disposal the means to remove my encumberment and am completely unsupervised. I nearly took it off when I showered this morning but left it on knowing that the soapy, slippery shower is a dangerous place. Now, I’m sitting with my computer and thinking about working on The Portfolio which is really dangerous. I’ll leave it on. I’ve decided I’ll only take it off just before I have to go.

How does this jive with the feelings I described yesterday and above? No idea. I think it means I want to be good even when the lesser angels of my nature are whispering in my ear. In that hotel room, I succumbed to their ministrations. Today, I’m just a bit stronger. At least for the time being.

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It’s not me, it’s you

I’ve been back in the device for just over two weeks straight (not counting the 20-30 minutes I was out on Saturday morning). My last orgasm was about two and a half weeks ago (you know, the unfortunate incident). Normally, at this point, I’d be really worked up, but I’m not for some reason. Also, I’m usually loving the feel of the device and really into it. But…I’m not so much that, either. The device hasn’t slipped into that “part of me” feeling at all. I’m always quite aware that there’s this thing on me no matter where I go and no matter what I do.

I’m not sure why this is. When she put me back in it, I remarked that I felt like now I had to be locked up or I’d jack off and squirt without permission. Before, I was a willing accomplice and, for at least some of the time, wanted to not come more than she didn’t want me to come. But now it’s required. I’m untrustworthy. Somewhere in my head, a screw has made a quarter turn and I’m one of those guys. Yes, of course, it’s all still consensual. But I’m locked up now more because she wants me to be than because I want to be.

Case in point. Last week sometime, I started to think about a break and how nice that would be. A week or two or four of being like everyone else. I could go unencumbered and play with myself whenever the mood struck. Gosh, what if I wanted to come every day? Even when it was just a little dribble into the sink. Wouldn’t that be great?

And now I’m like, what? Yeah, OK, I admit I want to jack off and I’ve love to come, but a break? Aren’t we defined now by this arrangement? Isn’t it a cornerstone of our sex life? Didn’t I give her the penis forever and always? Yes, of course. But still. The idea was appealing. I even almost brought it up. And it wouldn’t be like usual when what I really want is to hear her say no. Had I mentioned it, I would have really wanted it. Had she said no, I would have been disappointed.

But the thing is, this is what I wanted, right? Isn’t this the hottest fantasy of all the chastity wankers? The woman who locks you up even when you want out. Who keeps you from yourself and your pleasure at exactly those times when you really want it. So who am I to complain? And who’s idea is all this anymore? Right now and for the past few weeks, given a choice, I’d want out. I’d want to come. But she’s not letting me. Even though my sleep continues to suffer and I appear somewhat miserable about it, the idea of letting me out has never crossed her lips. She’s liked the idea of me being locked up for a long time now, but what changed is she wants me that way and what I want doesn’t really matter to her.

So here I set. Locked up. Kinda horny. Not really loving it. But exactly as I’m supposed to be.

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By the light of the sun

It’s been bad sleeping the past few nights. I have a hard time getting to sleep (or even feeling sleepy), then have a hard time staying asleep, then have to deal with insistent erections from about 4:00 AM on that wake me up. I have a few tricks to make them go away, but the most efective is to get up and pee. So anyway, crappy sleep. Occupational hazard of the chronically denied.

Belle and I woke up at about the same time this morning as dazzling sunlight poured through our window. The device was, as usual, very tight as the penis within was doing its stupid best to get as long and as hard as it could. I whined to Belle about it. She didn’t seem too impressed, but closed the bedroom door so I could get her off. To me, it felt like a quick, hard fuck. I didn’t linger or draw it out. I got her off as fast as I could. As if the faster she came, the better I’d feel or something. But once it was over, I was in even more misery. The penis was throbbing against it’s confinement.

I whined again. This time, about how I wanted to be inside her. Yes, it was lobbying, but I do that from time to time and it’s seldom successful. But this time, she seemed moved by my predicament and got the key.

“You can go for a ride,” she said, “but you can’t come.”

I frantically fumbled with the key in the lock. The penis had subsided just a bit and I had a very short window of opportunity to get the whole thing off before it responded to its new opportunity.

“Don’t get hard, don’t get hard,” I repeated under my breath.

I got the tube off and the PA fixing out of the way, but was too far gone to get past the ring. I was either going in with it on or would have to wait god knows how long before the hydraulics would allow it to be removed. Time was of the fucking essence. Her pussy was right there, all wet, hot and inviting. Somewhere in our house were children who would soon be demanding our attention. Even the dog was antsy.

Fuck it, I thought. I mounted her and pushed the stiff penis home. It felt, in a word, glorious. The cuff ring is too small to wear absent the tube which helps keep the penis from achieving its full erect girth. When it’s not there, the ring bites even more than usual. In my mind, I could see the penis with its veins all standing out and the head deeply red and swollen from the constriction at its base. It felt weird. Not bad, but different. As if I was fucking with someone else’s cock.

After a few minutes of this, the reptile brain took charge and told me to bite Belle. Of course, that’s not allowed, but I wanted to do it badly. I wanted to totally destroy her with this miraculous wonder boner and chew on her face. It was as if my brain was being doused by a fire hose spraying pure testosterone. All semblances of submissive bunny were swept away.

I growled into her ear, “I just love fucking you,” thrust, “so,” thrust, “much!” THRUST.

As I said, the sun was pouring in and Summer is making a last stand here in the Great North, so I was soon getting sweaty with my effort. I felt my forehead bead over and the sweat lubricate our grinding thighs. I kicked the blanket back and my pumping ass was exposed. Even it was sweaty. I felt like a rutting animal. The only human thought left in my head was DON’T COME.

The ring around the penis was becoming insistent in its biting. I would withdraw completely so just the tip of the head was surrounded by sweet pink pussy, then I’d thrust balls-deep, feeling the pain of the ring, the smooth, wet action along the swollen shaft from the folds of her labia clinging and caressing, the throbbing head going deep inside her, my mouth open on hers.

Holy FUCK! I got really, really close. Really. Imagine a beer commercial where they show the bottle tipping in slow motion and the golden fluid cresting over the edge about to pour into a frosty mug, except substitute the bottle for the penis, the beer for my ejaculate, and the frosty mug for Belle’s hot pussy. Then freeze the shot as the beer has just peeked over the edge. Leave it there for ten to fifteen seconds, then roll the footage backward. That was me, heart pounding, head swirling as she said, “I think that’s it, Thumpy.”

Pause. Think. Grind teeth. Flex the penis in her pussy.

Stop.

“Yes, Belle Fille.” And I withdrew.

The penis looked just like I thought it would. Swollen and purplish, glistening with her lube. The ring deeply embedded in the base of the penis shaft. It stood there and throbbed.

“You can stay out until tonight, but then you’re going back in.”

I pulled up my underwear and took the few bits of the device I could get off into the bathroom for a good cleaning. I scrubbed out the tube and, using cold water, cleaned the penis. It was still 80% hard and the corona of the head was massively sensitive. Chilly water or no, it wasn’t going down. And I knew, were it to be left out all day, I’d be messing with it every chance I got. With lots of work and more cold water, I shoved the genie back into the bottle. The lock closed with difficulty as the penis continued its futile effort, stuffed back into the dark cold tube.

I left the bathroom and put the key on Belle’s nightstand. I went to her in the kitchen and put her hand on my crotch.

“I’m not to be trusted,” I said as I buried my face in her neck.

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Consequences

Three of her orgasms. That’s what I’ve lost due to my willful masturbation last week.

Also, I’ve been informed, I won’t have another orgasm until November. That’s not necessarily as a result of the unauthorized ejaculation. It’s about the rythme she’s put me on recently. There will be two periods of travel between now and November, but both will be with someone else so the solo action described previously won’t be possible. Also, since I’ll be checking luggage on both of these trips, I’ll probably bring the protective device along just to be safe. Had it been with me last week, I wouldn’t have broken the rules.

So, did I break the rules because I’m untrustworthy and incapable of the honor system or was it something else? As regular readers know, I’ve been in similar situations before and not fallen off the wagon. Why was this last trip different? On the one hand, I was very tired and knew I wasn’t likely to sleep well at all had I not relived myself. I really wanted to sleep. I think, in balance, that was the primary motivator behind the infraction. However, as I said, I spent no time at all debating it with myself. There was a moment I distinctly remember where I was contrasting the night I knew I was about to face to the feeling of the PA rocking back and forth and my decision was immediate and without reservation. I don’t know if that means I can’t be trusted anymore. I know I would never try to sneak the device off or defeat it in some way (not that I could), but alone with an unprotected penis? When horny? I don’t know. It feels as though I can’t trust myself anymore, so why should Belle?

And in a way, I like that. The knowledge that I really do need to be locked up and that, had I my druthers, I’d be abusing myself were it not for the steel lock. Being an accomplice to my own denial has required a certain amount of reality suspension. Of course, I still need to be accommodating to the arrangement because my chastity is, at the end of the day, consensual, but now it’s got a different texture. It really is enforced. She says I can’t jack off and come without her permission so there’s a device locked on the penis to make sure I don’t because without it I might.

Is that evolution or devolution? Either way, it’s 16% hotter than before.