Top five

First off, I just have to say UGH! Vikings. Jesus. UGH!!

There. That’s off my chest.

Going into this weekend, I had been given guidance by Belle that I’d be locked up on Friday. She left me unlocked for almost a week, though due to various nighttime work-related activities for both of us, we never connected over the course of the week (where “connected” means “fucked”). Friday night came and went and I was still free as a bird.

That caused me to cop a bit of an attitude. In our brief conversation the next day, she told me she didn’t want to lock me up until she had chance to take advantage of the unencumbered member. I told her I figured as much, but it would have been nice to hear what she was thinking. Friday morning, she had made a point of reminding me what her plans were that night, but when the night came, she snuggled up in bed and went right to sleep. Nothing happened. That, of course, is her prerogative, but it left me feeling somewhat miffed. Absence of action along with an absence of communication is difficult to deal with. All I need to hear is that she’s changing her plans and I’m cool. That little bit of communication helps assure me she still takes all this seriously. Anyway, it wasn’t that big of a deal. And we talked, so it’s all good.

Saturday night, I hustled the kids off to bed as early as reasonable (though clearly unreasonably early, according to the eleven-year-old). Once they were down for the count, Belle told me she wanted us to have good old-fashioned vanilla sex. Well, maybe vanilla with a few kinky sprinkles on top since, naturally, I wasn’t allowed to come.

I went into it not feeling too insecure with regard to coming accidentally. However, after several minutes of slow fucking, I started to feel myself get drawn in to the action. I try to keep my mind on other things (like her nipples, work, the political ramifications of recent special elections), but I was quickly running out of distractions and she was obviously enjoying what I was doing to her. With remarkably little warning, I found myself past the point of no return. I told her I was coming, but I could tell she was still a little ways off.

“Keep fucking,” she said.

So I did. I fucked right through the orgasm. It felt really good for about one and a half seconds before the head of the cock started to burn and all the muscles I had been contorting so I could keep my mouth on her nipple, one hand on the other nipple, and the cock in her pussy all at the same time started to complain. The joy of the orgasm was swept away by the psychic energy necessary to keep my rhythm. The load of spunk I shot into her completely changed the viscosity of her lubrication and once it got good and sloppy, she started to arch her back and breath heavier.

“Keep….fucking,” she ordered me, “KEEP…FUCKING…”

She reached up with both hands and grabbed onto the headboard while I did as I was told and humped her harder and faster. I hadn’t lost the erection, but the sensations coming up from it were no longer at all pleasurable. She finally came extraordinarily hard and it was all I could do to keep myself from collapsing onto her.

After I rolled off, she gasped, “Top five. That was one of the top five of all time.”

So on the one hand, I’m really happy she had such a tremendous orgasm. On the other hand, I’m upset with myself that I came. But on the third hand (work with me here), at least it wasn’t pleasurable. Totally ruined.

Sunday, I put on the device.

Alien flesh

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

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

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

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

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

He comes laughing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

High as a kite

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Waiting patiently

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Belle replies, part 3

Billus asked:

Belle, how much is indulging your mate, and how much is your own hot fantasy? And has the ratio changed from beginning to now?

At the beginning of all of this, roughly a year ago or so, I would say very little was my own fantasy (hot or not :)).  The ratio has definitely changed now.  But what I think about, and what is exciting to me, is less about the actual sex (always good with Thumpie), and mostly about the power dynamic.  The submissiveness is hot.  It fuels me and excites me, and makes me feel desired, appreciated, respected.

Belle replies, part 2

Rach asked:

I would like to ask Belle if she feels like being kinky with you has changed her sexuality at all, or changed the way she thinks about her sexuality? As the once-vanilla partner of a very submissively-inclined boy, I often marvel at my capacity to really, really enjoy these things that would have never crossed my mind a year or two ago, yet are part of his earliest fantasies.

FYI, Ferns and Tom, I am saving your questions for this weekend.  Look for responses then 🙂

Rach, this experience has undoubtedly allowed me to be more open to who I am sexually.  But I do think I have a lot of reflection, understanding and growth to achieve.  I am the conditioned product (now emancipated) of Catholicism; including 12 years of Catholic education.  I also lived through a long and very difficult period in my parent’s marriage during childhood that was centered around some unhealthy sexual behavior.   This lack of positive framing regarding sex and sexuality really left me in a place where I was afraid to spend a lot of time analyzing or pondering who I was sexually or what I would want from sex.  I was very willing to consider sex as a transactional obligation that had a touch of fun or intimacy in it, but was something I needed to “do” to keep my guy happy and content.   Self-enjoyment and fulfillment were not really part of my equation.

Yet I entered into a relationship with Thumper knowing that he certainly was NOT-vanilla. Never once was I uncomfortable with that, even if “kinky” wasn’t something that I wanted or needed.

In our new dynamic, I am forced to think about and strive for better understanding of myself sexually. And I like that A LOT.  I am more open and interested in sex, and I feel more comfortable exploring it.  I also am slowly becoming more playful in nature with it, do not take it so seriously.  This has allowed me to approach it all with more ease and enjoyment.  I also, as you note, definitely take pleasure in things that would never have been on my radar (e.g. putting nipple clamps on him, whacking him with a crop).

Because Thumper wants to do things for me, and truly serve me, I truly want to gift him with things that are important to him.  I LOVE the intimacy, consideration, thoughtfulness and dedication that this has brought to our relationship.

Service

One of the fundamental aspects of the D/s flavor described by Ms. Rika in her book can be summed up by the phrase “true submission is not about what the domme does to the sub, it’s about what the sub does for the domme.” In her opinion, if as a sub you aren’t prepared to embrace that as true you aren’t really a submissive. That’s not to say you don’t enjoy bottoming in a scene, but if you’re really submissive, you want to serve the top all of the time. It has taken me a year to really come to understand that.

I will admit right here that I’m not the coolest kid in the BDSM class and can only just begin to understand how that POV might set some folks off, but regardless, it make sense to me. A lot of sense. As Belle and I have wound our way down our version of the D/s garden path, I have felt that need to serve her grow and grow. As I said the other day, this would seem to run counter to my inclination to be selfish in the rest of my life. What I think now is that these two impulses (the selfishly service-oriented sub) are not contradictory. In one sense, the fact that I am selfish and self-centered only throws into sharp relief how very important my service to Belle is. It’s hard. Really hard. But, as has often been observed, the only things in life worth having usually are. Also, one could construe the fact that I have led our relationship to the point where I am allowed to serve as her sub as fundamentally selfish since it was all my idea to begin with and I seem to have been the driving force behind the gradual evolution of our dynamic in this direction. I have no problem with this interpretation because, at the end of the day, it makes me very happy. I could not have brought Belle here against her will, obviously, but that doesn’t matter. I pushed for it because of how it makes me feel as much as because I wanted to make her feel good. Is there conflict in that statement? I don’t think so.

Last night, Belle stopped at this sentence in a comment left by Micheal_X:

There is also the argument that in D/s the submissive serves the dominant and the dominant serves the relationship.

My interpretation of that means that while I dedicate myself to her service, I am also placing a great deal of faith in her that she will not take it for granted. She will do what is necessary to ensure my continued happiness. This does not mean she will indulge my every fantasy, of course, and whatever she does she’ll do from her dominant position in the relationship (what, when, how long all decided by her), but along with my service she also receives my faith that she will look out for my emotional needs. This, more than anything, is what I’ve struggled with in our D/s dynamic in the past. Faith. Honestly, it’s something I’ve struggled with my entire life. It’s one of the reasons this is so scary for me. Whatever I get out of the relationship (other than the things I bring with me or create internally) will be coming from her and I will have essentially no control over them.

Dev highlights the peril of this leap of faith in here:

I just feel pessimistic about the whole endeavor.  What are you supposed to do if you’re married or partnered with a person you love, but your sexualities are really not very compatible?  I have no idea, and maybe this type of advice is as good as it gets.  “Stop trying to turn your wife into a leather-clad dominatrix” I can get on board with.  “Find out what her needs are and where you can find common ground so that you can serve her” – sure, that’s a good idea.  But how much of your sexuality are you willing to give up, and how far are you willing to ask your partner to bend to meet you?

Of course, she was asking rhetorical questions about a rhetorical couple, but I agree that transferring to Belle as much control as I have leaves me open to a very large potential downside. But, Belle “serves the relationship” and I’m part of that. I know Belle will do enough of what I find sexually satisfying to keep me happy. She may even do more than she already has. I trust she will ensure our D/s dynamic will always be a two-way street (where the rules of the road are hers, of course).

Rika suggests the sub should list the things he wants to do with and for his dominant partner. To the best of my recollection, she says this list should include all kinds of things, from the mundane (make your coffee) to the exotic (use your imagination). She then suggests the dominant go through that list and mark the things she’s not at all interested in, the things she will accept as part of routine service, and the things she’s willing to provide as gifts to the sub. Not as rewards, but gifts.

As an aside, this “no rewards” thing is something I struggle with because, like most people, I want my friggin’ rewards! But I get where she’s coming from. I shouldn’t serve Belle because I want rewards. I should do it because I want to. Her recognition of a job well done should be reward enough. As soon as I absorbed that, I found that’s what I really wanted all along. Not the act of the reward, but the recognition that motivated it. Now, when Belle tells me I’ve done a good job, I get an unbelievably satisfying rush of emotion (just before the feeling that I could have done better).

Anyway, this idea of making a list and then marking the items “no”, “always”, and “sometimes” is incredibly efficient and straightforward. And there’s nothing to say I can’t add things to the list as they come to me or that she can’t change her mind about some things as we go along, but isn’t that approach better than constantly haranguing and cajoling a reluctant partner into doing something? Better than living in hope that that one thing might someday happen if you can only figure out the right way to position the prospect? Remember my fascination with Belle allowing me to use a strap-on to bring her to orgasm? Yeah, that was fun. When she finally put her foot down and squashed the idea totally, I actually found myself at peace (though you can bet your sweet ass it’s going on my list just in case she’s had a change of heart).

For what it’s worth, here’s the initial list of household tasks I have offered to Belle:

  • I will make all the beds every day.
  • I will make her coffee every day.
  • I will feed the kids breakfast every day.
  • I will take the dog out every morning.
  • I will do all of the laundry, including folding and putting away.
  • I will pick up both kids from school at least twice a week (normally we each get one).
  • I will prepare a majority of the dinners and be primarily responsible for all the dishes.
  • I will take out the trash and recyclables and make sure they get to the curb on time.

 
I am allowed to delegate some of these things to our 11-year-old son, but am still responsible for getting them done.

Belle asked me last night if it was better for me to have a list versus just a general expectation. I told her I need the list. The list is not all-inclusive, but it does represent a baseline against which I need to perform. I will always look for other things to do as the opportunities arise and I encouraged her to task me with anything else she wants me to do, but I like the routine the list provides. It’s dependable.

Yesterday, she made one of the beds before I could get around to it. She said she was only trying to make things a little easier. Of course, that makes perfect sense. It’s the thing any normal person would do. But I took it as mark of failure. That was my job. I was going to do it, I just hadn’t had the opportunity yet. For me, it’s close to her rejecting my service. We both know it’s going to be hard for her to walk by something like an unmade bed and not make it, so we both have things we need to work on.

So anyway, I’m just kind of rambling here. Expounding on the idea of service since it’s the shiny new thing. Writing this helps me assemble how I feel and think and, of course, helps lay it all out for Belle.

DS-ney

OK, maybe I’m seeing things. Maybe I’ve just got it bad. But…um…well…

Look at this scan from a French magazine article on the next Disney feature Rapunzel.

I mean, come on! She’s got him tied up. With her hair. He’s begging. She’s obviously in control of the situation. Almost like he’s her prisoner…

Yeah, OK. I need a hobby.