Tag: D/s

Posted on

Rings

On the subject of the significance of a chastity device, I just said:

Of course, it is a sex toy. But the “only” part doesn’t really do it justice. It’s a sex toy that represents something larger. It represents a level of commitment equal to, say, a collar in any other D/s dynamic. While it’s hard to wear a collar in public, it’s relatively easy to wear a chastity device. I think the drive to find the perfect device that can be worn in all situations and at all times stems from those who, like me, see it both as a physical restraint ensuring her control and as a symbolic expression of how significant and profound the changes wrought by denial and chastity can be on a relationship.

I’m thinking hard on this today (pardon the pun) since I’m about to take off on a week away from Belle in the wilderness. She’s let me out this time around (though I’ve done it before locked up). Sometimes I don’t want the device on. I like being free. More often, I don’t. Part of that is driven by the unique Venn diagram of kinks that makes up who I am but it’s more than that.

There are two ways one can integrate chastity into their lives. One is purely tactical. That is, they wear a device during a specific scene but don’t all the rest of the time. I’d guess these guys typically come at the end of their play. The other way is more strategic. That is, the device is employed as part of something larger. Neither is right or wrong or better than another, obviously. Also, I admit to simplifying. There’s as many ways to do sex as there are people. 

In any event, ours is the strategic approach. Belle locks me up because that’s how we live in our D/s dynamic and we both like how being locked up and not having regular orgasms changes my personality and the way that improves our relationship. I’ve given her this control over me and, even though there’s this steel thing involved, being true to our dynamic is mostly in my hands. That is, I could cheat. I could find ways. I could come without her knowing. But I don’t. I’ve made a significant commitment to her. She decides when I come and when the penis is free. 

The way we do it is in conjunction with our healthy marriage. It’s not a pathway to a healthy marriage. You don’t fix your relationship with chastity. You get to do chastity because you’re relationship is already fixed. 

I take my commitment to her very seriously. That’s why I find so much significance in the devices she locks onto me. As I said, they’re both physical and symbolic. Not unlike a wedding ring. In the same way I feel naked without my wedding ring, I feel naked (most of the time) without her device locked onto me. I resent not being able to wear it. 

In a comment to my last post, Tom called out those guys who wear their devices into gym showers, etc. I don’t think that’s cool, personally, but I do understand the desire to let the world know about my commitment to Belle and our relationship. I think that’s human nature. I’d guess a lot of these locked-up gym goers are exposing their states for different reasons, but there’s a big part of me what wishes we didn’t live in society where chastity and what it can represent is so…weird. 

Anyway, I won’t be in any device, but I will try keeping the old locking cock ring on while I’m gone. Not at all the same experience, but the symbology is the same. At least to me.

Posted on

The sporting life

Venerable chastity blogger Tom (I bet he just loves being called “venerable”) expounded on something the other day I’ve been meaning to get back to for a little while: Chastity and exercise.

His opening bit about looking for the perfect device that allows for movement and comfort yet is inescapable and undetectable and light and cheap and perfectly hygienic and sexy and not actually carved from a block of solid unobtanium was pretty funny to me because it is how a lot of guys are, especially when they start out, and not entirely unlike how I was at one time. While new devices are still intriguing to me, I’ve got enough time under my belt (ahem) to know the Goldilocks device just isn’t out there. But I digress…and we’re only on the second paragraph.

Tom’s post (and apparently this one) was about how one exercises and stays active from the point of view of a person invested in “the chastity lifestyle.” His ultimate advice is fairly simple:

After a dozen or more years of reading chastity oriented groups, it occurred to me that I don’t remember anyone saying something like “It’s not a life-support system, it’s only a sex toy. Just take the damn thing off for an hour, why don’t you?”

Tom is an eminently reasonable fellow. Very Spock, in a way. I find his point of view to often be practical and not especially emotional. That’s not a bad thing. Not at all. But it’s a difference between he and I. I’m more…I don’t know. I don’t want to say emotional, though I am that. I’m more sentimental. I’m more idealistic, perhaps. And I think enforced chastity is emotional more than it’s practical.

In any event, I recall back to when I started doing the regular gym thing. Got a trainer and everything. I can’t recall at the moment which device I was in at that time (probably the Steelheart), but I do recall suggesting to Belle I might need to have an easily accessible key in order to take the device off while working out. She wouldn’t have any of that. I had to see my trainer (actually, trainers since I was handed off to one of three people including a 6’5″ West African and a tight lesbian kick-boxer) locked up. I don’t know if it was that she didn’t trust me to have access to the penis or if she just didn’t want to break the dynamic. Maybe both.

At the time, I was terrified. Gyms are pretty masculine places and I’ve never been good in especially masculine situations. Now she was telling me I was going to need to go into that wearing flimsy gym clothes and an odd, hard bulge in my crotch. The solution to this predicament was two-fold. One, I bought some compression shorts. Second, I chilled the fuck out.

In actual fact, I have found no physical reason to be out of a steel device (even with part of it shoved up inside me) while working out at the gym. I’ve done just about every kind of weight-related excercise possible now and there are only a few times it’s even marginally an issue. Tom mentions deadlifts and that’s one example, but I’ve never feared for my safety. All that happens is sometimes the bar will catch on the device rather than sliding smoothly over it like it would with a natural penis. The other time it comes into play is when I’m doing any exercise involving laying on my stomach (like supermans — especially interesting in the Looker 02).

There’s really only two reasons to be unlocked when in the gym and, IMO, they’re both mental. One is you just can’t bear the idea of someone seeing your state and knowing you’re locked up. So much is written about stealth in chastity. It’s one of main things guys want to know about when discussing a new device. How well can it be hidden? Is it visible through jeans? On the one hand, I get that. I do. But on the other, I’m really far removed from caring anymore if some random person sees something out of place between my legs.

Case in point. My current trainer (the only of the original three I liked) has had a neophyte trainer shadowing him for a few weeks. She just sits off to the side while he works with his clients. The first time she was present when I was working out also happened to be when the only clean gym shorts I had available was a light gray pair that is the worst at hiding any kind of protrusion or steel, even in compression shorts. At some point, he had me doing a decline sit-up. With my legs hooked over the end of a declined bench, my shirt pulls up a bit, the shorts lay flat, and whatever’s between my legs becomes its most visible.

C’est la fuckin’ vie.

What are these people going to think? I can tell you, “chastity device” is not even on their list. Most muggles have never even heard of the things. And for those who have? Who can put two and two together? I don’t care. I’m not ashamed. On the contrary. Probably what someone uninitiated with chastity devices (and the hidden kink all around them in general) would think is that I had a really big cock (which is what the Steelheart looks exactly like under clothes). Most men would welcome that, I think.

The second mental reason not to wear it would be the issue of forcibly involving others into your sex life. You could argue (as I have with myself) that any time the device is visible I am risking exposing something about myself to others without their consent that they probably don’t want to know. My rationalization is that I can’t always hide the device, most people will have no idea what it is even if they see it, and I do nothing to be excessively exhibitionist about my sexual proclivities (this blog notwithstanding). There’s a fine line between being cognizant of the rights of others not to be involved in one’s sex play and shaming oneself into non-existence. I’m comfortable with my choices. This is, of course, something that everyone needs to figure out for themselves.

This is getting longer than I thought it would be…

So, to recap, IMO, no reason not to be locked up in a gym. Note I don’t have to change at my gym or shower there. If I did, that would change things for me and require more creative thinking (like, I would do those things elsewhere).

The other physical activity I’ve started doing quite a lot of lately is running. Three to five miles at a time three to four times a week (51 miles in the last month, according to Strava). Almost all the time, I’m wearing either the Steelheart or the Looker 02. In the Steelheart, there is slight yet totally audible clank with every stride. The PA fixing inside the device has some play in it and it along with my PA ring will strike the inside of the tube. There’s no pain or discomfort associated with this. I have no idea if anyone I run by even registers the sound (most runners don’t clank) or, if they do, what they make of it. See above for my position on that.

The Looker 02 can be an issue when running in that the bulb end of the urethral insert can cause irritation in the first day or so of wearing it after having not worn it for a long time. This irritation lasts about 24 hours then is gone. Lately, I’ve worn the looker for weeks at a time and run a lot and don’t feel a thing. I don’t even lubricate the L02 before running. I will when I think about it with the Steelheart, but the sweat usually creates enough lubrication to keep me chafe-free. I’ve never run with a plastic device on. I can’t imagine doing it with the CB6K.

Tom also mentioned biking. Hard to disagree with him there. Biking in a device can be miserable. I don’t like doing it and it’s one of the reasons I prefer running (just one, though — it’s not like I run just because I’m almost always locked up). Interestingly, the one device that’s not as bad on a bike (over the CB6K and Steelheart) is the Looker 02. But yeah, if you’re going to be a serious biker, you’re going to need to take off your device.

The same goes for lots of other sports. Team sports or contact sports. Sports that require cups. Hard to be able to do those in chastity. Dangerous, even. Imagine playing rugby or American football with a steel ring locked around your balls. Good god.

The biggest point of differentiation between Tom’s logical and sensible POV and mine (which, I guess by comparison, is…illogical and insensible?) is summed up his calling the chastity device “only a sex toy.” Of course, it is a sex toy. But the “only” part doesn’t really do it justice. It’s a sex toy that represents something larger. It represents a level of commitment equal to, say, a collar in any other D/s dynamic. While it’s hard to wear a collar in public, it’s relatively easy to wear a chastity device. I think the drive to find the perfect device that can be worn in all situations and at all times stems from those who, like me, see it both as a physical restraint ensuring her control and as a symbolic expression of how significant and profound the changes wrought by denial and chastity can be on a relationship.

Of course, that may not be how you practice chastity. It may not be that big a deal to you or your keyholder. As Tom said,

To be fair, I also see guys on chastity groups try to convince some newb why he could — or even should — wear his device 24/7; often going pretty far in their attempts to overrule objections or concerns. … Such responses probably induce a mindset in new guys which makes them think that 24/7 is the only acceptable way. I mean, why bother if you’re not going to do it the “right” way?

There isn’t a “right way.” The right way is the way that works for you and your partner. I’m not saying if you want to wear a chastity device that you must wear it while at the gym or running or you’re just a pretender. I am saying you can wear it at those times if you’re willing to accept a little discomfort once in a while and/or modify your routine enough to allow it. It’s entirely possible. And if you feel the need to do so, I understand perfectly where you’re coming from. 

Posted on

Taken

Over the weekend, Belle let me come the way I’ve been waiting for. As I said, each of the previous recent opportunities have been less than optimal from my point of view. Sunday, she let me have the full meal deal.

After waking up, she got the key as she suggested she might the morning before when I got her off but stayed in the Looker 02. Once out of it (and it out of me), I felt a great surge of desire for her that always seems to be associated with the sensation of a full and unencumbered erection. Knowing that she like to be “taken” on occasion, I assumed the role of the traditional aggressive male sex partner and, while kissing her passionately, started to push down her pajama bottoms. Usually, I’d wait for her to take them off as a sign of what I was to do next, but not this time. 

The top quickly followed the bottoms and as soon as she was fully naked, I climbed up on her and wrapped my arm around her neck and shoulders and pushed the hard penis into her as far as it would go. She made no objection. Instead, I heard appreciative sounds escape her lips as we roughly fucked. 

I fucked her as I wanted to fuck. I fucked like a guy taking his partner. I fucked as if for me, but really it was for her. I fucked until I got too close to coming, then I backed off. Once. Twice. Three times. Then…

“Spill it, Thumper,” she whispered. 

The gates opened with three or four strokes. I pumped a full and satisfying load into her. So many productive surges. Six? Eight? I left her brimming with me. 

Then the effects of a real orgasm hit me. Drowsiness. Lethargy. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. So much more powerful than the little echos of orgasm I feel after she comes. A warm blanket wrapped around my brain as she got up to retrieve Pink. I laid next to her, eyes closed, and heard and felt the buzz of the little vibrator finishing her off. I played no part.

I was ready to go again within an hour. Not just feeling “OK, I could fuck,” but, “I NEED TO FUCK.” Surprising, really. She wanted me back in the Looker 02 the next morning so that’s where I am now, but I don’t feel like I just had a great orgasm. I feel like I’ve been denied for weeks. In the shower after some morning Tumbln’, my balls felt heavy and swollen. Last night, while trying to fall asleep, the L02 was so obviously there. In only the way that particular device can be. 

I leave town this Friday for a week in the woods. After that, Belle’s in NYC. Who knows how long it’ll be before I get to go inside her again or I’m allowed to get her off. I don’t and that’s just how it should be. 

Posted on

Get up in there

So since my last post, she’s let me come twice more. If you’re me, that seems like a ridiculous number. None of them were especially great since they all happened with her on top. That might be part of a plan. Who knows. 

The last time, she was up there and I was bound and determined to get her off before I lost it, but that didn’t happen. That orgasm might have been passable except she wouldn’t stop fucking me and the head of the penis felt like it was being electrocuted. Eventually, it got too soft to stay in her and slipped out. She just kept rubbing against what was left of the erection before rolling off of me. She grabbed Pink and went to work on her soaked and gooey pussy before deciding she really wanted my tongue in there. 

Ugh. 

I did as I was told but tried to keep my ministrations higher up near her clit where there was less of my ejacualte. Not enough for her, though, because she pushed Pink back in there and told me to move lower. I honestly couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was barely touching her when she shoved her pussy into my face and told me to, “Get up in there.” 

Gah.

Anyway, she’s been very attentive to my mood since all these orgasms. I’ve been just fine, to be honest. I’m trying hard to keep myself in the frame of mind that she’s in control and I will have or have not whatever she chooses. Sometimes I might come, sometimes I may not. I haven’t for at least a week now. Maybe two. Huh. I can’t recall. Weird. 

Posted on

No then yes

Saturday, we were going at it.

Me: I want to come…
Belle: No.

/More fucking.

Me: Please.
Belle: NO.

Sunday, shortly after waking up.

Belle: It was wrong of you to ask yesterday.
Me: I know.
Belle: But I may make you. How do you feel about that?
Me: It’s up to you.
Belle: Say that again.
Me: It’s entirely up to you, Belle Fille.
Belle: Don’t ever forget that.

She continued on telling me that this was for her. Not me. She wanted to feel it, not give it to me. A little while later, after I had warmed her up in the usual ways, she was on top of me and I had her tits in my face. I was twenty miles from coming, then five miles, then 100 yards, then three inches all in about four seconds. While I was coming, she kissed me all over my face.

The last time I came, it was spectacular. This time, pathetic. No, seriously. Like, half an orgasm (volume-wise, as well – just a little spurt). I was ready, mentally, but apparently not physically. It’s not how I would have chosen to come (with her on top) but, as I said, it’s entirely up to her.

She hadn’t come yet so she rolled off of me and finished herself off with Pink while I listened and played with her nipples. Last night, she checked in with me to see how I was doing. In truth, I’ve been in a bit of a funk for a little over a week. Not too horny, not really jamming on the denial thing. She had let me out and I had been that way for five days or so, but that’s not what caused it. I didn’t really care if I was out or in (but, perhaps due to the pathetic orgasm, I have resisted being locked up since). We had relatives in town so maybe that had something to do with it. In any event, I don’t really feel like I came but also don’t feel all that Thumperish, either.

Belle commented that fucking me really wasn’t as great as she was expecting, either. She thinks she’s become more accustomed to my getting her off with my fingers. Maybe she’s been “trained” to prefer what our dynamic allows, too. That she would rather have my hand than the penis does, I admit, cause some stirring in certain places.

Posted on

Sexual pillow face

I have mentioned in the past how terribly hot (HAWT, I TELL YOU) I find chastity and denial in an all-male dynamic. Maybe it’s because one part of the pair does not get exactly and specifically what the other does, is required to do exactly what he may crave is done to him, and submits to an act he may wish he could perform himself. Female sexuality, while something I’ve tried to make a special study of, remains a bit of a mysterious black box. I know what inputs will usually result in which outputs, but can’t tell you how the mechanics operate. Male sexuality, though, I get. All the way down. Even more than male-female chastity and denial play, male-male seems to be nearly perfectly a ying-yang type of dynamic. At least to me.

This is why Schnoff’s is my current favorite denial blog (let’s not get too hung up in semantics, but I think of “chastity” as including hardware, though you all and Schnoff are free, of course, to call it whatever you or he wants). I love that he writes about real life and the ups and downs and stuff in between including steamy sex and, I think, he and I are driven by many of the same internal motivations. Obviously, as I’ve said before, we are all special little snowflakes when it comes to our personal sexual profile, but I see a lot of me in him. Don’t make me break out a Venn diagram.

Recently, Schnoffy boy posted several things that’ve resonated with me. Just today he related his and Bear’s July 4th activities and, oh yes, I wish for you to read them because they were niiice. Near the end, there was this bit (emphasis added)…

After, Bear remarked that sometimes he couldn’t tell.

“Tell what?” I asked.

“You are so eager,” he explained. “I sometimes can’t tell where your excitement for your own stuff ends and your excitement for my stuff begins.”

It may need explaining that dog play was Bear’s idea, as a pivot from pony play, and I went along with both ideas eagerly after an initial “wait what now?” reaction of a day or two.

I don’t know any more that where my stuff ends and Bear’s begins is an easy distinction to make, and told him so. My eagerness is real. My desire to please Bear is my stuff, and so dog play becomes my stuff, because it’s his stuff.

Personally, the most rewarding thing my deeply submissive soul finds in essentially permanent denial of my orgasmic release is how it draws Belle’s wants and needs and sexual pleasure so hard against mine that they’re deeply and permanently imprinted there. Like when you sleep funny on the corner of a pillow and wake up with it impressed on your cheek or when you take off tube socks and still see their relief on your calves. When you pull her sexual desires off of mine, you’ll still see them there. Obviously, we’re two people with separate and distinct motivations, but I want very badly to make mine assume as much as possible what is hers so that they’re indistinguishable.

Schnoff related a sizzling frot session in his latest post that I was easily able to relate to even though I’ve never performed the act described. It’s a core tenet of my sexuality that I want very badly to be the vehicle to the sexual pleasure of others. I get my pleasure by giving it to them. That’s only accentuated as I get farther and farther away from my last orgasm (or further and further, if you prefer). Sometimes, the act includes my own direct pleasure, sometimes it’s reflected, but theirs is always my priority.

Or, at least, I want it to be. When I start to feel like I’m getting too selfish or focused on my own stimulation through contact with Belle, I start to feel…bad. Not a good word, that, but the best I can do. Guilty? Some combination. I don’t want it to be about me so when it is it all kind of curdles. There’s a line I can approach (sticking my ass up while sucking her nipples so that she can play with my dangling balls and stuffed device) but anything more overt starts to feel weird (when she ignores the obvious opportunity, that can be just as good for me).

I mention that because Belle’s got into the habit of letting me have some pussy time once a week like clockwork. I’ve found myself focusing on that and thinking on it too hard and becoming expectational of it. Like a dog that’s treated too often and get’s pushy when he’s not given a Scooby snack after he does his business. I haven’t become pushy, but I could feel the sense of entitlement building and didn’t like it.

I shared this with Belle along with the suggestion that she make me earn pussy time. Even if it means I’m not out for weeks or months or only out to give Blue a firm core and then right back in. I don’t want to feel like I’m getting sex for my own sake. Of course, saying that opens up a bit of submissive’s dilemma for me because often she wants to feel like she’s being fucked. So it may feel like it’s just for me, but it’s not. It’s also filling a need she has (literally). I don’t want her to deny herself this pleasure. Maybe she should specifically tell me when I get to fuck her why it’s happening. Either because I’ve been a good rabbit or because she just wants to feel the penis in her. I’m pretty sure I could remain in the right frame of mind if I knew she wanted to feel me inside her and end up approaching it not unlike Schnoff’s frot session.

God, I’m a complicated beast.

Posted on

Cheatin’ heart

I saw on the Twitter the other day someone post a link to their blog where they talked about whether masturbation could be considered cheating on one’s partner. I didn’t click the link so can’t give them credit or even see what they said because at the time the topic didn’t seem that interesting. But here I am still thinking about it.

First off, for me, yes, masturbation would be considered cheating. I’m not allowed to do it. I consider it something I used to do back when I had control over the penis. That’s gone and along with it went my right to jack it whenever I want and the resulting orgasms. So I do personally consider at least masturbating with the penis to be a form of cheating. But that’s just me.

But that’s not the only kind of masturbation one can do. This morning, I took advantage of the last school day (and concomitant child-free time we’ll see in our house for a while) to scratch an itch only a big fat dildo can get to for me. I had a grand time and would probably still be doing it even now if not for the demands of work, life, etc. Is that cheating? At one point, Belle told me I had to have permission to do even that but I don’t bother asking her anymore. She’s made it clear that she’s not interested in working with me on my need to be someone’s hole so, when the craving gets to be too much, I’m my own. I do not consider that cheating since the activity involves my deeply-seated need to seat something deeply inside my ass. It’s a thing she’s not interested in so I’m not withholding anything from her. And, since I don’t come at the end, I’m not depleting my reserves of sexual energy in the slightest. Quite the opposite.

But what about you, oh dear amorphous blob of the average sex blog viewing masses? Is masturbation cheating when you do it? That all depends. If you’re the lower-case consonant in a power exchange dynamic like I am, yep, without explicit permission, I’d say it probably is. If you’re the upper-case consonant, nope, you can do whatever you want since the rules are yours. (I generalize and assume, of course.) But if you’re not playing the D/s game, I would say that I’m inclined to think excessive masturbation is a form of cheating.

Back in the Bad Old Days of our relationship, when we never had sex (OK, not never, but like maybe once every couple of months at best), I would jack-off regularly. I’d leave the bed, go into the den and edge myself for as long as possible looking at and reading porn until I spewed all over. Masturbation wasn’t the thing that caused our problems but it exacerbated them. The more I jerked-off the less interested I was in Belle and working on our issues and the greater the gap between us grew. I became angry and resentful and that led to all kinds of nasty stuff which, in turn, led to where we are now which is glorious so I’m not bemoaning that it had to happen. But we were lucky.

So yeah, in the specific case I laid out above, I think masturbation is cheating the relationship. It may be the case that people with extraordinarily high sex drives or the young can pull one out in the morning and still have enough left at the end of the day to make their partner feel special. Obviously, there are no absolutes. But you know what kind of person you are and where your relationship is. So you tell me. Are you cheating yourself and your partner when you take care of yourself? Are you using easy access to your wiggly bits as a way to ignore other issues and/or obligations?

I guess, at the end of it all, I can’t say if it’s cheating for you. Context is everything. Personally, I think people in relationships would be better served by pleasuring themselves absent their partners as infrequently as possible. But I’ve said things like that before and gotten in trouble. Oh well. I still think it…

Posted on

Seeking the perfect fit

According to our friends in science, women like bigger and fatter cocks than the average man can offer.

No, for real. A study conducted by the UCLA Sexual Psychophysiology and Affective Neuroscience Laboratory found that women, when presented with phalluses of various lengths and thicknesses, on average chose six and a half inches as their preferred penis length. That was their preference for both long-term relationships and one night stands. However, women chose slightly thicker penises as their preference for the quick hook-ups.

On the other hand, The Journal of Sexual Medicine recently found that the average American penis is 5.6″ long with 4.8″ of “girth” (which I assume is circumference). That’s almost an inch shorter than the female preference. The article on the UCLA study didn’t say what the girth preference was, specifically, but I’d assume 4.8″ of circumference is also on the low side of things. For those keeping score, the penis on me is nearly exactly that long but about a tenth of an inch less girthy.

These findings, of course, come as no surprise to me (or Belle who, after reading the article, said, “I could have told you that.”). I’ve gone to — ahem — great lengths to find a phallus Belle finds to be maximally pleasurable. In every single case, these other cocks are bigger than the penis. Like, a lot bigger. The one we have that’s nearly exactly the same size as me never became her favorite. So while Belle has enjoyed the bigger ones, she’s always found them to be too long. That led me to getting her the Vixskin Buck. Buck’s a full inch shorter than the Maverick or Blue but still the same circumference. More than an inch and a half more girth than the penis offers. A 25% improvement.

Vixskin Tex, Buck, and Maverick
Vixskin Tex, Buck, and Maverick

We’ve only used Buck twice. Once right after he arrived and again this weekend. The first time, Belle claimed it was the “perfect size.” Not too long and nice and fat. (Aside: It really helps in finding the right cock for your wife when she to loses her inhibitions in telling you the one you have is not the one. Once past that issue, the search gets pretty efficient.) Then Buck sat unused for several months. Belle doesn’t seem to like to wait for me to get the strap-on strapped-on so when she wants to get fucked by a big cock the task usually goes to Blue. Since she’s in charge of the action from on top, the excessive length is easily controlled. In any event, poor old perfect yet neglected Buck came back out of the toy drawer on Sunday. Belle had let me out of the Steelheart just moments before. I had never used a strap-on while unlocked before and she wasn’t sure it could be done.

At first, after feeling the straps slide into place between my ass cheeks and cut across them from the weight of the dildo in front, the penis got quite hard. But it sat beneath Buck and was pushed down and away, bent at the root. Physically disrespected by her preferences. I rolled back over and put my hand back in Belle’s hot pussy and sucked her tit while my other hand reached down and squeezed the hard penis against the firmer and less forgiving shaft of the dildo. The sensation of feeling the difference between the two was one of those things I suspect you’ll either immediately understand as a guy (or woman) who gets off on this kind of thing or you will totally fail to understand as someone who just doesn’t.

The penis felt especially thin and inconsequential compared to its fatter, heftier rival. That was simultaneously humiliating and and terrifically erotic. Humiliating with a particular finality in that it wasn’t from a situation I was placed in or from a name I was being called or anything like that. It was a humiliation rooted in who and what I was. I will never, ever have a penis the size Belle prefers. That burns. Really. But in that fire is found a kind of physic torment and pain that triggers my cognitive masochism. It stung like a switch across my ass but also felt so, so good.

The last two times we used dildos on Belle (this one and the last time Blue came out), she told me she didn’t want me to put any lube on them. Both times, she failed to orgasm from the effort. That’s a disappointment, but a good lesson. Belle climbed up on my and put Buck inside her and fucked him hard and long but could never get the right feeling from him. She climbed off and told me to fuck her from above which I dutifully attempted. All the while, I could feel the tip of the still-hard penis brush against her inner thigh at an odd angle. Still, no dice. I took the harness off and suggested she let me try something different. I placed a small amount of water-based lube (Astroglide gel) on Buck and manually fucked her with it while flicking my tongue  over her clit. Occasionally, I’d feel the big cock slide by as the tip of my tongue came into contact with it. Eventually, she came nice and hard with the dildo buried inside her and my tongue pressed onto her clit.

I figured she’d have had enough penetration for one day but allowed me to fuck her anyway. “It’s not like I’m going to feel you,” she said.

Unf. 

I slipped in easily, but not as easily as I do after Blue or Maverick have been to work. I think, if my Belle was the kind to fuck around with other guys, that I’d eventually be able to tell how big their cocks were just be being allowed to stick the hard penis in her. Buck had left her far more open than I would have and pushed the depths of her pussy out of reach of the penis, but I was able when thrusting very firmly to feel the very tip graze against the opening to her cervix. Even though Buck and Maverick/Blue are supposed to have the same diameter, I find the latter leave her feeling more fucked than the former. I suspect that’s because Maverick and Blue are fatter over a greater length of shaft than Buck. Following them, the penis has no chance of hitting bottom.

In any event, she let me fuck her longer than I thought she would. I was able to keep my own orgasm at bay and only got really close once. After, while laying in each other’s arms and nuzzling and cuddling, I told her how important it is for me to hear that she likes those bigger cocks over the penis.

“I don’t want you to feel guilty saying things like that to me.”

“I don’t feel guilty,” she replied. She asserted that we would need to spend more time finding the right combination of dildo and technique. That “perfect fit” I can’t and never will give her.

Later that night, as she was drifting off to sleep, she asked me groggily how long I could stay locked up. The question left me feeling extraordinarily submissive and it was difficult for me to form a coherent answer. I stumbled over it just before she fell asleep. The next morning, I gave her a real answer. The only possible answer. The one she must have known before she even asked the question.

“For as long as you wanted me to be.”

Posted on

Squirm and hum

I was hanging out in the shower yesterday quirting water through the Steelheart as I do. This is the usual moment when I can tell how I’m coming along from a lock-up male perspective. How am I feeling about it?

This particular morning, I was doing pretty good. “Pretty good” in this case being defined as being so horny and frustrated that just the feeling of the water surging around the locked meat (specifically, how it swirled over the corona) felt so amazing as to cause the contents of the steel tube to swell and block additional water from getting around in there. MOAR WATER!

As an aside, I know I’m not supposed to play with it, but does this count? It’s incidental to the act of cleaning it which is necessary. I dunno. The way it swells up in there kind of obviates the issue, anyway. Once it starts, it self-seals and stops.

And, you know, a normal guy in my situation would be wanting out of the fucking metal as quickly as possible but I, as any careful reader of this blog knows, am not normal. I had the feeling of being totally right with the world. I was exactly where I needed and should be. Inescapably locked, terrifically horned up, truly desperate for some kind of pleasurable sensation from the penis, yet hoping she’d keep me like that forever. Hoping that when we have sex this weekend, it’s with me in the device and one of her dildos in her.

This morning, after a very loud thunderstorm moved through and knocked our power out, I got her off sans dildo but still locked. She came twice in fairly rapid succession which is unusual for her. After, I climbed on top of her and pressed my stifled, steel-clad erection into her and she said, “You’re not getting out.”

I squirmed and hummed inside. I wanted two totally opposite things but got the one I deserved. I told her how lucky I was to have her along with some other things.

“I love it when you talk subby to me.”

Bliss.

Posted on

Empathy

Yesterday I was Tumblin’ and came across an animated GIF of a woman reaching around a man to jack him off. He was standing and she was right behind him, leaning against something. They were both totally naked. The image was looping over the few frames where the guy was shooting his load. I found myself unable to scroll past. His ejaculate leapt from the end of his cock in a graceful arch and his face showed both the knitted furrow of pre-orgasmic concentration on his forehead and the gasp of release on his lips as they parted and his load surged out. It was…intoxicating.

I don’t know what it was about this specific image, but it really affected me. The more I watched it (and I must have seen that guy shoot a couple of hundred times, at least), the more I became him. I felt her grip around his hard shaft and the hot slug of goo push it’s way down the heart of his cock and release into the air. His balls tighten and prickle, the hitch in his breath as the orgasmic release hit his brain. The weakness in his knees as he slumped back into her warm breasts. Over and over and over.

UUUUNGH.

And I was like, Fuck, I want to come. I really do. I want to feel that. And the weight of the finality of never feeling that again really hit me. I can’t say to myself that, sure it’s been a long, long time, but it’ll happen someday. Just wait. It’ll happen. Because, no. I have no reason to think it will.

I told Belle about it last night as I was laying on top of her and rubbing the free and very hard penis into pelvis. I told her how badly that image made me want what he was getting. How great I felt the loss of orgasm at that moment.

And she said something along the lines of, “Yeah, that’s nice. Too bad for you it’s never going to happen again. I know what’s best for you.”

My balls were already churning but that kicked everything up to eleven. I may have whimpered. I felt like I was at the bottom of a very deep well all the water crushing down was her and her control over the penis. And while it was difficult to accept, it also seemed so right. That’s where I should be.

I told her it was worth it. That she should take all the orgasms I’d ever have for herself. To use that energy to maintain me how she wanted me to be.

And then we fucked. But only she came.