Tag: domination

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In the shadow

I’ve had a stressful week. I know, that’s not a very encouraging start to a post on a blog about kinky sexual practices.

I’m starting to wonder if I don’t have some kind of pathological disorder when it comes to getting stressed out about otherwise totally achievable tasks when they start to pile up. That, and leaving home. This week, I had a bunch of smallish things I had to do that you’d think someone in my position would be able to pull off without breaking a sweat but they were related to going on a business trip to a place I’d never been to meet people I didn’t know. That made me freak out a little inside. Well, maybe more than a little. I was functional, but eaten up with dread and that created a block that led me to put off what I knew I had to do for about two weeks until the last minute. And now I’m on said trip and walking around with a little ball of foreboding in my stomach. I’ll probably be fine once I’m actually in the conversations I’m here to have, but it’s leading up to them that’s bugging me.

The week started out, though, really well. Sunday, Belle and I had zero sex but I was left feeling very satisfied. I even told her I liked the day and she was surprised since I never got unlocked and never got into her pants.

That morning, she started out by telling me I wasn’t getting out. I was to remain as I had been and there would be no free penis time that week at all. That brought forth the forces of gnawing repressed sexual hunger and the warm and cozy sense of total submission to her. They met in my chest like opposing firehoses sprayed into each other’s maws and the resulting conflagration of energy combustion fueled my craving little bunny persona. I simultaneously wanted to rip her clothes off and fuck her violently while also bowing down to her will and curling up in the shadow of her domination. That is what being submissive feels like to me and it’s wonderful.

In any event, we started to get down to the business of getting her off but were distracted by the noises of children and their sleep-over guests and she decided we’d stop. Of course, I wanted to keep going. Badly. Really badly. But her decision was enough to throw a blanket over all my cravings and I didn’t put up a fight. Again with the gnashing and thrashing of my subjugated sexual monster overlaid with the obedient fuzzy bunny rolling over on his back. I felt really good about myself that I was nearly as satisfied by my reaction to being left locked and loaded than I would have been by feeling her come against my fingers or tongue.

Later that night, as we went to bed, she said she wanted me naked and next to her so I was expectational but all she wanted to do was feel me there and I didn’t get annoying. Another win. She also said she kinda sees the point of the clear Holy Trainer in that being able to observe the penis all smashed in there and controlled was a turn-on to her. Not so much that she liked it better than the Steelheart, but she got it. She reiterated to me again (because I need to hear it) that, in fact, she prefers me the way I am when denied and locked up over the me who isn’t locked or has come and, while the sex lizard bellowed in anguish, the rabbit purred. If, indeed, rabbits purr. Whatever purr-like thing rabbits do, it was doing.

So she left me feeling exactly like I want to feel. On many levels. And there was no sex. And it was still awesome.

But then the week started. The thing I had put off was on and in the forefront of my mind and the trip was perched down at the end of the week like a vulture and these things were interrelated and bugging me significantly. Then the furnace started acting like a fuckhead. And then it snowed and got really cold.

Fucking life.

In short, I got moody and irritable. But I tried like hell to hide that from Belle. Turns out, a lot of that feeling got rerouted to Drew. I didn’t want to be a dick to him, but trying to raise the enthusiasm necessary to be engaged in that dynamic was very difficult. And it made me even more annoyed. Not specifically with him, but with it all just being one more fucking thing I had to stress over. More things that piled on top of all the others that were freaking me out. I was really kind of a mess.

But it led to us having a conversation today to reset expectations all around. We agree that what we are able to do with each other is frosting on the cake of our primary lives. It’s entirely optional. It has to live in whatever air pockets exist around our “real” lives. And in my case, this week there were none. Plus, for me, this is just about sex. And I don’t say that in any way that should be construed as minimizing it because I think sex is very important. But I just don’t know that I’m wired in a way to be able to handle what we had both tried to establish in the past few weeks. Which is to say, I’m not looking for a polyamorous situation (and I’m not saying he was trying to make this into one) and I can’t do what I thought I could absent that kind of commitment. What I really want and have always wanted was a friendship with a guy who’ll screw me on the side. And that’s about it. And that’s OK with both of us.

So yeah, resetting expectations. He wondered if this would look like some kind of failure, but I rejected that. We aren’t failing at anything. We’re doing something new for both of us that’s also quite complicated. It’s evolving. It’s adjusting to the contours of our primary lives. If we can make that happen and still feel like we’re getting what we want out of it, how can that be failure? Quite the opposite. And there’s still elements of D/s involved because that’s who I am and it’s the kind of sex I need to have (future post topic: kink as a sexual orientation). It’s also who he is and what he wants. So we’re not totally abandoning that aspect at all. Evolution.

I’m still feeling a little freaked out and hate that I’m not home with Belle right now, but I think I’m over the worst. The hardest parts are behind me and I’ll be home in less than 24 hours. Home to my Belle and the warm bed and my place next to her, curled up in the shadow of her dominance. Purring. Or whatever it is rabbits do.

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Morning exchange

“Again with the feet.”
“I’m really horny this morning.”
“You’re horny because you looked at porn.”
“No, I looked at porn because I’m horny. I’m horny because you don’t let me come.”
“And that’s for the best, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good boy.”
“Thank you.”
“OK, you can make me come now.”

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Time and relative dimension in space

We have moved from the giddy, nervous newness stage of allowing a third party a place at my table and into the practical reality of how it’s going to function so that everyone involved, but especially Belle, feels comfortable. It all has to settle into a stable routine.

Each person in this little triangle has their own perspective and vulnerabilities. I feel it’s my responsibility to look out for both mine and Belle’s since I’m the one who wants this and she’s the one who has allowed it to happen. That’s not to say I don’t think of Drew in all this as well, but the priority is Belle, first and always. The thing I have been struggling with is that I’ve found myself putting me last in line. I suppose this is a submissive’s trap, but I’ve realized that if I don’t take care of myself then I’ll probably fuck up my first priority (keeping Belle as comfortable as possible with the arrangement).

For me, it all culminated on Sunday. I have some things I need to do for myself and a community of friends that I’ve been putting off since essentially the day Drew showed up and started distracting me. The day ended with me doing things for him and doing things for Belle and not having completed her list of tasks and totally ignoring my own needs and, on top of everything else, I fucked up my Achilles tendon and probably won’t run again until the end of December so my mood was shit. But I didn’t want to show any of that to either of them. I was feeling pretty crap and like I was holding on by my fingernails. Pressured.

Of course, none of this is Belle’s problem. She’s not expected to make room for Drew and how that changes me. I have to make the room. So this had to be an issue taken up with him. We talked yesterday and set some good ground rules going forward. Rules about when we communicate and how and what his expectations are with regard to my submission. We also discussed how I can easily share my sex and even my submission (to the right person) but I can’t share my heart. Not with him. There’s nothing wrong with him except that I’m not capable of feeling a certain way towards a man and I needed him to really and truly get that (which he did and does).

So on Sunday, late in the day, I was laying on the couch with my head in Belle’s lap while she watched football (three games). She was stroking my hair and mentioned she didn’t think she could let the Drew thing happen if he was local. She’d feel too possessive of me.

“You have the local franchise,” I said.

“I have the only franchise,” she corrected in a sweet yet totally serious and I better be paying attention tone. “He’s just renting.”

Then, last night, she told me she read his initial post over on his new blog. She said she wouldn’t be going back there, at least not for a while. She felt his tone was too possessive of me and I totally get that. I felt the same thing when I read it, but I know him and know that he came off sounding more entitled than he knows he is. But she doesn’t know that and she didn’t respond well. She’s still giving me the freedom to explore a relationship with Drew, but made it clear that there are landmines we need to be aware of.

This is, of course, exactly what I want us to do. Communicate. Be honest. I don’t think there’s a snowball’s chance this will work if we’re not. Part of being honest is establishing space. The space she needs apart from what Drew writes, the space she needs in our relationship that is exclusively ours and inviolate. The space I need from Drew to do that. The space I need to make sure I don’t get consumed by the task subbing to two people so it’s impossible to accomplish.

Moral of this post: We’re being cautious, sensible adults as we move through uncharted territory. And that’s good.

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That moment

Laying next to her, soaking in her smell and her smooth softness. Kissing her face and her chin and her nose. Feeling the fat, sticky member pressed between us — still wet from being inside her. My arms wrapped strongly around her, binding her to me. Legs still sweaty and intertwined. The throbbing desire to be buried within her, to still feel the hard meat moving in her soft, hot wetness. To still be connected to her power. All that beating and crashing inside my chest but being held in check by her calm, cool control.

And then she turns her face away just a little. And at that moment, I know. She’s through. She’s moved on. She’s done with me.

But I will always be right there, waiting for her to return.

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Quality time

It’s always nice when the various orbits of family life occasionally align so that parents can find some good old fashioned quality time for themselves. Saturday was one of those days for us.

The second child was going to be at a friend’s house at a sleep-over birthday party and the first child is more than able to take care of himself so Belle bought tickets to a movie and made dinner reservations for us. Dinner and a movie. I mean, crazy. Just like the young people do it. Never mind the movie started at 4:30 in the afternoon and the dinner reservations were at 6:30. Not quite senior special hour at Denny’s, but close. What matters is we had a real fucking date.

Earlier in the day, Belle had rewarded me with a nice long list of things to do for the weekend. They were all mundane domestic-type things, but they weren’t things we needed to do, they were things I needed to do. And that makes a big difference. Also, since I was doing them, Belle was free to go for a run and otherwise just focus on things she wanted to do for herself. That kind of thing feels like warm honey poured on my soul.

So I was able to get most of my tasks finished in time for the movie (we saw The Skeleton Twins which was good but often felt too much like a couple of well-known comedians trying very hard to show they have serious actor chops). We had dinner at a nice upscale casual spot on a city park. Belle commented that it wasn’t as crowded as she would have thought and I reminded her city folk don’t do dinner at 6:30 PM. They’re barely breaking out the cocktails at that time. Sure enough, by the time we were finished eating, the place had filled up dramatically with young and beautiful people (some of whom were veritably spilling from their bodices).

During the meal, I got a text from the first child asking if it was OK with us if he went and spent the night at a friends house and we were more than OK with it. That meant our afternoon and evening alone would be capped off by an entire night alone. What kind of decadent fantasy world had we entered?

I had already arranged with Belle that I’d give her a massage when we got home but having the house empty meant we didn’t have to be creepy parents with the door closed and romantic music playing behind and got to leave the door open. I lit up all the candles and turned on an old k. d. lang album we used to have on tight rotation when we first started our relationship and we both got naked. And I mean naked since she gave me the key to the Steelheart beforehand.

Not that she wanted the penis. Maybe she thought she was being nice or maybe she just didn’t want to mess with it in the morning, but once the meat was free, I had lost my interest in the massage and was singularly focused on getting it wet. She redirected my attention and that’s how I found myself sitting on her ass rubbing lemon verbena scented oil into her skin.

The penis didn’t get totally hard, but it laid on the small of her back pointing up her spine and plumped out to about 70%. I could feel the end of it hypersensitized from being in the tube for a week brushing against her skin as I rose to get better leverage against her shoulder muscles. I felt stupidly horny but she said I just had to “be strong” and wait until morning. As usual, such a demonstration would be good for me. So I was good and, even after she was fast asleep and I was Tumbling through the porn, I very specifically did not play with the erection.

I woke up several times as the end of the erection was fired by simple contact with the sheets. That would invariably cause my chest to fill with the old familiar carnivorous butterflies fluttering around and feeding on my previously contained sexual energy. But still, I was good. No playing. Nary a squeeze. All this was made more difficult by the fact that she was uncharacteristically sleeping nude like I almost always do. Every time I touched her, I felt her hot skin and the butterflies roared.

I was awake hours before her. I checked my phone and looked at Facebook and more Tumblr and all kinds of things. I managed to fall back into a light doze just before she woke up for good. Again, like good modern adults, we were quickly back on our respective glowing screens and I took the opportunity to tweet:

Since the house was empty, she was able to come as loudly as she wanted and she usually wants to come pretty loudly. Her orgasms are such a big deal to me that I nearly shot my load myself just hearing her climax. Fucking hell, but feeling her come is the greatest thing ever. I’m so much more aware of how it impacts her whole body now. It’s just glorious.

After her basking period, she told me climb aboard. As soon as the penis slipped into its warm and wet home, she said in my ear, “You will come.”

Called it.

How did I know? No clue. I could just feel it, though. It was right there. As obvious as the boner between my legs. She was kinda miffed later that I knew it was coming.

So I started to fuck her and was pretty pleased with myself that I didn’t shoot immediately. But not too long into it, when I felt the orgasm coalescing in that familiar way I’m usually really good at fending off, I lost control. I had wanted to edge several times in the hopes that the eventual orgasm would be plentiful and enjoyable, but at the first edge I felt as though a third party stepped in and took over. My old friend the lizard pushed the fuzzy bunny out of the way and forced me to keep fucking. It’s an odd sensation to feel one’s primal forces take control from the higher brain, but that’s what happened. I even remember thinking, “No!” But it was too late.

The orgasm wasn’t pleasurable. Not at all. I was also noisy because I could be, but I cried out in such a way that Belle asked me near the end if I was OK. No, I wasn’t. I felt like I passed a marble through my prostate while someone simultaneously slammed me in the small of my back with the flat side of a shovel. The intensity removed any pleasure. I came too hard.

The dopey glowy part after was kinda nice, but didn’t make up for the fact that I felt somehow violated by my own psyche.

In the hours that followed, whatever salutary benefits my denial creates evaporated leaving behind only the gritty residue of pent-up frustration. I fucking wanted to come again. NOW. But she wanted me back in the Steelheart. She’s no dummy. She knows how this works by now. So, only a couple hours later, I was felt the cold tube envelope the needy penis just as she wanted.

I finished my remaining tasks, but without enthusiasm. I forced myself to let the subby rabbit come forward and be good even though my temper was very short and I felt pretty irritable. I did all I could to shield Belle from that. As the day wore on, I could feel a slow steady drip start to refill my sub reservoir, but the dominant feelings I had were far from subby.

The new thing for me this time around was Drew lurking in the background. I wondered how coming would change my enthusiasm for having a guy on the side. Not only that, but a guy I was supposedly subbing to. I will admit (as I already did to him), that enthusiasm took a big hit. Had it been up to me, I wouldn’t have volunteered for any contact with him and would have retreated into myself. That’s my default behavior with regard to men and sexual release which is why I could never have a romantic relationship with one. After I come, I’m just not into them and actually actively avoid them.

But I wasn’t rude and I soldiered through my default inclination. I felt bad for him because he’s been away from home for a while now on the other side of the world for business and has been feeling the isolation. So I was nice. I admit I had to work at it, but I didn’t want to make him feel worse than he already did. In any event, I was honest with him and he understood. It’s all new and weird, and not only for me. For him, for Belle. For all involved.

I feel like I’m a better sub now than I was in the past. Before, this one orgasm would have sent me spinning. I had no leverage against the changes it causes in my chemistry and no way to shield anyone around me. I’d spiral down and get depressed and angry at wanting more and not being where I wanted to be. I’d resist going back in the device and conveniently forget to put it on even though I knew that’s what she wanted. But now I feel much stronger. I feel like I know how to deal with it and know it’s not the end of the world. A lot of this is because I’ve really and truly let go of resisting her control over my orgasm even (and especially) when it involves giving me one I’d rather not have. There’s freedom in that and, surprisingly, strength.

Also, Belle’s more confident in her role. She’s not feeling sorry for me and is less willing to accept my backsliding. She has a better handle on how my chemistry works and has no qualms manipulating it to both of our advantages.

I can’t say I’m back in the groove this morning. Not even 70% there. But I know I will get there and I’m choosing to focus on the glimmers of my subby groove I can feel out there and not on the shards of willful lizard thinking. In my forty-seventh year, I feel more confident in who I am sexually than at any time in my life. And more accepting of it. I’m very lucky that the light of my life is right there with me.

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Feedback

So, a funny thing I’ve noticed. Since this whole Drew thing came along, I find myself a lot more attentive to Belle. Very much more in my Thumper zone. I don’t need to get into all the examples, but it’s true. She’s noticed it, too. She appreciates it.

I have some theories as to why this is. First, I am terribly grateful to her (as always). That she would show so much trust in me and allow me the freedom to seek out and engage with someone like Drew. It’s like a dream come true, really. The prospect of it all makes me happy and I want her to be as happy or happier because it wouldn’t be possible without her. So I find myself especially focused on ways to please her and remove stress from her life. And she’s very stressed lately.

The second theory is a bit more complicated (but not necessarily contradictory to the first). Belle’s been aware for some time now of the whole me and all my inclinations and predilections and, for those she hasn’t wanted to participate in, has allowed me space to indulge them by myself and I have always indulged them by myself. So there’s been these two worlds I kinda live in. The one with Belle and the one with just me. But, you know, I’m a sub. All the way down. Not a switch. Not at all. A sub. I crave what I have with Belle in both my worlds. And now, with Drew, I’m not alone in that other world that Belle doesn’t come into. She’s let someone else enter into it and he’s assumed a similar role as she has in our marriage. Not the same emotional role because only Belle can be that to me. But the same role with regards to power exchange. Because, as a sub, that’s what I want and need. To give up power.

So now, I spend a lot more time in that subby mindset. I don’t drift out of it and get lazy and forget. I don’t have as many opportunities to get selfish. I’m more often primed to want to serve and demonstrate my gratitude for being dominated. No matter where I turn and which “world” I find myself in, I am able to focus on someone above me. This adds to my happiness and that makes me much more inclined to be good at being her sub.

Now, this all sounds like Belle and Drew are somehow equals in my mind. Even writing the words “Belle and Drew” suggests that. But it’s not the case. I’ve written before about how relationships are multilayered with basic, foundational elements below and optional dependent additions higher up. My base relationship with Belle is fundamentally sound. More so than it’s ever been. That allows us to layer on the chastity and denial and D/s and all that. And, it allows the entire Drew layer, too. Drew and what he represents is not in any way equal to Belle and what she is to me. It does not exist beside my primary relationship. His layer is dependent on Belle. It’s just another being held up by our base relationship.

I may enjoy my interactions with Drew and he may develop into a good friend over time, but nothing will ever change how I feel about Belle and our life together. She’s my North Star. She’s my reason. Even in the depths of the darkest times between us, I never not for a second could imagine a life without her. And that we could have gone through all that and come out stronger and even so strong that something like Drew could become possible is remarkable to me. I count myself among the luckiest of rabbits.

All that gratitude and optimism and excitement is not sapped from my primary relationship with Belle. It feeds back into it. For someone who grew up on Disney cartoons and the dominant cultural relationship paradigm found everywhere else in our media, the idea that opening up a relationship under the terms we have would actually drive a net benefit is a remarkable revelation. We puny mortals do not have finite pools of affection and interest. We can make as much as we need, on demand. And seemingly, the more we make, the better it is for all concerned.

I’m babbling now. It’s enough to say Belle continues to find ways to make me a very happy person. As I said on our anniversary, she is primarily responsible for all the best things in my life. My gratitude and devotion to her is boundless.

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Another gentleman caller

So way back at the beginning of this year, Belle told me I was allowed to seek male…er, companionship…so as to meet certain needs and desires she was not interested in exploring with me (i.e., I’m a whore and want to get fucked by some guy). Back in May, a nice man approached me regarding said companionship. That assignation was not meant to be, alas. Michael’s situation was complicated and I can only assume a little boy ass on the side (without the concomitant penis accessible) wasn’t something that fit for him at the time. In any event, the reality that I might find someone to “companion with” gave Belle and I a chance to reiterate her ground rules and my acceptance of them. In short:

  • Belle is, was, and always shall be my primary partner.
  • The penis will always be locked no matter what
  • Whatever happens happens on my time and is not a distraction to her or our life.
  • I am able to blog about it, but she doesn’t necessarily want to read any of it.
  • Her privacy must be assured.

As it happens, I’ve been feeling a little dejected that there were no other interested parties. That’s not to say I wasn’t contacted, but they were apparently unable to read english and were looking for something distinctly different than what I described I wanted on my Collarspace profile. So anyway, I stopped checking in on my bait until yesterday when I decided on a whim to see what was up.

And right there was someone with real potential. We’ll call him Drew. On the plus side, he’s looking for pretty much what I am, except on the other side of the action. He’s a switch married to another man who’s also given him permission to go outside his marriage for certain activities. He only wants someone to top and have sex with. A friend, not a lover. Nothing anonymous, but nothing overly serious. Perfect. He says one of his fantasies has been to fuck a guy who’s locked up and unable to come, so I figure I’m pretty much right out of central casting on that score. He’s assumed a dominant role with me with clicks nicely in how I want to be treated. In fact, in our 24 hours or so of communication, he’s yet to say anything that strikes me the wrong way. His interests and mine are a good fit. We have a lot in common. On the negative side, he lives a long way away. But, silver lining, he travels a lot and is in town every once in a while.

So, that’s where we are. Only one day in, but very promising. In order to honor Belle’s requirement that I not put the sorted details in front of her, I’m going to use The Portfolio to write about our interactions in more detail. If you follow me there or on Twitter, you can stay abreast of developments.

It goes without saying that I’m an incredibly lucky bunny to be married to a woman who would allow this to be possible. I simply couldn’t love her more and am so grateful to be with her.

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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.

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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.

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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.