Tag: domination

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Unpainting corners

Eileen commented on “The one where Thumper get put into his place” and her words have me thinking. In part, she said:

I would mention from my own experience that if Belle is prone to guilt or being worried, this kind of interaction could be very tough for her. I often feel I have been painted (or have painted myself) into a corner by creating sexual expectations & buildup I simply can’t deliver on. For me, it took a very long time to get to a place where I could “take control” as you describe it, without some kind of emotional backlash from the part of me that feels obligated to create equity in my relationship with May.

Painted into a corner by expectations that can’t be delivered upon. Ouch.

Belle is prone to not only guilt, but also worry. The guilt might come from growing up Catholic, but the worrying is purely genetic. She inherited that from her mom’s side of the family. There is nothing my mother in law can’t worry obsessively about, and Belle’s has a bit of that in her. So, does she worry about meeting my expectations? I’m sure she does. The zeal with which I have embraced denial and submission is typical of how I attack new interests and, I admit, it could be off-putting. She may feel that I’ve worked out in my head how everything’s supposed to proceed and exactly what I want her to do to me. Truth is, I haven’t. There are things I want to do and have done to me, and I should be more open to her about them, but I can’t enjoy any of this if it’s proscriptive. Sure, there are things I really get off thinking about, but I don’t assume we will explore all those things together. I’m not trying to put her into a position where she’s responsible for making all my fantasies come true. One, that would be a hell of a lot of work for anyone, and two, I’m not sure I want them all to enter the real world. Basically, this will work best for me (and her) when we arrive at a place where she’s doing what she wants and how, and not just because I want it or enjoy it. This is not a place I’ve ever read about online since it will be unique to the both of us. My only expectation is that she will not do anything she really doesn’t enjoy.

Regarding any guilt she might feel from the inequity of the arrangement, I think that might be the easiest to assuage. I like the inequity! I get off on the unfairness! Being arbitrary and capricious in the doling out of sexual experiences is exactly what I want. She should come ten times more often than me. She should tell me every day for a week when I’m going to get sex and then, on a whim, decide against it. I want her to leave me straining and hard and constantly yearning for release. (God, just writing this sends waves of excitement through me.) Of course, simply saying this can’t stop her from feeling guilt, but I can only continue to say it in hopes that eventually she’ll see that keeping me frustrated and in a state “normal” society would define as terrible and unfair is one of the ways I can find happiness and some sort of satisfaction.

I’d tell her all this in person, but as I said yesterday, she’s out of town until Wednesday. And besides, this blog is partially for me to relate my story to anyone interested in reading it, but also (and, in fact, maybe mostly) it’s a tool with which I can organize my thoughts and relate them better to Belle. I do talk to her – a hell of a lot – but not always in a clear and succinct manner. Hopefully, she’ll read this tonight from her hotel room and see more clearly where I’m coming from. I certainly don’t want her to feel guilt or any kind of pressure. This is supposed to be fun, not all heavy and laden with baggage. I hope we can approach it full of joy and laughter as we discover a new and (hopefully) exciting way to enjoy each other.

Thanks, Eileen.

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Submissively paradoxical

Dev left this comment on my last post:

I wouldn’t judge your “submissiveness” by things like that. That way lies madness as you just get into the whole submissive paradox.

Submissive paradox. Huh. What’s that? I coulda said, “What’s that?” but chose instead to say something like, “Gee, thanks for the comment!” What a dork.

This whole “submissive paradox” thing was bumping around in my head. I was working on defining it because that’s what I do. Instead of asking what something I fail to understand means, I try to work it out based on what I think I know. It’s quite the personality flaw. I assume if someone else knows something, then I should also and to appear otherwise looks bad. Please, if we should ever meet in person, pretend like I know everything. Thanks.

So anyway, I had formed the outlines of a missive when, at the very moment of sitting down to write it, I thought to Google “submissive paradox“. Boom. There it was. I’m a genius. In any event, here’s the basic premise I worked out all on my lonesome.

I’m supposed to be submissive, but I’m proactively doing things in my relationship (or angling to have things done in my relationship) because I like them. It’s not entirely about her. Turns out, I, the supposedly submissive one, has free will, is still a human, and still wants to be pleased sexually. Oh, and folding the laundry doesn’t do anything for me. Check.

I, the supposedly submissive one, am coming up with the ideas, buying the sex toys, and pushing to be whipped and otherwise damaged by her, the ostensibly dominate one. Belle, however, never asked to dominate me. That was all my idea. The fact that she does it at all is terrific, but what does she know from being a dominate? She’s not bad, considering it’s all being done for me. She’s coming along nicely. But I think I’m digressing…

The paradox, as far as I can see it, is that as a male with submissive tendencies, I still do what I can to move our relationship in a direction I want. I don’t let her totally run the show, and honestly, she wouldn’t want to anyway. If some day she does, then great. But if not, it’s no big deal. I, the submissive one, am exerting some level of direction on my nascent D/s relationship.

I’ll leave it with this, quoted from Under the Boot. I think it nicely summarizes the paradox and makes me feel better to see others in the same place we are:

Sustainability. That’s what we’re working toward. Maybe someday…I’ll lose the right to request or recommend or comment, but right now, that give and take is probably one reason why this is working well for us. And when I think about how good things are, I stop worrying overly much about not being a real submissive…

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Crossing the Rubicon, Part 3

[This is the last part of a three-part post. You might want to read the first and second parts first.]

I chose to call this series of posts “Crossing the Rubicon” because of what happened on the morning of the last day of our weekend. As I’ve written in the past, being tied up is one of my oldest and deepest desires. I’ve never been tied up by anyone before, though it’s been part of my fantasy life and a major player in the porn I enjoy since as long as I can remember. I did bring it up to Belle early in our relationship, but her reaction caused me to put it back in the dark hole in my psyche from whence it came. She wasn’t actively opposed to the idea, but I sensed trepidation and maybe some fear. I let it drop. Now, all these years later, it was back to the surface. I had told Belle everything I wanted done to me and she had shown sympathy and a willingness to try, if not a comprehension of what motivated me.

On her trip to San Francisco, Belle had purchased some light bondage gear. Basically, some simple tethers with clips on the ends and four velcro cuffs with attached rings. Nothing too severe, but inexpensive and packaged in an accessible and non-threatening fashion. It was my understanding that we’d finally put these to use over this weekend, though the opportunity I thought most obvious had come and gone due to too much drink and hot water. Sunday morning, she indicated we’d finally take the plunge.

To me, this was synonymous to the first time I had sex. I had wanted to do this for so long and now the time had finally seemed to come. I asked if she wanted me to prepare the room, and she said I should while she made her coffee, ate her cereal, etc. Back in the bedroom, I tried to figure out the best configuration of the tethers. Our bed was king-sized with no headboard or footboard (like we have at home). I eventually attached the tethers to the legs of the bed frame, but I found by laying them out and trying different poses that I’d be stretched into an extreme spread-eagle position. I bound one ankle and one wrist to make sure it was even physically possible and the sudden reality of the moment finally struck me. I found myself incredibly nervous and self-conscious. Ironically, as I was preparing the bed in a way to maximize my physical vulnerability, I discovered a deep well of emotional vulnerability. Doubt crept into my mind. Was this going to be fun? Did she really want to do it? Maybe this was the wrong time. I tried to put those thoughts aside as I finished the preparations. I went back out to the living room and waited.

It seemed to me, as the minutes ticked by, that Belle was dragging her feet, just as I suspected she had dragged her feet with regard to bondage all along. Finally, after she had exhausted just about every delaying excuse possible, she sat down next to me on the couch by the fire. She said she wanted me to know that she was “sexed out” and not interested in further penetrative activities with me. That’s what she said, but what I heard was a serious lack of interest on her part and felt she was trying to work her way out of the event. It played directly into my doubts and fears and vulnerability. I told her maybe we shouldn’t do it since I was not interested in it if she wasn’t. There was only going to be one first time for this, I said, and if we couldn’t both be into it, I didn’t want it ruined. I was angry, scared, disappointed, and embarrassed to even be in that position. I started to cry. I was a mess.

In the past, that might have been it. I might have been impulsive and we might have fought and the entire event would have collapsed in a heap of resentment. Luckily, though, we kept talking. She told me she just didn’t want me disappointed if she didn’t come at the end of this. That she did want to do this, for me, but that she wasn’t interested in sex being a part of it. I told her who came and when was entirely under her control and, if played correctly, it was practically impossible for me to be truly disappointed. I told her that the erotic torture she had put me through the previous morning, upon being released from the CB6K, was all I was expecting with the only difference being this time I’ve be tied down. I sensed she was making this thing into a bigger deal than it needed to be. That I wanted to be tied down by her and only her and anything she did to me would be wondrous. All I wanted to do was share the experience with her, my love. That’s all.

Finally, I stopped crying. We had gotten past the road hazard and would continue the journey. She told me to go back to the room, get naked, lay on the bed, and wait. I did as she said and, while in the room alone laying nude in the middle of the big bed, felt a level of apprehension and anxious expectation unlike anything before. Involuntary shudders rippled across my body and my teeth were beginning to lightly chatter. She entered the room and I felt very naked, vulnerable, and exposed.

She started with my right wrist, then my left. I tested the restraint and found them to be light, yet quite secure. I knew I could not overcome them and the thought sent an electric wave through me. Next, she secured my right ankle, then my left. I tried to move and found my range of motion severely limited. Goosebumps broke out across my body. Finally, she placed a blindfold over my eyes and kissed me on the mouth. I was going to explode with anticipation.

I heard her move through the room. She seemed to be looking for something, but I didn’t know what. She left the room, then came back in. I heard the light switch go on and her rifling through our toy box. Then the light was switched off. I honestly had no idea what was going on or what she was looking for.

I felt something light and feathery brush against my chest. Was that a feather? Where the hell had that come from? She dragged it across my nipples, down my legs, across the cock and my balls. I instinctively moved my head as though, if I could just find the right angle, I’ve be able to see what was going on, but to no avail. Finally, I figured out that I was feeling the ends of a simple rubber flogger Belle had purchased along with the restraints. I had dismissed it as a novelty, but was happy she brought it out as it was totally unexpected and might be able to give me a mild stinging sensation.

Her first swing of the flogger did nothing to change my perception that it was a toy. It struck my chest with a light, almost tickling sensation. I found some pleasure from not being able to see it before it hit me, so the shock of the feeling was sudden and surprising. Each impact caused me to sharply intake my breath. Then, I was even more surprised to find the sting of the little flogger to be getting stronger. She started flailing on my left hip and upper thigh with rapid succession and then alternate with my right side. In fact, after a while, I felt myself actually approaching the limit to the amount of sensation I was going to be able to withstand. I writhed, moaned, growled, and barred my teeth as the pain’s intensity became almost more than I could bear. It occurred to me we had never established a safeword or any other way for me to tell her she had gone too far when, at the very moment I felt I was going to break, she’d move to another spot on my body or suddenly start gently brushing my skin with the feathery ends of the rubber strands. While all this was going on, I started to self-analyze my reaction. Was I enjoying this? Was it good for me? Oh god, yes. It was everything I had hoped it would be and more.

I felt the areas where she had struck me burn and sting and I felt the cock between my legs flop around. Interestingly, it didn’t get hard as I had expected, but it was flushed with blood and felt fat and heavy. She would occasionally concentrate the light sensation over my groin and I found myself simultaneously fearful she’d strike me there and hoping desperately that she would. She never did, but she did grab and pinch my nipples with a force I’d never felt her apply before. Did my restrained and vulnerable position give her greater strength or did it only feel it that way because I was helpless?

I honestly have no idea how long the flogging went on. She eventually grabbed the cock and started stroking it roughly. I had to ask her to be more gentle as somehow she had unknowingly crossed into bad pain. I felt the flogging portion of our session was over and that now I was expected to come, so I begged to have my hand released so I could bring myself to orgasm. At first, she declined, but I think the effort eventually got to her and she released my right hand. I was immediately stunned to feel how hard the cock in my hand was. It had been so long since I stroked it, but even so, this was bigger and harder than I had remembered it could get. My legs being spread made it harder to come, but she told me I’d have to do it the way I was. No more of me would be released. She started to twist my nipples and I finally felt the stirring of an orgasm start to build between my legs. When the orgasm finally came, I felt its sticky ropes fly across my stomach. I was panting, blind, and euphoric.

Belle released the other restraints and removed the blindfold. As she laid next to me, I felt the warmth of her skin and was surprised to find her naked. In addition, she had a light sheen of sweat over her from the exertion of the session. She snuggled in and I felt the comfortable warm afterglow of the orgasm wash over me…just as she scooped up a great glob of come and spread it across my lips. “Time for breakfast!” she said merrily. We both immediately burst out laughing as I told her through my sticky, gooey lips that the idea of eating my own come was admittedly more enticing before it came out of my body. I licked off my salty treat and felt my love for Belle Fille bursting inside me.

—

Later, we were back in the hot tub. As we climbed in, I showed Belle the welts she had raised on my skin. I was delighted, but she was taken aback. I reassured her that I loved the marks she had left and hoped to see more like them in the future. Venus and Mars, indeed.

As I sat there in the bubbling, steaming water and stared across the frozen lake, I felt a different kind of afterglow from our session. It wasn’t from the orgasm. It felt different. In fact, everything felt different. Belle had taken me across the Rubicon – the point of no return. She had popped my bondage and flogging cherries both on the same day. Thanks to her, I now knew what my fantasies really felt like. And they were better than I had hoped. It was almost half an hour later, and I realized I was still softly moaning to myself. It was as if I was purring like a happy cat laying in a sunbeam. The love of my life, my wife, my keyholder, my Belle Fille had brought me across the threshold to a new world.

And I was happy to be there with her.

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Crossing the Rubicon, Part 2

[Don’t miss what happened last time on a very special episode of Denying Thumper.]

Truth be told, most of the weekend involved laying about in front of the fire with me reading and Belle sleeping/lounging/being lazy. Much of the time I was naked, though I’d occasionally put on pajama bottoms if I got cold or for some reason felt like being partially clothed was more appropriate. I love being naked and I seldom get the opportunity to indulge myself as I did this weekend, but even so, sometimes being the only naked guy in a room can turn from feeling sensual to awkward fairly quickly. Also, going out to get firewood in the nude when it’s 18 degrees outside can be a challenge. In any event, in between naps, Belle and I also took a walk, sat in the hot tub, ate, and otherwise just hung out together. I tell you this so that you understand it wasn’t all debauchery and sex, despite evidence on this blog to the contrary. Then again, I know you’re probably not interested in the non-sexual sitting around stuff so I’ll omit it for brevity’s sake.

Later in the day, Belle and I were in the hot tub looking out over a frozen lake. (If you’ve never sat in a 102 degree hot tub when it’s so cold out the water in your hair freezes, you’ve not yet lived.) She was naked, I was naked, and, even though I had a supernova of an orgasm hours before, I started pawing her like she was a drunk bridesmaid at a Catholic wedding. Belle tells me we once had sex in this very hot tub, but I have no recollection of that event (which is odd since it’s the absolute kind of thing I’d usually remember). I really wasn’t thinking about doing it again, but I guess she was since she positioned herself such that I was able to gain entry. Honestly, it was somewhat akward. I had a hard time positioning myself so that I was able to fully penetrate her and the water wasn’t really helping with the lubrication so it eventually petered out. After we left the hot tub and were back upstairs, I guess the tub fuck was just enough to get her motor humming since we were back in the bedroom again using Pink, the little vibe who could. Orgasm this time took maybe three minutes, but was still intense and I was still more than little worried.

Later, just before dinner, we were sitting by the fire when Belle awoke from her second nap of the day (or was it the third?). I was reading Come Hither: A Common Sense Guide to Kinky Sex (a wonderful book, BTW). After a while, she asked me a question and I read to her the entry in the book related to an answer. That lead us to keep reading the book aloud and thusly we found ourselves snuggled on the couch with me reading long passages to her and occasionally stopping to discuss how it related to us. It was really very nice. I bought a bunch of books for her and I to share and we had not yet had much time to ingest them so this was just about the perfect outcome for me, someone who wanted her to learn as much as she could about me and the way I was trying to direct our relationship.

At some point, Belle started petting her cock through my pajama bottoms. She laughed and remarked that in the past it was something she’d never do and now she was doing it absentmindedly. I smiled – a lot – and kept reading. After a bit, she slid her hand down the front of my pajamas and lazily pet her pet directly. I dutifully kept reading, though I admit the words were starting to lose their meaning on me. Finally, she untied my pajamas in order to gain more maneuverability within them. At this point, I simply stood up, let them fall to the ground, sat back down, and continued reading. Sometimes, as I said, you feel odd being the only naked guy in the room but other times it seems the only logical course of action. In any event, as I continued to read chapter eleven, A View From the Top: Sexual Dominants, to her, she started slowly and lightly stroking the rapidly lengthening meat between my legs. I started to read more slowly with longish gaps appearing between words, which, as far as I could tell, were written in a different language. “Keep reading,” she’d tenderly command me, and I did. Next, she started to repeatedly rub her thumb from the underside of the cock’s head to the top and back again. My reading comprehension rapidly approached zero and my eyes started to close as I stuttered the last word over and over. “Keep reading,” I was told. I kept reading. After god knows how long of this glorious treatment, she told me to go to the kitchen and start making dinner. She took over the reading.

We read three chapters this way, back and forth while eating. I was drinking beer, she white wine. I had just two beers, while she consumed more than half a bottle. She was supremely relaxed when she finally told me we were going to go sit in the hot tub for a bit before going to our room where I was to massage her feet. Afterward, Pink would work its magic on her and we’d go to sleep. Normally this would be the recipe for a grand evening, but I admit to feeling a certain amount of disappointment. I badly wanted Belle to tie me up and we had gone through nearly the entire day – the only full day or our trip – and the straps and cuffs never came out of the toy box. If she hadn’t drank all that wine, I thought, then maybe I’d have a chance. But I could tell by the drowsy expression on her face my window of opportunity had closed.

Back in the tub, she maneuvered me between her legs and I found myself giving her a watery fuck again. This time, I had found the right position and probably could have brought at least one of us to orgasm, but she stopped me just as I was getting going in earnest and told me she wanted instead to come by the vibe. Oh god, I thought. It begins. In the past, the cock was her number one path to orgasm. Now, it had been bumped in favor of the petite pink dynamo. If the cock was in her, there was a good chance it would be allowed to erupt. If not, then I was out of luck. Luckily for my team, she was far too gone due to the drink and the hot water to be able to come. Pink had failed on only its third outing. My batting average was way, way better than .666, so I was still winning on points. However, she was snoring and I was hard. At least Pink could be turned off.

I know I originally said this would be a two-parter, but I’ve now decided it needs to be three. So…

To be continued.

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Crossing the Rubicon, Part 1

[I’ll be relating the events of our romantic weekend alone over three posts. Even so, I’m afraid this one got kind of long. I apologize in advance for asking to you to read through 1,370 words that don’t even get you past Saturday morning!]

We arrived at our secluded woodland retreat late Friday night. Belle had already informed me that I wasn’t going to get out until Saturday, so her refusal to release me as soon as we arrived was no surprise. What was a surprise (at least to me) was her acquiescence to my suggestion that we try out her new toy. Earlier that day, a discrete box had arrived containing a pretty, pink Onye “discrete massager”. The little vibe, which we’ve named Pink (because we’re creative that way), is surprisingly powerful. After working on her nipples for a few minutes to get the juices flowing, I started to rub the deactivated Pink over her clitoris to help her get used to its feel. My Belle has not been one to partake in sex toys (with the exception of a single use of the latex dildo I got her about a month ago and one very lucky banana in an overseas hotel room), so I wanted to take this new sensation slowly for her. I pushed Pink’s little pink button and she started to purr. Belle released a yelp and a startled little, “Oh!” After a few moments of surface stimulation, I was somewhat taken aback to hear her instruct me, which some insistence, to put Pink in her. I complied and a string of high volume exclamations followed. Then, not even 60 seconds after I turned Pink on, Belle had what I can only describe as a screaming orgasm. I had never seen her carry on in that manner. Truth be told, to a boy enduring a week of chastity, to see the physical manifestation of his sexual desire (and the very gatekeeper of his sexual satisfaction) come in under a minute through the directed use of technology was, to put it lightly, somewhat intimidating. I was very happy for Belle but also somewhat distressed to consider a future of extended lock-up where my unique contribution to her sex life was rendered not just inaccessible, but also redundant and entirely out-classed.

The next morning was one of the most amazing of my adult life. The preceding night was fitful, both from the extended build-up of precious fluid but also the knowledge that I might get the chance to release said fluid at daybreak. However, when dawn finally came, Belle was awake before I was. After padding around a bit and letting the dog out to do his business, she came in the bedroom, sat down in front of me on the bed, and, with my head bowed, put me in my collar. The carnivorous butterflies started flapping in earnest at this development. My collar, all by itself, puts me into a heavily submissive headspace. Combined with the ten days of denied sexual release, I suddenly found myself suckling her toes. Now, I do not have a foot fetish of any kind and have never, to the best of my recollection, sucked her toes. Nevertheless, here I was worshiping her feet. She did not instruct me to do so and I’m not even sure she recognized the significance of the act, but it was either an autonomic submissive response or the influence of reading countless malesub blogs and sex stories. In either event, I did not consciously decide to apply my mouth to her foot. I just did it. And it was sublime.

After a few minutes of slobbering on her foot, Belle told me to lay down on the bed. She sat at the head of the bed, with her back to the wall, and I laid with my feet next to her with my head pointing to the foot of the bed. She took the key to my cock and unlocked and removed the CB6K. My hand immediately and reflexively shot down to feel my released member. Belle just as quickly reminded me that I was not to touch her cock until she told me I could. I moaned and writhed, but complied. I begged her to touch the cock. She replied that she was stroking it with her eyes and that would have to be enough for the moment. I moaned and a large glob of precum oozed from the semi-erect flesh. She laughed and marveled at how the cock seemed to have a will of its own as it lolled about and a second string of precum came oozing from its tip.

Finally, she touched me, but not on the cock. She ran her fingernails lightly up and down my legs and across my stomach. Then, without warning, she’d dig her nails deeply into my flesh sending me into tortured flailings. More than once she took hold of my testicles and cruelly twisted and pulled on them sending further waves of ecstatic pain through me. Eventually, I rolled over so she could apply the same loving attention to my backside, but also so I could grind into the bed. She was wise to that and told me I was not allowed to pleasure myself with her cock and to knock it off, which I reluctantly did. At this point, it’s probably safe to say a week and a half of denied orgasm and just over a week of chastity, along with the deliciously sensual torture, was causing me to experiencing one of the most intensely sexual experiences of my life. Luckily for me, it was eclipsed 24 hours later, but we’ll get to that in due time.

Belle rearranged me on the bed so that I could kiss and fondle her breasts. I had my mouth on her right nipple, my left arm under her back and my left hand on her left nipple, while my right hand manually stimulated her clitoris. Meanwhile, I freely ground into her leg like the dog in heat I was. She was extremely wet and seemed to be greatly enjoying the attention her nipples were receiving when I started to pick up those tell-tale signals that her orgasm was approaching. She stopped me, rolled me onto my back, and mounted me. The poor, neglected, aching cock – her cock – slid into soft, warm, wet flesh. I was understandably close to coming immediately upon insertion, but – ten days or not – I was determined to avoid a repeat of my previous failure. To help with this, I didn’t think of baseball or NASCAR or whatever other stupid things men are supposed to think about when trying to avoid orgasm. Instead, I repeatedly told myself that it was not my cock. It was her tool and hers alone to receive pleasure from until such time as she allowed me release. I was only the caretaker of her favorite sex toy and could not – would not – allow myself to fail her and get in the way of her pleasure. It was difficult. Very difficult. But I willed the orgasm back. In fact, I was so successful that, after she came and told me I was free to come myself, I had some work to do to get back to the edge of coming. But come I did in the most explosive, most intense, most abso-fucking-lutely mind blowing orgasm of my entire life. I actually felt the hot, thick slug of ejaculate surge up, out of my prostate and through every inch of her cock in a way I had never felt before. Regardless of all that talk from before of mourning the orgasm – of regretting the passing of the denial – I can say without reservation that I wanted that orgasm and loved every second of its existence.

This moment of pure orgasmic bliss is why I so enthusiastically embrace orgasm denial. When I think back on all the hundreds of meager, lonely orgasms pulled manually from my body over the bathroom sink or in front of the glow of internet porn, they couldn’t – not even in combination – compare to this one, single event. This one perfect orgasm allowed to me by the love of my life, my keyholder.

To be continued.

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Thumper fails

The monthly visitor has left the building, so last night I had a feeling Belle was going to let me out. At first, she requested a massage to her back and feet, so I lit the candles, got the oil, and laid out the towel as she put the youngest to bed. Once that was done, though, she said she was cold and just wanted to be under the covers so I could warm her. Fine by me! I stripped (with permission) and climbed in. A few minutes later, she told me to get the keys and the little prison was off.

My last orgasm had been six days earlier. I have no way of knowing since I didn’t keep strict records on such things until I gave up control of my sexual satisfaction to her, but I’m pretty sure six days has to be one of the longest times I’ve gone without release in my adult life. So, needless to say, being naked and under the covers with my wonderful Belle Fille, my mind (and hands) immediately went to her body. She told me the massage was off, but that didn’t mean I was without instructions. First, I was to get her nice and warm by manually stimulating her with my fingers. Then, I was to mount and fuck her – slowly – until she archived orgasm. I, however, was not to cum. Normally, she’d let me cum after her, but I got the impression that this time I was out of luck.

After a little while of sucking and licking her nipples and doing my dead level best to stimulate her clitoris, I could no longer stand the anticipation and begged to fuck her. I mounted her and felt her soft, warm moistness envelope my six-day-neglected cock. I nearly shot my load right there. I forced myself to consider other, less interesting subjects and started the long, slow strokes she requested.

I can make my Belle cum about 99% of the time using my fingers, mouth, or cock. The most popular paths to her orgasms are my fingers followed by her getting on top of me and riding my cock. Mounting her missionary-style is the one that takes the longest for her. Knowing this, I also knew I was going to have to concentrate very hard not to cum. After several minutes of fucking her slowly and continuing to pinch, suck and lick her nipples, I found myself on the very brink of orgasm. I withdrew and, hoping to buy some time to recover, started to rub my dick head against her clit (something she’s enjoyed in the past). This time, however, she ordered me back in. She wanted me to fuck her to orgasm and didn’t much care that I needed to take a break. So, back in I went.

I felt a small slug of ejaculate escape upon entering, but I think was whatever had locked and loaded from the edge of the orgasm I had just come down from. I felt OK, though, and continued to work on her tits. I felt very much like her pet at this point. I was suffering – straining not to cum and in an awkward position fucking her while also working her tits. I was nothing more than her tool. A big meat fucking machine with her favorite dildo attached. She started to whisper how good what I was doing with her cock felt. I could sense she was getting close. She was breathing heavier and moving her hips in counter motion to my thrusts. Her mind was entirely on her own pleasure and without regard to what I was feeling and I knew it. And I loved it. And that’s when it happened.

I felt the wave of the orgasm too late to do anything about it. I came and I came. Probably six or more spurts into her. I tried to stop it and fought every one so that, even though I had been saving it up for a week, I didn’t enjoy a moment of it. I knew I had failed. She had not yet cum, but I did. I tried to keep going but the sensation on the head of my cock was too intense. Besides, I was starting to get soft. She told me to stop but to leave it in there. I pushed in as far as I could while she moved her hips around me. She did achieve a fierce little orgasm, but nothing like the OMFG type I had hoped she’d get.

I know there are dommes out there who would really make me pay for such a terrible transgression. My Belle’s not one of them. She does acknowledge that I owe her, but has so far not made clear what, if any, punishment I’ll receive for failing to contain my pleasure before hers. On the one hand, I love her for her sweet gentleness. She was really happy I got to cum and didn’t feel too much put out for not getting a good one herself. She says I owe her one tonight and that I better be able to contain myself this time. On the other hand, though, I wish she’d be a little tougher on me. I need to feel that what I did last night will lead to consequences I may not be happy about. If I know all I’ll get is a light verbal scolding, will I fight as hard next time to keep from cumming?

The best part for me about how she reacted was immediately after her little orgasm. She said she wished she had a harem so she could get the next guy to come finish the job I was unable to complete. Maybe he’d be a more worthy lover. This was perfect. The thrill that went down my spine as she said these mildly humiliating and non-threatening things (of course, there is no other guy and there never will be) was delicious. However, I think she felt that saying them hurt my feelings or something because she immediately started to backpedal. It’s kind of funny, actually. I think there might be a snarling little dominatrix in there somewhere. How else would those things have come from her lips at just the right time to stoke my feelings of failure and inadequacy? But then the nice girl came back and tried to cover it all up. I love that nice girl, don’t get me wrong. I married her. But, when I’m her pet, I’d much rather have the bad girl come out, kick up her feet, and stay a while.

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Election day

Previously, I reported that Belle had picked the outcome of Virginia’s presidential election as the determining factor as to whether or not I was to be imprisoned tonight. If the state went for McCain, I was to be locked up. However, after looking at the polls, she’s decided Florida is a closer call. So, if you live in Florida, please take my fate into consideration when casting your vote today. 😉

Last night, Belle and I had a great conversation. I got her The Sexually Dominant Woman: A Workbook for Nervous Beginners (which is incredibly short and simplistic, but written in a nice and nonthreatening way). After she finished it, we talked for a while. It’s clear (maybe obviously so) that the most important part of our integrating OD and D/s into our marriage is communicating our boundaries and expectations. I think she’s putting a lot of stress on herself with regards to being the kind of dominant I’m looking for. She’s never going to be a man-eating dominatrix because that’s just not in her. In fact, I just want her to be herself. I want her to treat me as the junior partner in the sexual aspect of our relationship in any way that’s comfortable for her. I’m just thrilled to be along for the ride.

She did confess a reluctance to participate in any kind of anal play with me. That’s a disappointment, but seeing we have so many other things to get through first (she has yet to tie me up or flagellate me, darn it all), I’m not too worried. I do enjoy it and go through periods where I crave it, but they’re few and far between. Maybe with more discussion and a better understanding of what’s involved, she’ll change her mind, but in the mean time, I’m good.

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Well, that was weird – further thoughts

Regarding this:

So last night she comes home late and pretty much says we aren’t going to be using any of the new items. I didn’t really think she’d be tying me up, but not even the collar? I can’t even try it on? I had built this moment up in my mind – me, the pet, getting my first collar, from her, my owner – and instead I get a tired wife who just wants to go to bed.

If I were in her shoes (which I’d never be since they look so uncomfortable and I have not even an inkling of a shoe/foot fetish nor am I interested in cross dressing) I’d have used this situation as a way to give me what I want without giving me what I want. I don’t expect she’s going to want to have sex as often as I do (especially when I’m getting no orgasmic release away from her), so why not just tell me to be a good boy and heel? Hell, hit me with a rolled up newspaper, even. Tell me tonight’s not the night and if I give her any crap about it she’ll add a week to however long it’s going to be until I get to cum. When the time comes, she can even threaten to lock me up. In short, leverage her disinterest into an opportunity to feed my kink. I suppose she’ll get there. This is all so new to both of us, though I’ve dived deeply into the concept and have read so much more on the topic than she has. Maybe it’s time to give her a tour of some of the sites I’ve been visiting.

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OD vs. T&D vs. D/s, etc., Part 1

I admit to harboring a healthy number of sexual perversions. Some of them, I’m sure, aren’t even legal in all the states. Most of what gets me going, though, is strictly in the realm of fantasy. The number of things I’ve read, watched, and rhythmically enjoyed on the web as opposed to the number I’ve actually engaged in is drastically lopsided. That being said, when I started learning more about all the various flavors of orgasm denial (OD) and how its practiced, I found myself unhappy with a great deal of what’s out there. I would never judge the kink of another, but much of how OD is applied practically is far too “out there” for me and, at least as (if not more) importantly, my Belle Fille.

Things I said to Belle that I do not want from our practice of OD:

  • To be demeaned
  • To be hurt or injured
  • For her to be hateful toward me
  • To be dominated by her all the time, in all aspects of our life

What I do want very much:

  • For her to control if, when, and how I will enjoy orgasm for the rest of my days
  • For her sexual pleasure and satisfaction to always be before mine
  • For her to always leave me craving more of the unique pleasures only she can give
  • For us to have fun with our distinctly different sexualities

There is so much on the web around OD, tease and denial (T&D), and domination and submission (D/s), etc., that is very anti-male. I admit to being new to this scene, so it’s entirely possible what I’m reading is just people staying in character, but I don’t think so. Many sites written by women for women (example) make men out to be little more than sexual animals who can’t be trusted to control their urges and whose sex drives can be harnessed to make them do all manner of things they wouldn’t do otherwise. I’ve even read men on forums regurgitate this POV. Like somehow OD saves them from their inner pigs. (The notable exception, and luckily the site I found very early on in my exploration, is Tickleberry.)

The above line of thought is so alien to me it’s not something I can even pretend to be into. Again, I do not judge anything anyone else is into, but personally, I revel in my maleness. I rejoice in the differences between women and men. The fact that I enjoy sex as much as I do, that it’s as important to me as it is, that I think about it all the fucking time is wonderful. I would never want to abdicate my male prerogative to anyone else, even my beloved Belle Fille.

So, how can I say that and still get off on not getting off?

I see the way Belle and I are developing our version of OD as having two distinct parts. The first part is purely emotional and involves our evolving relationship and its importance to me. The second part is much more about the sex and the kink and FUN of how she controls my emissions.

First and foremost, I see my transference of control over my orgasms to Belle as a sacred gift. I love her and trust her and care enough about her and our relationship that I truly never want to experience sexual release ever again if she’s not with me. I have alluded to the fact that I was unfaithful to Belle, so I need to stress that I did not come to this decision with the idea that it was a necessary penitence, act of contrition, punishment or because I didn’t feel I could trust myself in the future. I did it willingly because I was looking for a way to help heal the damage I had done and saw this as not only something that held great personal appeal to me but would truly demonstrate the magnitude of my commitment to our relationship. Giving Belle the one thing that more than any other makes me male – control over my penis – tells her that I want my happiness and hers to be inseparably intertwined. This is not about the absence of sex or just having sex when she wants it. In fact, I will still initiate sex as much if not more than before. I trust her to use the power I’ve given her with the same loving attitude and care she’s always used in other aspects of our relationship.

The fun part of all of this isn’t the what of her control but the how of its execution. Things like the chastity device, edging, using my cock as a simple tool for her pleasure since she may not allow me to cum while she’s enjoying it, and in general teasing me and keeping me in as active a state of sexual stimulation as possible for as long as possible are all just icing on my kinky little cake. I have always gravitated towards porn and fantasies involving either the willing or unwilling loss of sexual control. Now, I can actually live a version of this with the most important person in my life. She teases me and keeps me guessing as to how or if I’ll be released. She’ll stroke me or go down on me until I’m a quivering mass of sexual ecstasy and leave me hanging and craving more. She’ll allow me to enter her and even fuck her with abandon as long as I understand I am not to ejaculate within her. Do we need a chastity device or other accoutrement to experience all this? No, certainly not. Jesus, I’m so hot right now just thinking about it! We’ve had enough sex recently with OD as the central principle to know we could do this all by ourselves indefinitely. The toys aren’t required, but they sure do make the whole thing a bunch more fun.

The most important thing we both bring to the equation is mutual respect and love. I can remain secure with regards to my position in our marriage as an equal partner and confident in my masculinity while simultaneously giving her the keys to it (literally and figuratively). She in return will get sexual pleasure beyond what she’s previously enjoyed along with levels of attention and devotion from me unseen since we first began our relationship.

That’s the plan, anyway. So far so good.