Tag: enforced chastity

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Moist mishap

This past holiday week was not unlike having two and a half weekends all mushed together. And, as such, we had a fair bit of sex. Belle wouldn’t let me out of the Steelheart on any of the occasions I was allowed to get her off, though, and even though I’m still kinda getting over the two orgasms she let me have a week ago, that cranked me up pretty good.

I had that “orgasms aren’t that bad, maybe we should let me have more of them” thing going on but that’s since receded. What didn’t is the crazy intense urge to be inside her, especially after being given the chance to play with her pussy as much as I did. Serious teeth-grating kind of intensity. But she wasn’t having any of it.

Sunday morning it was unclear anything would happen since so much already had. Turns out, she was willing to let me have a fuck. And only a fuck. She didn’t even take her top off. It was very transactional. Like she was rolling her eyes and enduring what I wanted as a treat for good behavior. There was a time when that might have bothered me, but I was so horny and needing to get the penis wet, I dove right in anyway.

And it was pretty fucking great, to be honest. She didn’t let me do anything to get her juiced up so it was a tight, dry fit at first and normally I’d be worried about her but, you know, she told me to so I let myself get off on the feeling. I was doing really well and enjoying the lack of impending orgasm that sometimes happens when I know we’re not trying to make her come. I can just fuck and fuck and never get very close and that’s what it was like…until it very suddenly wasn’t.

I don’t know what happened. I think I got so into it and the feeling of it and how wonderful it was and how I wasn’t thinking about coming at all that when I realized it was all of a sudden and quite freakishly right fucking there that I froze. And just in the nick of time, too, because while I spewed forth all the seed that had been frustratingly collected over the past week and through all the sex, etc., I didn’t have any of the other orgasmic symptoms. I didn’t feel like I had come. Except in one particular way: The penis immediately and completely went limp.

“The worst thing in the world for you,” Belle said immediately after, “Something you can’t categorize.”

Funny. But it was kinda true. Such a weird thing. In retrospect, I’ve labelled it a ruined orgasm. The rapid depressurization of the penis tissue was, I think, caused by being freaked out by getting so close to coming and not having been able to feel it approach until the very last moment. But I was still pretty damned horny. Horny enough to drool over the Tumblr and feel more of that molar-grinding kind of frustration later in the day while the free penis meat moved around distractingly inside my pants.

And I’m still out. Belle said she was feeling lazy and left me free until we arrive in NYC tomorrow. Don’t know which she wants me in, but I’d vote Trainer 2.0 only because the plastic will make the various metal detectors tourists sometimes find in New York less annoying. And, since I’m basically on my own for the first several days we’re there as she does work stuff, I don’t know why she’d care. But it’s her choice, not mine. I can work around the steel if that’s what she prefers.

Finally, I want to wrap this by clarifying something that I think a significant number of you (though not a majority) appear to think is the case regarding Belle and me and the openness in our marriage she’s allowed. Namely, some of you are apparently of the opinion she’s being victimized or taken advantage of by me, her sex-crazed maybe-homosexual and apparently insensitive lout of a husband. Or something like that. Trust me, nothing could be further from the truth. I have been very careful to check in with her and get a sense of her well-being through this entire experiment. I continue to do it even now. She doesn’t post here so you have to accept I’m telling the truth and haven’t left her tied and gagged in the closet (which is my thing anyway), but it’s true. She’s perfectly OK with what’s happening as long as it happens within the bounds she’s set up. Really. And having those boundaries is a very normal part of open relationships. Look it up.

Second finally, it’s honestly shocking to me the comments I continue to receive here (let alone those on Drew’s blog) from those who have a problem with men having sex with other men. Or, even more unsettling, men falling in love with and marrying other men (as is the case with Drew and Axel). Please, if you feel that homosexuals should not marry or, if they have already done so, are not really married because they’re gay, get the fuck out of here and never return. I honestly hate you and it pains me to think you would gather any value from my blog. People like you are part of why this world sucks for people like me who are not part of the standard of normal, let alone for the millions of loving gay people who are just trying to have a fucking life. You are the worst.

And with that, I shall bid you adieu. If you’re a cool cat who lives or works in NYC and wants to hang out, eat something, or imbibe a beer or two, let me know. I’m pretty much a lone spirit until Thursday afternoon. I have some stuff I want to do, but my schedule is pretty open. Also, know that as an avowed introvert, placing myself out there like that makes me really freaked out. But I’ll try and be normal anyway. As long as you are. And aren’t planning on trying to kill me or something.

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A boy and his best friend

There’s a saying about a dog being a boy’s first best friend but, in reality, the first best friend a boy has is his penis. It’s always there for him (and has been from the very start), is always ready to play, and, with a penis, a boy will never be bored for too long.

I suppose, kinda like a dog, when the boy finds a significant other that person can come between the boy and his penis except that the penis, unlike the dog, enjoys the other as much as the boy does so maybe the metaphor breaks down here, but the boy can always depend on the penis to be there for him even when the significant other loses their significance (and/or the dog dies). I can’t say if a woman’s relationship with her pussy is the same, but I don’t think it is. I suspect this is due to cultural indoctrination about what good girls do and don’t and what boys are allowed or even expected to do combined with the universal common knowledge that permeates our society as to how a boy can use his penis for pleasure by himself with no open discussion as to how a girl would do the same with her parts. Plus, I think penises are just simpler. Plus plus, women and their sexual needs are, I assume, fundamentally different in their psychology and mechanics than men’s. But I don’t have a pussy and, even though I know what they like, I won’t pretend to know how they are.

I say all this because I was thinking the other day as I lay next to Belle who had told me I wasn’t going to be unlocked at all and would therefore not feel any pleasure with the penis (regardless of how badly I was craving it) that boys (and the men they turn into) have nothing to prepare them for the kind of delayed and redirected gratification that comes with chastity and denial. We are physically and socially conditioned to expect on-demand gratification either from our partner or, lacking that, ourselves. In the forty-some years of my existence prior to having Belle control the penis, that was my life. If I was horny and she was unresponsive to my needs, I would jack off. QED.

But then chastity came along and I couldn’t do that. Plus, I was a lot hornier than ever before (excepting, perhaps, those years between my 16th and 23rd birthdays). And now, of course, I am specifically not allowed any such indulgence. What I did was take that sense of immediate need and simply make it Belle’s responsibility. I distinctly remember thinking she didn’t take my desires seriously enough considering the great gift of my chastity that I had given her. Double frustration. Not only was I horny as fuck, she didn’t seem to think it was her job to help me channel my frustrations.

I think this is a trap a lot of guys find themselves in.

Chastity and denial are, indeed, great at bringing couples closer together. But that can also do the opposite if the guy takes his perceived birthright of easy sexual gratification and pushes it over onto his partner. That is not the point of chastity. And it didn’t become the force for good that it is for us until I figured that out.

The only way to really quench my sexual thirst is to have an orgasm. But I only want that physically, not mentally or emotionally. She doesn’t want that either, most of the time. So I had to realize that my frustration and the constant need for sexual contact was mine to deal with, not hers. Yes, it often gnaws at me and flutters around in my chest and makes my balls ache and the penis hard and drippy, but that energy is what powers the beneficial aspects of chastity and denial. It is chastity and denial, not a side-effect.

I remember people telling me in comments on the blog early on that I wasn’t seeing the big picture. That I wanted her to control my sex, right? And wasn’t this what that meant? That I wouldn’t get whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it? But I didn’t see it. In short, I was a spoiled boy who missed his best friend. I struggled to adapt. But yes, I did want her to control my sex and living with not always getting what I want is the point. And, strangely, being totally estranged from my first best friend and completely removed from instant (or any) gratification has made me significantly happier than I was before. I can’t explain why, but it’s true. I don’t know how it works, but it does.

So now, when she tells me I’m not getting unlocked or even that we are not going to have sex, instead of feeling angry or resentful or petulant, I feel warm and grateful. Grateful that she has accepted the true meaning of her control without guilt or excessive consideration of what I’m feeling. Yes, she does recognize that what I go though can be hard, but she and I both know it’s for the best. We both know it makes me a better person and partner to her and it’s what we both want. So she appreciates it, but what I crave is not a primary consideration when she decides what she wants to do. And holy shit, does that turn me on.

If you read this blog because you hope one day to have your partner keep you locked up and/or deny you your orgasm, you need to know that doing it the way we do it means more than just a stifled erection. It means truly subjugating your sex to theirs. It means finding a way to capture and use that pent-up sexual desire for productive purposes and not letting it leak all over them in destructive and selfish ways. That is fucking hard. Maybe the hardest thing you’ll ever do for your partner. But, if you can pull it off, maybe the best thing you’ll ever do for them and for yourself.

I mentioned up there the “great gift of my chastity” that I had given Belle. Yes, it is a kind of gift, but I know now that the gift of her control is at least as great. Maybe greater in that it wasn’t something she ever wanted to do with her husband or thought she’d need to deal with. Never forget that. Your chastity is not bigger or more important than what they give you in return as the one controlling you. Submission is not greater than domination. It is not harder than domination. They are equal yet opposite things.

I don’t want anyone to read all this and think chastity means less sex. That’s not what it means. For us, it’s meant more and so much better sex. What it means is fewer orgasms for you, that’s it. The trap is trying to get her to have sex with you every time you would have otherwise gone off to yank one out. That’s unrealistic and unfair. You need to find a way to get off on their being in control and telling you no. You have to get off on being controlled. I know, that sounds obvious, but it’s a lot easier to think than to do. If you can do it and also channel that energy into making them realize how good the extra hassle of being in control of you can be for them, you’ll wake up one day to find them as much or more invested in that control than you are.

You might miss your first best friend, but…you can always get a dog.

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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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Mailbag

A dude calling himself shinycell asked:

I’ve been a lurker for a few years and finally ordered a Steel Heart with CB fix and anatomical ring. It is awesome. My wife loves it and what it does. Oh… I love it too.

I’ve had it since May and find that after about a week, with her daily teasings, I get a crazy pinching between the A ring and tube…on both sides of the tube. that bunch of skin gets trapped between. It gets pretty bad to break skin and I have to go without til it heals.

I can tell that my scrotum gets pretty full after a week. Not a blue swelling, but just a fullness. It goes away after I take the tube off.

I’m wondering if you’ve had a similar experience with the pinching. I was thinking, haven’t tried, if the fullness would go away with a milking :). The A ring is a 50 and I’ve worn cockrings that size for weeks without the fullness, so I don’t think it’s too small.

No, I don’t think your ring is too small. It sounds like the space between the ring and the tube is. Did you go with the standard gap or change it? For me, the standard spacing was fine, but you might need to have Dietmar tweak it. Also, did you get the vaguely named “stainless steel ring?” The Steelheart I wear has that. It’s supposed to make the edge of the ring not so sharp. Perhaps he could add that if you don’t have it already.

WRT to milking, that would relieve buildup from your prostate, not your balls. I’m very familiar with the swelling you’re talking about. Pretty sure that’s unused testicular product backing up in the epididymis. In fact, that swelling is pretty obvious in this picture I posted to Tumblr earlier today. It would definitely get pinched by a tube with either too sharp an edge or too small a spacing (or both).

Aaaaand, that’s it. Thought I had more, but all the rest either needed no reply or were simple email replies.

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The Stocking Method

I mentioned the other day that I was going to be wearing the Holy Trainer v2 for a while in order to write up a review of it. The tube of the small HTv2 is fairly tight (about an inch high and maybe an inch and a third wide) and squishing an octopus-like flaccid penis into it is rather tricky. This is compounded by the unique nature of the biosourced resin used in the device. It’s softer and grippier on the surface than the kind of polycarbonate used in a device like the CB-6000 (though nothing as soft and grippy as silicone).

In any event, a device such as this requires employment of the venerable “stocking method” of penis insertion. Just clip the end off an old pair of women’s stockings (or a very thin pair of men’s stocks, I suppose) and do what I do in this video.

[wpvideo xyqoMprX]

The benefit of the stocking method is it puts the end of the penis about as far as it’ll go into the device. In the HTv2 (perhaps due to the sticky nature of the resin used), this means it will stay down in there pretty well and not sneak back up the tube. I find this makes urinating easier and may even help keep things cleaner.

The full review will likely be posted in a week or so.

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Addendum to previous post

Forgot to mention one other things Belle said last night. She was reading about the Holy Trainer v2 coming in and deciding whether or not she’d let me wear it (I really need to remember the order of operations on this stuff). Yes, she will, but she said the only way I’d ever see Drew was locked in the Steelheart. The Steelheart is, more than any other, her device. It’s her favorite. The one she’d leave me in all the time if she didn’t indulge me with some variety from time to time. I’ll never see him in the Looker or the Trainer or anything else. Just the Steelheart because it’s the most powerful symbol of who owns what’s inside.

Plus, you know, you can’t see the penis inside it. Drew doesn’t get to see that (in real life — I’ve left enough pictures of it all over the internet). The penis is 100% Belle’s and she will not share it, ever. Also, the Steelheart is the only truly and totally secure device she has. Not that she doesn’t trust me, but it’s not only the most powerful symbol of her control, it’s also the most literally controlling.

And…that’s fucking hot. All the way around. I love that she feel so possessive of it and me and that helps me appreciate what a great gift she’s given me in allowing me to see Drew.

And speaking of him, he feels terrible about he excessively possessive thing I mentioned. He suggested going back and editing that post, but I told him that was a bad idea. It’s already out there and, in my opinion, blogs like these only move forward. I’ve never gone back and substantively edited a post here. All my mistakes and foolishness from the early days are still there and, when I look back, I find plenty to be embarrassed about. Instead, I told him he should write a new post about it and move on.

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Holy Trainer FTW

Andy, a UK-based blogger and prolific sex toy reviewer who writes Ruffled Sheets, has posted a new review of the Holy Trainer.

This really is my favourite ‘off the shelf’ chastity device. After I bought mine I was quick to tell people how good they were … If you’re thinking of experimenting with chastity, do yourself a favour and lock your (or your partner’s) penis in one of these.

I agree with everything he says about the device and many of his points came up in my review of the first generation Holy Trainer. The new design only makes it better.

Andy dings it for having an ugly key and, truly, it is ugly. Certainly not suitable for external wear by a keyholder, but it’s the exact same kind of lock and key employed by Steelworxx on their integrated lock designs and it’s such a great little lock for that purpose that I’m willing to let the ugliness of the key go. Belle was never one to wear a key visibly anyway (though I’m sure she’d make an exception for the Steelwerks key and I hope she gets the chance someday). Andy similarly faults the manufacturer for not including multiple ring sizes, as did I. I suggested they provide an upgrade option to buy more than one at a time at a discounted price but just including them would be preferred and knock one of the CB-6000’s competitive advantages out of play. I have to imagine a plastic molded device being sold for $165 (in the UK, available from UberKinky for £147) has a substantial amount of margin built-in and the inclusion of a few extra rings shouldn’t break the bank (especially as they sell them and the cost of the molds are amortized away). Selling a sole, single-piece plastic ring for $48 borders on criminal, IMO.

But those faults are relatively minor for what I think is the very best starter device you can buy today. In his review, Andy remains generous in his view of the CB-6000 but I think the Trainer is so much better in nearly every way that I just can’t bring myself to recommend it to anyone. If you’re looking to dip your, er, toe into the world of enforced male chastity, you will not go wrong with the Holy Trainer. In fact, I think it’s so good I don’t know that upgrading to steel would ever be necessary as long as the plastic aesthetic and lack of steely durability wasn’t an issue for you.

In any event, go read Andy’s review. Oh, did I mention he was super hot? Fuck yes he is. Indeed.

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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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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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Mailbag

Two today.

Caged Nerd said:

I’ve used a CB6k and currently wear a Jail Bird fairly regularly.

However I have noticed that the JB isn’t quite as snug as when I was first wearing it.  Did you ever notice that your body has adjusted to your cages over time, and as a result you have had to purchase a smaller base ring?

Also, is there a particular device you would recommend for an uncircumcised man? I find cleaning can be quite difficult at times.

Yes, early on I found the size of the A-ring I needed got smaller the more I wore it. I started out using the largest (at the time) CB6K ring and eventually dropped to 40mm for the Steelheart I wear now. I also have noticed the devices fit differently in that untold number of erections pulling at my balls have made my scrotum stretch. The net benefit of this is a reduction of the relative intensity of testicular discomfort during attempted erections (though it’s hard to get rid of entirely).

With regard to those who are foreskin-enabled, I don’t really have advice. It’s a question I see fairly often, though. My foreskin was taken from me before I had the ability to express my own opinion on the matter so I just don’t have any experience to speak from. Sorry.

Another reader new to chastity had a question about keeping the existence of the device from his children:

As I have read you blog I noticed you have two children. I also have two. How have you been able to keep your kids from finding out about your “device”. Since I’ve been locked I have been overly cautious about them sitting in my lap for some daddy hugs or playing with them in general. Any advice?

Constant vigilance. My kids have somewhat outgrown lap-sitting, though my youngest is just at the cusp of turning into a world-weary cynical tweener and still seeks affection from me. The older one might as well have his own place at this point.

I avoided putting them in a position to have any contact with the device by being aware of what they were likely to do at any given point. For example, if I was laying in bed and my youngest was coming in for a goodnight kiss, I’d place my phone or the TV remote in proximity of the device so as to “explain” any unexpected hardness there. Also, I tend to be very careful when hugging. I’ll either make a point to ensure it’s an above the waist kind of hug or slightly turn my hips away to keep contact there to a minimum.

Luckily, kids as young as yours (he told me, I edited it out) don’t seem to think the way adults do or the way we worry they might. My youngest has been in a few situations over the years where she may have felt whatever I was in. Just keep going and make no notice of it. Don’t make it a big deal. On the off chance they ask what it was they felt, take your phone or your keys or whatever out of your pocket. But I doubt a young child would ask.

Finally, a few people asked what kind of running tights I posted yesterday about. They’re called Nike Trail Kiger. This is the pair I have. There’s a very similar style that’s been discontinued here. The only difference appears to be color options.