Today’s HNThumper entry is the first taken with my new camera.
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.
Seeking the perfect fit
According to our friends in science, women like bigger and fatter cocks than the average man can offer.
No, for real. A study conducted by the UCLA Sexual Psychophysiology and Affective Neuroscience Laboratory found that women, when presented with phalluses of various lengths and thicknesses, on average chose six and a half inches as their preferred penis length. That was their preference for both long-term relationships and one night stands. However, women chose slightly thicker penises as their preference for the quick hook-ups.
On the other hand, The Journal of Sexual Medicine recently found that the average American penis is 5.6″ long with 4.8″ of “girth” (which I assume is circumference). That’s almost an inch shorter than the female preference. The article on the UCLA study didn’t say what the girth preference was, specifically, but I’d assume 4.8″ of circumference is also on the low side of things. For those keeping score, the penis on me is nearly exactly that long but about a tenth of an inch less girthy.
These findings, of course, come as no surprise to me (or Belle who, after reading the article, said, “I could have told you that.”). I’ve gone to — ahem — great lengths to find a phallus Belle finds to be maximally pleasurable. In every single case, these other cocks are bigger than the penis. Like, a lot bigger. The one we have that’s nearly exactly the same size as me never became her favorite. So while Belle has enjoyed the bigger ones, she’s always found them to be too long. That led me to getting her the Vixskin Buck. Buck’s a full inch shorter than the Maverick or Blue but still the same circumference. More than an inch and a half more girth than the penis offers. A 25% improvement.
We’ve only used Buck twice. Once right after he arrived and again this weekend. The first time, Belle claimed it was the “perfect size.” Not too long and nice and fat. (Aside: It really helps in finding the right cock for your wife when she to loses her inhibitions in telling you the one you have is not the one. Once past that issue, the search gets pretty efficient.) Then Buck sat unused for several months. Belle doesn’t seem to like to wait for me to get the strap-on strapped-on so when she wants to get fucked by a big cock the task usually goes to Blue. Since she’s in charge of the action from on top, the excessive length is easily controlled. In any event, poor old perfect yet neglected Buck came back out of the toy drawer on Sunday. Belle had let me out of the Steelheart just moments before. I had never used a strap-on while unlocked before and she wasn’t sure it could be done.
At first, after feeling the straps slide into place between my ass cheeks and cut across them from the weight of the dildo in front, the penis got quite hard. But it sat beneath Buck and was pushed down and away, bent at the root. Physically disrespected by her preferences. I rolled back over and put my hand back in Belle’s hot pussy and sucked her tit while my other hand reached down and squeezed the hard penis against the firmer and less forgiving shaft of the dildo. The sensation of feeling the difference between the two was one of those things I suspect you’ll either immediately understand as a guy (or woman) who gets off on this kind of thing or you will totally fail to understand as someone who just doesn’t.
The penis felt especially thin and inconsequential compared to its fatter, heftier rival. That was simultaneously humiliating and and terrifically erotic. Humiliating with a particular finality in that it wasn’t from a situation I was placed in or from a name I was being called or anything like that. It was a humiliation rooted in who and what I was. I will never, ever have a penis the size Belle prefers. That burns. Really. But in that fire is found a kind of physic torment and pain that triggers my cognitive masochism. It stung like a switch across my ass but also felt so, so good.
The last two times we used dildos on Belle (this one and the last time Blue came out), she told me she didn’t want me to put any lube on them. Both times, she failed to orgasm from the effort. That’s a disappointment, but a good lesson. Belle climbed up on my and put Buck inside her and fucked him hard and long but could never get the right feeling from him. She climbed off and told me to fuck her from above which I dutifully attempted. All the while, I could feel the tip of the still-hard penis brush against her inner thigh at an odd angle. Still, no dice. I took the harness off and suggested she let me try something different. I placed a small amount of water-based lube (Astroglide gel) on Buck and manually fucked her with it while flicking my tongue over her clit. Occasionally, I’d feel the big cock slide by as the tip of my tongue came into contact with it. Eventually, she came nice and hard with the dildo buried inside her and my tongue pressed onto her clit.
I figured she’d have had enough penetration for one day but allowed me to fuck her anyway. “It’s not like I’m going to feel you,” she said.
Unf.
I slipped in easily, but not as easily as I do after Blue or Maverick have been to work. I think, if my Belle was the kind to fuck around with other guys, that I’d eventually be able to tell how big their cocks were just be being allowed to stick the hard penis in her. Buck had left her far more open than I would have and pushed the depths of her pussy out of reach of the penis, but I was able when thrusting very firmly to feel the very tip graze against the opening to her cervix. Even though Buck and Maverick/Blue are supposed to have the same diameter, I find the latter leave her feeling more fucked than the former. I suspect that’s because Maverick and Blue are fatter over a greater length of shaft than Buck. Following them, the penis has no chance of hitting bottom.
In any event, she let me fuck her longer than I thought she would. I was able to keep my own orgasm at bay and only got really close once. After, while laying in each other’s arms and nuzzling and cuddling, I told her how important it is for me to hear that she likes those bigger cocks over the penis.
“I don’t want you to feel guilty saying things like that to me.”
“I don’t feel guilty,” she replied. She asserted that we would need to spend more time finding the right combination of dildo and technique. That “perfect fit” I can’t and never will give her.
Later that night, as she was drifting off to sleep, she asked me groggily how long I could stay locked up. The question left me feeling extraordinarily submissive and it was difficult for me to form a coherent answer. I stumbled over it just before she fell asleep. The next morning, I gave her a real answer. The only possible answer. The one she must have known before she even asked the question.
“For as long as you wanted me to be.”
Squirm and hum
I was hanging out in the shower yesterday quirting water through the Steelheart as I do. This is the usual moment when I can tell how I’m coming along from a lock-up male perspective. How am I feeling about it?
This particular morning, I was doing pretty good. “Pretty good” in this case being defined as being so horny and frustrated that just the feeling of the water surging around the locked meat (specifically, how it swirled over the corona) felt so amazing as to cause the contents of the steel tube to swell and block additional water from getting around in there. MOAR WATER!
As an aside, I know I’m not supposed to play with it, but does this count? It’s incidental to the act of cleaning it which is necessary. I dunno. The way it swells up in there kind of obviates the issue, anyway. Once it starts, it self-seals and stops.
And, you know, a normal guy in my situation would be wanting out of the fucking metal as quickly as possible but I, as any careful reader of this blog knows, am not normal. I had the feeling of being totally right with the world. I was exactly where I needed and should be. Inescapably locked, terrifically horned up, truly desperate for some kind of pleasurable sensation from the penis, yet hoping she’d keep me like that forever. Hoping that when we have sex this weekend, it’s with me in the device and one of her dildos in her.
This morning, after a very loud thunderstorm moved through and knocked our power out, I got her off sans dildo but still locked. She came twice in fairly rapid succession which is unusual for her. After, I climbed on top of her and pressed my stifled, steel-clad erection into her and she said, “You’re not getting out.”
I squirmed and hummed inside. I wanted two totally opposite things but got the one I deserved. I told her how lucky I was to have her along with some other things.
“I love it when you talk subby to me.”
Bliss.
It’s not the size of your striatum that matters, it’s what you do with it
I keep having weird thoughts when I meet people. Not all people, but some. For guys (like this dude that was working a convenience store I happened into the other day), I wonder what kind of porn they watch. I try and pick if it’s classy or kinky or raunchy or just tasteless. I find myself sorting through various genres in my head and trying to match it to the guy in front of me. Harder than it may sound since I think one’s porn preferences are, more than anything, a mirror to one’s soul and souls are rarely on display.
I mention this because of the recent “porn makes men stupid” articles that have been floating around. This bit is from The Daily Mirror:
Too much porn can make men stupid, scientists have revealed.
A study by German researchers at the Max Planck Institute for Human Development found that men who watch a lot of porn generally have a smaller striatum.
The striatum is the part of the brain which processes ‘rewards and motivation’ – leading scientists to believe that pornography damages this function.
They can also have less grey matter, making their brains generally smaller than those of men who rarely watch it.
And I’m thinking, wait a minute. How do they know the porn makes the brains smaller? Maybe their brains were smaller to begin with and that’s why they look at the porn.
The female leading author of the study Simone Kühn, did point out however, that it isn’t clear whether X rated material is making brains smaller, or whether men with a decreased striatum tend to watch it more often.
Oh. OK. Well, at least they were thinking about that. And, you know, I look at a lot of fucking porn, so maybe my brain’s OK after all.
I don’t know if porn makes me stupid, but I can certainly feel stupid while looking at it. Sometimes, I can get lost in it and lose complete track of time. Usually, guys have a built-in governor in their orgasm that makes them stop but guys like me don’t have that. We just keep making whatever brain chemical gets made when we’re aroused (not to be confused with the other kind of fluid that leaks out of our penises) and it’s some pretty fucking potent stuff. So that’s me, the slack-jawed, glassy-eyed porn addict letting his striatum wither away as he looks at an endless Tumblr stream of raunch and sodomy.
That striatum thingy was new to me so I looked it up. According to the Wikipedia:
In humans, the striatum is activated by stimuli associated with reward, but also by aversive, novel, unexpected, or intense stimuli, and cues associated with such events.
It’s been a really long time since I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express, but that’s really interesting to me. Clearly, people like me aren’t hooked up in the typical way vis-a-vis the whole “reward and motivation” system. I’m not motivated like most people and the things I find rewarding most others would think were kinda fucked up.
In an unrelated but also kinda not turn of events, I found again this old article from The Daily Beast about cuckolding being the “intellectual sex fetish.” I don’t know about that, but I had a hard time even finishing that article at work.
This isn’t like swinging, and it’s not a threesome. Cuckolded men (aka “cucks”) only observe their wives’ infidelities, they don’t participate. And that’s why they find it a turn-on: They’re left out, looking on as the woman they love climaxes with a better man than them. It’s a form of psychological sadomasochism. Some people get turned on by whips, chains, and physical pain. Cucks get aroused by mental anguish.
Yeah, and some of us get turned on by whips and chains and physical pain and the idea of our wive’s fucking around with other guys.
“Imagine looking at the guy who’s about to go to bed with your wife. Imagine hearing the man crying out in bed with your wife,” says Paul, who pleasures himself “like a madman” during these encounters. “The high point of cuckolding is when your wife says she wants the other guy all the time and never wants you. Sally’s body makes it very clear that this is true. It hurts me worse to know this, so it’s better to know.” Worst/best of all is watching Sally bond with the other man not only physically but emotionally—when, as Paul puts it, she’s “masturbating him with her mind.”
I wonder how the striatum is similar in kinky folk and different from the vanilla kind (if at all). Or maybe I need to stop thinking I’m on the cast of St. Elsewhere and just roll with it.
Oh, and the weird thing I think about when I meet some women is what they look like giving head. Or if they actually do give head. Or swallow. Or let their boyfriends fuck their ass. That kind of thing. So, if we ever meet, you’ll know I’m either thinking about your porn habits or imagining you with a big cock in your mouth. Sorry. Nothing personal. Can hardly control it…
HNThumper LXII: Mirror, mirror
I’m away from home this week camping in the woods (unlocked!) but I scheduled this before I left.
Looker 02 up front, World’s Most Comfortable Butt Plug in the back.
Twice on Sunday
Belle and I talked this morning about me going outside our relationship for things she doesn’t want to provide. She reiterated that my permission to do so remains. So, worries of drama or other calamities by some were unfounded.
Her guidelines are a little clearer now. For one, she doesn’t want my dalliances to interfere with our life. They should be on my time. That complicates things a bit, but life is complicated. She doesn’t necessarily want to read about what I do and wants any blog posts on the subject to be behind a jump so she can ignore them. She also wants to retain her privacy and anonymity. Finally, and as she’s already said, the penis will always be locked up. That’s hers. She said it turns her on knowing that even in that kind of situation she controls it.
An unanswered question for both of us is how this might affect our dynamic. Since she’s the most important thing in the world to me, all I can promise is she’ll always have primacy in all things. Whatever relationships I develop alongside ours will be subordinate. Based on my previous experience with extramarital relationships, I think I can say my feelings for her will not diminish (and might even increase), but this is new territory for both of us. A lingering possibility in all this is that some day she might want something outside our marriage. I told her I don’t feel I have any say in that. In my mind, she controls both what I’m allowed to do with my body and what she does with hers. She mentioned that she thought it was funny, after all we’ve been through and after all these years, that we’d both find things we can’t give the other. She can’t/won’t give me a certain flavor of sexual experience I crave and I…here I expected her to say I wasn’t well enough endowed, but it’s that I’m not able to take her (and, maybe a little because of the size of the penis). I can’t fuck her and use her and come in her the way she wants. She craves being topped and I’m not a top. Maybe someday, she’ll let herself have what she craves.
In any event, she said she doesn’t have any problems with me seeking outside activities. She’s surprised in how little the prospect bothers her. At first, she figured it would be a very transactional thing. I’d find someone to fuck me and that would be it. But neither of us are capable of transactional sex, I don’t think. I need to have some kind of connection to the person, even if it’s not romance. Even so, she’s perfectly comfortable with me proceeding.
After that talk, we had lovely, leisurely sex. She told me up front I wasn’t going to come out of the device. She let me out Saturday morning so I could fuck her with Blue (which, she reports, “doesn’t even feel that big anymore”), but I had to put another device back on before I got out of bed. At least she let me in without Blue after she came. However, this morning I was left in the Looker 02 while she writhed under my fingers.
She came nicely and while she was basking I did my best not to grind the locked penis into her. The L02’s insert was choking the stifled erection and I told Belle how badly I wanted out so I could enjoy her. “You’ll have to wait,” she said. I replied that part of me hated that answer but another part of me knew it was best for me.
She didn’t let me fuck but she did allow me to lick. I moved down between her legs and sucked on her clit and inhaled as deeply as possible her essence. It was the first time I’ve ever gone down on her where I wasn’t trying to make her come. I was able to just enjoy the feeling and taste of her on my lips and tongue. I rubbed her wetness all across my face drenching me from my nose to my chin.
The other day when I picked her up from the airport, I experienced something probably only 17-year-olds and perpetually denied guys feel (at least as strongly as I did). She was in the car with me and I was happy to see her but at some point I felt it. Her pussy. It was there, too. I could sense it. Feel it’s gravitational pull. It left me feeling a little light-headed and with a chest full of butterflies. It intensity of it left me digging my fingers into her thigh which, I realized, was itself so close to it’s radiative heat. I so badly crave her pussy now that I’m not allowed to play with the penis and pretty much only come out of a device so I can fuck her. It’s like the other side of the coin from the penis now. She has me very well trained to be in tune with it.
Eventually, she started to warm to what I was doing. Every time I flicked her clit her leg would twitch until I was attacking it like it was my everything (and it is). She told me to get Pink so she could finish herself off while I sucked on her tits.
She came for a second time and I was left squeezing my swollen nuts.
Piece of ass
Then I found myself completely alone for hours. Kid one is at prom(!), kid two is at a movie with a friend, Belle’s in China. And here I am, by myself without even man’s best friend to keep me company. No, not the dog. He’s here. I was talking about the penis.
So I thought it might be time for some good old-fashioned ass-pounding prostate milking. Alas, no real men have raised their hands for the job so I’m left to my own devices. The devices in question being the growing assortment of dildos and plugs at my disposal. (Not Belle’s, of course. Those are for her.)
I’ll spare you the details and say only that it was a good night. I was able to go to town on a dildo I’ve had for many years and had acquired as the result of my eyes being bigger than my anus. The beast is 10″ long and has a circumference of 7 1/4″. And I rode that fucker long and hard. All because I had time and was patient, used plenty of lube, and worked my way up with smaller dongs first. Note, some of those ten inches were wasted as there’s just not that much room inside me, but I bet I got more than seven inches of it.
The milking was successful. I produced prodigious quantity of clear, sticky precum which dripped and hung off the Jail Bird in long ropes that swung around with the rhythm of the action that was forcing them out. I also made a smaller quantity of milky ejaculate (without the ejaculation, of course).
The main reason I mention this is because near the end of the evening’s activities when I was astride that giant dong in a position not unlike a reverse cowgirl and the satisfaction of the sensation was humming through my entire body and my prostate was zinging with electricity, I had this feeling that everything would be so much better if I could stroke myself as I was fucked. And, way in the back of my brain from a dark little corner, I heard a tiny voice.
You can back out of the Jail Bird.
And I was like, You know, I could.
And this is what happens to a guy. When you juice him up real good and either tease him to pudding or fuck him until he’s a quivering jellyfish, he is no longer thinking with his brain. Like you need me to tell you that. I defy any guy who hasn’t come in three months to basically have sex with himself for ninety minutes and not almost lose his shit like I did.
Almost.
After I had had my fill of King Dong, my calmer head prevailed. I knew what I had to do — bring out the big gun. I retrieved the Steelheart. But even that caused conflict because part of me said I should make sure I get nice and clean in my post-workout shower by taking the Jail Bird off and not putting the Steelheart on until I was done. Because, you know, nothing untoward has ever happened in a soapy hot shower. And I really should be as cleans as possible. Belle would want that, right?
I ended up putting the Steelheart on before the shower. After, I went looking for a solution to the free key issue. I needed to get that thing out of my reach. The key safe will only fit one key at a time so I resorted to using a little envelope and taping it closed with the date from today’s paper firmly affixed. Then I stuck it under Belle’s statue.
I’m not saying I would have pulled out at some point or used the key to take the device off and leave it that way long enough to get in trouble. In fact, I was good and didn’t do what I’m expressly forbidden from doing and was able to control myself. But placing the key out of reach gives me piece of mind to go along with the piece of ass I had earlier. And I need that right now.
Keys to the kingdom
Belle’s gone on her trip. Due to the ballpark metal detector/plastic device issue and the timing of her departure, I ended up having all the keys to everything at my disposal.
So, just to reiterate, I am to stay locked up because I can’t be trusted with the penis and she likes knowing what I’m not doing with it when she’s not with me but I also have all the keys and am allowed to wear whatever device I want. But she has made clear that she expects me to be locked up the entire time she’s gone. Truly, this is just a different flavor of obedience chastity except I get to wake up early in the morning with a crushed erection and have to demonstrate sufficient willpower not to cheat along the way.
Grrrr.
I swapped the Trainer for the Jail Bird last night before bed. I did it as quickly and efficiently as possible leaving the penis free for only a few seconds. Just long enough to get the Trainer ring off and the JB ring on and barely enough for any optimistic swelling in between. The one thing I really like about the JB is how it feels first thing in the AM when the meat is at full pressure. Unlike the Steelheart which is fairly intense due to the slightly too small A-ring or the Looker 02 which I often will sleep right through, the JB allows a delicious amount of uniform pressure all around the penis. Just enough to feel the erection really fight but not enough to be painful in any way. Just a foot over the “uncomfortable” line. The double thick oval A-ring helps a lot with this as does the fact that I think it’s just about perfectly sized for my anatomy. Another nice thing about the JB is how, when I took it off the other day to put the Trainer on, the penis had lines from the bars embossed along its length. That’s a pretty cool artifact if you’re into the locked up cock thing.
In any event, several years ago I bought Belle a small reproduction of Rodin’s Eternal Idol. It lives on the dresser in our bedroom. I use it as a kind of dead drop for device keys whenever I’m supposed to lock up after Belle’s gone to work. I slide them in between the form of the woman and the kneeling man kissing her stomach with his hands respectfully held behind his back for Belle to retrieve when she gets home. I’ve decided that I’ll do that for the next two weeks even if I decide at some point to switch into another device. That little statue is, to me, something like a shrine to our dynamic and placing the key there or removing it is a more significant act than just throwing it in my nightstand drawer or something. If I have to know where the key is and have easy access to it, this is the place it should be.
Volly
Schnoff and I are going to continue our game of blogging badminton…
He wrote recently about the conflict of not living up to the expectations of that person with whom one has placed control over one’s orgasm (and I like writing using words like “one” because it does makes one feel as though they’re speaking dialog from an episode of Downton Abby). In my first post in response to his first, I said…
I still touch it and fiddle with it absentmindedly and give it a squeeze if it’s hard and I’m liking that, but I will not “play with it.” Which means I’ll not be able to find myself in that spot Schnoff did.
And even as I wrote it I thought it sounded a bit too confident. I should have said if I remain true to Belle’s wishes that I not play with the penis when it’s unlocked and I don’t have permission in that way I know from years of experience will bring me into spitting distance of orgasm, I’ll not be able to find myself in that spot Schnoff did. Lately, I have been really good about that. There’s some kind of mental block that’s been trained into me so that the idea of stroking myself, while appealing on one hand since I know how good it will feel, is really unappealing to me since I also know it would be very wrong. That’s not to say if I found myself locked in the bathroom with my ass in the air and the Pure Wand sticking out and punching my prostate that I wouldn’t also find my hand all over the penis if it were free, but that very specifically is one of those things I just mentioned. So I won’t do that unless she says very specifically that I can.
To illustrate. Belle left me unlocked this weekend from Friday night to this morning. She let me out on Friday not because she wanted anything to do with the penis but because she knew she might want it Saturday morning and she didn’t want to have to fiddle with the key or wait for me to attend to my cleanliness or anything like that when it was time. So, in effect, I was loaned the penis until she had a use for it. I was only holding onto it (figuratively) for her. So I didn’t do anything pleasurable with it until Saturday when she stroked it and let me put it in her. Similarly, the next morning we had sex again but this time there was no foreplay on her part. I was attending to her tits and fingering her pussy and the penis was rock hard between us but she totally ignored it. Neither of us touched it at all until she let me slide in because I’m not supposed to and she didn’t want to. There was a time when I might have maneuvered myself into position where her hand was adjacent in hopes that she’d play with it or even so that I could pleasure myself while pleasuring her, but the rule is now that the only pleasure I’m allowed from the penis is when it’s being used to fuck her. And I have been conditioned to obey that. I’m actually pretty proud of how good I’ve been, though I understand that she still doesn’t trust me.
I think there are some specific reasons for this recent success. One is Belle has given me very clear rules. No stroking. No getting yourself off without permission. Absolutely no orgasm. It’s hard to wiggle in that space. If I’m doing something that feels good with the penis, it’s probably against the rules. Two, I have come to realize that to really succeed I need to respect her, her rules, and our dynamic. All those things. Her authority over my body is not an island that is separate from me and my actions. I do not exist outside that construct.
I, of course, have willingly entered into this dynamic with Belle (just as I entered into our marriage which is a similar arrangement, I think). If I am to disrespect her wishes within the dynamic, I am disrespecting the dynamic. The thing I wanted and crave. The thing that provides me so much emotional pleasure. I can’t help wanting to stroke myself and even to come (in fact, I need to want to stroke myself and come) but to do so would mean I am not really invested in making the dynamic work. She has her role (which she is fulfilling quite well) and I have mine. If I can’t live up to her expectations, then why should I hope she’d do the same for me?
In a way, this mentality is the root of my assertion that the most secure chastity device lives between one’s own ears. Right now, I’m in the Jail Bird. It’s totally unsecure in that my PA has nothing through it. I could, theoretically, pull out and jack off or even go into my toolbox and use pliers to remove the security screw holding the cage on. She would have no way of knowing. But why in the world would I do that? To what end? And it’s the same willpower at a higher amperage that keeps me from breaking her rules involving free meat. The device is a deterrent but not the authority. That’s embodied in her.
So, the differences between successful device chastity and obedience chastity are non-existent…except for the device.
Like I said the other day, I think penis constriction is a kink all by itself. Some people get off on the feeling and, like in me, it’s buried deep down and has always been there. Another kink is about control (being controlled or doing the controlling). One could do either or both and still be covered under the “chastity” rubric. There is no right way. Layer over that ancillary kinks like bondage, sadomasochism, and even aesthetic preferences and you get some combination of this game we play.
The only advantages I have over anyone else sharing these kinds of experiences is the length of time we’ve been doing it and the fact that I often make an effort to tease out my feelings and thoughts in writing. But I do think that unless one gets to the point that they realize “being good” is really about respecting the holy trinity of their partner, themselves, and their relationship, they will struggle. I know for a fact that Bear and Schnoff are on the right path because it’s the same path Belle and I are one. I can recognize it in his writing. All the familiar mileposts are there.