Tag: enforced chastity

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A twist in the bend

Reader avlaps left the following suggestion on my review of the Steelworxx Looker 02 regarding what I assumed to be a misaligned bend in the anatomical A-ring:

Maybe it is due to asymmetry of a testicles? In normal state the left one is placed higher than other one so that rotated ring can give more comfort. (sorry if my English is weird, it is not native for me)

And I was all like, huh. That’s not a bad theory. It’s not shown that way on the Steelworxx site, so I assumed it was a mistake, but avlaps might be onto something. I’ve been thinking about that off and on since.

This morning, I took a few pictures to get to the bottom of it. I’ll put them behind a jump to help maintain this site’s nominal sensitivity to being totally NSFW.

Continue reading “A twist in the bend”

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What I’d like to do

You know what I’d like to be doing right now? Jacking off. I’d like to be jacking the hard penis, smothered in lube, feeling the heavy PA ring flopping around, nasty pinchy clamps on my nipples. I’d like to watch my fist ride up until it was snug around the penis’ head like a turtleneck sweater and all the crazy fucking nerve endings there firing on my brain like a pirate ship sacking a costal village. Then see the shaft rise up out of my hand, then let it all reverse again. Over and over. Then, when I found myself at the edge of orgasm, I’d let go of the poor thing and let it surge and struggle and flex and maybe leak a bit, but then I’d lap that up and just keep going. Salty sweet nectar. The prize inside.

But I can’t. The penis is locked up. And even if it weren’t, Belle has forbidden that I touch it in that way. In the past several weeks, I’ve jacked off for a grand total of ten minutes because Belle told me I could for five minutes twice. That’s it. So, even if I didn’t have steel restricting the erection that wants to be stroked, I wouldn’t touch it because that would be against the rules I have taken to heart very seriously and promised I’d follow.

So, instead, I look at porn. Which makes the penis even more constrained in its steel cage and makes the desire to stroke it even greater which causes me to want to look at more porn which makes me…well, you get the point.

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Rules

I’ve been reading Discipline: Adding Rules & Discipline To Your BDSM Relationship on Das Kindle. It’s coincidental to the new rule about forbidding me from playing with myself when unlocked, but happily so. The book is by Lily Lloyd of blackleatherbelt and has been enjoyable and enlightening.

Lily identifies three types of rules:

  • Ritual and Protocol – Activities and  standards of behavior in which a Dominent and submissive engage to reenforce their roles.
  • Standing orders – Rules the Dominant expects the submissive to carry out on a regular schedule or when a particular situation comes up.
  • Behavior modification – Rules that are intended to help a sub develop a new habit or shed an old one, with the objective of changing the sub’s life for the better or making the sub’s behavior more pleasing to the Dominant.

In addition, she says the use of rules in a D/s relationship have their own simple rules:

  • They should bring you closer together.
  • They should build a dynamic you both want.
  • They should enhance (or minimally not detract from) the well-being of both partners.

This is, of course, eminently logical stuff. It is true. But that doesn’t mean any of it was obvious to either me or Belle as we stumbled into our D/s overlay. Some of what Lily says in the book we’ve already come to realize but other stuff I don’t think we have or didn’t realize we realized it until I read it all laid out as she has. If you’re a D or an s (or a little of both), you should read this book. I’m not finished with it yet, but am just about half way though. That’s enough for me to be able to say with full conviction that if you read my blog you’re likely to get something out of this book and should do yourself the favor. (I mean, come on. It’s only three bucks.)

As a sub, I love rules. Just thinking about them and writing that statement makes the device’s contents tingle and swell. On paper or conceptually, rules sound boring, but in practice (and specifically how the concept of being ruled percolates through my brain) they’re fucking hot. Combine this with my natural predilection towards process and definition and you get a nerdy subbie squirming mass craving order and discipline. Especially the discipline.

Belle doesn’t love rules. She’s the one who doesn’t measure the ingredients to a recipe and just eyeballs it (which drives me crazy) and is the first between us to do what she wants rather than what is expected. This is a natural point of friction in our foundational relationship, let alone a potential pitfall in our D/s overlay. Without thinking, it makes me want to say I don’t really have that many rules, but after some reflection, it turns out I do have more than just the one. In no particular order…

  • I have to wear the chastity device of Belle’s choice whenever and for however long she says.
  • I’m not allowed to have an orgasm until July 27, 2014.
  • I’m not allowed to refer to the penis as mine.
  • I’m not allowed to use the penis in any pleasurable ways without Belle’s permission.
  • I am to turn the TV off in our bedroom whenever Belle wants it off and I’m not to complain about it. (That one was my idea. I love the TV in our bedroom, she claims to hate it.)

There are a few that have become defunct.

  • I used to have to ask permission before getting into bed. This one suggested that the bed is Belle’s and she decides where I sleep, but she’s never made me sleep anywhere else (like on the floor or in another room).
  • I used to have to ask permission to sleep naked. For whatever reason, I just sleep naked anyway. On the rare occasion that I don’t, she asks what’s up.
  • I used to have to prepare the coffee machine to make Belle’s coffee in the morning. Belle bought a fancy-shmancy coffee machine that only requires the push of a button to make an apparently tasty beverage (I wouldn’t know since I don’t drink it).

Maybe there were others, but I’ve forgotten them. We both need to be invested in rules in order for them to work and these obviously weren’t that important to one or both of us. One that I particularly like that Lily requires of her girlfriend sub is to spend five minutes a day quietly contemplating their relationship and then to text her when she’s done. This is kind of like my desire to have to thank Belle every day for acceptance of my submission. It’s a difficult thing to stay in the subbie state of mind and a daily reminder, even something so simple, is appealing to me. Also, vocally reiterating my position is a profoundly energizing thing for me to do, especially when I’m not feeling it all that much.

As I said above, I’m all about the rules. I love them. I know I loved them long before Belle loved them (or at least appreciated them). When she really took charge of the device and when and for how long I’d wear it, it made wearing it ten times more appealing to me (and it was already appealing). That’s when it became a rule. One that she set and I follow. Same for her recent investment in my denial. Now, we both own that. Her commitment to the rule that I won’t come for another 520 days (it’s true – look it up) makes not coming so much more profound for me than back when she’d fuck me all she wanted and if I came it was my problem. I want to follow her rules. I want to obey. But I’m only a man, after all. You keep fucking me, I’m going to come eventually. It means a lot to me that she wants me to succeed as much as I do.

Same goes for the “no playing with it” rule. I was out this past weekend and that fact kept waking me up (as a hard, sensitive penis will do) and each time the first thing through my mind was that I could not touch it. I’m choosing to interpret “playing with it” to mean no pleasurable touching, not just jacking off, so I have to be very careful not to grab it just because it’s needy. In any event, that one simple rule that you would have thought seemed pretty obvious for us has resonated in me very deeply. I suspect (though I haven’t had a chance to put it to the test) that I feel so strongly about obeying her that she could leave me alone sans device and I would be good. That’s a huge difference from how I felt just a few weeks ago.

Friggin’ rules, man. They’re awesome.

I have more to say about using rules to modify behavior, but will save that for another time.

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Swingin’ steel

There was yet more sex on Saturday morning as I was still steel-free. I had this weird thing the night before where the end of the penis became super sensitive. It was so distracting that I had to remove my PA jewelry. Every little shift of the stainless loop would send a not very pleasant jolt through me making it hard to sleep yet again that night. In fact, since this crazy sexed up period started, I’ve had troubles sleeping pretty much every night. Even last night, though I didn’t see Belle all day. Anyway, Saturday morning was more of the same except this time Belle got to ride me for an orgasm. I felt pretty good about keeping my shit together for that. I didn’t even get close.

After the sex on Saturday, but before she resecured me, I told her how guilty I had been feeling about taking advantage of the time she lets me out to jack off (yes, I did manage to get some in). This is a new feeling for me. In the recent past, I’ve assumed that if I was out it was more or less a free-range penis, assuming I didn’t come. But as we’ve been having all this fantastic sex lately, the idea of seeking this pleasure without her knowledge or consent hasn’t sat right with me. Maybe it’s the copious hormones produced by all the edging and psuedo-ruined orgasms and the low-grade blue ball tenderness I’ve been sporting, but I was feeling very much the need to be backed into a tight little submissive corner. The penis is hers, not mine. I can’t just do whatever I want with it. If it’s out, it’s out for her. This is a fact. There’s no such thing anymore as a time out for good behavior. I get out for a specific purpose and it’s not to jack off.

In any event, the rule now is I am not to play with the penis at all except when specifically allowed to do so by Belle. Seems like an obvious kind of rule for someone in my position to have, but I’m not sure it’s ever been so explicitly stated by her before. At least not for a long time. Just thinking about it now makes the tube pack tight. I can’t imagine how hard it’ll be if I’m left alone with it in an accesible state.

After clearing that up, she produced the Steelheart. I had to put it on while she watched which is very hard for me to do. It puts my assembly skills in a race against the penis’ hydraulic system with only my brain trying to run interference as an ally. I did manage to get the tube on and the increasingly fat and solid meat shoved up in there and in place so she could slide the lock home and turn it in its slot, but barely. As soon as she removed the key, a deeply satisfying warm wave of submissiveness washed over me. In an instant, the steel tube merged with its contents in my mind and I was seemingly as I was always meant to be.

We went to the gym after and I ran for four miles on a treadmill with the Steelheart heavily swinging between my legs. I’ve been in the Looker 02 so much recently that I forgot what the dense steel monolith of the Steelheart felt like. Not at all uncomfortable. Actually somewhat comforting. A subtlety different mindfuck than the lighter L02. Also, I had to reacquaint myself with the sensation of shifting meat within the tube. The L02’s insert keeps the meat inert and unmoving while the PA fixing in the Steelheart allows some shifting. The penis gently bumped against the inside of the tube with each stride.

That night, my new little nympho wanted another orgasm. I had my doubts that it was even possible considering the number she’s had this week and the one she had had just that morning, but she was feeling the itch and it’s my job to scratch it. After lengthy ministrations by me and Pink, she eventually called the effort off. I couldn’t get her more than 85-90% there. I felt defeated. There were a couple of times I thought she was going over, but it didn’t happen. She packed Pink with her on her trip so she’ll not be denied should the urge strike again while she’s gone.

As I said, I had a hard time sleeping again last night and am very tired as I write this. The lack of sleep is aggravatingly non-specific. Sometimes, it’s because I’m too horny and I know it and I can’t stop imagining things. Lately, though, I’m just too alert and aware. And every time I shifted in bed, the Steelheart would heavily flop to the other side. On my stomach, it was a hard, dense presence between me and the mattress. On my back, it would pull the whole package down between my legs. I was never alone.

But it wasn’t a total wash-out. I did get about four hours sleep again, though the morning wood made the last couple pretty restless. A benefit of the L02 is that it rarely wakes me in the morning anymore. Belle’s back tomorrow night late. I’m looking forward to not sleeping next to her again.

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The sex, o god, the sex

The best part of working out and getting fit and all that isn’t necessarily what it’s doing to my body. I mean, yeah, I like that, but the best part is what it’s doing to my relationship. Belle, as I’ve mentioned, has been going to see my trainer for the past six or so months, too, and the change in her has been remarkable.

It’s not just physical, though it is that. I often reach over to her in bed at night and everywhere I put my hands feels different (in much the same way I feel like a different person almost everywhere). And it’s driving me kinda nuts with desire. Luckily, these same changes seem to be simultaneously improving her outlook on our physical relationship. We had some of the best sex we’ve had in a long time last weekend (I’ll get to that in a minute since that’s why most of you pervs are here in the first place) and I can’t necessarily peg all of it on mutually inclusive positive body images (in that, she’s more comfortable with herself as I am and we’re both a lot more into each other’s new selves if for no other reason than the novelty of having hotter new spouses), but I think that’s a lot of it.

More than anything else, I’m very proud of all the work she’s putting into this, whatever the motivation and whatever it means in the bedroom. She’s healthier, happier, and helping to set a fantastic example for our kids.

So yeah, the sex. Oh, man.

Continue reading “The sex, o god, the sex”

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Wet, sweaty and smelling of pussy

Belle took me out of the Looker 02 last night. She didn’t have any immediate need for its contents, but would in the morning and she didn’t want to mess around with the key then. She wanted to be able to just roll over and fuck me, which she did. The penis, though, is stupid and didn’t understand the order in which things were going to happen. All it knew was the steel was off and out and all that normally compressed erectile tissue was free to go to town. I had a hard and persistent erection until I fell asleep.

Belle was funny when she let me out. She was obviously pretty excited to see the device emerge from under the covers.

“I like it when I lock you up and I like it when I let you out,” she said, “For different reasons, obviously.”

Her genuine excitement and the way she’s so well embraced her position over me makes me a very happy bunny.

As I was saying, I fell asleep wanting inside her and woke up in pretty much the exact same spot. As soon as we were both awake, we went right at is like a couple of teenagers. Her snatch was wet and her nipples were hard and she came riding the stiff penis in no time. Jesus god, she felt good.

Then she let me go at it. It was one of those times where I could fuck her and fuck her. I only got close to coming once and, as soon as that passed, I felt like there was no way I was getting close again. I fucked her long and hard and drenched her in my sweat. Faster, slower, deeper, shallower, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going anywhere.

I get really emotional in these moments. When I’m fucking her and loving the feeling of her sliding up and against the hard shaft after having felt northing really pleasurable there for nearly two weeks. With every stroke I feel a deeper gratitude to her for allowing me to be as I am. To having so well taken the responsibility of a denied husband to heart. I came out and said it while balls-deep and kissing her full, delicious lips.

“I’m so grateful to you,” I said, breathy and low.

“You should be,” she replied, calm and clearly.

And I am, of course.

I’d still be fucking her right now it if she hadn’t told me the ride had to end. And I’ll be damned if, as soon as she said it, the penis didn’t start to go soft. Fucker’s pretty well trained. I rolled off of her wet, sweaty and smelling of pussy. Ah, bliss.

The only real downside to all this is, about an hour later, my nuts really started to ache. Especially the right side. My balls felt tender, swollen, and heavy. Surprisingly, I don’t get blue balls all that much anymore, but they were full of their unnecessary product and complaining loudly. I told Belle it was nothing a hot bath couldn’t fix, but I won’t be having that before I go back in. No hot n’ soapy access to penis meat for me.

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Good overview of male chastity devices

A guy named Dalton has put together a terrific overview of the state of the art of enforced male chastity today called Bondage is Chastity on Serious Male Bondage Journal (you can tell it’s serious based on the header graphic). He makes many points, but two in particular worth repeating:

  • “Locking something solid to our bodies to imprison a part that has no bone structure is an engineering mystery.” Hell yes. Stupid things are like octopi in their ability to squish and squeeze into and out of the darnedest predicaments. If only we had penile bones. He recommends a PA for the ultimate chastity experience.
  • “I don’t recommend buying an expensive device early on,” warns Dalton, “Wear a few of the more affordable devices to find what works and what doesn’t work. You will end up with a more satisfying experience, or should I say less satisfying.” Amen, brother! Testify!

He also has a Madame Dura Lancelot which, as I’ve mentioned in the past, I find distractingly intriguing. Lucky him. In any event, he includes images with links of nearly all the major players in the cock locking biz, notably excepting my German friend.

Via Metalbond (who called me a “muscular bisexual guy” and made me feel all funny inside).

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The exchange

For those keeping score at home, after this year’s orgasms were over, Belle put me in the Steelheart. I was in there about a week maybe before getting some kind of sore on the head of the penis that was really pretty painful and caused me to have to come out for a few days. It was either some kind of nasty pinch between the meat and the PA fixing or some kind of irritation caused by urine or both. A rare occurrence. I had just about gotten used to the Steelheart’s relatively small A-ring, too.

In any event, she let me out for a few days which gave us the chance to have the sex I talk about about back on the 14th. Since then, I’ve been back in the Looker 02. For the active boys in the audience, I can report than I’ve run about 17 miles since then with little to no discomfort or issues. I’ve found that if I wear my normal compression underwear while running and apply a dab of silicone lube to the L02’s plug prior to starting, everything’s cool. Nice and supported, but not too much.

The other morning, I was still in the L02 when Belle reached over and started to touch me in a way that indicated we’d be having some action.

After she got the meat nice and compressed, I said, “I bet you wish I wasn’t locked up.”

“You mean you wish you weren’t locked up. I’m just fine with you in there.”

Yeah, she was right. I was trying reverse psychology on her. Didn’t work.

Still, she gave me and the constrained meant lots of attention. I was on all fours, half over her on her back, kissing her mouth and her neck while she gently caressed my tight balls and perineum, letting her fingers trail down my inner thighs. The penis was quite tight in its confinement, both within the cage and clamping down on the invading plug. She had me get the sack o’ nipple clamps from my nightstand and attached a moderately grippy pair of rubber coated aligator clips. Pulling on the chain, she’d force me into position so that slapping my nuts was easier for her. Nipples searing, cock raging, balls stinging and aching, on all fours like the moaning horny pain slut I am.

Then I reached down to finger her pussy and…

There’s that moment when you realize your historically vanilla wife is obviously getting off pretty hard on locking your meat into a steel vice, clamping and twisting your nipples, and knocking your nuts around like a little punching bag. That she’s obviously doing all that for your benefit, but also for hers. And that, since it’s not all for you, that means you have less control over how and for how long it happens. She’s actually getting off on your discomfort. There is more than just a little bit of a sadistic streak in there somewhere. 

All of a sudden, it went from a series of perfunctory actions to an exchange. She was hurting me because I liked to be hurt, but also because she was enjoying hurting me. And that, in turn, made me want to show her how much hurt I could take. It made me want to give her my discomfort and suffering. As much as she wanted.

Eventually, the clamps came off (with the sudden rush of blood and searing pain that always goes along with that) and slapping stopped and she let me sorta bask for a little while. The cage, however, did not come off.

By the time I started in on her, her snatch was hot and dripping wet. My fingers slid and slipped freely over her clit as my mouth hungrily devoured her nipples. My fingers, though, were not enough. She had me get Pink and the little vibe thrummed to life (with its new batteries) as I rubbed it over and into her wetness. She came weirdly and intensely. It wasn’t like normal, but still apparently good. I still wanted out of the Looker. I still wanted to feel that hot pussy from the inside. But that wasn’t up to me and it was not to be.

As I sat up to leave the bed, the sticky and sweet clear nectar of my desire shot from the hollow titanium shaft in the penis.