The reason for the season

Belle and I found ourselves alone in the house Saturday night which, as the parents of two, is not the usual situation. We watched some random TV for a while then it occurred to her that she could make noise. Which means, she could scream her head off while coming which is her favorite way to come.

So the TV went off and to the bedroom we went. We started with some light making out then heavy petting then she told me to strip. She took my balls in her hands and roughly massaged them before moving to straight up squeezing and abuse. Of course, she knows I’m a masochist, but she also seemed to be enjoying this. I don’t think it was just for me.

“How can I make you come?” There are many options, even with no available penis between us. I could use my fingers. I could use a vibrator. She could use a vibrator. There’s her glass dildo. But what I really wanted, what I hoped she wanted, was for me to eat her out.


This whole interaction between us is, I think, indicative of what Locktober is all about. We’re about halfway through at this point and what I see a lot on Twitter from guys in similar predicaments is stuff about how long we’ve been locked up and how horny we all are and pictures to prove both (and, of course, I am totally guilty of all these things), but really, that’s not what we should be focusing on. Our denial is not what denial is about.

I think the purpose of enforced chastity and orgasm denial is to teach us that…

  1. The point of sex is pleasure and satisfaction for our partners, not us.
  2. The pent up energy of denial frustration should be redirected to maximizing their pleasure and satisfaction.
  3. We need to recognize and accept that the frustration and craving is our version of pleasure. Their orgasm is our satisfaction.

Every cell in my body tells me these things are true. But every cell in my body has been trained by a decade of being locked up and I am 100% submissive. There are probably a lot of guys (and their keyholders) out there who are just starting out who may not yet get that chastity and denial aren’t about being as horny as possible prior to eventual release and explosive orgasm. Of course, everyone gets to do this their own way and ultimately our keyholders are the ones who decide, but penis-centric thinking is the antithesis of what chastity and denial represent.

As the Ancient One told Doctor Strange, “It’s not about you.” It’s about them, our keyholders. If you think of chastity and denial as a thing you endure until they let you come again, you’re still thinking with your penis. If you talk to your keyholder about how long you will be locked up — either asking for that time to be extended or reduced — you’re thinking with your penis. Worse, you’re making them think about your penis.

Guess what? Once you hand over the key, it’s not your penis anymore. It’s theirs. And what happens or doesn’t happen to it is up to them, not you. Which is why your best bet is to only think about their pleasure. Their orgasm. Their satisfaction.

Locktober isn’t about you being locked. It’s about why they lock you.


Belle did want me to go down on her. I could barely contain myself as I moved down her body, kissing her nipples and her stomach and her pelvis before placing my face before the heat of her sex. Humid and potent, I pushed my tongue into her wetness and lapped at her clit. Hands on her hips, I could feel her gyrate against my mouth. Pressing her pussy into my face to make sure I hit all the right spots.

The Evotion 8 locked on my body became painfully tight and I was unable to lay flat on my stomach. I had to angle my hip up to relieve the pressure on the throbbing, desperate contents of the device.

The volume of her ecstasy grew as her hands moved from her breasts to the hair on my head. As she got closer to orgasm, she grabbed fistfuls of it, almost using it to steer my attention. Her pussy juice was flowing freely down my chin and coated my nose and face. The discomfort between my legs distracted from focusing all my senses on the tip of my tongue and how it was flicking over her and the reactions that elicited in her movements and exclamations.

Her orgasm exploded in a great, deep bellowing of pleasure. She was screaming her satisfaction and her pussy was spasming under my mouth. Her whole body tensed then released, one thing after another. First her hips, then her fistfuls of hair, then her back, then her legs.

I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to stop tasting her. To leave the center of the power she has over me. I was in the throne room and couldn’t bring myself to back out. So while she basked I lingered, breathing deeply her pheromones. Letting her pussy saturate my senses. The black plastic locked on my body refused to relent in its grasp.

I stayed as long as I dared. She’d be wanting me to snuggle and embrace her. She’d want the covers back up over her body. I wanted…what I wanted wasn’t the point. Of course, I wanted out. To fuck her. To slip into her fantastically wet pussy and pound it until I came. But that was fantasy.

And thinking too hard on that was unproductive. So I moved up and covered her and held her and kissed her and thanked her for everything she does for me. Including keeping me locked for all of Locktober and every other month.

The Rules (updated)

The rules under which our dynamic operates have evolved over time, but the last time they were updated was almost three years ago. My previous post discussed a rule I put in place for myself about not touching the penis, but rules I put on myself are easily waived or bent. Rules Belle puts in place carry much more weight. So this morning…

Therefore, here is the updated list of Rules that I follow.

  • I can only come when Belle tells me to and, if she tells me to, I have to.
  • I must be wearing a chastity device at all times, unless she says otherwise.
  • When unlocked, I cannot touch the penis except for maintenance purposes or to swap devices. Never for pleasure, unless she has released it for sex.
  • I am not to volunteer how I feel about having an orgasm and must never ask for one.
  • If I have sex with someone else, the penis must always be locked. No exceptions.

The revised “no touching” rule replaces one that said I wasn’t allowed to play with it. Touching leads to playing so, in reality, this is better. The definition of “playing” isn’t as definite as “touching.”

These are the rules she expects me to follow. I vow to do so. Of course, it’s hard. If submission were easy, it wouldn’t be worth much.

Sick makes six

Belle left this morning for Mexico where she’ll be with a friend until late next week. No, not that kind of friend. A female friend.

We had one whole weekend together between the three weeks we didn’t see each other and this trip and she’s still getting over the lingering remnants of her bout with the flu while I was more or less in the midst of mine. Regardless, she let me get her off twice but made no move towards nor comment on the key or my locked state. Especially the second time, that led to incredibly tight and painful erections.

At some point during the previous few weeks or so, I pointed out that in the past she’d let me out of chasity when I was feeling really sick. She just sort of laughed and commented on how that was true but also how much stronger I was now than then. It’s a fact that she just doesn’t think about me being locked all the time and there’s really nothing in her mind that should keep me from being that way, short of the TSA or a doctor visit (and even then, only one that might involve the penis).

Those who think it’s a form of cheating when Belle lets me out to fuck and subsequently leak ejaculate into her (without orgasm) should be pleased to hear I’ve been locked up without any kind of relief for five weeks. Based on schedules, the next opportunity to get out will make it six weeks. I have been in and out of different devices during that time since I have been and will be traveling, but it’s been the Steelheart for the bulk of that period and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the penis in weeks.

She was gone pretty early for her flight so I woke up alone clutching at and stroking a very full tube. I rarely suffer from blue balls anymore, even when I haven’t been out for a while, but six weeks is going to be some kind of record. I can’t recall being locked up without access to her pussy for that long since I started tracking such things. In any event, I’m really starting to feel it. There’s the regular old enforced chastity and orgasm denial she practices and then there’s this. My balls feel especially swollen and I can tell there’s a built up load inside me craving to get out. A short trip on a big dildo would undoubtedly work a lot of that out.

It’s at times like this that knowing where the key is starts to gnaw at me.

As hard as this is, there’s a part of me that appreciates it. The part that knows this is exactly what I need and want. That this is what’s best for the kind of man I am. That part does get into debates with the part of me that feels guilt about her not getting fucked when I know she likes to feel that, but the trump card the first part plays in those situations is she decides what we do and I go along with it so shut up.

So…I’m going along. Either she didn’t think I was well enough to fuck (not true) or didn’t want to fuck me when I was sick or simply didn’t want to be fucked or not as much as she wanted me to stay locked up while she got off, I can’t say. And it’s not my job to figure it out. I’ll stay locked up for exactly as long as she wants me to be and will be grateful for both being locked up and being let out.

Orgasm extinction

One of the things that I think surprises people who read this blog is that while Belle denies me orgasm, she does like it when I ejaculate inside her. There is a difference and I wrote a post about it early last year. My recent badminton-esque exchange with Schnoff led me to re-read that post and tap out this addendum.

First off, though, it’s interesting to me that Bear and Schnoff define “orgasm” as any expression of seminal fluid. I think of orgasm as the surging explosive release of that fluid and the concomitant flooding of one’s brain with all the loopy orgasm hormones and chemistry (serotonin, oxytocin, prolactin, etc.). It’s a feeling more than a physical action. I can tell when I’ve come because of what happens in my head, not what comes out of the penis. And that was the point of my post (and why it’s called “You know it when you feel it”).

To be clear, Bear and Schnoff (well, mostly Bear) are free to define orgasm however they like. It’s just interesting to me to see how others do their thing. Back during Locktober, I was given some grief for not being locked in the exact same device continuously all month long (I was in a couple devices, though never out longer than the 36 seconds it takes to remove one and replace it with another). Others think Belle allowing me to ejaculate isn’t real denial. My position is, I don’t make the rules she does and if she wants me to put a load in her but also doesn’t want me to come, then I need to figure out how to do it. Luckily, I have. Repeat after me: There is no One True Way™ to do orgasm denial.

Anywho, what I find is that the actual mechanical and hormonal process of orgasm in me has totally changed over the years. And for the past year to year and a half, I might even describe it as totally broken.

Note, I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

When we first started the denial dynamic, Belle would allow me to jack off when I wasn’t locked up. I think that experience helped me map out exactly how my orgasm worked. Finding the very moment I started to fall off the plateau of arousal into an unstoppable orgasm. I could get myself to shoot several loads a night without any release of orgasmic chemistry.

And for a long time, I found that if I stopped fucking her at that moment, I’d shoot a little load, and then I’d be able to keep fucking her. Sometimes, for a really long time. Almost indefinitely. As if going up to the point of release and pulling back made the release itself impossible. Some kind of hot-wiring of the refractory period. Those were the days. But then something changed.

First, I became (and remain) a premature ejaculator. If I fuck for three minutes without having to stop, it’s an achievement. Usually, it’s not even that long. Second, even if I “leak” inside her without coming, the penis starts to deflate as if I’ve come. That was the first sign that my natural process has evolved. I couldn’t keep fucking even if I wanted to (and I always wanted to). I’d lose the erection. Immediately.

Last year, Belle let me come five times. Not one of those was how I used to describe orgasm after a period of denial. No explosion, no kick in the back of the head, no intensity. The orgasms I have now are not too dissimilar from the non-orgasmic ejaculations. Some weak spurting along with a shot of the hormones, but no jolt. No BANG. More like an ocean swell than a crashing wave. I feel a less pronounced post-orgasmic experience (sleepiness, etc.). Even the sub-drop that used to be a hallmark of orgasm has diminished substantially. They’ve become non-events that don’t drain me (literally or figuratively). As I recall, this wasn’t just the five from last year. I was also feeling a version of this the year before that.

Basically, the orgasm I literally grew up with is gone. A pale shadow of the real thing.

There was a time when the prospect of losing my ability to have a truly enjoyable, fireworks-filled orgasm would’ve scared the shit out of me. That was both before I was denied orgasms at all and also for several years after we started this dynamic. But once I was being denied, even when I could still come normally, I knew I didn’t really want to. All I wanted was to always feel like I wanted to come. Craving the thing, not having the thing. So now that my ability to come seems to be waning, I don’t feel any particular loss.

I don’t know if this is something all men who are denied for a long time feel or if it’s unique to me. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I remember very early on someone said to me online that if I got to the point where orgasms weren’t enjoyable that I had done it wrong. The point was to always enjoy and want them. Obviously, I don’t think that’s true. I think denial has made me more of what I already was and am. I feel like living like this is my natural and correct state. In general, I believe men especially put way, way too much emphasis on having orgasms. But, you know. What else do you expect me to say?

I doubt this condition is permanent. If I were able to freely masturbate to completion or even come every time I fucked, I expect things would go back to “normal.” But I don’t really care if they do. How much can I miss something that, on average, only happens every three months anyway? Why should I miss a thing that knocked me out of the headspace in which I so much enjoy living?

Saying my orgasm is “broken” is the wrong adjective. Makes it sound like it was an accident. This wasn’t accidental at all. It was intentional. Maybe even inevitable.

Theatrics

I got home Thursday to the only night in three and a half weeks Belle and I would be together. She got back from Asia on Tuesday several hours after I left for Southern California and she left Friday for Europe until mid-next week.

As soon as I got home, I swapped the Holy Trainer v3 nano out for the Steelheart and expect to be wearing it for the indefinite future. As I was doing so, and as soon as the penis felt air, it started to swell. I wasn’t even thinking dirty thoughts, but it knew it was out of confinement and Belle was in the house and any chance it had at all to feel warm wetness (or, really, any pleasurable sensation at all) was right then.

Except Belle came home from Asia with a nasty cold and I’m not horny enough to dive into that and get it myself (though, after later consideration, I am left wondering if one can catch cold from performing cunnilingus). In any event, I pushed and prodded and shoved the chubbed out meat into the steel tube and turned the lock.

It was tight (and stayed that way for a while — the penis was pissed), but I felt the usual sense of…I dunno. Comfort. Safety? Security in the emotional sense (as well as the restrictive, physical sense). Bottom line, the Steelheart, even with it’s too-tight A-ring and occasional pinching between the PA jewelry and fixing, is home. Everything else feels like sleeping on the road.

The few comments on my previous post about locks and security and trust has me thinking. In response to me calling hiding the key “theater,” Tom said…

I’d say that some people really do want more believability in their theater. That is, playing the game, or as I like to say, running the script in your head with fewer willing suspensions of disbelief makes it better.

Suspension of disbelief is a critical element of chastity (and, to a larger extent, most of BDSM). I get that. The less suspension, the better. But I’ve been wondering how much is enough for me? How much “theater” do I need to make this dynamic work? Or, to put it the other way, what’s the minimum amount of theater I need?

Device-less chastity would be the least amount of theater for someone like me. Schnoff mentioned how he’s not kept in a device. His chastity is based on willpower, though he admits it’s imperfect (as are we all). He takes exception with the idea I need a device to maintain my chastity, but ours has been defined differently. Bear allows him to masturbate while Belle does not want me doing that. As well-intentioned and invested as I am in our dynamic, I have never demonstrated an ability to keep my hands off the erection when it’s available and needy. Before Belle moved me to an essentially continuous state of lock-up, I used to edge myself all the time (usually in the shower, though there was a time she let me do it right there in bed next to her while she slept), up to and beyond the point of ejaculation, though not orgasm. If Belle ever let me be unlocked for long periods but still expected me not to jack off, I feel like I’d go crazy. I mean, literally, the temptation and distraction would make me nuts. So no, for me anyway, “no device” is not nearly enough theater. I would suck at that.

Another thing Schnoff said about chastity devices is…

Toys are that, toys. No matter how hot.

I simply don’t think of chastity devices as toys at all. I mean, yes, I do acknowledge they fall into the broad category of sex toys, but they’re so much more. The Steelheart is me. It completes me, is an extension of me, and makes me feel more whole than when it’s absent. Sort of how one feels weird without their wedding ring on, but at deeper level. A ring represents commitment and love and a chastity device does, too, but it’s commitment at an entirely different scale. Not only a sign that I’ve joined my life with someone else, but that I’ve given to them my heart and my body. It’s a physical manifestation of my submission. A constant physical reminder of Belle’s wishes and requirements. Plus, the metaphor of the lock and key represents the hole a submissive feels within that can only be filled by loving domination.

In these ways, the Steelheart is me and her and our dynamic all in one. Profoundly significant and in no way a simple toy. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Moving up the scale from nothing is a silicone chastity device. These are worthless because their stretchy, flexible nature make stimulation of the penis ridiculously possible. They simply don’t do the job for which they’re intended. Also, I just don’t care for how they look. Appearance is a critical element for me because chastity devices are not just functional tools.

Moving up from silicone is plastic. The only reasonably acceptable plastic device I’ve worn is the Holy Trainer. The others are all too complicated and/or ugly and/or downright excruciating to wear. The HTv3 nano is barely acceptable in that, as I said in my review, it leaves critical parts of the penis accessible to stimulation. It does prove to be just enough of a deterrent that I can resist partaking in that stimulation, but I don’t like it being possible. In that way, the HTv3 nano is the minimum amount of theater I require.

Of course, the Holy Trainers have no PA fixing option so I could pull out the back. Being able to pull out is not a deal breaker, but I vastly prefer not being able to. That’s a level of theater I truly crave. I don’t pull out when I can and suspend disbelief regarding my ability to do so, but a device with a PA fixing is way, way hotter for me than one without. Removing the disbelief about being able to escape amps up the experience, for sure. Also, it adds a calming element in that I don’t need to expend any energy pretending to myself that it’s inescapable.

Steel is my preferred material for devices. I have borderline fetish for stainless at this point. Not just the look of it, but how it feels. Its heft and how it goes on cold but then warms like an extension of my body. I’ve considered other metals like titanium but wonder if I’d like them as much since they’re so much lighter. Feeling the device flop and pull as I turn in bed is a definite plus.

Beyond that, preferred devices are simple and hide the penis. The Half Shell is very comfortable and quite shiny, but busy looking and complicated and doesn’t protect the entire shaft from viewing or touching. The Looker 02 is simple, but the penis is mostly visible (though the head is hidden). The Jail Bird is also quite simple, but shows far too much meat. The Steelheart is the best of all in that it’s sleek and steel and totally encases the penis. It’s not perfect in that the PA fixing does have some fiddly bits, though they’re all hidden inside. Its ring is too tight and it can occasionally pinch between the PA jewelry and fixing. The bottom of the penis shaft can also pinch where it joins my balls and meets the bottom of the tube.

Sometimes, the lack of any discomfort from a device is in itself a form of theater I miss. I don’t think enforced chastity should be excruciating, but I also don’t think it should be a walk in the park. I like that the Steelheart is tight and can bite from time to time. That discomfort is part of the symbolism of submitting to being denied in this way. Being denied orgasm is not easy. It’s hard and the cravings to come or even touch myself are often powerful. I like the device fighting back a bit and reminding me I chose the more difficult path. In fact, that I require the more difficult path.

Bottom line, this form of submission is very complicated. It’s not a straight line and everyone is going to practice it in their own way. The way that feels the best and make the most sense to them. The fact that it’s a two-person dynamic only makes the number of variations that much more numerous. All you can do is work on it and find the level of theater you both need…while never forgetting the keyholder is the star of the production. The keyheld is just the one holding the spotlight.

Purity

There’s a kind of purity in being locked up while getting your partner off. A simplicity of purpose. A definition of motivation. Once a penis is taught it’s not the center of attention. That not everything in the world revolves around it. Once it learns its place and ceases to harbor expectations. The focus shifts entirely to where it belongs. From the submissive to the Dominant. From me to her.

May metrics, ups and downs

FullSizeRenderAnd there goes May! So many projects going on around here, house guests, graduation, not to mention planning and preparation for our imminent departure to Asia for a huge chunk of the summer. But there’s one thing that doesn’t change: I’m still locked up pretty much all the time.

Belle kept the penis locked 99.5% of May which is the highest percentage of the year (exceeding April by a tenth of a percent). It was kept staring at the inside of the Steelheart for about two-thirds of the time while the rest was spent studying the inside of the Halfshell.

It was let out for sex six times for a total of almost four hours which averages to about 40 minutes each time. That’s funny to me since the vast majority of that time is spent satisfying Belle or lounging around after. The time it spent actually fucking couldn’t have been in total more than ten or twelve minutes, tops. So if you count the time she will sometimes stroke it while I’m getting her off, we’re talking 30-45 minutes a month of pleasurable sensation.

Belle came nine times, three on her own, six from my prestidigitation. That’s down by three from April, but as I said, more stuff going on around here.

I came zero times in May, though as I said, I was allowed to fuck her six times. I ejaculated five of those times. As of this writing, it’s been 102 days since my last orgasm. Of course, I have no idea how long it will be until the next one and doubt she does, either.

There’s something I’ve been meaning to write about for the past few weeks but haven’t figured out how or what words exactly to use then I figured I could make it part of this post. It’s funny, but when writing like this sometimes the hardest part is figuring out how to start and, once that’s done, the rest takes care of itself.

Anyway, as hard as it is to quantify as precisely, the thing that goes along with how often I get to come or for how long I’m locked up is how I feel about it all. And lately, I haven’t felt all that great. It’s been about two and half weeks since I felt the bottom drop out and only now am I starting to feel the stirrings of a rally.

I think a common misperception about denial and enforced chastity is that the locked guy gets hornier and hornier and all that awesome frustration energy powers the whole dynamic to ever greater heights. That’s just totally wrong.

Most guys who feel like it get to come all the time. As soon as the slightest amount of sexual frustration builds, they either have sex or take care of themselves. If it were charted, it’d end up looking like with I think of as a hacksaw blade. When a guy is in his teens, his chart would like a fine-tooth saw — lots and lots of little spikes closely packed interspersed with shallow, short valleys. But when he get’s older, the “teeth” become less frequent with larger spaces between, but the basic pattern remains. There is only so horny a normal man will get before he relieves the pressure to come, one way or another.

But if you’re like me, that never happens. And since the pressure never gets relieved, an underlying pattern is exposed. I don’t know if this is the same for all men, but for me the build goes way higher than it would normally. Perhaps five times higher. Then it plateaus for a long time as I reach cruising altitude. After a certain period like that, it will explode higher for brief period then come crashing down. Lower than what it feels like after an orgasm. Like, a depth so low the fish have to make their own light or not bother to have eyes. I can’t say if the cratering is chemical or caused by external issues or if one is exacerbated by the other. All I know is it happens from time to time.

This used to be a real problem. It’s easy to get depressed. I still do, but the difference is I know it’s not permanent. Sooner or later, for reasons I can’t explain, things will start to build again. Right now, I’m still under water but not so deep that sunlight can’t get to me. It feels like I’m moving in the right direction, but I also know there are false glimmers. When I’ll start to feel more normal but then things’ll go south again. I can’t know yet where I am, but this feels like a real rebound.

When I’m in this place, it’s like the flavor is drained from everything. I’m easily angered and have little interest in anything sexual. I will usually be able to perform for Belle, but I’d not think to instigate anything. It has to be her to push the button. This is the time when, if I find a dirty selfie on my phone or computer, I’m most likely to delete them. I don’t look at my own blog, can’t imagine writing anything, and don’t even look at Tumblr. The toys I enjoy during normal times appall me. It’s not any fun at all.

The worst part is how it changes how I see myself. I’ve said before that being locked all the time alters my own perception of myself at a pretty basic sexual level. I feel less like a man and more like something else. That’s not a bad thing. It’s just what it is. But during a crater like I’ve been in I stop feeling like anything. Whichever steel is between my legs is just an inert mass I need to keep clean. I don’t want to be locked, I don’t want to be unlocked. I just don’t care. No energy means no self-perception of identity. And what are we without identity?

I don’t say all this to be a downer. We’ve been doing this long enough for me to know that in my case it’s a normal aspect of long term denial and lock-up. I will come back and will feel good again. If I go all the way back to why I started this blog, it was because at the time there was way more chastity fantasy bullshit being passed off as reality and little real-life experience being related to those who were just starting out. If I ignored this aspect of denial and chastity, I’d be doing a disservice to the sprit of the site. And, I guess, to you as its readers.

Long story short, most of the time I’m in a good place and feel as though the denial and submission are by far net benefits in my life. I can’t imagine really being “normal” again. Not ever. But it’s not all sunshine and unicorns, either. You know, like life.