Tag: femdom

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Waiting patiently

According to the dates I pulled out of a hat last fall, I was supposed to get an orgasm back on the 2nd of January. If you remember, Belle decided to postpone my release for a week because she got her period and apparently prefers I come inside her. So this past weekend came along and my son had a sleep-over with friends at our house and there were family outings and such and, before you knew it, it was Monday and I still hadn’t come. Of course, I thought about it all weekend and wondered when she was going to let me do it, but she wanted it to be “good” and put it off again. The plan now is to let me come this weekend.

According to the BunnyTrack 2000 release tracker, Saturday will be my 28th orgasmless day (and my 25th in the Steelheart). I’ve gone longer, but I have to say I am really fucking horny. Like, really, really, significantly, profoundly, quite tragically horny. And Belle knows it. And she doesn’t really care. Well, she cares, but she’s not moved by my predicament. Last night, I was kinda all over her (being outside my 72 hours no-fly zone), but she wasn’t much interested.

She rolled over and I spooned into her, moaning quiet piteous moans, and she said, “I love how smooth it is.”

She had her hand down her side and was fingering the Steelheart. “I can’t even feel when you do that,” I said, “I really wish I could feel that.” Moan.

Tap, tap, tap. “Can you feel that?” Moan.

Every random little thought causes a stirring in the tube. Every little casual caress or throw-away verbal tease from Belle makes me weak in the knees. I reach down and grasp the steel and its sensory-deprived contents and stroke it and touch it and wish it would respond. With the CB6K, I’d get the urge to rip it off, but I don’t feel exactly the same way with the Steelheart. It’s less “on” me and more “part” of me. I don’t necessarily think, “God, I wish this thing was off of me.” It’s more, “God, I wish I could jack this off and spray all over myself.”

Which brings me back to Belle’s thinking that the only good orgasm is one that happens inside her. Of course, it’s entirely her decision when and how I come, but I’m not going to split hairs over the mechanism. What’s really important to me is that I do it at her direction and that she’s with me when it happens. Where the goo flies afterward isn’t all that important to me.

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Belle replies, part 2

Rach asked:

I would like to ask Belle if she feels like being kinky with you has changed her sexuality at all, or changed the way she thinks about her sexuality? As the once-vanilla partner of a very submissively-inclined boy, I often marvel at my capacity to really, really enjoy these things that would have never crossed my mind a year or two ago, yet are part of his earliest fantasies.

FYI, Ferns and Tom, I am saving your questions for this weekend.  Look for responses then 🙂

Rach, this experience has undoubtedly allowed me to be more open to who I am sexually.  But I do think I have a lot of reflection, understanding and growth to achieve.  I am the conditioned product (now emancipated) of Catholicism; including 12 years of Catholic education.  I also lived through a long and very difficult period in my parent’s marriage during childhood that was centered around some unhealthy sexual behavior.   This lack of positive framing regarding sex and sexuality really left me in a place where I was afraid to spend a lot of time analyzing or pondering who I was sexually or what I would want from sex.  I was very willing to consider sex as a transactional obligation that had a touch of fun or intimacy in it, but was something I needed to “do” to keep my guy happy and content.   Self-enjoyment and fulfillment were not really part of my equation.

Yet I entered into a relationship with Thumper knowing that he certainly was NOT-vanilla. Never once was I uncomfortable with that, even if “kinky” wasn’t something that I wanted or needed.

In our new dynamic, I am forced to think about and strive for better understanding of myself sexually. And I like that A LOT.  I am more open and interested in sex, and I feel more comfortable exploring it.  I also am slowly becoming more playful in nature with it, do not take it so seriously.  This has allowed me to approach it all with more ease and enjoyment.  I also, as you note, definitely take pleasure in things that would never have been on my radar (e.g. putting nipple clamps on him, whacking him with a crop).

Because Thumper wants to do things for me, and truly serve me, I truly want to gift him with things that are important to him.  I LOVE the intimacy, consideration, thoughtfulness and dedication that this has brought to our relationship.

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Service

One of the fundamental aspects of the D/s flavor described by Ms. Rika in her book can be summed up by the phrase “true submission is not about what the domme does to the sub, it’s about what the sub does for the domme.” In her opinion, if as a sub you aren’t prepared to embrace that as true you aren’t really a submissive. That’s not to say you don’t enjoy bottoming in a scene, but if you’re really submissive, you want to serve the top all of the time. It has taken me a year to really come to understand that.

I will admit right here that I’m not the coolest kid in the BDSM class and can only just begin to understand how that POV might set some folks off, but regardless, it make sense to me. A lot of sense. As Belle and I have wound our way down our version of the D/s garden path, I have felt that need to serve her grow and grow. As I said the other day, this would seem to run counter to my inclination to be selfish in the rest of my life. What I think now is that these two impulses (the selfishly service-oriented sub) are not contradictory. In one sense, the fact that I am selfish and self-centered only throws into sharp relief how very important my service to Belle is. It’s hard. Really hard. But, as has often been observed, the only things in life worth having usually are. Also, one could construe the fact that I have led our relationship to the point where I am allowed to serve as her sub as fundamentally selfish since it was all my idea to begin with and I seem to have been the driving force behind the gradual evolution of our dynamic in this direction. I have no problem with this interpretation because, at the end of the day, it makes me very happy. I could not have brought Belle here against her will, obviously, but that doesn’t matter. I pushed for it because of how it makes me feel as much as because I wanted to make her feel good. Is there conflict in that statement? I don’t think so.

Last night, Belle stopped at this sentence in a comment left by Micheal_X:

There is also the argument that in D/s the submissive serves the dominant and the dominant serves the relationship.

My interpretation of that means that while I dedicate myself to her service, I am also placing a great deal of faith in her that she will not take it for granted. She will do what is necessary to ensure my continued happiness. This does not mean she will indulge my every fantasy, of course, and whatever she does she’ll do from her dominant position in the relationship (what, when, how long all decided by her), but along with my service she also receives my faith that she will look out for my emotional needs. This, more than anything, is what I’ve struggled with in our D/s dynamic in the past. Faith. Honestly, it’s something I’ve struggled with my entire life. It’s one of the reasons this is so scary for me. Whatever I get out of the relationship (other than the things I bring with me or create internally) will be coming from her and I will have essentially no control over them.

Dev highlights the peril of this leap of faith in here:

I just feel pessimistic about the whole endeavor.  What are you supposed to do if you’re married or partnered with a person you love, but your sexualities are really not very compatible?  I have no idea, and maybe this type of advice is as good as it gets.  “Stop trying to turn your wife into a leather-clad dominatrix” I can get on board with.  “Find out what her needs are and where you can find common ground so that you can serve her” – sure, that’s a good idea.  But how much of your sexuality are you willing to give up, and how far are you willing to ask your partner to bend to meet you?

Of course, she was asking rhetorical questions about a rhetorical couple, but I agree that transferring to Belle as much control as I have leaves me open to a very large potential downside. But, Belle “serves the relationship” and I’m part of that. I know Belle will do enough of what I find sexually satisfying to keep me happy. She may even do more than she already has. I trust she will ensure our D/s dynamic will always be a two-way street (where the rules of the road are hers, of course).

Rika suggests the sub should list the things he wants to do with and for his dominant partner. To the best of my recollection, she says this list should include all kinds of things, from the mundane (make your coffee) to the exotic (use your imagination). She then suggests the dominant go through that list and mark the things she’s not at all interested in, the things she will accept as part of routine service, and the things she’s willing to provide as gifts to the sub. Not as rewards, but gifts.

As an aside, this “no rewards” thing is something I struggle with because, like most people, I want my friggin’ rewards! But I get where she’s coming from. I shouldn’t serve Belle because I want rewards. I should do it because I want to. Her recognition of a job well done should be reward enough. As soon as I absorbed that, I found that’s what I really wanted all along. Not the act of the reward, but the recognition that motivated it. Now, when Belle tells me I’ve done a good job, I get an unbelievably satisfying rush of emotion (just before the feeling that I could have done better).

Anyway, this idea of making a list and then marking the items “no”, “always”, and “sometimes” is incredibly efficient and straightforward. And there’s nothing to say I can’t add things to the list as they come to me or that she can’t change her mind about some things as we go along, but isn’t that approach better than constantly haranguing and cajoling a reluctant partner into doing something? Better than living in hope that that one thing might someday happen if you can only figure out the right way to position the prospect? Remember my fascination with Belle allowing me to use a strap-on to bring her to orgasm? Yeah, that was fun. When she finally put her foot down and squashed the idea totally, I actually found myself at peace (though you can bet your sweet ass it’s going on my list just in case she’s had a change of heart).

For what it’s worth, here’s the initial list of household tasks I have offered to Belle:

  • I will make all the beds every day.
  • I will make her coffee every day.
  • I will feed the kids breakfast every day.
  • I will take the dog out every morning.
  • I will do all of the laundry, including folding and putting away.
  • I will pick up both kids from school at least twice a week (normally we each get one).
  • I will prepare a majority of the dinners and be primarily responsible for all the dishes.
  • I will take out the trash and recyclables and make sure they get to the curb on time.

 
I am allowed to delegate some of these things to our 11-year-old son, but am still responsible for getting them done.

Belle asked me last night if it was better for me to have a list versus just a general expectation. I told her I need the list. The list is not all-inclusive, but it does represent a baseline against which I need to perform. I will always look for other things to do as the opportunities arise and I encouraged her to task me with anything else she wants me to do, but I like the routine the list provides. It’s dependable.

Yesterday, she made one of the beds before I could get around to it. She said she was only trying to make things a little easier. Of course, that makes perfect sense. It’s the thing any normal person would do. But I took it as mark of failure. That was my job. I was going to do it, I just hadn’t had the opportunity yet. For me, it’s close to her rejecting my service. We both know it’s going to be hard for her to walk by something like an unmade bed and not make it, so we both have things we need to work on.

So anyway, I’m just kind of rambling here. Expounding on the idea of service since it’s the shiny new thing. Writing this helps me assemble how I feel and think and, of course, helps lay it all out for Belle.

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DS-ney

OK, maybe I’m seeing things. Maybe I’ve just got it bad. But…um…well…

Look at this scan from a French magazine article on the next Disney feature Rapunzel.

I mean, come on! She’s got him tied up. With her hair. He’s begging. She’s obviously in control of the situation. Almost like he’s her prisoner…

Yeah, OK. I need a hobby.

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The nose on my face

Back in September of last year, I bought Belle Uniquely Rika. Over the course of the past week, Belle’s read most of it. She seemed to resonate with much of it and asked me to read it, too. I’m about half way through now and, I have to say, it’s blown my mind.

Before I go further, I’ll say this is not the post where I actually discuss Rika’s approach. I have questions (as do others), but I’m not done with the book yet so I think trying to get into it now would be premature.

As I sat there in my sudsy warm bathwater (who doesn’t read in the bath? and who knew “bathwater” was one word?) and I read the Rika Way® (which, even though I’m not actually discussing it, does seem to make more than a little sense to me) I was suddenly struck by something very profound. Something I’ve danced around and paid lip-service, but have not really owned up to. Something that has, oddly enough, left me somewhat shaken.

I am submissive.

Seriously, I know. Isn’t that ridiculous? Like, it says that right up there in the blog description. “Submissively inclined.” I’ve known this. But no. It’s different now. I’m not submissively inclined. I am submissive, period. I really can’t describe how finally and fully realizing this seemed like a massive chasm suddenly opened up underneath me. I actually felt a bit of weightlessness in my chest. Both terrifying and exciting.

I have, in the back of my mind, always clung to this idea that I might be a switch. Not that it mattered much since Belle’s unlikely to ever let me top her and she’ll never let me top anyone else, but I clung to it. Like a blanket. Like a thing that made me feel better but was actually totally worthless. Now I know, thanks to Rika and what she wrote and how it finally knocked the final pieces into place, that I’m not ever going to be a switch. I am, in fact, always going to be on the bottom. And that freaks me the fuck out.

First of all, I admit to carrying around a prejudice against submissive males. Submissives in general kinda creep me out. It makes no sense, I know, but that’s what it is. It’s like I’m the white supremacist who just discovered the black grandmother he never knew about or the uber-masculine father of 12 who suddenly figured out he was gay. This is all horrible and all nasty and sad and not anything I’m happy about, but I see now that I’ve never fully embraced my submissive nature because I don’t especially like the archetype as it exists in our culture. In fact, there is no archetype. No role model. Nothing positive to look towards. Just layer after layer of stereotype and ridicule and cultural indifference. And now I know I’m one of them.

Second, I’m very self-centered. Always thinking about myself and how I can get what I want from a situation. Always thinking about my needs and my POV and how I know what’s right and everyone else just hasn’t figured it out yet. You can’t be a self-centered submissive, right? That’s not actually possible, right? Who’s ever heard of that?

Finally, based on the first two points, I’m very afraid of failure. Of not being able to live up to the ideal I’m even now creating in my head of what a good submissive partner needs to be. Not someone playing at submissiveness, but an actual submissive. How can I embrace something that gives me the creeps? How can I square my selfishness against my desire to serve Belle?

I admit I’m freaking out. Overreacting. Not making an abundance of sense. As Belle said several times yesterday, we’re already living 80% of what Rika describes. But that other 20% is a big 20%. What I feel opening inside me is maybe the biggest emotional and relationship challenge I’ve faced. It scares me. The thing I’ve been approaching from the periphery, while always looking in another direction, for over a year now scares me like never before. Understand, I do not doubt. I know what I am because of the wave of warm euphoria that washes over me when I think about it and how Rika’s words ring so true and (frankly) the way it chubs out the contents of the tube (every male’s divining rod). It feels true.

But now what? How do I move forward? And honestly, how much more of a prat could I actually be?

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Change of plans

So yeah, last night was my supposed to be my next chance at an orgasm, but no, it didn’t happen. Belle came down with menstruation early in the afternoon and, since she prefers I come inside her, she decided to postpone the event. Instead of coming, she said I’d get a little personal abuse time. To be honest, I felt it was more than a fair trade. Like last time, it consisted of using the butterfly clamps on my nipples combined with testicle pain. The thing that made it especially notable is that Belle’s getting really good at this stuff.

She started out by attaching the clamps flat against my chest as opposed to perpendicular as before. This meant any pulling of the chain not only pulled on my nipples, but also twisted them. In addition, she clamped just the very tips. How they stayed on without gripping any of the fleshy bits is beyond me, but the sensation was a laser-intense pain on either side. Instead of just pulling randomly, she would wind the chain around her finger, slowly and purposefully, raising my expectation of the coming hurt several notches. Then she’d pull. The shorter chain meant more intensity and sensation with her every movement. She also used the chains to more purposefully direct my movement, like a bridle on a horse. God, they still hurt right now, almost 24 hours later.

She also mixed up how she slapped my nuts around. Instead of single hard impacts, she’d perform a series of light slaps that escalated in force until she was rapidly slapping me rather hard. Again and again, she’d build a cascade of slaps up to nearly a hard punch at the end, intermingled with light and really rather pleasant stroking of what had become a very tight scrotum thanks to the steel ring and swelling cock. Before long, the lingering pain from each assault coalesced into one long, aching torment. That unique pain radiated into my guts and down into my inner thighs as she moved back in for each round, pushing my legs out of the way if necessary. It was…fucking awesome. I passed over the threshold of involuntary self-preservation and started to open my legs wider, leaning into her strikes. Craving them. Silently urging her to hit me harder.

When she was done with me, she gently stroked my inner arm, a place of heightened sensation for me. She uses that place to calm me down and it works. Even with throbbing, burning nipples and aching balls, shortly after she started I felt the bite of the Steelheart’s ring ease as the meat inside released its erection.I felt very spacey, very warm, and very happily hurt.

“I’m going to do this for 30 more seconds, and then you’re going to get Pink,” she whispered in my ear.

She didn’t seem interested in having an orgasm earlier in the evening. Had the infliction of pain on me aroused her? I don’t know. I still haven’t asked. But as soon as she stopped, I reached into my drawer and took out her favorite sex toy. As she came, she grabbed the device out of my hand and pressed it hard against her clit.

Another intense orgasm for her. An awesomely satisfying scene for me.

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Potpourri

About a year ago, I discovered a little statue made by Auguste Rodin called Eternal Idol over on Male Submission Art and fell in love with it. I have no idea if Rodin was subbie, but he’s perfectly captured a moment of male submission in this work. Ever since I found it, I’ve been thinking of getting a copy for Belle but was never able to find one that didn’t look like ass. Asking the Google brings up a ton of links to one particularity nasty knock-off and only a few to the one pictured above (in fact, so obscure, I can’t even find it again). It’s a copy made from the original and currently resides on Belle’s nightstand, a Christmas present from her little bunny.

In other news, I can report that the miracle of human adaptability is again taking place in my pants. When I first got the Steelheart back from the Fatherland, I told you the ring was very tight. Almost too tight. On the border of intolerably tight, to be honest. It woke me up several times a night with its tightness and the accompanying testicular pain. Now, just over a week later, I’ve somehow adjusted. It’s still tight, but the testicular aching is gone. It now wakes me up just like the CB6K did once I got used to it. Somewhere between 5:00 and 6:00, my stainless alarm clock pulls me out of my sleep and makes me get up and pee. This morning, I could have even stayed in bed. I expect that soon, I’ll sleep right though it.

I’d love to know what’s going on when that happens. Are things moving around in there? Are the pain receptors burning out? I don’t notice anything different on the outside, but somehow the very same device is causing my body to react differently. It’s amazing, if you think about it, that a guy can have a thing like this strapped to him and eventually just roll with it.

Yesterday, to celebrate our day off, Belle and I had sex. We brought the rabbit vibe out for only its second performance. I suggested we try to dollar-cost average its per-use expense down from $110/orgasm to only $55/orgasm. Maybe even lower if she liked it. Last time, she used it on herself and I watched. This time, I wanted to use it on her. I still have, even though I’m unable to do it myself, a strong urge to fuck her. Her usual stand-by, Pink the vibrator, is very nice, but not really a fucking tool. It’s too small. I know, it’s not really about me and all, but I’m interpreting Belle’s Rule to mean after 72 hours, I can lobby for anything.

Anyway, at first she declined the rabbit. She wanted my fingers. So, like the dutifully denied husband that I am, I let go of the rabbit idea and started to work on her. There was no rush since we were home alone and it was the middle of the morning. I climbed above her and kissed her nipples and started to stroke her pussy in an unhurried way. The device was soon filled and straining and, since I was above her, hanging down and bumping into her. I moved between her legs and pressed its warm hardness into her snatch. I rubbed it against her clit, not really knowing if it would do anything for her. But it did. She liked it.

“God, I want to fuck you so bad, Belle Fille.”

“Then go ahead. Try it.”

I started to press the Steelheart into her pussy. I could feel her heat radiate through it, but felt no other sensation other than the familiar pressure of the tube restraining me. Its downward curve made any kind of real fucking impossible, but I could feel it being enveloped by her while I fingered her clit. Every little cell in my brain was pushing me to fuck her, and even though a perfectly hard cock was a fraction of an inch away from a wet and willing pussy, it was not to be.

“Get the rabbit,” she said.

I hopped out of bed, hot steel swinging between my legs, and got the rabbit vibe from our toy box. I couldn’t find any lube, so I stuck it my mouth and covered it with spit. After warming it up under the covers for a minute while I worked on increasing her natural lube, I turned it on.

Now, I was really fucking her. The rabbit’s vibrating ears tickled her clit while the lavender head of the shaft (noticeably bigger than me) worked in and out. One hand on the vibe, the other on one nipple, my mouth on the other, she soon was going over the falls and having what seemed to me a pretty serious orgasm.

After a few moments of basking, I asked to be beaten. She said she would and ordered me up on my hands and knees. Then she whipped my ass and upper thighs with the crop. I can’t say how long it went on, but I’m sure my ass was glowing red when it was over. It stung for the better part of the day as we went to the movies and just hung out together. I think I must have told her half a dozen times how much I liked the beating. We so seldom get to do that now that all our hitty toys are so noisy…

Finally, Belle told me that my initial showed up on her calendar again. After only two weeks, I’ll be allowed another orgasm this Saturday (or thereabouts). She told me that any freedom from the device would be short-lived since its presence keeps me properly focused. She made me admit that I knew it was true. It is. I’m a much better bunny when I’m in my cage.

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A dream, a thing, and a scene

I had another dream a few nights ago. In it, I reached down to feel the device (something I find myself doing quite a bit, actually) and discovered that, somehow, the cock was outside it, long and hard. I couldn’t process this as it was unharmed and yet the device was still in place underneath. I was very confused. Then, instead of acting on the unexpectedly free meat, I started to try to stuff it back in the tube before Belle found out. I felt guilty and even somewhat ashamed and very much annoyed that the perfectly secure device had somehow failed. Then I woke up, hard and stuffed into the tube, ring biting. Still perfectly secure.

I feel like writing a post that probably covers some old ground, but I’m sure you’ll humor me. What choice do you have, right? I want to talk about how things have changed with regard to chastity and Belle and I. How her attitude and the new Steelheart have combined into a new thing. A better thing, from my point of view. Then I’ll tell you about a hot little scene to make up for it.

Like most guys, I guess, chastity devices are part of our relationship due to my interest, not hers. For the better part of the first year we used them, I always suspected she was humoring me when she had me wear one. She didn’t seem willing to push my tolerance and acted as though being out was preferable to me than being in. At some point, though, in the past three months that changed. She wants me in a device more than not now.

A week ago, when the new and improved Steelheart went on, she and I were standing in the kitchen together. I had been chastised for all of about 30 minutes at that point, and for the first time in weeks. I was standing very close to her and put my face against her neck.

Belle laughed a little. “I can tell you’re wearing it,” she said.

“I feel different when I have it on,” I replied.

“Good!”

“You haven’t like me out of it?”

“I always love you. You know that. But I’ve come to prefer you the way you are when you’re locked up. You’re more focused and attentive. I like that.”

I think I may have whimpered a little. Shoving your meat into a chastity device because you want to is plenty fun but doing it because it’s expected of you – because she really wants it that way – is another game altogether.

One of the things those of us who wear these devices often hear from those who don’t is that we really shouldn’t have to wear one. We should be strong enough to maintain our chastity through no other force other than our desire to do what our dominant wants. I don’t really argue with that point of view since it’s just another way to play the game, but I think it misses out on something that, for me, is pretty huge. Something I’m only just experiencing now.

The first ingredient is what I just talked about and has been present for a little while now. That is, she wants me in the device more than I want to be in it. The second ingredient is the Steelheart’s newly inescapable features. If one kinks on submitting to their dominant partner, then great. I get that since I do, too. But I also kink quite hard on not having any control. In the past, when the device I was wearing was one I could escape from, I always maintained a certain amount of control since it was only my self-control that kept me in it. I wasn’t really interested in escaping, but knowing I could meant I still had control. Now, I can’t get out. And I don’t decide when I go in. Or how long I’ll be in there. All my control is gone because she’s taken it. That’s hot.

I told Belle this night before last. I told her it made me happy. I’m in a very good zone right now with regard to the D/s and my new found total lack of self-determination has a lot to do with it. That night was also one in which I could, according to Belle’s Rule, initiate sex. She wasn’t really in the mood, but she told me to get undressed and to bring her the butterfly clips anyway. I gave them to her and she kind of played around with them a little by clipping them on the fleshy webbing at the base of her thumb.

“Ouch!” she said, “That hurts.”

“Yeah,” I said, sounding not unlike a stoned surfer. I’m a pretty big fan of those clips.

She experimented with pulling on them and saw for herself how they clamped harder that way. I was getting kind of dreamy watching her fiddle with them. I could feel the tube’s contents plump up.

She finally attached the clamps to my nipples, first the right, then the left. They’re so intense. Wonderfully intense. Belle picked up the chain and started to pull. Gently, then with more force. The tube fully pressurized, biting into the shaft and pulling my scrotum tight. I got up on all fours to help ease the strain of the heavy device pulling on the erection.

That gave Belle a vector into my balls. At first, she stroked them and the hard steel making them tight.

“So smooth,” she said, “I love how smooth it is.”

I looked down and watched her stroke the steel. “I wish I could feel that.”

She pulled me closer and my face down to the mattress with the chain. Then she gripped my balls hard and squeezed them. I instinctively pulled away which caused her to yank on the chain again. In this way, I found myself to be something of a human yo-yo. She’d pull the clamps to make me come closer, allowing her to punch me in the nuts. I’d pull back and she’d yank on the chain and start the whole thing over again.

Pain flashed up and down my body. My balls were aching, both from the device and the abuse. And my nipples were on fire from the yanking and pulling. She was being wonderfully cruel. So thoughtfully, lovingly cruel. As usual, when she’s hurting me, I lose my sense of time. I have no idea how long this went on, but when it was over and the clamps came off, it was as though my nipples exploded. Incredible surge of pain. And as I laid next to her, spooning the solidly filled tube into her backside, my balls throbbed.

I felt completely abused. Thank you, Belle Fille.

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Thumper’s night

Yes, she let me come on Saturday.

The whole thing was wonderful. Before we got down to business, she told me to undress and get into bed. I did, on my knees, burrowing my face into her, kneeling and demonstrating my willingness to submit. She ran her hand up my naked back and caressed my skin with her nails. I hadn’t been feeling super submissive up to that point, but the weight of the event was starting to dawn on me. I was going to have an orgasm. An orgasm I really wanted and was only going to get because she was allowing it to happen. I got under the covers and laid next to her, opening myself to more of her caressing.

She ran her hands all over me except on the aching part that wanted it the most. I shifted around trying to help her find what she was obviously avoiding.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please touch it.”

“There’s plenty of time for that,” she replied calmly. She’s always calm in bed. I get so turned on and fight for control and she stays cool and collected.

“I want it so bad.”

“I know.”

After a few moments, she finally found her cock. I gasped. Even though I had been unlocked for weeks and had plenty of opportunity to feel a hand on my erections, this was altogether different. This was her hand.

“How many times did you play with this while I left you unlocked?” She asked. I avoided her eyes. I hadn’t expected that. I felt guilty. “How many times?” she repeated. Not angrily, but firmly.

“I don’t know…” I said sheepishly. I felt like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You don’t know,” she repeated.

“No, I don’t,” I said. Then, eventually, “Lots. More than I should have.”

“Uh huh.”

“You said I could that one time,” I said, gamely groping for an out.

She grabbed my nuts and squeezed. The pain was instant and severe. I gasped as her griped tightened and I felt one testicle slowly and uncomfortably grind against the other. She let go and I collapsed against her, panting. The pain throbbed dully and the cock was harder than before.

After a few moments of relief, she quickly grasped my testes in her hand again, squeezing even harder than before. The pain seared up and out of my groin and spread throughout my body. Her nails began to dig into the soft scrotum skin. I realized I was being punished for playing with her cock.

“I’m sorry,” I finally gasped and she released me.

I nuzzled into her and apologized again.

“You’re weak,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

“I’ve been far too indulgent with you,” she said. “I’m going to lock you back up tomorrow. You need to focus more on me.”

“Yes, Belle Fille,” I whispered. Her attitude was unexpected, as was the intensity of her punishment. She had quickly driven me deeply into subspace.

A short while later, she allowed me to begin bringing her to orgasm. I pulled up her top and started suckling her nipples, feeling them stiffen in response. I brought my hand down between her legs and felt the glowing heat coming through the material of her pajama bottoms. I pulled them down and felt her slick wetness under my fingers.

“I want your tongue in my pussy,” she said bluntly. “I want you to eat me out.”

I moaned and quickly moved between her legs, planting my mouth on her wet snatch. I absolutely reveled in her juices, slurping them down as the soft folds of her flesh responded to my insistent tongue. I reached up and played with her nipple. Soon, she was breathing hard and gasping “oh, fuck” repeatedly. She came really hard and I laid my face against her wet heat, rhythmically grinding the hard cock pressing into the mattress.

After basking for a few minutes, she brought me back up and indicated it was time for me to go. I easily slid the cock into her pussy, loosely relaxed and supremely wet as it always is post-cunnilingus. I quickly got up to speed, wanting to enjoy the feeling of purposeful fucking but also wanting to feel the orgasm I knew I’d have. I held her head with one hand, the other on her hip, and kissed her face. I felt such love and affection for her. Felt so grateful to her. So connected to her.

All too soon, I felt the orgasm lock and load. I was still pumping, but beyond the point of no return. It started to well up inside me from great depths. I gasped, “This is yours,” and shot my load inside her. Again and again the cock flexed and more of my seed surged into her. I was grunting and gasping and just fucking coming like a feral pig. I had been so horny – wound up so tight in anticipation – and all of it was swirling away inside as the pent-up energy drained out with the orgasm like water down a drain.

Immediately afterward, I was spent. Totally spent. Exhaustion came over me like a heavy blanket. I felt contentment unlike any I’ve felt in quite a while. This was no half orgasm. There was no restraint on my part. It was my night and I came completely. In no time, I was out. Deeply asleep. Content.

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When the means become the end

Belle’s last orgasm was Sunday night, so I’m not supposed to be expecting anything until Wednesday night at the earliest. However, the continuing unlocked status of the cock has left me more focused on it than usual. Last night, as Belle was drowsily watching the football game, I was snuggled up against her and slowly dry-humping her leg. Based on a strict reading of the law, I may have been crossing a line, but I was careful to keep my hands off restricted body parts. She was clearly unimpressed with my efforts, however, and it was obvious I wasn’t going to get anything from her.

“Can I mess around with it?” I asked hopefully. Meaning, of course, could I play with her cock.

“Well…be quiet about it.”

Shortly afterward, she was out like a light, but I was on. Tenting the covers over my crotch, I jacked off for 45 minutes by the glow of the TV. I edged myself again and again, though never spilled a drop. Perhaps assisting in this remarkable conservation was the stretchy silicone cock ring I was wearing. It certainly contributed to the erection. After three quarters of an hour of near non-stop stroking, my balls felt twice their normal size and my epididymides were pronounced and swollen (presumably caused by the constriction of the ring). The act of masturbating, once a necessary means to achieve the desired end, is now an end unto itself. Physically, I had the urge to come many times. I felt all the internal mechanisms prime for launch, only for liftoff to be scrubbed again and again. Mentally, though, I was reveling in that space I formerly tried to pass through as quickly as possible. I don’t know that I’ve ever jacked off nearly continuously for 45 minutes (absent any porn) in my life, but I do know that doing so has become just as seductive and habit-forming as when it always ended in a gooey mess. Also, being able to do it with such abandon and in such close proximity to Belle somehow made me feel closer to her and contributed to an overall happy disposition.

This morning, Belle’s Outlook alert box popped up with her day’s meetings and to-do items. Included in that list was a reminder consisting of a single letter – my first initial. Saturday is my next day to orgasm, as chosen by me blindly and randomly. New-found love of endless masturbation aside, I am very excited for the weekend.