Tag: FLR

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Belle’s experiment

Tuesday morning, Belle told me she was going the let me out for a little Thumper-centric recreation that night. As I went about my day (driving to work, sitting in meetings, eating lunch, etc.), I’d think about that and what it might mean and feel the tube between my legs tighten up. I was feeling pretty horned-up all day.

Later, in bed, she took out her only remaining key and unlocked the device. I removed it and put it all back together before she took it from my hands and placed it over on her side of the bed. She barely had anything to do with the old CB6K’s after I took them off leaving their care and maintenance entirely up to me, but she’s much more fond of the Steelheart. When it’s off me, she’s possessive of it and tends to want to keep it herself. That makes the act of being chastised by her much more potent. It’s her device she puts on her cock when she feels like it. Woof.

Anyway, we laid there for a few moments watching the end of a TV show, me naked under the covers, the cock and scrotum all splayed out like an octopus out of the water. As I’ve said before, the extreme flexibility of it after the equally extreme inflexibility of the steel makes for a very strange sensation after being locked up for so long. Once the TV was off, she started to move her hand slowly and methodically over the flaccid member. Even though I was hot and bothered over this moment all day, once it actually came, the cock didn’t seem too interested in responding right away. Maybe it was nerves. Stage fright or something.

It didn’t last long. Pressure started to build in the ridiculously flexible and stretchy meat as she ran her hands over it and my balls until I was sporting the first full erection I had had in weeks. No grasping or stroking, just touching. Tender, gentle, absolutely maddening touching. It was wonderfully loving torture.

Eventually, she did grab hold and start to slowly stroke it until my breathing started coming fast and then she’d let go, leaving it bobbing. I found my hands moving towards my crotch all on their own. She said, “You go,” and the gentle stroking turned into something much more impatient. I was beating the fuck out of that meat while her hands continued to move over my body. She started to flick her fingertips over one of my nipples and I found myself instantly on the edge of an orgasm and had to stop stroking. I laughed. That was so quick. My desire to come was riding very high.

After a few moments of rest, I started again and once more found myself quickly at the edge of another orgasm (or would it be the same one?). I lost count, but again and again I went up to the ledge and stopped. Before long, the sounds of my stroking were punctuated by the wet smacking sound of a hard cock whose slit was well-lubricated with precum.

I was lost in the joy of the ancient art of masturbation, but not so much that I didn’t notice Belle getting sleepy. I could have gone for quite a while longer, but felt doing it “without” her was wrong, so I asked, “Please, Belle Fille, can I stop?” Though I really didn’t want to, she told me I should. So I did and the fell asleep curled up into her, the cock almost painfully hard.

She left me out of the device all the next day. I expected to go back in last night, but she told me this morning that she’s conducting an experiment to “see how I do.” Since I have no explicit permission to do anything and she’s “seeing how I do,” I’ll be doing my best to keep my hands to myself until she says I can do otherwise.

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A sub or not a sub?

To paraphrase Bill Shakespeare…

What’s in a name? That which we call a sub
By any other name would submit as sweetly.

Recently, there was a bit of a kerfuffle in the comments to my post The 10/100 plan in which Mykey suggested that coming makes being submissive more difficult while Maymay suggested that was poppycock.

Mykey:

The denial after [lots of orgasms] is much harder and much sweeter for it, and the submission deeper and more fun. Of course during those periods its hard to be as submissive, then hey perhaps you could consider taking a break from that too? Perhaps for all or some of the period. It might also make you both appreciate the submission when you start again that much more.

To which Maymay commented (in part):

Attaching a physical experience such as having an orgasm to a motive such as being submissive or not is oversimplifying the entire issue to a point I find demeaning of my masculinity and sexually submissive expression.

Mykey came back with (in part):

How I (and others like me that are so often derided for it) react to orgasms is part of who we are and what makes us tick, and that is no statement on your submission at all. Perhaps you are lucky enough not to get sub drop. Perhaps you are better at managing it. Perhaps you are wired differently, and perhaps your submission is a deeper one than some. Who knows. But you should accept that others can be different to you, with a different style of submission and different drivers for it.

Then they had a little more back and forth, but that’s the gist of it. Go read the whole thing for yourself as I’d hate to characterize their points of view incorrectly. Anyway, it all ended with Maymay saying he’d blog on the subject himself. I am eager to read it.

That being said, I find myself more in the Mykey camp than Maymay’s. I admit that I’ve struggled with coming to terms with my inner sub and probably should not be considered an expert on the matter, but I can totally relate to losing my sub mojo after orgasm. In fact, I’ve always felt that my interest in being submissive and wanting to be denied rises and drops in directly opposed correlation to my level of sexual arousal. My center of attention moves inward when I come. I’m sure Belle would agree with me on that.

So, am I a real sub? What’s the difference between me and Mykey versus Maymay? The web it littered with examples of both kinds so those of us who feel the ebb and flow of submission do, in fact, exist. Are we just psyching ourselves into believing we’re subs when we’re really not?

I wonder, for at least me, if it isn’t the orgasm itself that makes the difference but the way Belle acts when and after it happens. For instance, in the past, a planned orgasm for me has also meant a break from the device for at least a couple of days (usually at least a week, though not last time). Also, she allows them to happen inside her in a very outwardly-appearing vanilla way (just like the old days). Then, I detect just the slightest drop in her sexual dominance (usually by letting me get away with things she wouldn’t normally). Could it be that I’m less of a sub when she’s “less” of a domme? I’m in no way criticizing how she performs her role or suggesting she change a thing, it’s just a thought.

Also, while I can’t speak for Mykey’s experiences, I can say that one big difference between me and Maymay is where we are in our lives and when we discovered our submissive sides. I had cruised all though my adolescence with no inkling I was what I was (though I can see some signs that were there all along). Maymay, being significantly younger, came to his awareness much earlier than I did. That means I had an entire adult life living a way very different than I am now. Perhaps where we are relative to one another makes our experiences very different (at least, how our submissiveness manifests). Is there an inherent difference between someone who comes of age as a submissive versus someone who finds it later in life?

No matter, I can’t change what I know to be true about myself. Denial + arousal = submission. That’s how I work. That’s not saying I’m in no way submissive when my sexual appetite has been totally sated. I think I would be accepting of domination even then. In fact, that was something I was interested to test with the 10/100 plan: would forcing me to orgasm more than I would otherwise leave me feeling dominated just as a near-total absence of them does? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll find out some day.

In the mean time, I’ll be interested to read what my readers think about this.

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New approach

The nice thing about having a blog people actually read is all the helpful comments (in addition to the comments with helpful intentions).

In response to The 10/100 plan, Maymay (who uses nice big words like “homeostatic“) suggested that perhaps we should be focusing on stimulation rather than orgasm as a way of fighting off a drop in my libido.

…I’d rather try conditioning towards edging, not orgasming: cut the denial time in, say, fifths, but make those 10 orgasms into 10 almost-orgasms instead, spread evenly throughout the 100 days. So for example, have an orgasm or two on Day 0, then edge (but don’t orgasm) on day 20 two times. Edge twice again on Day 40, again on Day 60, and two last times on Day 80. Then enjoy an orgasm on Day 100.

Actually, that makes a hell of a lot of sense. Several things have changed since Belle first took control of the cock, but one of the most important is that she leaves it locked nearly all the time now. It comes out when she wants to use it for her pleasure, but then puts it back in immediately afterward. This leaves me with few opportunities to be directly stimulated since she orgasms far more often from my hands and mouth than she does from the cock. As I mentioned previously, the cock will often not even rise to the occasion during these events since it’s been trained that its participation will usually not be required.

The point I’m trying to make is, perhaps the issue isn’t that I’m not coming enough, maybe it’s that I’m not getting enough stimulation. Tom summed it up.

Maintaining interest while in chastity depends upon a mix of tease along with the denial. Without the tease, denial is merely frustrating.

Belle and I talked it over and she’s decided to let me out occasionally for the purpose of allowing me to become stimulated, but only when she’s present (even though she doesn’t necessarily need to be the one doing the stimulating). I think this is a smashing idea since now, if I feel the need for stimulation, I’m left to either trying to get her to have sex (i.e., to get what I can from her orgasm) or I’m driven to porn (which can be nice, but just isn’t the same ad direct stimulation and, I’ve found, it can sometimes enhance the bad side of my frustration). By approaching my stimulation as a separate (and, presumably, much less frequent) activity, it allows her pleasure to happen exactly when she wants it to and will, hopefully, allow me to be more focused on giving her the absolute best time possible.

I feel like every time we hit a bit of a bump, we talk it though (sometimes, with help from my readers) and try to figure out what to do about it. Sometimes, we drift aimlessly, move laterally, and even fall backward (though not very often), but we’re both committed to making this work and looking for the way forward. At no point in our 12 year marriage have we been more focused on each other and our relationship. Being with Belle is the best.

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Supreme irony

All this yakking about “feeling blah about the denial, oh woe is me, yadda yadda yadda” and actually laying out the 10/100 plan to Belle last night has, ironically, left me pretty turned on. A lot and all of a sudden. I had the sleeping disorder that’s a signature symptom of excessive horniness and tossed and turned all night. I woke several times with ephemeral erotic visions drifting though my sleepy mind and a tube so full my balls felt like a bouquet of purple pansies grasped too tightly by a desperate, sweaty fist. So, yeah, I guess it’s back. Teh hornies.

Not only that, but the submissiveness is back, too. The desire to serve her. To do hard things. To make her as happy as possible. Frankly, that’s been at a very low ebb lately. I’ve been going though the motions, but not getting any of the fluttering in my stomach that goes with it. This is how I felt when I committed myself to her service in the first place and it feels good.

So now the issue is that today’s supposed to be my date. That is, today’s date was written on a little slip of paper randomly drawn out of a hat several months ago. That means I’m supposed to come. Now that I’ve found my mojo, though, I don’t want to. Like, I really don’t want to. I am, right now, where I want to be (the best place for both of us, I think) and it’s taken two weeks to get here. If I come now, that denial boulder will roll down to the bottom of the hill. Maybe I’ll find myself horny again right away because sometimes it works like that. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe it’ll be back to Funksville. Who knows?

And what of the 10/100 plan? Should we still try it? Am I only turned on because there’s the prospect of 10 orgasms spread over 5 days in front of me? If that were suddenly withdrawn, would my mojo go with it?

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The 10/100 plan

As I mentioned the other day, I’ve been feeling a little blah of late with regard to the denial thing. I think a big part of this is that my body’s adapted to its nearly orgasmless existence. I just don’t get the hormonal charge from it that I used to.

So I had this idea. Not a new idea, to be sure. I’ve read of various flavors of this idea in different places and even a few comments from my recent post brought it up. Basically, what would happen if, instead of denying me orgasms, Belle made me orgasm more? Like, more than I would normally. Back in the day when I had my own cock, I seem to remember jacking off about maybe three times a week or so. Maybe a little more. I don’t know, it’s been a while. Anyway, what if she made me come a lot more than that. Like, twice a day for five days. Ten orgasms. I suspect the first several would be great, but how will number five feel? Eight? Ten!? The idea is to shock my body out of any denial-induced torpor.

That’s the first half of the idea. The second, I admit, is inspired by Cricketed who’s offered his keyholder a “summer of chastity”. I liked the sound of that and started thinking about offering something similar to Belle. Turns out there are just about 100 days between Memorial Day and my birthday. A hundred days. That’s a long time. That’s a goal. It sounds hard. I like hard. Problem is, Memorial Day is still a ways off. Why couldn’t we start the 100 day clock sooner?

So anyway, the idea is to basically “flood the zone” with orgasms over the course of a week and then go deep into denial for a period of time about twice the length of my previously longest period. I brought this up to Belle (who’s decision, I acknowledge, is absolutely final with regard to any question involving what happens to the cock) and she’s willing to give it a shot. However, before doing so, she said I needed to post the idea here so she could see what my readers think of it.

So that’s what I’m doing. What do you think?

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Service update

I can hear you asking yourselves, “I wonder how that whole service sub thing’s going over there at Maison de Belle Fille?” You are, right? You’re totally asking yourself that. I can hear you.

OK, well, even if you’re not, here’s the list of things I said I’d do back when I introduced the idea a little over a month ago along with a note as to how I’m doing:

  • I will make all the beds every day.
    With the exception of the days I was traveling recently and one day where I just ran out of time in the morning, I’ve done this every day. I’ve made my 11-year-old son make his own, but that’s more about turning him into a productive member of society than it is anything else.
  • I will make her coffee every day.
    This I do. I’m supposed to set it up the night before and I’m getting pretty good at that (especially lately), but there have been days when I forget. In those cases, I get up with her alarm and make it then. I think once or twice in the past month (excluding days I wasn’t home), she made it herself, but in general I’m pretty good at making sure she’s got her coffee when she wants it.
  • I will feed the kids breakfast every day.
    This one’s fallen by the wayside, for the most part. Belle gets out of bed before me as does my daughter who, as soon as her foot hits the floor, wants food. Belle makes it for her. Then, she usually makes the boy’s food, too. I don’t know if she’d rather me make it, but at this point it’s almost always her.
  • I will take the dog out every morning.
    Like the coffee and the beds, I’m pretty good with this one. She’s occasionally offered to do it for me, but I don’t recall her doing it for me because I hadn’t done it yet more than once or twice.
  • I will do all of the laundry, including folding and putting away.
    This is my biggest issue. I get around to the laundry, but not as often as she’d like. Also, I’m pretty bad at putting it away once I’m done folding it (like right now – there’s a basket of it staring at me from the corner of her bedroom). Of all my expected service tasks, this is the one in which she’s most often had to involve herself by either starting loads or even folding them for me. I find it really hard to stay focused on it and, with four people in the house, it’s a never-ending task.
  • I will pick up both kids from school at least twice a week.
    Nailed it. I get them Tuesday’s and Thursday’s and usually at least one other day in the week. I think this makes her life easier in that she can finish up things at work and not have to bring them home with her. In any event, I’m lucky I can pretty much set my own hours and leaving right at 5:00 is hardly ever a problem for me.
  • I will prepare a majority of the dinners and be primarily responsible for all the dishes.
    I do this, too. I did notice, though, the day after my last orgasm that I didn’t hop to it quickly enough and she ended up making dinner that night. She still makes dinners on the weekend sometimes when they’re more of a special event and will volunteer to help me clean up during the week, but I feel this is essentially my responsibility. I own it and immediately start thinking about what we’re going to eat as soon as I leave work. In the old days, this was never the case. I hope this opens up a lot of time in the evening for Belle to do whatever she wants.
  • I will take out the trash and recyclables and make sure they get to the curb on time.
    This one’s also kind of fuzzy. Last weekend, she did it herself early Sunday afternoon for Monday’s pick-up. She didn’t need to, but did because the garage door was open and everything was just there. This one’s tricky in that there is no exact time it needs to happen as long as it’s out by Monday morning. If she wants me to do it, she should let me.

I’ve discovered a couple things after this month. One (which I already knew), Belle just isn’t all that good with receiving service. It goes against her natural disposition. Mind you, she’s gotten a lot better and let’s me do most of what I’m supposed to, but she’s just as inclined to do something herself than to remember that it’s my job (or to just tell me to do it). Sometimes, this bothers me because it feels like she’s not accepting my gift of service, but I also know she’s trying and getting better. Truth is, a lot of my service tasks have just become part of the household routine now. Nothing wrong with that.

The other thing I’ve learned is how much I really like having her boss me around. Rika says I should do all these things in anticipation of her needs, but when she tells me to do something it puts me in a warm and fuzzy headspace. This weekend she said she liked ordering me around, so hopefully she’ll use that technique more for anything she wants above and beyond the default list of tasks she wants me to do.

I still find myself recoiling when she asks me to do something (ie, “Would you mind…”, or “Could you…”) and when she thanks me for doing it. I don’t want her to ask. Or course, I will always do whatever she says. I’d rather she just say “I want you to…” or even just “Do it.” And instead of thanking, I’d rather she tell me how good a job I’ve done (or not). We’ve talked about this and she knows my preference. Sometimes, she does it my way, sometimes not. I’m working on accepting it in whatever way says it since, like everything else, it’s entirely up to her. There’s a lot more good going on here than otherwise for me to get all hung up on semantics.

So anyway, we were hanging out in bed the other night and Belle told me, when considering my performance to date, that she wouldn’t give me better than 70%. That’s a C, right? Not so good. And it’s all because of the fucking laundry.

I need to try harder.

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48 hours of freedom

Wednesday morning, I flew out of town on business. Obviously, one cannot simply stroll by the crack staff of TSA agents at the airport, with their specialized training and advanced technology, with about a pound of hard steel swinging between one’s legs. Even though Belle threatened to make we wear the device on my trip, she took it off me Tuesday night (since I had to get up at the ridiculous hour of 4:00 AM).

I suggested she could put me in the CB-6000 since it’s passed through airport security a couple of times now, at least once when she made me wear it on a business trip last year (upon which, this happened). She said she wouldn’t do that, though, since she’s such a big fan of the Steelheart now and thinks the CB-6000 is ugly. So I was released on my own recognizance. And, for the most part, I was good.

In fact, I was really good on the trip since I was dog tired by the time I hit the sack. One of the more boring hotel nights I’ve had. Next day, I was up fairly early getting ready to leave, but still managed a little wanking. When I promised to be good, I said I would never have an orgasm without her being present, but she didn’t say I wasn’t allowed to fiddle with the merchandise. And I didn’t come. Not even close.

So anyway, the thing I found kinda interesting was Tuesday night, before I left but after she unlocked me, I woke up to find myself jacking off under the covers. I think I was doing it in a dream, or maybe I was dreaming it because I was doing it, but whatever the case, there I was jacking away on my totally free and very hard meat. Similarly, I woke up in the middle of the night in the hotel room grasping it, though not jerking it. It’s like my lizard brain wants any opportunity to reunite with the most important thing in its universe, with or without the cooperation of my conscious mind.

When we met up last night, she told me I was going right back in (especially since she already suspected I had my hand in the cookie jar), so I asked her to put it on me (typically, she tells me to put it on and I go do it – she’s only involved when she locks it, and even then not every time). It’s been kind of a thing I’ve been thinking about lately. She agreed, though in practice I had to put the ring on and, once she got involved, the cock swelled up until it was too big to put in the tube. There was a baggie full of ice on hand to deal with that totally predictable event, but it was still a tight squeeze and I needed to align the pins on the device and seat the tube properly for locking. Had she tried it, I would have been bleeding before she got the key anywhere near it. Lots of skin bulging out to get caught.

So now I’m back in. To be truthful, I’ve been in so much lately that being unlocked makes me feel incomplete. I’m not at all surprised to have been so focused on the cock since it’s unencumbered presence is such a rarity nowadays. She told me over the weekend that my next release date is February 27 (almost a month since last time) and I have every reason to believe that I’ll be locked pretty much continually until then.

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All in one night

Based on a true story. 😉

“Get naked and give me the clamps,” she said. Then, after a moment, “And the floggie croppie thing, too.”

I did as she said, then climbed back into bed.

“Lay on your back.” I did. She attached a butterfly clamp to my right nipple, then the left. She tugged on the chain connecting them to test their grip. Twin lasers of sharp pain lit up in my brain.

“Roll over. Get up on your knees.” I did. She found my balls with the wide end of the crop. I could feel the hard, smooth leather cold against my scrotum. She held it there for a moment in an almost soothing way. Then she started to hit me. Lightly at first, then harder. Then harder. I took as much as I could, my ass rising into the air a little bit with each whack, before pulling my right leg off the bed and away from the blows. She yanked down on the chain attached to my nipples and pulled until my face was against the sheets.

This cycle repeated several times. Between attacks on my testicles, she’d pull and twist the chain, searing the soft pink flesh with the bite of the clamps. The blows to my balls didn’t make the kind of deep internal pain one usually associates with the most vulnerable part of a man’s body. It was more like surface slapping, but uncomfortable just the same. Difficult to take.

Finally, she took the shaft of the crop and shoved it roughly into my mouth, holding it there like the bit on a horse’s bridle. She pushed my head back and away from her while simultaneously pulling the chain closer. My back bent sharply as I tried to lessen the agony on my nipples, but it wasn’t enough. First the right clamp, then the left ripped off. I cried out as she removed the crop from my mouth, collapsing on the bed, whimpering. Nipples throbbing, balls stinging.

—

“Now you’re going to take care of me.”

“How?” I asked quietly. “How do you want me to take care of you?”

“In the usual manner,” meaning with my long fingers and soft lips, “but have Pink ready just in case you’re not enough.”

I took the little pink vibrator from my dresser drawer and placed it under me to get warm, just in case. Then I ran my hand across her body, stopping on the mound of her pubis. I could feel the cleft of her pussy lips, hot beneath the fabric of her bedclothes. I exposed her breast and started to lick her nipple.

She moaned. “Mmmmm, that’s good, Thumper. My tits were hot for you. They missed you so much.”

I licked and sucked one while fingering the other. Her moaning deepened while her hips gyrated beneath the sheets. My free hand wandered down and slipped under her draw string. My finger found her snatch, soft and radiating heat.

She moaned again. “Of, fuck. God, Thumper, my pussy missed you, too. It’s so hot and wet. Hot and wet for you, Thumper. Does that make you hard? Hard in your steel tube? Knowing how badly my pussy wants you? Knowing you can’t have it?”

This time, I moaned. I felt the relentless steel bite into the base of my swelling erection.

“I want you to eat me. Now.”

I moved over her, stopping to lick her opposite nipple. Her hips rose up and she ground her crotch into the steel trap on my manhood. Her trap and her manhood. I dropped down and placed my mouth against her pussy, lapping it like a hungry animal. My hands reached up and played with her nipples.

“Get pink,” she gasped, “Put it in me. All the way in.”

I turned the little vibe on and fumbled trying to get it in her. In the dim candlelight, I couldn’t find the right spot fast enough for her. She grabbed it out of my hand and slid it deep into her pussy right before my eyes.

“Like that,” she admonished, “Now leave it there.”

I went back to licking her clit, my chin bumping up against the end of the humming vibrator nearly disappeared inside her. As her pleasure increased, she started to whisper, “oh, fuck” again and again. Faster and louder as my tongue worked rapidly and my steel-clad erection pressed hard into the bed. She started to say something, but clamped her legs onto my head, shutting off my ability to hear her.

She reached down and grabbed twin handfuls of my hair, pulling my face into her pussy, bucking her hips up to meet me, tension and energy building throughout her body. Then, she stopped…holding it. Holding. At the top of the crest, her orgasm coursing through her, my tongue stationary and pressed against her in the way she’s taught me. Then, release. Her legs relaxed and she let go of my hair. I removed the vibe and pressed its little button, turning it off. Everything was silent as she basked, glowing.

—

“Get on your back,” she told me again. I did. I could still taste and smell her. My nose, mouth, and chin were all wet and redolent. She was moving next to me and then was doing something with the device. I realized she had the key and was looking for the lock.

I’m wasn’t sure what this meant since she told me just that morning that I wasn’t going to come for another 27 days, but there she was, apparently trying to unlock me right after her orgasm. In the 12 years we’ve been married, I can count on one hand the number of times she’s come twice in one evening. I couldn’t imagine why she was doing this.

“Um, what are you doing?” I ask.

“What does it look like I”m doing,” she said, still struggling to get the long key into the brass locking mechanism.

“Don’t break it in there.”

“I have a spare.”

“Yeah, but if you break the key off in the lock, I’ll never get out of it again.” Besides, I think, I have to fly on Wednesday. How will I ever get through the metal detector with this thing forever locked onto me? Then it occurred to me that she may be unlocking me early as some sort of reward. Oh!

“Can I do that for you?”

She handed me the key and I quickly removed the lock, handing it and the key back to her. I pulled off the tube, the metal rod that secures it to my piercing, and the ring. She immediately started playing with the freed cock which, unfortunately, was still flaccidly stunned to be suddenly out in the open air. After a few moments of rhythmic attention, it began to lengthen.

Then, fully hard, she stopped to climb up onto me. She lined the cock up with her swollen, slippery pussy and it slid in easily. She said nothing so I had no idea what was expected of me, but I knew better than to think this was for my benefit. I tried to put my mind as far away as possible from the sensation of her sliding up and down on the stiff shaft.

She was plainly enjoying herself and, except that I was servicing her breasts while she was fucking me, didn’t seem to care much for what I was doing. I tried to hold still and not reciprocate so as to help minimize the sensations I was feeling and was pleasantly surprised at how well I was holding off. As she got closer to her second orgasm of the evening, she started to get vocal and this time I didn’t have her legs to help muffle the sound.

Hearing her so vociferously get her rocks off on me brought my own orgasm into being. Just like that I was grunting and exploded inside her – zero to 60 in one second.

As soon as she felt me start to come, she cried out, “FUCK ME!” and boy did I. A millisecond later, she came all over again.

—

She got back into bed and found me totally unmoved from the position she left me a few minutes before. She propped her head up on her elbow and said, “I don’t want you to feel guilty about that one.”

“I don’t,” I said, and I didn’t. Not remotely. “It’s not like I had any choice.”

She laughed. “I love it when we come like that. At the same time. That was something special. Totally worth it.”

“I agree. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said while handing me the key and lock, “Now go put that thing back on.”

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Questions from a reader IV

Parts una, duo, and tres.

We’ve hit the half-way point! It’s all downhill from here.

In respect of your comments as to whether you are submissive or “submissively inclined”, from what I have read, you don’t strike me as what I think of as submissive.  You enjoy sexual submission, but that seems to be as far as it goes.  While you do perform domestic services, you do it as part of sexual conduct and to satisfy sexual needs.  But you retain a significant amount of control and power both outside your relationship and within it, or at least that is how your blog reads to me.

Well, your guess is as good as mine. I’m just starting to figure out this whole submissive thang, to be honest.

It’s true I have a great deal of power and control at my work. That’s because I own the place and pretty much run it. However, this isn’t contradictory to being submissive in my relationship. From what I understand, it’s actually common.

With regard to having power in my relationship, it’s not that simple. I have influence. Just because I’m her sub doesn’t mean I don’t want things. We’ve established a nice system whereby I’m able to communicate my wants without making her feel obligated to give them too me (this’ll come up again in a later question). If I have real power in our dynamic, it’s based on the fact that I know she love me and wants me to be happy. It’s a power I could use, but choose not to since I like her being in control. I’m not saying I don’t struggle with the whole “topping from the bottom” thing from time to time, but I think it’s a lot clearer now than it used to be. I’m much more patient, for one thing. I’m able to let go of my need to steer and let her establish the path we’ll take more or less based on her speed. Yes, I’ll occasionally nudge or suggest, but it’s always with the understanding that it’s all up to her, not me.

You might read all that and think I sound like I have it all figured out, but I don’t. I admit to having some insecurities around my submissiveness (And I really a sub? Like, all the time?). Also, like any other human relationship dynamic, I know that our D/s will have its up, down and sideways moments. I guess the bottom line is I’ve decided to just roll with it and see what happens.

As an adjunct to that, how would you respond if Belle Fille said she wanted you to submit financially to her?  To give her full and complete control over every cent you earn and the family finances?

I’ve already asked her to do this. After reading Steve’s deal, I forwarded it to Belle and suggested we do the same. I’m all for it, but so far she hasn’t established the parameters.

Also, would the ultimate exercise of Belle Fille’s control over you be for her to deny you what you want – to deny you your denial?  What would happen if she insisted that you have full orgasms every day for a week?  Not “ruined” ones, but full on, ear popping, feet scrabbling, locomotives of sperm.  If you were really submissive, you would submit and do as she ordered.  But is that the submissive paradox – being made to do what you don’t want to do is really what you want to do ….?

Mykey had a situation once (described in posts I can’t find at the moment) where his wife Sandy made him come and then consume his own spunk every day for a week. That was fucking hot. Totally. Fucking. Hot. So yeah, if it was in the context of Belle exercising her control over me and my sexual release, I’d be game for whatever.

One aspect of your relationship that I would find very difficult to emulate if it were required of me is that one person does all the heavy lifting in terms of sexual decision making.  I love being in charge of my own sexuality, but I don’t know if I have the energy to also make all the decisions for someone else.  It’s a bit like having to decide what to cook for dinner every night – you might be a fussy eater and a good cook, but every now and then you want someone else to come up with an idea!   Does Belle Fille find it a burden? Do you think it is an unfairness that works in your favour, that you are no longer required make the hard calls?  (God, this message has so many double entendres that I can’t be bothered trying to avoid them anymore!)

This gets back to my having influence over the course of events, but not outright control over them. Belle’s Rule says I can come on to her all I want in any way I want 72 hours after her orgasm, so it’s not as one-sided as your question sounds. For a while, I wasn’t allowed to make any move on her without permission, but that didn’t really work for either of us. For her, it was pretty much as you describe. Lots of pressure on her. Too much control, not enough spontaneity. Sometimes a girl likes to know how much her boy wants to fuck her senseless, even if she’s going to shut him down. Also, we found that waiting for her to want it so bad that she’d allow me to start working on her led to a lot more infrequent sex. That usually ended up making me feel depressed (and her more stressed as a result). Letting me get physical with her, even if nothing comes of it, gives me an outlet to demonstrate my frustration (which makes me feel better).

Your question also misses out that sometimes she’ll tell me we will have sex, but that I have to drive and get to do whatever I want (absent orgasm, of course, or actual fucking if I’m in the device). Her control over our sex includes having the prerogative to delegate that control to me, if only temporarily.

Having said that, I know that the reason it would not work for me it that I like partners who are sexually confident and sexually persuasive – which I distinguish from being sexually aggressive, which can be damned annoying!  I like a partner who does more than just respond – who can seduce me, who can get me going from a standing start.  I know that you now have limited permission to initiate sexual conduct, but does Belle Fille, and do you, not miss your more significant input (another one…) into getting the fire lit?  Do you not miss those opportunities to seduce your partner, or do you see your submission as seduction?

I think I answered this one with the last one. As far as I know, Belle’s Rule allows me to do whatever I want until either a) she tells me to stop, or b) she comes. I am sexually confident and can be very persuasive. “Submissive” does not equal “passive” (unless that’s what the dominant wants). I am not a passive person.

What you seem to crave from Belle Fille is a lack of compassion – you want her to see your suffering and be unmoved by it.  That seems to get you very hot.  Do you find that you are starting to see compassion as something undesirable, or as a weakness?  Or are you able to keep that dynamic solely within your relationship?

You’re correct that I want her to see my suffering, but not that I want her to be unmoved. Rather the opposite, I want her to be deeply moved. On the denial side, it’s a continuous demonstration of my willingness to be controlled by her. I gave her my cock. That’s a big deal and I “suffer” because of it every day. On the masochism side, it’s a little different. If you’re not a masochist, I’m not sure how to explain it and I don’t know you’ll ever understand, but I want her to hurt me a lot. To the point at which I can no longer take it, and just a little bit more. I want her to push me and I want to show her how willing I am to be pushed. I want to suffer and squirm and writhe and do it all because it is from her hand. But far from being unmoved, I want her to know that I do it for her because she’s my love and to understand that I know she does it to me because I am hers.

Of course, the two things feed on each other. The more I’m denied, the more I crave the pain and the more pain I can take. There are times when I want the hurt more than anything else. Axe just went though a week of beatings (here, here, and here). Just the idea of being beaten every day for a whole week makes me light headed. Imagine Homer Simpson and how his jaw drops and gets all drooly when he’s around donuts. That’s me thinking about what happened to Axe.

All that aside, you’re right that I’d rather not see compassion from her. I don’t want her to ever seem like she’s sorry for me, or if she is, to do it in a way that makes me feel smaller and more inferior. Case in point. She loves her vibrator Pink. Loves. It. I know she does. But she very often makes a point of telling me she likes her cock (that is, the one on me) more than any toy. This might be true, but honestly, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need to hear it. I’m not threatened. Quite the contrary, I can think of nothing hotter than her finding something other than me to be the most sexually satisfying. Besides, the last thing I want to hear is that she’s not being fully satisfied since her favorite “toy” is locked in the device (and can’t be trusted anyway since I find it so hard to control my orgasm when I’m using it).

And (on a lighter note) do you ever worry about having a car accident and being taken to hospital and having to explain why you have that attached to your cock??  Like the “always wear clean underwear because you might be hit by a bus” argument??

In short, no, I don’t worry about it. Ever. Maybe at the beginning when, ironically, I was wearing a device I could have conceivably removed bare-handed, but not anymore. Maybe that’s just sexually charged bravado or plain old stupidity, but it’s just not a factor.

And there you go. Thirteen questions, 13 answers. It helped that these came in right when Belle started her period since there wasn’t much else to do anyway. 😉

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Questions from a reader III

Part one and two.

I have to admit, that last asnwer kinda knocked the wind out of me. There was a lot of stuff in there that I hadn’t dragged out in a while…

Here’s the next one:

Do you think that your infidelity in any way still informs the relationship between you and Belle Fille?  I know it’s simplistic to say it, but it is tempting to note that your cock got you into a heck of a lot of trouble and nearly cost you your marriage.  By handing over control of it to Belle Fille and denying yourself orgasms, you achieve 2 things: (a) you ensure that it can’t happen again, and (b) you could be seen as punishing yourself, or atoning, for your transgression.  I don’t think that’s why you have chosen this dynamic, but it does achieve both those things.  The main reason that I ask if your infidelity might still be present in some form is because of an entry in which Belle Fille came home after a night out and a few drinks and, at your request, repeatedly punched you in the balls.  Now I know you wanted it, but I don’t think I could bring myself to do that to someone I loved, even if they wanted me to.  Or not unless I was really, really ANGRY at them.   It’s the ultimate response to a cheating husband – to really hit him where it hurts.  I know you love her for doing it, and that she is getting in more and more touch with her inner domme,  but is there any anger or resentment present in her enjoyment of your submission?

I understand how on the surface my chastity and denial might be seen as a result of the affair (and, were I in a hawt chastity porn story, not only would that be the case, but the device would be somehow magically and permanently attached to me while she enjoyed a succession of lovers with ever-larger cocks), but in reality, experimenting with chastity was my idea, not hers. I have reflected on the apparent irony of the former cheater being denied access to the weapon used in the crime, but I am totally unaware of any connection in my mind in wanted to be locked up and what I did. They’re two separate things divided by personal revelations and events and aren’t connected.

You’re correct that, by keeping the cock locked up, it is ensured that I’ll never put somewhere it doesn’t belong again, and it’s also true that the last time I saw TOW, Belle had me locked up. Belle will have to answer herself if making me wear it then was a safeguard against her or to keep me from playing with myself in a hotel room (I think the latter). Belle and I have regained trust in our relationship with or without the device. With regard to the idea that I might be punishing myself or atoning, that’s not the case either. I admit that the idea of being punished and forced to atone is super-hot, that’s not what’s happening at all. I am locked up and denied because Belle loves me and knows I want to be controlled by her in that way.

As far as I’m concerned, the only way chastity and denial are somehow involved in the affair is how they make impossible a repeat of the conditions which brought it about in the first place. When we were vanilla, my sexual gratification wasn’t connected to our relationship. For the most part, it happened outside our bedroom. Now, since she’s in control of my orgasms, I will never find relief without her. Before, my cock would lead me away from her while now it leads me closer to her. Sex and our relationship are now intertwined in way they’ve never been before. Had it not been for the affair, we wouldn’t be here today.

Regarding anger or resentment in her domination of me, I don’t believe it’s present. She’ll need to address that herself, but I don’t sense it. Rather, I sense her domination comes from her love for me and an actual enjoyment on her part in playing that role. When she punches me in the nuts, it’s not to express anger or relieve frustration with me, it’s because she cares for me. Yes, kicking a guy in the nuts is a great way to get back at him for something terrible, but for me, it’s also a way to make love and that’s how she approaches it. Truth is, it took her a long time to really let loose and hit me as hard as I wanted to be hit. If she was doing it to make me suffer, I suspect she would have let loose from the beginning.

I note a comment by Belle Fille that your submissiveness makes her feel “desired, appreciated, respected”.  Did she not feel like that before you became submissive?  Or did she feel it less?   I can understand why she did not feel it at all on learning of your infidelity, as that could destroy those feeling.  But I feel desired, appreciated and respected not just because my partner treats me like that, but also because I know, with or without that relationship, that I am desirable, appreciated and respected.  I don’t need someone to fold my laundry or put a ring around their cock to generate my feelings of self worth.  (Reading that back it sounds really harsh and critical, which is not what I intended, but I am not sure how else to say it and make the point).  Or am I making too much of her comment?

Previous to the affair, neither of us felt especially desired, appreciated, or respected. The affair wasn’t the cause of that condition, rather that condition was the cause of the affair. Now, my submission to her allows her to feel those things, but her domination of me makes me feel them, too. It’s not just because of the D/s that we feel that way, but because we have an active, healthy, and engaged sex life. It could take many different forms, but for us right now, it’s D/s. The laundry folding and cock hardware don’t create her feelings of self worth, but what they represent in our relationship do for both of us. They mean we are committed to one another’s needs in a way we may never have been prior to the affair.

Your confusion over this point is, I think, very common for people not engaged in our kind of relationship. Focusing on the trappings of D/s is wrong. All the D/s is is a type of commitment we’ve made to each other’s satisfaction. It may look one-sided or like she needs to force me to behave a certain way, but that’s just wrong. We do it for each other because we love one another and like how it feels and how it feeds our foundational relationship.

Time to start the day. More to come later!