Packing plastic

As I said in my previous post, I’m finally back in the CB6K after what seemed like forever while I waited for the PA to heal. As I was writing that post, I came to realize how heavily I kink over the silly thing. I adore being locked up. I admit it. I suppose if I believed all the hawt chastity p0rn out there I’d have to say I hate it and wish my dominatrix wife would let me out (in between fucking all those black men, of course), but the truth is I’ve grown to appreciate what it brings to my version of sexual satisfaction (read the post if you want to hear me go on and on about it).

So, what’s different this time? The most obvious thing is the PA. At first, I put the device on while wearing my little door knocker jewelry. The hoop stuck out though the slot at the end of the tube, too big to go in, and held my penis extended all the way to the end of the device. I found after about 20 minutes of this that the strain on the piercing hole was way too much to bear. I switched to a small ball on the end which just passes through the slot so my meat can expend and contract at will. MUCH better. It’ll occasionally pinch the skin on the head of my cock in an unbelievably painful way, but I don’t see that there’s anything to be done about that.

I’m not exactly sure how this is going to work with a captive bead or segment hoop, though. The various security devices one can buy are cables that slip through hoop jewelry as it extends through the slot. Maybe it’s that my hole isn’t entirely healed yet, but that sounds really uncomfortable at the moment. Plus, the location of my hole is such that the ball on that end of my barbell catches on the lip on the bottom of the tube’s “head”. It’s not painful, but it’s a mile from the slot. Besides the stretching issue I experience before, I’m not even sure a ring like that could fit in there. Of course, none of these concerns will keep me from finding out.

I’m very happy to say that I’ve graduated to the middle ring size (1.75 inches). Last time I tried this, the pain was unbearable. Now, for some reason, it’s just bearable. Very much like the first time I wore the 2 inch ring. I think I have a fairly small spacer on, too, so the overall security and size of the device has been enhanced. Granted, my balls are killing me, but it’s a good, productive kind of pain. I know they’re stretching and will eventually settle down. It’s surprising how much more intense the grip of the smaller ring is on what passes for my chastised erections. The difference between 1 7/8 inches and 1 3/4 is gigantic. However, that too seems to be gradually getting more bearable. I wonder if my tolerance for pain in increasing of if there’s an actual physiological change taking place?

So all this leads to me being an idiot in public this morning. I was shopping at Target and, after checking out, decided to hit the men’s room. I stupidly, yet with great confidence, walked up to the urinal and whipped out my hard, plastic buddy. There is a very big difference between peeing with a normal, unmolested penis in chastity and one that has a little steel ball blocking its urethra. Evidence of this could be found in the form of a warm, dark wet spot that spread several inches around my zipper and almost down to the knee of my right leg. Seriously, it looked like I totally pissed myself. Not more than 10% of the urine I produced could have possibly hit porcelain. Luckily, it was early yet. There was no one else in the restroom and the store was not crowded. Plus, I had my shopping bag which was just big enough to block the view of my stupity. It’s entirely possible that the piercing (or, at least the jewelry I’m wearing) has made peeing in lock-up while standing up once and for all a thing of the past.

Dominate me

This post is related to the task my Belle Fille gave me prior to leaving on her trip. I am to write on my blog specific things I want her to do to me. I’ve decided, since these posts are specifically to her and for her, that I’ll write them that way. Also, I’m breaking them up into related themes. I’ve covered orgasm denial, pain, and bondage so far. This time, domination.


Of all the topics I’ve covered so far, this one is the hardest for me to express what I want. Hard because I’m still trying to get my head around exactly how dominated I want to be (or how far you’re willing to go). Hard also because some of the things I’m going to suggest below are embarrassing for me to say out loud, let along in public (even in this anonymous forum). Regardless, you told me I had to write these things down, so here they are.

  • Domestics. I’ve already discussed how domestic domination isn’t really my cup of tea. I’d make a terrible housemaid and, truth be told, being treated like one doesn’t do much for me. That being said, I think tying the prospect of sexual activity – especially activity that’s centered on my pleasure – to household tasks is fair game. Such as, accomplish everything on this list and maybe I’ll get tied up and flogged later. Or, you’ll ruin an orgasm for me later if I just let you sit there and enjoy your wine by the fire while I put the kids to bed. Or, if I fail to put my dirty clothes and shoes away properly just once you will deny me the right to give you an orgasm in any way for a week. That sort of thing.
  • Body service. Anything that lets me pleasure your body, even in non-sexual ways, is terrific. I love it when you let me wash your hair. I love the sensual aspect of massaging your scalp, neck and shoulders. I love how you’re right there, all naked and covered in sweet-smelling bubbles while I’m clothed and only able to grind against the side of the tub (assuming I’m not in chastity). You should make me rub your feet with lotion and give you whole-body massages more often. I know how much you like them. You can leave me clothed if you’re worried about me getting overly aroused (again, assuming I’m not in chastity). Also, we need to set up a regular schedule for maintaining your trim.
  • Subjugation. I often don’t act as though I’ve given you control over my sex. I get too pushy or come on too strong. I think it’s appropriate for me to let you know how horny I am or how badly I want to make you happy, but sometimes I cross the line. I’d like you to remind me more often what I need or want is secondary to what you want. The phrase you make me say is a good start. You could make it more effective by making me say it while you put my collar around my throat. Or, you could make me repeat it over and over while you pleasure or torture me. If I stop, you stop. Maybe I should say it each time you hit my ass with the brush. I also think you should make me bow my head or in some other way show my sexual subservience to you. Make me kneel at the bedside and/or suck your toes for an arbitrary length of time. Make me hold a submissive position for longer than is comfortable, perhaps while you pleasure yourself.
  • Humiliation. I know how much you love me and how much you enjoy what I do to you in bed, but a little humiliation wouldn’t be so bad now and then. Tell me when you feel I’m not giving you an optimal sexual experience. Harshly criticize my performance. Tell me perhaps I’m not up to it or that I don’t take my service to you seriously enough. If I don’t shape up, maybe I’ll lose access to your body for a week or stay locked and without orgasm for another month. Tell me how much bigger than me the dildo is and how much more intense the pleasure you get from Pink is. Feel free to exaggerate anything and use it against me. Or, figure out something I really don’t want to do, then make me do it. I like how it accentuates the imbalance of power and plays on my unfairness trigger.
  • Discomfort. When you want me to fuck you to orgasm, make me do so while also sucking on your nipples. If I can do it too easily, make me do it while my hands are tied behind my back or the chain between my cock ring and collar is a little too short. When I’m laying next to you paying attention to your nipples, stop putting a pillow under my head. Have no fear of telling me to hold positions that will make me uncomfortable. Straddle my mouth and tell me to lick your pussy. Grind into my face if it feels good to you. If I can’t breath, I’ll eventually let you know.
  • Collar me. Whenever we’re going to engage in a dom/sub session, collar me. However, don’t let me wear it otherwise. I should only associate it with being submissive to you.
  • Rat me out. Related to humiliation, I fantasize that you’ll one day tell someone we both know that you dominate me sexually. That you orgasm many, many times more often than me and that I’m not allowed to come without your permission (which is seldom given). That you make me wear a chastity device for weeks at a time and how eventually my frustration becomes so great that semen just leaks out of me due its excessive accumulation in my prostate. That you can make me do anything if I’ve been denied long enough. And that I love it and wouldn’t have it any other way.

As I’ve said to you before, I have hesitated to say these things so frankly to you for fear of being prescriptive. Yes, I fantasize of being dominated by you, but if you do it only because I want you to, then the fantasy falls apart. I’ve seen how the control you’ve demonstrated over my orgasms has turned you on. I know you enjoy seeing me frustrated and horny. I know that you enjoy the elevated level of attention I give you. I only hope you can see the same kind of potential for your pleasure that exists in what I’ve written above and will use it in a way you enjoy. Because if you don’t enjoy it, neither will I.

Yours in very way,

Pushy bunny

I got Belle a copy of The Mistress Manual by Mistress Lorelei. It was well-reviewed on Amazon and it’s just my thing to buy a lot of books whenever I’m trying to to grok a new subject, but it’s been sitting on Belle’s nightstand uncracked since it arrived so yesterday I picked it up and started reading it.

Mistress Lorelei suggested I stop. At least, to stop before I got to the juicy stuff. OK, I figured, I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. But I was able to get through enough to know Belle’s not going to like some of what she has to say. First of all, Lorelei talks a lot about “sissy maids”. As I’ve said, I am not a sissy, do not want to become or be turned into one, and, in general, am not interested in doing all the housework (nor is she interested in me being a sissy). In addition to lauding the benefits of the live-in sissy maid, Lorelei also discusses the joys of dressing your guysub (her word – hadn’t seen that form of the term before) in women’s clothing (specifically, underwear). Again, not burning with a desire to wear lacy panties and Belle’s never suggested I should. We don’t have a problem with guys who do, but it’s not an idea that trips either of our triggers. However…

Mistress Lorelei did help my thoughts coalesce around something I had not been able to put words around previously. While I’m not interested in doing all the chores, wearing panties, or otherwise being emasculated, I am turned on by Belle making me perform tasks or putting me in situations I’d never embrace on my own. I like the idea of her pushing me beyond where I’m comfortable. For example, when she forced me to eat my own come. Yes, eating come (my own included) turns me on, but it’s only a turn-on for me while I’m turned on. Approximately .25 seconds after it comes out of my body, the idea of eating it is about as arousing as is the idea of eating snot. She didn’t just ask me to eat it, though, she made me by smearing it over my lips. It was a marvelous moment where she spontaneously asserted her dominant prerogative. It was awesome and it’s one my favorite memories from our recent past.

This concept intersected with our life last night. Belle had already told me I was not going to service her, but she was being very generous with her attention towards me. She was clawing my ass, pinching my nipples, and jacking the cock (while avoiding the still-tender piercing). It was heavenly. I had asked (begged, really) to be allowed to go down on her, and she refused. Then, as she was biting and sucking on my neck (and leaving a nice little trail of marks down to my shoulder), the intensity of the feelings got to me and I begged to be able to do anything at all to her. I guess I didn’t really think she would let me, but I really, really wanted to and also wanted to hear her refuse me again. However, it didn’t turn out that way. She got pissed. Felt I was trying to control the action. I apologized and did my best grovelling bit, but she was fairly nonplussed. After she chewed me out for a while, accompanied by my continued pleas for mercy, she decided I had ruined the moment and would have to massage her feet with lotion before she went to sleep (which, you know, wasn’t all that bad either).

She may have been right. I may have been trying to steer the ship. It’s not uncommon for me to achieve a nice subbie headspace after we get started, but it’s not usually the case that I’m feeling submissive before we get going. Had I been grooving the guysub space, I don’t think I would have continued to beg her for access to her body. I might have tried once, but she was being pretty firm with her refusal. I doubt I would have pushed it. Maybe that little voice in my head that hoped she would capitulate and let me go down on her was playing a bigger role than I thought. Had she directed me to leave my comfort zone beforehand – to jump-start my submissive tendencies – I probably wouldn’t have pushed her so hard.

So, to tie all this together, I had never really appreciated why dommes made their subs do things like kneel or kiss their feet before a scene. Since I didn’t feel a terrific desire to bow before Belle or worship her feet (not, at least, until getting warmed up a bit), I figured that her forcing me to do them wouldn’t find a place in our relationship. In fact, I continue to think too much about my interests and desires. No, I don’t instinctively want to bow to her, so she should make me do it. Since sucking on her toes is usually something I need to warm up for, she should make me do it before anything else. We both need strategies that will allow her to assert her dominance, not for my pleasure, but to ensure I don’t usurp her authority.

Because of last night, there’s a phrase that reiterates our power-sharing arrangment that she’s requiring me to say before I’m allowed to do anything with her. At first, I felt silly and somewhat embarrassed saying it, but by about the third time it came out of my mouth, it sank in as to why I needed to say it. And, in turn, why I needed to write this.

Montreal, Part I

A couple of weeks ago when Belle was out of town, I found myself laying in bed with my imagination running wild. I had just woken up and wasn’t fully awake. As I lay there in that groggy state, I allowed an actual event – a trip we took together several years ago – to merge with fantasies being produced by my hormone-soaked brain. The vividness with which this tale spun out in my head was remarkable. Before I lost any of the detail and texture, I tried to commit as much of it as possible to memory.

In the distant past, I tried my hand at fiction. Once or twice, even erotic fiction. That, however, was long ago. What’s presented here is my first stab at anything of this sort in close to 20 years. It may be good, or it may not. You may like it, or you may not.

I think it’s important to point out at this juncture that none of the things related here actually happened. Also, I’m not saying by writing this out that I want any or all of these things to happen to me. This is porn. Porn is fantasy. There are elements of what’s described here that I find extremely arousing. However, at it’s best, porn is a cartoon-like caricature of real life. Maybe that’s the difference between “erotic” and “porn”. Erotic is closer to possible while porn is obviously not. Who knows? In any event, here’s my first stab at it. Please feel free to let me have it in the comments.

Continue reading “Montreal, Part I”