Tag: male chastity

Posted on

My little secret

Cricketed wrote a post that got me thinking. Go read it, though be warned: there are many NSFW images (as usual).

He said, about male chastity and the idea that someone he knew well would be aware of his…

[O]ne of the truths of being kept in the cricket for extended periods of time is that I’m led to a very personal place inside me, where being locked is not only sexy and beautiful and symbolic and necessary, but normal. The concepts and practices we’re discovering via male chastity interest me. Occasionally, they downright preoccupy me.

It’s not something strange or shameful to me at all. I’d like to be able to talk about it with some people. Obviously, our sex life is private, and I’m not proposing that we sit around a table in a restaurant and talk dirty with people. But many of the emanations that flow from being cricketed, as well as many of the principles involved, have little to do with the intimacies of our sex life.

I don’t think I could agree any more than I do. I could have written that.

For me, the idea that someone would “find out” about my chastity doesn’t really bother me that much. Like Cricketed, I’d welcome the opportunity to talk about it with some people. That’s not to say I’d want someone to stumble upon my blog, but even if that happened, the thing that keeps me from speaking about it now is the fact that nobody knows, not that I’d be ashamed or shy. I’m also much more worried about Belle’s privacy that mine. I write this blog and am very descriptive of her and our sex life together, but I never asked her permission to do so.

I’ve said before that if somehow someone I know in real life is aware of this blog, I’d rather they tell me than keep it a secret. I don’t like secrets and am frankly not very good at keeping them. I suppose it’s unreasonable to assume my “little secret” would remain that way forever. I don’t think awareness of their knowledge would change what I write and post (everything I’ve already done would be water under the bridge, after all), but I’d still like to know.

I wonder if I’ll ever have the chance to talk about chastity with anyone I didn’t meet though the fact that I’m chaste (i.e., this blog or FetLife or Chastity Forums). For that matter, I wonder if I’ll be able to talk to anyone IRL I did meet that way.

Posted on

Gone virtual

“This is an experiment,” Belle said.

“You’re experimenting on me?”

“Well, you said you didn’t need the device anymore to remain chaste. Let’s see how that works for a while.”

This exchange took place about 50 hours after she let me out of the device, 36 hours after she fucked me, and about 8 hours after I assumed I was going back in.

Let’s rewind. She let me out on Saturday but decided to wait until Sunday morning to fuck me. At the prospect of having access to the meat again, I asked if I’d be allowed to play with it.

“No,” she said, “It’s coming out for my pleasure, not yours.” Fair enough. For however long I was to be free, I was not to pleasure myself with the cock.

Sunday morning, she fucked me. Climbed on top and rode me until she came. I was extraordinarily happy not to come before her, but that was due more to her wanting the cock as badly as she did than my ability to control my orgasm. I was about 70% of the way there and rising rapidly when she quickly came. Had she taken as long as she usually does, I would have been dead meat.

For a moment, I though she’d take the “mine, not yours” thing all the way to it’s logical conclusion, but she let me flip her over and fuck until I came. That took about two minutes and twelve seconds, then I spewed and spewed. It got all over the sheets, my leg, and (obviously) way up inside her. That stuff is nasty. Especially right after the event that causes it to emerge. Anyway…

As I’ve said lots of times before, one orgasm doesn’t do anything to satisfy my desires for more longer than a few hours. Then, it’s as if it never happened. By Sunday afternoon, I was right back in the hunt. I took a long hot bath and found myself on Kristen’s Archive which, for a man in my position, was perhaps not the smartest move I could make. Then again, while I had, at times, a very hard and very available erection right there, I did not stroke it. Not once.

So, that essentially leads up to the conversation that opened this post. I am, unsurprisingly, pretty worked up and my body is telling me, since everything is out there and flopping around, that I need to do something. Either take matters into my own hand or convince Belle to give me access or whatever. But no. She’s conducting an experiment. I’m now in virtual chastity. No device and no touching.

This kind of chastity has a different edge to it. In the device, my control is abdicated. The cock becomes a nonissue because it’s as if it doesn’t exist. Now, it does. And I have to touch it. It gets soapy and wet when I shower, it gets squished and squashed in my pants, and I have to handle it every time I take a leak. Plus, because I’m wearing the thick PA ring, it’s got heft and density all its own. There’s never a time I’m not aware of the unencumbered cock between my legs. Now, my chastity comes as a result of both her control and mine.

Of course, I’m not saying it’s better or worse. Just different. Hot in another way. I’m kinking on the constant temptation kept in check solely through my devotion to her control over my body, but I also really get off on the inescapable steel. About a week from now, Belle goes away on another business trip. I can’t imagine she’ll leave me to my own recognizance while she’s gone. Until then, at least, I’ll have to continue to resist temptation.

Posted on

Coupon

I’m going to get fucked this weekend.

Back on Valentine’s day, Belle gave me a card that, according to what was written in it, was good for “one night out”. I pressed her subsequently for more details. Was it just what is said? A night out? No, it meant I’d get to come. Just the one time? Yes. When would I have to go back in? The next morning. Could I use it whenever I wanted or did I need to give her some warning? Etc., etc.

But this morning, as I was groggily walking around the house with a steel tube still full of morning wood plumpness, she told me not to try to use my coupon this weekend because she felt the need to “connect” with her Thumper. I wasn’t going to use it, but it was nice of her to tell me.

Posted on

Permanence

Yesterday, over on Sarah Jameson’s Male Chastity Lifestyle list (of which, to be a member, you need to buy her guide to male chastity [which I think is worth your investment if you’re interested in the subject {OK, no more nested parathesis, I promise}]), the following question perked my interest:

Sarah has written about the behavioral changes that occur in a men and the consequent changes in a relationship because of denial. The state of denial is facilitated, if not made possible, by a chastity device.

Would anyone care to comment on the possibility that these changes could become permanent, no longer requiring a device. That is, could a man get to a state in which he voluntarily allowed his wife/lover/SO complete control of his orgasms? Would this be desirable?

I supposed, were I a good member of that list, I’d make my response there, but I’m not going to. (Imagine me with my thumbs in my ears, fingers waving about, and tongue sticking out.)

First things first regarding this question. I don’t believe the premise is quite right. That is, changes do not occur in the relationship or the man just because of the denial. The denial is, itself, one of those changes and provides the catalyst for further changes. I don’t question that our relationship has been impacted due to the integration of orgasm control, but the real precipitating event was that we became close enough and open enough with each other that the control of my orgasm was even a possibility. I think a lot of men confuse how the cause and effect works which leads to a lot of frustrated (in the bad way) people who believed orgasm control to be a panacea of relationship bliss.

So anyway, he goes on to say that denial is facilitated and even made possible because of a device. That’s how it was for me, yes. I very much needed the device to make my denial possible. I was so turned on by the prospect and so far removed from the mechanics of my own orgasm that I could barely control myself. Also, I said that the cock belonged to Belle, but when I had access to it, I didn’t act or even think that way. Had it not been for the device, I don’t know that it ever would have worked. That said, there are guys who don’t use a device and don’t seem to need it. Everybody’s different.

Now, though, I very much feel in my heart the things I wanted to feel two+ years ago when we started this. The changes the questioner refers to have been integrated into me to such an extent that the device is not, strictly speaking, necessary to maintain Belle’s control. In the beginning, I wanted her to control me, but didn’t really feel it. Now, I really do. Deeply.

For instance. You will read a lot of guys out there who want their partners to deny them more than their partners might want to. I was one of them (as anyone who’s read this blog long enough will know). When she told me I could come, I was disappointed. It never seemed long enough. Orgasms even left me depressed. Even though I had given her control and said I wanted her to control it, I felt she wasn’t doing it right.

Now, my attitude is totally different. I embrace my desire to come and will happily take whatever she gives me whenever that happens. In fact, I’ve kind of flipped around in that I want to come, and will tell her so, with a genuine hope that she’ll let me. I admit that there’s still a desire inside me to be denied by her for a very long time, but it’s driven by my need to demonstrate to her that I’ll endure whatever it is she asks me to. And even though I want to come badly most of the time, I still get a bigger thrill from her saying no. In essence, I’ve allowed myself to arrive at a place where I win either way.

Which, I guess, gets back to the second part of his question. I have gotten to the point he describes. Belle now has complete control over my orgasm and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I will niggle a bit with the “could a man get to a state in which he voluntarily allowed his wife/lover/SO complete control of his orgasms” part because, of course, all of this is voluntary. Yes, Belle locks an inescapable steel device onto my body, but it’s not there against my will and never was. Chastity and orgasm control/denial are only involuntary in the porn stories (as hot as they are).

To summarize, my answers to his questions are “yes” and “yes”.

Posted on

Back to normal

On a day that a lot of guys look forward to getting their dicks wet, I got the opposite yesterday when Belle told me it was time to lock me back up.

My freedom wasn’t a function of Belle’s timing. There were a combination of events (including air travel) that required I be free and those events were over on Sunday, so Valentine’s Day or no, she reasserted her control over the situation. The free week and the single orgasm ensured that my hands were down my pants as often as possible. My urge to orgasm can never be sated with a single squirt (at least, not anymore). At first, I wasn’t sure what I was allowed to do with regard to diddling her property, but the rules seem to be I am allowed, while free, to touch myself but, of course, am not allowed to have an orgasm.

While I edged myself countless times over the week, I can say I was never actually close to losing control. The higher brain functions were firmly in place and every part of me, from my hand to my brain to the cock itself, knew that there may be milking but there would be no coming. I honestly don’t want to come without her now. I feel like our dynamic is really humming and, frankly, my relationship with her is worth so much more than a furtive squirt. I see the times when I can touch the cock as a real gift from her – a break from normal – and I wouldn’t want to violate the spirit of the gift by taking advantage of the access.

In any event, I had a hard time cleaning the cock this morning because it kept filling the tube so much that I couldn’t flush any water in there. It wanted to come out and play, but neither of us could make that happen. While updating the Portfolio this morning, I really felt the need to pull on it. Of course, all I have is a hard, unfeeling steel tube. Perhaps for that reason, more so than usual, the pictures of cocks are really speaking to me. The various urges ebb and flow, but right now I really want a cock and there are just too many pictures of beautiful ones on the Tumblr.

In other news, I expect the shorter Steelheart tube will be landing soon. These custom steel devices take so long, especially when they’re forged in the Fatherland. Getting back in the swing of sporting the steel has me once again jonesing for a less obtrusive protective device.

Posted on

About that key

Kiki, from the fantastically named blog The adventure of a dick in a box, commented on my last post…

Glad to hear the key turned up!

Yes. About that. In actual fact, we never found it. We ended up using my emergency key. When the time comes for her to lock the cock back up (tomorrow night, I’m told), she’ll use the back-up lock and keys we bought last time one of the primary keys went missing. Such are the things you need to be prepared for if you end up in a device with a custom lock.

I meant to mention all this in my previous post, but forgot.

Posted on

Keyless

Belle’s lost my key.

I just like saying it. Belle, my keyholder, has lost the key to the inescapable steel trap she locked onto my body. Yes, that key.

No biggie.

If you remember, she locked me up before she went away last week (wisely not trusting me to be alone with the cock). I gave her the key back when I was done. The next time I saw it was a couple of days later when my son (of all people) showed it to me and asked me what it was for.

“Uh,” I said, “Where’d you find that?”

His friend had found it on the floor of my son’s room. Very weird. So I took it back and, redirecting him from his original question like Obi Wan Kenobi, told him I’d give it to his mom. I placed it in my pants pocket. Which pair? No idea. No neither of us know where it is now. Maybe it’ll show up in the laundry.

Not that it’s at all necessary. She appears to be wanting to keep me locked up until at least Valentine’s Day. She hasn’t come out and said that explicitly, but I know how she works. She likes holidays. So that’s still a few weeks away. If not Valentine’s Day, then maybe St. Patrick’s Day. It’ll turn up. I’m not worried. Much.

And if not, there’s always the emergency key.

Posted on

A token’s worth

The good news is I didn’t lose control of myself yesterday. Yes, there was good deal of self-abuse and I enjoyed myself very much, but I never quite crossed the line into orgasm. I got right up to the line, but didn’t tumble over.

The interesting bit regarding that is the internal conversation that takes place in the moment of trying to stop whatever it is I’m doing in time to avoid the inevitable. It’s like, “I’m getting really close, I’m getting really close, I’mgettingreallyclose…STOP! Stop, stop, stop!!” And everything grinds to a halt. But in those moments of “I’m getting really close” recognition, there’s this other voice interjecting it’s own agenda.

“I’m getting really close.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I’m getting reeeally close.”

“I know. It’s no big deal. You can go further.”

“I’m getting really, really, really close!”

“OK, just think for a minute. Should you stop? I mean, honestly? Imagine how good it’ll feel if…”

“STOP! Stop, stop, stop!!”

“Goddamn it.”

The ancient reptile part of my brain conspires with whichever little bits of my higher brain are against this whole orgasm denial thing – not in order to talk me out of stopping, but to distract me for just a tiny bit at the end when I’m so close that even a second’s worth of dithering will mean I go over the falls and squirt violently all over the place. I was there four or five times yesterday but it wasn’t until the last two that things got dangerous. Both times I stopped in time to avoid the internal fireworks, but not in time to avoid ejaculation. So, if nothing else, I’m well milked.

Having the cock as a member of my little party was highly unusual. I’d pull up just in time and look down at it all shiny and slick and it, in turn, looked back up. It doesn’t have a face, but it’s distain for me was apparent.

“Oh, just fucking do it, already!” Throb. Squirt. Throb. Bob.

But no. I didn’t. I did exactly what I was allowed to do and no more. And before anyone thinks of ripping me a new one for my prolonged masturbatory indulgence, remember I had permission.

Afterward, I took a shower and decided it would be best if I put the Steelheart back on, but the 5:00 hot spot I talked about yesterday was still pretty hot. Belle inspected the situation last night before sleep and said she’d give it another 24 hours to heal. I enjoyed my freedom and still hope she might want to take advantage of the situation for herself somehow, but honestly, the distraction of having a cock I can reach down and touch, with real hard erections and everything, is almost too much for me to handle. I will be grateful to be shut off from it again.

Posted on

Hot spots

Imagine we’re facing each other and I’m naked. Yes, I know, it’d be an incredibly surprising situation for either of us to be in, but I’ve put us there to help illustrate something.

So, we’re facing each other and I’m naked. If you were to look at the cock (go ahead, look – Belle won’t mind), you might be able to see, in about the 10:00 position, a irritated line about an inch long curving around the top of the scrotum. Also, down below (where you can’t see, unless you ask me to lift my balls) is another little spot at about the 5:00 position. Both of these were caused by the Jail Bird’s tight ring. I switched back to the Steelheart but was only able to wear it for a day until those two hot spots forced me out. They hurt.

Interestingly, they appeared after I had been able to wear the JB for a week. I had started to get used to it’s insistent grip so that at night, when all the plumbing is at it’s highest pressure, the bad kind of pain was starting to wane. I had thought I’d be able to wear it until whenever I get the new tube for the Steelheart, but alas, it was not to be. I probably didn’t keep the ring lubricated well enough.

In any event, Belle’s let me out until I’m better or Thursday, whichever comes first. She goes to San Francisco to hang out with her best friend for the weekend. I won’t be left unlocked, of course. Until then, she said she’d check the hot spots every night and, if they looked better, put me back in. Regardless, I go in when she leaves. It’s a nice feeling, that kind of attention to my well-being.

I’m stuck at home today for mundane reasons and, before she left, Belle told me I could consider myself gifted with the Token. That is, I’m allowed to pleasure myself however I want (short of orgasm, naturally). Problem is, there are people in the house doing work at the moment so I’m unable to partake. Also, unlike every other time she’s let me have at myself, this time I have free meat. I’m not sure she’s thought that permission through all the way. I don’t want to come and wouldn’t plan on doing so, but accidents happen, especially in the heat of the moment.

Maybe the strangers hanging around is a good thing.