Tag: malesub

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Three days and out

My Belle told me last night that she was letting me out of the device on Wednesday. That’ll be around eleven days in, give or take depending on how you count the night I bled, which is about the longest I’ve been locked-up, but I can’t recall the record at the moment. Isn’t keeping score like that such a guy thing to to, BTW? I want to break records here, people! Hopefully, she’ll keep me in for a month next time. No, wait. Really?

We were very chatty since she’s fighting off a bug and didn’t feel much like doing anything else. I got out of her that she really likes where we are now. She likes that we’re so much closer. In fact, I don’t think we’ve ever been more intimate with each other. She can see and likes how the denial and chastity are affecting me. I have to admit, the idea that her control is actually modifying my behavior to such an extent that she’s noticing it and that she likes it and wants it to continue sends a thrill through me. I mean, that’s the whole point of it, right? Mutual exchange of pleasure. I get off on being controlled – in fact, mentally and physically transformed through her control – and she likes the resulting changes. They should feed on each other over time. Last night was the first time I can think of that she spontaneously volunteered a positive opinion about what we were doing. Or, at least, one so obviously positive.

She also commented on how differently I act each time she has me locked up. Last time, she thought my mood was fairly flat versus my increased arousal and submissiveness this time around. I was flat last time, but I was also heading into some treacherous emotional waters brought on by her trip, etc. Also, I went into chastity that time all on my own. This time, she decided that I’d be locked up. There’s a vast psychological difference between the two.

In fact, upon further consideration, I think my new-found interest in serving her (that is, relieving her of stress, making her happy, and otherwise doing whatever I can for her) is a rechanneling of sexual energy that before I didn’t know what to do with. Doing things for her gives me a focus and a way to burn up some frustration in a positive way. That’s my theory of the moment, anyway.

So, while I get out on Wednesday for who knows how long, I will not be coming any time soon. She still doesn’t know when that’ll happen. If it doesn’t occur by this Thursday (and I have no reason to think it will), there’s no way it can possibly happen before next Friday, what with the family all sharing one hotel room on our trip. That will be about three weeks and will break my old record of 19 days. I think I’m excited about that. I mean, breaking records is good, right?

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A conundrum

The fear of death by blood loss kept me out of the device Friday night. As I said, I was fairly upset that I had, once again, done something that had forced me out of chastity prior to Belle wanting me out. I really want to play by the rules with these things and the rules state she decides, not me. She said she wouldn’t punish me since it was an accident, but I felt bad just the same. I decided to make the best of it and try to get a good night’s sleep without the usual early morning bulgefest.

At about 4:30, I woke up anyway. Not because my erection was encased in plastic but because it wasn’t. The change in sensation was enough to throw me off and there I was, as usual, awake and thinking about a boner I couldn’t do anything with. I was, however, happy to see the ‘lil gusher from the night before had been sealed and no more blood had leaked from it. Over the course of the next few hours, I tried to find a comfortable position for my big, stupid hard-on and drifted in and out of sleep.

At about 6:30 or so, we were both awake and I was nestled into her, trying not to impale her on my early morning, sex deprived firmness. We continued a conversation we started the night before about how were we feeling with where the relationship was evolving. I told her I need to find ways to serve her better. That somehow my submissive inclinations were pointing me towards needing more ways to please her and that I wanted her to help me find those ways. There was a lot of close contact and kissing and me feeling dreamily subbie. Her body, being so close, tempted me and my hands wandering all over it.

At this point, she rolled onto her back and moved her arms away from herself. I took this as a sign she wanted me to go further, though I didn’t get clarification on what she wanted. It felt a little to me like she was opening herself for me to enjoy. I can’t say why, but I sensed a tenseness in her that didn’t suggest she was really in the mood. I thought to say she didn’t need to do anything she didn’t want to, but the words never came out.

After a few moments, my mouth was on her breast and my hand was on her snatch and it really became clear she wasn’t ready. I pulled back and asked if this was what she wanted. No, not yet. Damn, I should have said something when I thought to. We held each other again and she said sometimes, that’s all she wanted. I said she should only do what she wanted and no more. I had assumed she wanted what I was doing. I should have asked and she should have said something. We came to a new understanding: I am no longer allowed to initiate sex without expressed permission. I can ask or she can offer, but I’ll never assume again. I wanted her to understand that this meant I would not try to read her or seduce her or in any way take the initiative without permission. In essence, I was finally and fully letting go of the last threads I still held of the traditional male prerogative of sexual initiation. When it came to sex, she was now fully and completely in control. She said that was exactly what she wanted.

Later in the morning, after the kids were settled with their media and food, we were back in the bedroom. Now it was time for me to make her come. Since the cock was unexpectedly available, she wanted me to fuck her with it. I told her I was worried and asked to use the desensitizing gel. No, that was no good for her because it would mean using a condom and she like to feel my skin. OK, super. I guess we’ll do it your way.

She was very ready for me. I’m not sure what it was that got her so wet (perhaps it was the thought that she now held all the cards with regard to sex), but just the act of sliding into her nearly made me shoot my load. I tried to keep most of my attention focused on her upper body and only let every third or fourth processor cycle think about what I was doing down below. I was fucking her sort of shallowly hoping that might help me keep control, but she started to move her hips counter to my thrusts and I found myself going deeper and deeper. Soon, my cock was fully engaged with her snatch and I felt the need to pull the emergency brake. A very tiny amount of my fluid spilled out, but I had stopped the orgasm.

The entire time I was trying to keep the lid on my orgasm, she kept her hips moving so that I never really stopped fucking her even though I was trying to stay still. I started in again, more slowly than before, but that caused our rhythm to be out of whack. She wanted faster and, honest to god, so did I, but if I had tried I’d lose control. She stopped me and said it was no good. She wanted me to go faster but knew if I did I’d come.

Belle’s the kind of girl that, once you start her down the path to orgasm, any deviation or delay could cause the entire trip to go bad. With that in mind, I quickly slid down her torso and pressed my mouth against her pussy. My arms were wrapped around her legs allowing my hands to pinch and play with her nipples while my tongue danced over and dove into her depths. I expected to taste my own semen, but couldn’t really make it out mixed with her juices. Eventually, she came really hard. It was a terrific orgasm for her, even though getting there had been a little messy.

I had moved back up her body so I could kiss her while she basked in her afterglow. I could feel my still wet, chilly dick slap fatly against her invitingly warm pussy. After giving her a respectful amount of basking time, I asked if I could go back inside her. She said yes and I slid in the best I could without a full erection. She was everything I knew she would be: warm, wet, amazing. It was a supremely indulgent moment and I simply enjoyed being enveloped by her. After a few moments of this bliss, she started biting and sucking on my neck in the way that makes my knees wobbly. I experienced the unusual sensation of becoming fully erect while motionless and inside her. Jesus, the biting felt good. I told her to bite harder. Harder. Oh fuck, harder! She pulled away, leaving me panting and spent (and with two giant monkey bites on each shoulder). I rolled off, hard yet satisfied.

So now we’re left with a conundrum. She likes it best when it’s my cock that makes her come. However, she won’t let me use the numbing gel since that would mean I’d need to use a rubber and she wants to feel my skin. As I have gone on and on about, I’d really like to use a strap on with her, but no dice. She want to feel me. I’ve tried to say it will be me since I’ll be doing the fucking, but she’s not interested (damn it). All she wants is my naked, hard cock but that’s the one thing I can’t use in the way she wants me to. I have no solution. Unless she’ll allow us to experiment with other options, I’m not sure what to do. I want her to be as fully satisfied as possible but am physically incapable of doing so while maintaining her control over my orgasm. Maybe with time and practice I’ll develop the technique necessary to become the lover she needs.

After the sex, I cleaned up and she locked me back into the CB-6000. That’s where I am now, way, way more frustrated and turned-on than I’ve ever been after only a single week denied. She still hasn’t told me when I’ll be released from the cage, though she knows the date. She has no idea when I’ll come again, so I’m operating under the assumption that it won’t be before we get back from our trip – two more weeks minimum. Since I only get nine more orgasms this year, it’s entirely possible I won’t come again until March.

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The light bulb moment

I was perusing some old posts over on Aarkeybabble and he said something that flipped a little switch in my head. Here’s his totally out of context quote:

I’ve been trying to deny myself a little more – reading some other guys who say things about themselves like “my need for submission” – which is vastly different from my selfish “need to be dominated” mindset.

That’s it. That’s what I’ve been feeling lately. Previously, I wanted Belle to dominate me, but now I feel the need for submission. These are entirely different things. Yes, I sound like a reject from The Perfectly Obvious Dinner Theater, but give me a break. I’ll still a n00b at this stuff.

It’s only recently that I feel like I’ve stopped spending so much time fretting about what she was going to do to me and have spent a lot more time doing things for her and accepting whatever came my way. There have been moments recently, sometimes in bed but not always, where these waves of submissive warmth have washed over me and the feeling is so much not the angst of before. Yes, it’s true. The bulb has finally lit.

Wanting to be dominated is not the same as wanting to be submissive!

Stop rolling your eyes at me.

So then, because I’m me, I’ve been spending a lot of the day thinking: What does being submissive mean to me? What do I get out of it? Why do I like it? I really can’t answer these questions yet.

At this point in my evolution, it’s hard to be too lucid on what being submissive is to me. It’s really a series of questions, more than anything else. What can I do for her? Is she happy? Does she need anything? I want to serve her in a bunch of little ways and to reduce her stress level as much as possible. Yeah, sure, I should have wanted those before the whole D/s thing showed up, and I did. But it’s different now and I think that’s because one very specific thing has changed. Now, she owns my cock. It’s remarkable how that little tiny detail can focus one’s mind.

My submissive feelings toward her are not just about sex, but they’re wound up pretty tightly with it. I’m not being nice just because I want to get into her pants (though I do, and badly). I know that if she only let me rub her feet, massage her shoulders, and wash her hair for the rest of the month with no sexual activity at all, as long as she was happy, I’d be fine. Yes, I’d be a quivering mass of repressed sexual energy, but I think I’m learning to pour that energy back into other parts of our relationship. And besides, I like the feeling I get when I’m subjugating my needs, sexual or otherwise, to hers. Believe me, nobody’s more surprised to hear me say that than I am.

And it’s not about being weak. I’m an not weak. It’s not about letting her think for me. She doesn’t. It’s not even really about control, except for her absolute control over my sex. She doesn’t much tell me what to do or boss me around (yet). I don’t think she’d want it to be about those things. Who the hell wants to be with a weak, mentally dependent puppet? And who wants to be that puppet? That’s not what either of us signed up for nor are we capable of living that way.

I don’t know. I sound like I’m rambling. Suffice it to say, I feel as though I’m seeing the game board from an entirely different angle. All the peices are the same and they move the same, but everything’s shifted 90 degrees. Another Great Big Obvious Thing™ just dawned on me and opened up a new box of stuff to sort through.

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Beware the biting rings

I’m on my sixth day back in lock-up and the CB-6000 and I are starting to settle in with each other again. I’m using the middle-sized ring exclusively now and most of the time it’s fine but the nights can still be a little challenging. I like the fact that the entire device seems not to droop as much and it’s definitely more secure, but those sharp corners were biting pretty hard this morning. Even though I only woke up twice (which is a 33% improvement over the previous few nights), it seemed like the 5:00 AM wake up call was more intense than any of the others from the previous week.

I’m still trying to figure out what causes some nights to be harder than others. I lube up the same and make sure my bladder’s empty, etc. The only difference between last night and the others was Belle finally let me bring her to orgasm (her first in five days). All the other nights were foot or back massages. I should keep an eye on that. I wonder if experiencing direct sexual frustration at bedtime (as opposed to the general background noise of sexual frustration I float through all the time) leads to more nocturnal discomfort? Worth watching.

So anyway, I woke up all painful and whiny and told Belle as much (including that I’m in the smaller ring). She asked me why I torture myself like that and I told her I really would rather consider it her torturing me since it was entirely her will that had me in there to begin with and that it would be better for me if she referred to it that way. She said, yeah, it was because of her that I was imprisoned and that it was too bad she wasn’t going to give me the key so I could move up to a bigger ring. *bing*

Upon her saying that, it was possible for me to time exactly how long it takes a sexually stimulating thought in my brain to convert into an order for my cock to get hard(er) and then for the cock to actually carry out that command and further engorge since about a heartbeat after her words entered my ears I felt a ratcheting up of pain in my groin and let out a little whimper. Of course, now I’m worried she’ll take pity on me and let me out soon. It’s not that I really, really like the pain and discomfort (no, I only really like them) or that I’m in any way trying to control indirectly when she locks me up and for how long, but I’m just getting past that part in the lock-up period where my flesh is adjusting to being encased all day long (evening issues excepted). I’d much rather be locked up for fewer, more lengthy sessions than more frequent, shorter ones. She knows when I’m getting out, though she won’t tell me. I’m thinking it’ll either be this weekend or just prior to our trip. I have to admit, I’m interested in staying in until we get back before being let out since I’ve never been in that long and would like to see what it’s like. Of course, that’s entirely her decision.

Other than that, I’m just trying to get past the first-week-of-no-orgasm hump. I don’t think I’ve been locked up for this part of the orgasmless period and the combination of the sensory mind-fuck of chastity on top of my body trying to absorb all the unused hormones has been interesting. As I touched on the other day, my sexual frustration and submissiveness are both running higher than I would have expected at thing point. Even Belle’s noticed the difference (in a good way, I think).

I’ve posted before that, when I’m wearing the device, I think everyone’s looking at my crotch all the time. I still think that, but I’m starting to not really care as much. It’s not that I want to go around and tell all my employees what I have in my pants, but by the same token, being too hung up on what they see or think they see is unproductive. I do my best to make sure I’m situated as unobtrusively as possible when I stand up and walk around, but otherwise really don’t care as much as I did before. Worst case, they think I’m sporting a big fat boner all day (it’s not too far from the truth). There are worse things.

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Thumper’s plan

I decided yesterday afternoon about three that I wanted some pussy that night. In the past, that would have meant waiting until we were in bed before doing anything about it. Then, I’d come on to Belle in an attempt to get my dick wet, and if she declined (which she often did), I’d give her some attitude, be pissed, and then go jack-off to porn. Those were the old days.

These days, things are more complicated. I needed to plan and plot. My goal was to ease her reentry into home life in order to make her as relaxed and retaining as much residual energy as possible. To that end, I picked up both kids, helped the boy finish his homework, and literally had dinner on the table all before she walked in the door. Then, I made sure her coffee was set to brew at 5:15 AM and cleaned up the kitchen. Nice. For her, no muss, no fuss.

Once in bed, I told her it had been three days since her last orgasm and I thought it was high time she had another. It was my job to make sure she was properly serviced, after all, and my professional opinion was she needed me to work her over. She looked at me for a moment and basically said all I wanted was to get into her pants. Well…yes, I said. But she was going to get an orgasm while I was going to get nothing more than hard plastic biting into my hard cock. What if she wanted a foot massage, she asked. Fuck. The foot massage. She loves those. Well, I’m happy doing whatever she wanted, I lied, but wouldn’t she really like an orgasm? Huh? Wouldntcha? Just a little one?

She then reminded me that she decided what would happened, not me. If she wanted an orgasm, I would give her one. If she wanted a foot massage, I would give her one. Basically, whatever she wanted, I would give it to her. Now, go get the cream and rub my feet.

She’s right, of course. That’s the deal. That’s what our Covenant says. So, she got a fucking great foot massage powered by my repressed sexual energy.

The problem with my plan was it being centered around me trying to get something I wanted when I should have been planning only to give her satisfaction in whatever way she needed it. I had forgotten that to make her happy is to make me happy – that there are multiple paths to my satisfaction. I was being generously selfish. I was doing things, but I was doing them for myself, not her.

Afterward, when she and her well-massaged feet turned over to go to sleep, I reflected on my attitude. I had been too forward and pushed too much, but wasn’t mad or upset for not getting what I wanted (as has happened in the past). On the contrary, I was happy and content. It’s good to be kept, denied, controlled by her. I like it. Oddly enough, I really, really like it.

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Back in the plastic

Second full day in the cage. It’s been a few weeks since I was last in and there’s all these little things I need to relearn each time. Like, don’t forget to put a bunch of Q-Tips in my pocket before I leave in the morning and which underwear hides the tube best.

I think I’ve spent enough time in with my piercing to say that it definitely has a negative impact on hygiene. Back before the PA was put in, I could pee standing up and otherwise align all the holes such that a minimum of urine got into the cage. Now, depending on how misaligned things are, I can actually feel the warmth all over inside the tube. The urine sprays all around inside it and I’m left needing to clean myself much more often and thoroughly than before.

On the plus side, the piercing is healed enough that it can take some pulling so I think I’m ready for a PA cable. I took a trip to my closest Home Depot and couldn’t find the simple pieces I needed to construct it, so I might just bite the bullet and buy one. I am concerned about prolonged pulling on the piercing, though. My dick will often pull back up the tube about half way. If it was secured by a cable and that cable basically kept the ring in my piercing at the opening of the tube, I can imagine periods of persistent pulling. Not sure if this would lead to damage after a while or cause the hole to migrate or just plain hurt.

Mentally, I find myself more aroused, frustrated, and submissive than I would have expected only a few days after coming (especially in such a spectacular way). I’m not nearly as bad as I was that morning Belle allowed me my orgasm, but I can feel myself getting there faster than usual. I think this could be caused by a few different things. One, I now know the path to this mindset better than before. Also, I just came from a really sweet subbie place and would very much like to get back there. Also also, Belle usually does not put me right into the device after coming, so the constant reminder of her control coupled with my inability to in any way interact with the cock has quickly reminded me of my position on the sexual org chart.

She still doesn’t know (or is not saying) how long I’ll be in here. The first logical window of opportunity for escape would be next Thursday. We’ll be leaving on a family vacation early next Friday and I can see her being nice and letting me out beforehand. However, I’ve already fallen behind in our Covenant’s requirement that I be physically chastised at least 50% of the time. If she left me in there over the vacation and let me out when we returned, I’d be back on schedule. We’ll have to see which Belle wakes up next Thursday; the sweet one or the one that likes to rip clothespins off my nipples.

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Descent into subdom

I am totally the alpha dog in my office. Granted, it is a relatively small office and I am an owner and all, but sometimes I find it dizzying to move from my role as supreme creature in one environment to my wanna-be guysub role in the other. The fact that I read the blogs and write this one often while in the office only makes it weirder. Yes, it’s nice to be the boss when you want to dick around on the web all day.

It makes me wonder about the difference between those subs who are subbie in all they do vs. the ones who are quite the opposite in other aspects of their life. The bloggers I most enjoy, on the male side, are those who appear to only be submissive when it comes to sex. But I really enjoy the dominant female bloggers. That’s one of the reasons I was sorry to read of the demise of A Place to Draw Blood Laughing, though I expect it’s less a demise and more a caterpillar cocoon phase thing. I’ve recently acquired a taste for the omnipresent Bitchy Jones (and really, who hasn’t?). But wait, I’m digressing.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. All-the-time subs vs. sexual subs. I think a big part of why I like being sexually submissive is because I’m so not all the rest of the time. It’s like taking off a heavy coat at the end of the day or something. And I think I’m really starting to get the hang of it. I find myself less and less obsessive over what Belle’s going to do or let me do. I accept that I can’t have my cake and eat it to. Either she’s calling the shots or she’s not. I do feel free to make requests, but I have no expectation that she’ll go along with them.

I also find myself wanting to more and more do things for her around the house. The past three days, I’ve totally handled the end of day stuff (dinner, clean-up, even picking up both the kids a couple of time). It’s not as though I never wanted to do things for her before, but now I find I want her to spend as much time as possible relaxing and less time doing all the things she would be “expected” to do based on her gender. I want to take more and more work from her and am feeling less and less selfish. I’m turning into a total stereotype! All I need now is the fucking maid’s dress and black pumps.

I suspect this new found desire to be her housemaid might be coming from a combination of being terribly horny and her recent ability to make me hurt. Like I said following the silent ice and clothespins episode, I woke up the next morning still feeling the subbie headspace lingering over me. Over the course of the week, as we’ve had sex and she’s hurt me more (like last night – two words: yay clothespins!) it’s remained. In fact, it’s strongest in the morning. The hornier I get and the more she hurts me, the more I want to make her happy in any way I can. It may not be PC to say this, but it feels like the penis-hating feminazi femdoms might be right about the salutary effects prolonged orgasm denial has in controlling the feral manbeast. At least for this feral manbeast.

I have spent a lot of time wondering if I’m thinking about this or feeling it “right”, as if there’s One True Way to sexually submit. That’s one of the big things I’ve learned in that past few months: there is no One True Way. This will feel for me the way it feels. I will not expect myself to be one way or another nor will I deny any feelings that arise along the way. It is the way it is. And the same goes for Belle. She will be what she is and feel what she feels and like what she likes and I will adjust and adapt and get the fuck over whatever doesn’t match my preconceptions. Note, I will continue to obsessively self-analyze, I just won’t get too hung up on what I find along the way. Anyway, that’s the plan.

What I’ve found this week is, when it works, it really works. I get all warm and fuzzy and happy and want to curl around and into her. I don’t expect we won’t still hit our share of bumps along the way, but the past several days have shown that this path is not wrong for us. I adore where we’re heading and she’s starting to unearth what she likes about it, too. What a difference from ten days ago.

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Personal Jesus, the second coming

Wow, how many people have I insulted in how many ways with that title?

There were some really great comments in Personal Jesus that I wanted to address, so I’m moving them out here so I can do so more publicly.

First up was Dev who said:

I think the suffering thing is one of the hardest for the dominant partner to deal with, even if the dominant partner happens to be a sadist (like me). Because to really push the suffering can mean really taking the partner somewhere that they really do not want (in the moment) to go, but are deeply thrilled by. It takes a lot of trust to know that this is really all right. It takes a lot of times of them coming back later and telling you how awesome it was for them.

I have seen a change in Belle’s behavior regarding the suffering as we’ve gone along. Before any of my sexual oddities became clearly known, she always knew I liked a little pain in my sex. She’d twist my nipples or scratch my back and it was all good, but it never really hurt. She was holding back because I’m sure she didn’t know how much pain I really wanted or could take. Now, she’s freaking medieval with both her use of nails and when she abuses my nipples. After each event, I have been careful to tell her exactly how much I liked what she had done and, as best I could, describe how much pain she had inflicted. She’s become quite adept at making my nipples scream and knows the tender places into which she should dig her nails. She has, on several occasions, really hurt me which, of course, I adore. A newer thing for us now is CBT. With that, we’re about where we were with the nipples three months ago. Each time, she hurts me a little more, but she hasn’t yet crossed my limit. And don’t even get me started with the biting. I get positively weak in the knees, the way she bites me.

Then Tom Allen said:

[I]f you want to suffer, then how can you really call it suffering? And if Belle doesn’t care one way or the other about it, then you’re going to feel that she’s doing it simply to satisfy you.

I can’t really answer that first question. It’s a conundrum. As I said above, I’ve always enjoyed a little pain in my sex, but to truly suffer – to be taken to the edge and beyond – I think that’s different. I can’t say why exactly, but I want to suffer for her. I want something above a dash of painful spice. And it’s reciprocal. I want to feel it from her and for her. This is altogether different than anything I’ve expressed or desired before.

And as far as figuring out what to do if she never really enjoys it and is only doing it for me, I guess I’d respond that everyone in a relationship does things like that (or should). It’s a give and take and while I need to be prepared to do for her things I know she likes that I don’t particularly care for, I expect she’ll do the same for me. And I need to get over the fact that she’s not enjoying it as much as me. My Belle is the personification of the good, giving, and game partner, as I also try to be for her.

Tom went on to say:

Ms. Rika has an interesting take on this – she writes (her website has been hijacked) that it’s more important for her to find what she wants, and to dominate from that perspective. Later, when she’s more comfortable, she can “reward” you by doing things that make you feel good, simply because one acknowledges that partners should make a point in pleasing each other a little bit, as long as it’s not too far out of their comfort zones.

I think that’s a very sensible approach and one I think we should work on. I want Belle to find the vector into this that rings her bell. I will endeavor to be patient while we find that path.

You need to stop feeling disappointed that she doesn’t “get” what you get; and start supporting what she does get. Remember, you’ve had years and years to develop your twisted, perverted fantasies; she needs time to catch up.

Maybe I sound disappointed on the blog, but I’m really not. I appreciate so much what Belle’s been willing to try and how much she has given me in a relatively short time. I do get impatient but it’s because I’m so damned horny all the time. I’m not a patient person to begin with. Mix in some hormones and it’s even worse. Nevertheless, I know I’m a very lucky man to have such a mate.

Then Dev came back and said:

One thing I’d recommend – and since I don’t know either of you, this could be totally horrible advice, but that’s what you go to the Internet for, right? – is that you be really, really open to hearing from Belle the truth about her own personal experiences. Use your very best encouragement and just handle whatever you hear back. And do this often, like all the time.

I’m doing this. At least, I think I’m doing this. At least, I’m trying to do this. I’ll ask her to make sure I’m doing this.

I remember pretty early in my relationship with Jos, we were lying in bed and he asked me what I wanted to do. I couldn’t figure out the answer, because the question I was actually asking myself was, “What would be [from an outside or ‘objective’ perspective] sexy to do next?” And then suddenly I realized that, no, I can just do what I actually want to, and it will be all right.

That must sound really basic and messed-up not to “get” but it actually took trust for me to promote my own wishes in bed rather than thinking of it from some overview perspective about what is sexy or right or good to do, etc. Having a partner who encouraged honesty was a big deal in that process.

Who am I to criticize someone for not getting something obvious? This whole blog has been an exploration of me figuring out otherwise obvious things.

So did Jos do anything to help you come to that realization or did you get there all on your own? I agree that women are socialized to consider the needs of others before theirs, even in bed, but I really want Belle to do what she wants first and primarily. This is very hard for her. She’s been brought up in an environment that was about putting others first. When it comes to our sex, I want it to be about her first, second, and third.

I read what I just wrote and realize I need to fight the urge within me to want to be treated unfairly and to suffer. I need sexual gratification. I need it to be about me every once in a while. I know that. I’m not saying I want to live some kind of malesub porn fantasy where she brings me out to worship her pussy every night and then kicks me to the floor when she’s done. No, not that or anything like it. I do, though, want our sex to be about her mostly and for most of the time.

It’s one thing to try (for instance) beating someone. It’s another thing to know that you’re going to have to claim that you liked it, or that you insist on it, or that it wasn’t for them at all but for yourself. You (the dom) should be able to actually just do it, and then reflect on how it was for you, and be honest if it didn’t work.

I agree. But what’s my role as the sub? Am I allowed to ask for things that she doesn’t like? Or should I just accept what works for her and move on? This is the tricky bit for me because I’ve never been submissive before in anything. I have no idea what the rules are. I said above that I assumed we should continue to do for each other things we know the other likes, even those things we may not be individually thrilled with. Does that continue to apply in a D/s dynamic? Should she do things she’s OK with mostly because I like them?

I don’t know. This is getting to be a ridiculously long comment.

And that’s turned into a rediculously long post in response to your rediculously long comment! Regardless, thank you both so much for your thoughts. I really appreciate them.

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Personal Jesus

Following some of my recent posts, a friend emailed me to caution against forgetting that there’s two people in my relationship. He was concerned that I might lose sight of the fact that Belle needs to get something out of all this, too. I have endeavored to always keep that in mind, but I appreciated the reminder and last night shared the email with Belle.

This very subject has come up in our most recent counseling session (yes, we’re still doing that). What I need and want now requires so much more proactive involvement from Belle and what she wants and needs has remained pretty much the same. So, what’s in it for her? I am prepared to do whatever it takes to satisfy any fantasies she has or wants to explore, even those that would fall outside the nascent D/s framework he have going. So far, she hasn’t asked for anything out of the ordinary. Absent a quid pro quo fantasy exchange, I asked Belle what she likes about what we’ve been doing. What does she get out of it? Here’s what she said:

  • The deeper intimacy we share now that all my kinks have been exposed
  • Our increased amount of communication
  • Reading this blog (sort of relates to the two above)
  • The turn-on she gets from watching me clean the kitchen for her (relatively new)
  • Pink, her little vibe
  • All the extra orgasms she’s been getting

I may have missed something, but it’s mostly right. It’s not a bad list. It is obviously a woman’s list, but that doesn’t make it bad and, since she’s a women, it’s unsurprising. I’m overjoyed that she’s actually getting something out of all this. Whether it’s worth the extra effort she needs to put in is only something she can answer, of course.

After she was done relating these things to me, she said the look on my face suggested I wasn’t satisfied. No, it’s not that I wasn’t satisfied, but there was one thing in particular I was hoping she’d say that she didn’t (though I never, ever want her to say it unless it’s true).

Having this conversation allowed me to frame up something that’s probably second nature to a lot of experienced submissives. Now that the words have formed in my head, it seems so obvious that I can’t believe I’ve never said it before in quite this way. Basically, I want to suffer for her and I want her to recognize and appreciate that suffering.

“Kinda like my own personal Jesus,” she said.

Depeche Mode? That was unexpected. “Yeah,” I sad, “Guess so.” What else should I expect from the Catholic school girl?

Nearly everything I want in our sexual relationship eventually gets back to this. The orgasm denial, the pain, the bondage – all of it. For me, that suffering is a demonstration of my love. The more she asks me to suffer, the more I’m able to show her how much she means to me. The other night with the ice was perfect in that she went beyond where I was comfortable (the “easy” pain) and really and truly pushed me. It hurt. And I was thrilled. Not having orgasms is the same kind of demonstration, though it’s a longer, slower burn. I don’t think until last night she really appreciated how hard not coming is. She said she could go months without orgasm and not really feel a difference, but for me, it’d be rough. Unlike her body, mine continues to produce hormones and fluids and is designed to expel them regularly. There are chemicals my brain will only make after an orgasm that help keep me in balance. Plus, I can feel actual pain from not releasing. I assumed she knew all these things, but I think she thought not coming just made me hornier. Yes, it does, but it’s so much more than that. And I want and am willing to experience these things for her.

She shot back, quite rightly, that I wanted to feel these things, right? They give me a perverse pleasure. I like the whole pain and suffering thing. So surely it’s not all about genuflecting for her. My response is, of course it isn’t. I do need to get something out of the relationship. Being submissive doesn’t mean I don’t want to experience gratification, it just means I get it from different places. This, I think, is the common denominator of all relationships. Mutual gratification.

Which, of course, gets us back to the beginning of this post. I’m not sure we resolved anything specific during the conversation, but we surely moved some heavy boxes around. I’m glad we talked and I’m glad my friend gave us the little shove we needed to get the ball rolling.

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A good scene

Last night went a long way towards defrosting the prolonged funk I’ve been in. It started with Belle making a nice little orange roughy dinner (they’re ugly, but they taste good). After the kids ran off in all directions, she told me what was in store for me later if I did a good job cleaning up the kitchen and dishes.

I’ve mentioned previously that the whole domestic side of D/s hasn’t really manifested for us, but as she was sitting on the couch in front of the fire reading the paper and watching me clear the settings and wash the dishes, etc., she told me that she could see how some women get turned on by making their men work for sex. She also said that she was sure I’d rather she get turned on by making me do things in the bedroom, but really, I found that her getting turned on turned me on. She was relating how it got her going watching me work for the privilege of being sexually tortured by her and I’ll be damned if I didn’t feel the cock start to plump in my pants. Needless to say, with that as my encouragement, I took to my labors with greater vigor. Occasionally, I’d look up to see her watching me, a sly smile on her face. I remained plump while the kitchen looked better with every passing moment.

Laying in bed later, she instructed me to check to make sure the kids were out. They were, so she further instructed me to close the bedroom door and take off my clothes. Five milliseconds later, I was beside her, stripped, in our enclosed environment. She started to touch me and I whimpered. It was all very sweet and gentle, but it’s been ten days so a little was going a long way, if you know what I mean.

She then laid out the evening’s activities. First, I was to lay on my back. Then, she was going to affix plastic clothespins to my nipples (where they would remain for the duration or what would follow). Then, she was going to torture me with small baggies filled with ice cubes. After that, I was to give her a back and neck massage before bringing her to orgasm with my fingers. Finally, through it all, after I said my phrase of subservience, I would not be allowed to make any sounds whatsoever (except for those sounds made by breathing). I would not speak again until the next morning. That was the worst. Being quiet is really hard for me.

Now, if you get around the blogosphere, the preceding might sound familiar. In fact, Dev just posted about a similar scene between she and Jos. I recognized the similarities, but wasn’t complaining. This was exactly the kind of thing I wanted her to do, so who gives a shit where the idea came from? As Picasso once said, great artists steal. Yay for stealing! I said my phrase and laid on my back.

Emotionally, I felt myself descending into subspace. I realized I hadn’t been there much since my little freak-out and its warm envelopment was like salve for my psyche. I was placing myself under her control and it felt good.

She started by attaching the plastic clothespins. We’ve got a couple of nipple torture devices and these clothespins have the lowest level of intensity. I was somewhat disappointed that she was using these since, a minute after she put them on me, I stopped feeling them. It was like they weren’t there. After those were on, she started touching the cock and balls and stroking my inner thighs and stomach. It was all very soothing as I laid there, eyes partially closed, hands unsecured but holding onto the headboard above me.

Suddenly, she grabbed, squeezed, and pulled on my scrotum. Not allowed to make noise, all I could do was suck in my breath and hold it while she crushed my balls. She let go and let me lay there for a few moments before placing the first sack of ice on my scrotum. The shock of the feeling was intense. SO COLD. She just let it lay there and I could feel the cold sensation start to turn into a burning one as my balls tried to crawl up into my torso to escape the ice. I started to ache from the cold. Finally, she removed the ice and traced lines up and across my body with it. She let both of them rest on my nipples while she started to stroke the cock. Slowly at first, but with greater speed and intensity. Normally, it’s difficult to make me come this way, but I could feel semen start to boil in me. She backed off and removed the ice.

I laid there slowly writhing as the various sensations faded. My balls were still very cold and I closed my legs to help them warm. I shifted my closed legs away from Belle, but she grabbed the one closest and roughly pulled it back to her, forcing my legs back open. I wanted to moan, but bit my lip and tried to steady my breathing.

She started to run her hands over my legs and across the cock and balls again. It felt nice, but I was wary and knew the pain would be coming again. At one point, she made a motion with her hand that made me flinch and I realized I was scared of what was about to happen. I laughed at the thought. She didn’t really seem to have a plan, but I was nonetheless dangling at the end of her string. It was wonderful.

After a little while of this kind of treatment, she eventually ended up with both bags of ice on either side of the scrotum and the base of the still-hard cock as she treated it to long, insistent stroking. I again felt the orgasm building within me. I also felt the ring in the PA piercing start to hurt with the abuse, but I couldn’t talk. I moved my hand in to try to give her the message that it hurt, but she slapped it away. Now what? It hurt, but not so bad that I couldn’t take it. I felt that saying something would break the magic of the moment, but wasn’t I supposed to make any serious discomfort known? As I debated all this in my head, the growing realization of my impending orgasm loomed large. I was confused. Did she want me to come? She sure was putting her all into it and I was making it quite clear though body language of where we were heading. I started to actively fight the orgasm, bearing down on it and trying, through force of will, to keep it in me. The ice on my aching scrotum seared while the cock was hard and it took everything in me to keep from coming all over both of us.

Suddenly, she stopped. I was left panting, reeling from how close she took me. She took one bag of ice and placed it over the throbbing erection and ran the other all over my body before slapping it against my balls. Eventually, she removed the bags and ran her hands all over me in a soothing way. She was bringing me calmly back to earth. There was the matter of the clothespins to deal with, but they were so gentle I barely knew they were there. She brought her hand up to my right nipple and ripped the fucking pin off. Oh. My. God. Then she did the same to the left nipple. Holy fuck. That hurt. Then, as the blood rushed back in, they started to fucking throb. Maybe she didn’t know what she was doing, but that was bloody brilliant.

After a brief transition period where I cupped my poor, abused nipples it was time for the massage. I straddled her ass and rubbed the oil into her neck and shoulders. The cock was hard again and nestled between her ass cheeks, pointing up her spine. I gyrated my hips and ground my balls into her. I desperately wanted to fuck her at that moment and had to stop and place my head on her back. After regaining my composure, I poured my desire into her neck with my hands. Eventually, I went too far and she used her safeword (“ouch”), so I backed down.

Her orgasm was of the manual variety, but I so badly wanted to bury my face in her pussy. She came as usual and then, after letting me lay my head on her stomach for a minute or two, she rolled over and went to sleep. I was mute through the entire event.

I laid there, hard and horny, yet also drowsy and satisfied. She had taken me very deeply into my subspace. Maybe deeper than ever before. She had really tortured me, made me truly uncomfortable, and pushed me to the edge of composure. It was a terrific experience. Yes, it would have been nice to have been bound and wearing my collar, but I loved all of it. This morning, I awoke and still felt the submissiveness lingering within me.

Yep, all in all, a good scene. A really, really good scene.