Locked plugged pinched

As I mentioned, I’ve locked myself up in anticipation of Belle’s return next week from her international business trip which will also mark the return of our D/s dynamic. As I also mentioned, I’m pretty fucking worked up. It’s been something like a week and a half since my last orgasm and while normally this would be a highly frothy period anyway, the fact that my body got used to not carrying any excess hormones for a while can’t be helping.

Last night, after all the offspring where sequestered for the evening, I had every intention of going to bed as I was tired. The intentions evaporated, though, when I spent a few minutes curating The Portfolio (and it’s little brother). Tumblr led to Literotica and it’s wonderfully implemented story tags where you can mix and match perversions to your heart’s content. Many words were read. That led me to bring out the njoy Pure Plug 2.o and my six pinchy things.

Of the pinchy things, I chose the two most vicious: the alligator clips and the pervertable Old Navy clips. It was one of those nights where there was no such thing as too much pain and suffering. Starting with the alligators affixed to the very end of my nips, I graduated to the badass Old Navy clips and then to both. At the same time. In fact, the gators and two different sets of the Old Navy clips. That’s three clips simultaneously chewing on my nipples. Nipples are funny old things in that they’re so incredibly sensitive yet can stand up to a withering amount of abuse. In general, my nipples are a little larger and bit chubbier than average so there’s plenty of surface upon which to affix nasty biting things. The pain was intense and today they’re puffier than usual and hurt even when I walk (but still pink and cheerful looking). Even so, I’m constantly reaching unto my hoody when people aren’t looking and pinching them through my t-shirt. I’m quite positive I’ll be ruining them again tonight.

As for the plug, I don’t recall ever mentioning the Pure Plug 2.0 here before. It’s a wonderfully dense slug of steel with a circumference of almost 14 cm (which sounds a lot worse than it is). I adore this thing. I used it last night because I wanted to feel stuffed with the 1 1/3 pounds of metal and didn’t have the energy for anything more strenuous. Getting the thing in is harder than even Stryker’s Beast since its 2″ diameter, while shaped for insertion, is totally unforgiving. A dildo has some give. Steel does not. There’s always a half-second of feeling like I’m about to rip open as it goes in, but once it settles into place I quite often drip from the pressure on my prostate.

So there I was, dick locked, ass plugged and nipples fiercely pinched while I read all sorts of perverted things on the internet. I was out of my mind on the hormones but eventually found myself unable to keep my eyes open and I had to stop. I wistfully unclamped the throbbing pink circles of tender flesh and put their tormentors back in a black velveteen bag but decided to leave the Pure Plug where it was.

As even a casual reader of this blog knows, I really like it up the ass. I love the sensation of being penetrated and stuffed and especially like how the heavy steel of the Pure Plug shifts around inside me as I move. If I could, I’d want to be plugged all the time (sometimes) so I indulged my fantasy a bit last night. I did fall asleep even with the distraction. I woke up a few times and was reminded of the invader immediately. Reaching around and feeling where the hot steel disappeared into me brought me out of my sleep quickly, but I managed to leave it in place all night. The only downside of the Pure Plug is it’s base which has an oval ring (presumably to make handling easier) with somewhat sharp edges. After a few hours, those edges start to bite into the cheeks pressing against them.

Belle doesn’t get home for another week yet. I really want her. I want to press my face into her snatch and feel her come against my mouth. I want to smell her and suck on her tits and feel her bite my neck and squeeze my nuts. While I wait for that, though, I’ll get by with the self-abuse.

Six pinchy things

I only have the two nipples, but over time, we’ve collected six different types of pinchy things with which to torture them. I realized the other day that they’re not all created equal so I thought I’d write a little missive on each explaining why I like some but not others.

Each will be rated on three attributes using a scale of 1 (worst) to 5 (best):

Pinchiness — In short, how much to they pinch the nipple meat? Admittedly somewhat subjective, but it seems an important measure for those who like things clamped to their tits.

Grippiness — How well do they stay on, either when just hanging there, during play, or when being pulled on?

Viciousness — Another highly subjective measure, but exactly how mean and nasty is each? You know, in case that’s what you’re into.

I’m also including pictures of each, both in situ and a detail of the business end. Click on any picture for a ridiculously larger version.

KinkLab Mandible – $18.50

One of two newly-added items to our collection, they have a threaded adjustment feature that allows them to be made more or less tight. There is no spring mechanism, so the only way to make them grip is to screw them on. In practice, I found that to be somewhat futsy, though once on, their rubberize tips make them difficult to remove by pulling alone. They’re unlikely to come free by themselves, assuming they’ve been screwed on well. However, they’re also surprisingly unpainful. To such an extent that they’re essentially useless for me. I like it when it hurts.

Pinchiness: 2 — Grippiness: 5 — Viciousness: 1

Pierced Nipple Chain – $14.50

While my nipples are not pierced (alas), I got these because the Stockroom description said, “After testing, we also found that they work well as nipple clamps.” My initial impression was not good and I almost chucked them out as they seemed rather weak and unimpressive. However, given a good fat chunk of nipple flesh to bite onto, I found they’re anything but. In reality, they’re intese little fuckers which stay on well even though they’re nothing but bare metal. The chain is nice and heavy so you know when you have them on. They can be pulled off with enough effort which can be fun, too.

Pinchiness: 3 — Grippiness: 2.5 — Viciousness: 3

Chrome Mini-Clothespins – $9.00 a pair

We got these very early on in our acquisition of kinky toys but don’t often use them anymore. One of them fell apart when the two metal halves came out of the spring (and getting them back in was a bitch). In use, they’re tricky to get on properly and tend to slip off after a little while since they’re very slick. The biggest issue I have with them, though, is the fact that one spring carries considerably more tension than the other meaning one nipple gets pinched much harder than the other. Also, I wish they had a connecting chain for tugging and yanking (turns out, they do make some like that).

Pinchiness: 3 — Grippiness: 1 — Viciousness: 2.5

Japanese Clover Clamps – $26.50

The first really satisfying clamps we got, these things are classics. They grip really well thanks to the little nibs on their white rubbery pads. They have a nice heft and a good chain to yank and pull around with. Their large size makes them exceptionally well-suited to twisting. Plus, they look really cool in black. It’s very hard to go wrong with these.

Pinchiness: 4 — Grippiness: 4 — Viciousness: 4

Alligator Nipple Clamps – $16.50

Of all the clips, these are the ones that grip the best. Underneath the vinyl coating on their tips is a set of pointy-toothed aligator jaws which, if used unprotected, would undoubtedly sever the tips of my nipples. With the vinyl coating, however, these little bastards hold on like rabid badgers. With a good mouthful of pink meat, they resist coming off even while being pulled with much force. In addition, they bite pretty hard. Originally, they had some little screw-in things to keep them from clamping down fully, but I chucked those pretty quickly. Of all the clamps in this post, these are probably the best combination of bite, grip, and price.

Pinchiness: 4 — Grippiness: 5 — Viciousness: 3

Pervertable clips from some cargo shorts I got from Old Navy several years ago – Priceless

These are bad-ass motherfuckers. They originally came off three pairs of shorts I bought from Old Navy maybe eight years ago. Each pair had two clamps attached to one another by a striped shoestring, one end clipped to a belt loop and the other end…well, I can’t remember. Honestly, I have no idea what they were supposed to be used for. I took them off the shorts and stuck them in a drawer and forgot about them. Then, one day several years ago, I rediscovered them and realized what they could represent. This was before I was “out” as kinky, so I experimented with them in private. Their bite is so intense, I could never keep them on for more than ten or twenty seconds, but as I’ve expanded my repertoire of pain (and my overall horniness levels), I’ve found I can sometimes leave them on for long periods. But fuck, do they hurt. Even just moving them around at bit while they’re biting can be an eye-wateringly painful experience. Usually, they leave my nipple aching for at least 24 hours. In short, I love them.

As you can see in the detail image, their pinchy ends are off-set and fit into each other so that the entrapped meat is twisted in an especially tortuous way. In addition, their edges are rough and sharpish. Their bite is so hard and nasty that their overly enthusiastic use will actually cause scabs to be formed on my nipples in the days following. They don’t cause me to bleed, but they do break the skin enough that it has to heal afterward. Here’s a detail of one of the other clip images where, if you look real hard (or just where the little red arrows are pointing), you can see the scabs left over from their use almost a week ago. Not for the faint of heart.

Their upside is that they’re wickedly horrible. Their downside is…that they’re wickedly horrible. They are so intense that I really, really have to be in the mood to get any enjoyment out of them. Also, they’re getting kind of old now and I’ve found that the spring mechanisms in a few are getting unreliable. Two of them stick so that they don’t bite as hard as they used to which makes them slip off relatively easily when pulled. I’ve replaced the shoestring in one set with a black chain and another set I keep free for maximum flexibility (sometimes, when I’m feeling especially wicked, I can get two on each nipple). The third set is still like they were when I got them and, since I use them the least, are in the best shape of the bunch. Bottom line is these are absolutely fantastic implements of torture, but you couldn’t buy them if you wanted to any more than I could and that’s a shame.

Pinchiness: 5 — Grippiness: 5 — Viciousness: 5+

So you might think six sets of nipple tormenting devices would be enough. But no. I’m always on the lookout for more. If there’s a type I’ve not covered in this post that you have experience with, please leave details in the comments. I’d love to hear how my readers are abusing their tender pink spots.

Still hard

The hardest part of living like this, for all you budding chastity/denial aficionados, is not the part where she strokes you, licks you, fucks you and leaves you throbbing hard, dripping, and desperate for more. No, that’s the good part. The hardest part is when she doesn’t let you, for whatever reason, have access to her body.

The situation should be familiar to anyone paying attention. I am locked in the device as often as possible. If it were not for real life getting in the way, it would be essentially permanent. I have no way to stimulate myself and Belle chooses to play the version of this game where she will sometimes touch me everywhere but the penis. She doesn’t see the need to let it out except when life, health, or orgasm require it. What I want more than anything is her. Her tits, her pussy, her everything. I want to ravish her.

So I’m pretty sure the last time she let me get her off was the day I got back from my camping trip, five days ago. On Sunday, we took the kids to summer camp. The oldest will be there until the end of the week, but the youngest gets back tonight. That means we had two nights of kidless living. I had hoped for some quality Belle ‘n Thumper time.

There was a bit of Thumper-centric activity on Sunday night. She put the wicked clamps on my tits and punched me in the nuts. The clamps, which hurt like a motherfucker, felt really good from the second she clipped the on. I was ready. The pain/pleasure conversion motor was humming in high gear. She yanked on the chain connecting the clips a bit which is fucking crazy intense. These things are so nasty that even shifting my position causes them to chew the soft pink nipple meat as they turn with me. It can be so overwhelming that it feels like I’m in a deep, dark cave and the only thing I see is two brilliant white lights burning in the blackness. They usually leave extraordinarily thin cuts on my skin, though so superficial that bleeding is never a question. Leaving marks is cool.

Anyway, yeah, so I have god’s perfect nipple clamps on and she starts hitting me in the nuts. There’s really no pain here, either. At least, by the time the sensation gets to my brain, it’s been transmuted into something else. I craved more than she was giving me, so I got up off my back (where she had told me to lay) so that I was on all fours over half her prone body (and yes, all this movement made the clamps gnaw and chew). I was hoping this would give her a better angle on my nuts, and I wasn’t disappointed. She balled her hand into a little fist and punched my sack, pulled tight by the straining penis in its cage. I reached down and held the tube in my hand to minimize the risk of getting the thin skin at the base of the tube pinched from her assault and to give her blows a more even base to strike against. In my head, I was begging her to hit me as hard as she could. I wanted something that would take my breath away and make me crumple over her like a doll. I wanted to feel it in my guts. But I couldn’t form the words. I couldn’t ask her. Something held me back. It could have been a combination of self-preservation and residual guilt for wanting this kind of attention. I don’t know. But I never asked.

When she was done (indicated by her pulling the clips off my tits), she kind of shut down and said, “I hope you can fall asleep,” or something very similar.

I admit, I was profoundly disappointed. I wanted in her pussy. I wanted to eat it up. I wanted to feel her writhe and moan and spasm to my touch. All she wanted to do was go to sleep. I got very still and quiet.

“Thumper, are you OK?”

No. But I said, “Yes.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s not important,” I replied because, by rights, it shouldn’t be. I signed up for this. I have this thing on the penis which ensures there is nothing I can do except make her come if I want anything like a release for myself. I didn’t want to ruin an otherwise enjoyable experience by getting all moody, though I was. The best I could do was keep it from affecting her. So I ate it and let her go to sleep.

But I didn’t. I was up until after midnight and then awake at least three times with stifled erections so powerfully contained that I needed to get up and walk them off. It was a crappy night’s sleep. But that’s what I signed up for, too. In the morning, she said she was surprised I hadn’t blogged the night before. Usually, when I can’t sleep and am left feeling funky, that’s what I do, but I specifically held off until now because I wanted better perspective.

Next night, she had a work dinner thing and I had drinks with a friend. I got home about 8:30 and the house was hot but the pool looked inviting so I took a skinny dip. Our backyard is enclosed just enough to leave a bit of risk in this action, so that hit a few of my buttons. Regardless, swimming in the nude is 136% better than swimming with a stupid suit on and the water was glorious. The dusky sky reflected beautifully on the water’s surface.

Belle got home somewhat later and I was hoping that she’d want my attention, but no dice. We watched Niel Patrick Harris (upon whom she has a massive crush) on the Daily Show and she fell asleep with her hand in my crotch – palm on the tube and fingertips on my nuts. It was nice, but ultimately did nothing to give me what I needed. I wanted her fucking snatch but she wasn’t giving it up.

Finally, this morning, I woke up well after she did as usual and, before getting dressed, she sat next to me in bed and again stroked my nuts. It drove me crazy, especially when she got dressed right next to me few minutes later. The kidless window is closed now since our youngest gets home this afternoon.

So anyway, I am trying my hardest not to let this maddening lack of Belle time get me down. I am trying to remind myself that this is part of the deal. That I wanted to be out of the decision making loop regarding sex and to be frustrated and horny and denied and treated arbitrarily and unfairly. I really, really don’t want to put anything back on her because the deal is I have no right to do so. I am not entitled to her and should accept what I get with gratitude.

Yeah, that’s the hardest fucking part. And in case you’re wondering, no, it doesn’t get any easier with time.

Needy meat

I am wired.

Can’t sleep. Vibrating with frustration. Earlier, I used the Pure to pummel my prostate senseless. Now, I’m tired. So tired. But humming. And clutching. At the steel and it’s living contents. Feeling the gland inside my body swollen and tender and the device heavy and so perfectly locked.

Belle sent me a text from New York. I didn’t see it until 24 mintes later. In my writhing and tossing and clutching, I missed the thrum of the phone.

Just in an elevator with Jay-Z

Once I saw it, I texted back, “Are you still awake?” I wanted to talk to her so bad. To admit my condition. To admit I abused myself without her permission. To ask – no, to beg that she let me get myself off. To put me out of my misery. I’ll accept any condition. Any punishment. I have a key, secured by a plastic tag. Say the word, Belle. Please. Let me out. Let me come. Fucking hell, I want to come.

But she didn’t answer.

I put the cruel little clamps on my nipples and pulled and twisted and felt the white hot pain and heard my little moans in the quiet dark bedroom and realized I could not hurt myself enough. The pain was not pain. No pain at all. It was all going right to the cock. As the clips chewed and bit the tube filled and was made tight by the meat. The needy meat. I pulled the clips harder. Harder. The nipples stretched and screamed and I twisted and pulled and pulled. Finally, even their mean little teeth couldn’t hold on and first the left, then the right slipped off with a pair of brassy, tight-springed snaps. Now the nipples sting. But I need more. I need so much more.

I need my Belle.

Tids and bits

A couple of things I neglected to mention while describing my ass pounding:

  • The Stryker dildo is of the vac-u-lock variety and I purchased along with it something called an EZ Rider inflatable ball. My thinking was it would allow better penetration while not putting so much strain on my knees (which are not as springy as they were 20 years ago when I got my first suction cup Stryker dildo). Nice idea, but the ball sucks. The dildo moves around too much on the ball’s vac-u-lock plug making it more difficult to line it up and keep it in place. Plus, the little plastic doodad that supposed to keep the air in the ball kept popping out in situ. Had I to do it over again, I would have gone with the suction cup version instead and saved the extra $25. I could have put it towards the price of a fucking machine. Don’t suppose those are covered by Medicare, do you?
  • Nipple clamps! I totally forgot to mention I used nipple clamps at various points during the event. At different times, I was using three separate types, from mildly pinchy to wickedly so. I had the most vicious things available dangling from the tender pink flesh while I was cleaning up and they bit harder as I moved about, chain swaying and chest flexing. I was so horned up by that point that it seemed my capacity for pain was limitless. Those little fuckers hurt like hell, but the twin lasers of intensity were converted into pure sexual pleasure by whatever twisted little circuit in my brian makes me a masochist. Same idea behind the later ball-busting which was some of the most intense I’ve experienced. Getting trapped in a fucking bear trap probably would have made me shoot right there in my tube.
  • Speaking of the tube, it and I are very much in the zone right now. We’re in that phase where we’re one one and it seems more an extension and natural part of my body than a sex toy. I read on some blog recently advice that chastity play should only be practiced from time to time and not constantly for fear that it become boring. The flip side to that for some is that it’s not a situational sex game. It’s a lifestyle. Even though it’s causing me a great deal of frustration, there’s honestly nothing more than I’d want right now than it locked onto me. Its absence would be like losing an appendage.
  • In all the discussion about the size of the Stryker dildo, I forgot to mention that I wish they would have made one that was his actual size. His cock is so fantastic and working up to being able to experience the bulk of that dildo takes so long that, it seems to me, a 7.5″ version would probably result in more actual pleasure than the freakishly large member they produced. It’s not that I don’t absolutely adore that dildo, but just imagine being able to work yourself over with the real deal first before supersizing. Bliss.
  • Finally, it’s got nothing to do with the ass pounding, but I also forgot to mention that I slipped one of the Pinks into Belle’s open suitcase just as she finished packing Friday night. She got to her hotel room in China and found it nestled in with her underwear and bras. I knew she had forgotten about it because she packed somewhat in a hurry. I didn’t think she should have been without her favorite vibrator for two whole weeks. Hopefully, she’ll partake in its pleasure and tell me about each and every time she does.


We were at a nice restaurant last night. Unexpectedly, both the kids were away so we got a surprise date night.

“You thought I was going to let you out this weekend,” Belle said over the caesar and crab cakes, “You said so on the blog.”

“Yes,” I replied, “You dropped hints. You practically told me you were going to let me out.”

“What did I say?” she asked.

“I don’t remember specifically, but hints were dropped. Several of them.”

“Well, whatever I may have said, you misinterpreted it.”

“Really?” Fork full of romaine paused in mid-flight.


“So I’m not getting out?”


Pause. “I thought I was. This weekend.”


Pause. “And you knew I thought this and you just let me go ahead thinking it?”



“Because I can.”


Looking at the calendar, it’s entirely unlikely I’ll be out in either of the next two weekends. That means I will have been left in the device for over two months at least. At one point, she mentioned our anniversary in mid-October as a goal but she also mentioned my birthday which is in early September. At any rate, it seems as though I need to get any idea of release out of my mind since it’s not happening soon and nothing she says on the matter can be trusted.

Back at the ranch, with the candles lit and me naked as directed, I started to get into bed before she stopped me. I hadn’t asked permission. Bad boy. I asked and she let me in.

I knelt on the bed before her, the device that was not coming off glinting softly, and she pulled out the handcuffs. She ratcheted them down tightly, but not too tightly. Then she brought out my collar. Ooooooh, my collar! I love that thing. She hadn’t put it on me in so long. I dropped my head and she attached it snugly around my throat.

“Now you know how the dog feels,” she said.


Finally, she brought out the Japanese butterfly clips. She pulled my nipples out with her fingers so the clips would grab a fat chunk of meat. So there I was, caged, collared, cuffed and clipped. Bliss.

I nuzzled into her with my face, awkwardly trying to balance with my wrists chained together. I wanted to smell her, feel her. Kiss her. I kissed her neck, her jaw, her chin – her beautiful lips were right there – when she yanked down on the chain between the clips, pulling me with them. Yes, it hurt, but it was all the really good kind of hurt. I was so there. So ready to be abused.

She released the chain and I started back up her body, trying again for the kiss. She pulled me back again, this time I didn’t even make it to her neck. Several more times we did this – me going up, her pulling me back down – before she finally let me get to her mouth. The kissing was all the more fantastic for the waiting. For the work it took to get there. Between my legs, the heavy tube strained to rise, plump full of cock.

She directed me to the side of the bed. She got up and walked around to where I was. I felt the suede lashes gently run down the length of my back and over my ass. Then, the opposite journey, up over my ass then toward my shoulders. Gentle. Soft. A warning.

Lightly at first, so I could get used to the sensation, I felt the flogger fall across my upturned ass cheeks and upper thighs. I arched my back to bring my ass even further up, but in doing so unwittingly exposed my nutsack so that when she hit me with the first really strong stroke, the lashes also found my balls. I don’t know if she meant to do that, but the full force of the flogger striking my sack – already pulled tight by the erection filling the tube – made me see stars and scream into my pillow.

She alternated back and forth between the flogger and the crop. I was free to cry out as loudly as I wanted since the house was empty. It stung (especially the really hard blows), but the pain – all of it – was warm and almost soothing, in a way. More than once, my reaction to the blows caused the cock to flex and I felt slugs of precum travel down the compressed meat. I was so. Fucking. Loving it. As usual, I lost track of time. Also as usual, as soon as she was done, I wanted more. More and more and more. And harder. I still don’t know how deep I can go when I feel like that. When the pain is all good and I’m really humming. What’s my limit?

Mind you, I’m not complaining. I loved it. Every second. And I love her for doing it for me.

She backed me out by again running the flogger lightly over my back and ass. Then she uncuffed me. Then, sadly, the collar came off. Finally, the clips came off the nipples. Twin flares of pain shot up as the little jaws unclamped. I laid next to her as we went to bed. Loving her. Adoring her. Wanting to fuck her so goddamn badly. I told her so.

“I’ll let you know when you’ve earned it,” she replied sleepily.

A dream, a thing, and a scene

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

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

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

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

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

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


“You haven’t like me out of it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouch!” she said, “That hurts.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I felt completely abused. Thank you, Belle Fille.


He kneeled before her, hands behind his back and looked down at his chest as she affixed the black Japanese butterfly clamps to his nipples. They bit into his soft flesh with an insistent ferocity causing him to suck air between his teeth. She lifted the chain connecting them and held it before his face.

“Put this in your mouth and keep it there,” she directed him. He opened his lips and she placed the chain between them. He bit down gently on the thin, hard metal. The chain was too short for him to raise his head without pulling on his nipples and causing the clamps to bite even harder, so he kept his head bowed.

She grabbed as much of his short-cropped hair as she could and pulled his head back. The pain in his nipples flared as the chain in his mouth was pulled tight and his pink flesh stretched against the clamps. He grunted and squeezed his eyes shut against the flood of sensation.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” she said firmly. Whimpering, his eyes opened and looked into hers. Her gaze penetrated him, seeking.

She smiled.