Tag: orgasm control

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Quickie from Paradise

Fair warning: I’m writing this with my thumbs on a small screen. Typos and other strange word combinations may result.

I have two quick updates to pass along. First, as I mentioned before, the SH-S did come along for the trip and is, in fact, locked on to me as I write this. It’s even had its first dip in the sea. Here’s hoping the brass lock doesn’t corrode…

The new device is so small and relatively light weight that I hardly know it’s there, regardless of activity. I’m in the “it’s part of me” zone at the moment so having it on is actually a comfort to me. I’m laying on the bed in our room as I peck this out, on my stomach, and can feel its firm density pressing up into me even as its contents swell expectantly. So far, the experience has been comfortable and without incident. I left the rinse bottle at home by accident so hopefully the salt an pool water flushes it’s receiving will be sufficient to keep everything in balance.

The other news is somewhat more momentous. Seeing as how Belle prefers me when I’m locked and denied and seeing as *I* prefer me that way, too (which is to say, we like how I behave and feel and act when the hormonal build-up works its magic), Belle has decided to leave me without orgasm for six months. My previous record was just about three, but she’s assured me that she will *not* be swayed by any pathetic begging on my part. Next time I come, the leaves will be changing. They haven’t even come out where we live.

Truth is, the idea was mine (surprised, right?), but I was very clear that it was just an idea. I was perfectly prepared to deal with whatever she wanted to do, including letting me come on the trip or whatever. After a few days of thought, she’s on board. I’m now about two weeks into a 26 week experiment.

To celebrate the decision, she let me give her an orgasm this morning. It was the first since I got sick last week, so I needed it as badly as she did. Feeling her nipples in my mouth and my fingers working her hot, wet snatch made the tube contents strain so hard my nuts turned purple. After she came, I cleaved to her and felt the device throb with stiff, stifled meat and my intense desire to fuck her with it and the equally intense realization that that would not happen for a very, very long time.

And it was good.

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Horny + sick = bleh

I’m sick. Bleh. I feel like crap.

Usually, Belle’s sympathy for me in these situations would lead her to be somewhat more lax with regard to the enforcement of my chastity (meaning she’d let me take the thing off, not let me come), but I already had it off due to more penis head irritation.

This is the second time I’ve had this issue with the new Steelheart Short (SHS). It’s happened a few times in the old one, so I was willing to look the other way and just chalk it up to life in steel, but now it’s happened both time I put the device on after not wearing one for a while. The last time, after things had cleared up (usually takes about 24 hours), I was fine for two weeks. This time, I was also sick and felt miserable and was honestly glad to be rid of it, but this morning I woke up extraordinarily horny and sick. Since I’m at home and unsupervised, I voluntarily went back in. The last thing I need to do is waste my energy jacking off for 12 hours.

Anyway, about the irritation, I think it’s due to things being so cramped in there. In SH1, the head of the cock bounced around against the wall of the tube and only reached the bottom when it was becoming erect. In SHS, it’s against the curve of the end of the tube more frequently. I wonder how things would be different if I was uncircumcised (only for about the four millionth time in my life [And how screwed up is it that uncircumcised is only word we commonly use to describe the natural state of a penis that hasn’t been fucked with? Circumcision should start with “un.” Like “unnatural”. But I digress.]). Another factor I can’t put a finger on is urine. Every time this happens, I feel a burning when I pee (on the outside). What I’d like to know is can urine be acidic? Are there times when, if it’s allowed to remain in contact with skin, it will result in irritation? Usually, I’m good at shaking a lot of the excess urine out when I pee and cleaning it up at night, but that might be a factor. I suppose the Google could tell me…but I don’t want to look. I’m sick. *cough*

As I said last time, we’re about to go on vacation so I don’t expect to have any seriously uninterrupted tube time until we get back. Then again, Belle commented after my last post that perhaps we’d bring it along and use it for those times it was practical and only let me out when it wasn’t. We’ll see how it turns out.

I other news, Dan Savage linked to an interesting account of a guy who allowed his girlfriend to peg him since he was interested in anal sex with her. First off, good for him, right? Sounds eminently fair to me. The cool bit was this:

After it happened, I felt the same exciting relief I imagine a girl feels after losing her virginity on prom night. I never realized the incredible amount of bravery it takes to let someone inside you. It’s asking someone to stab you in the back, but lovingly. Masculine courage is throwing yourself headfirst into danger, like jumping out of a plane, but feminine courage is letting danger throw itself headfirst into YOU. It’s even more badass. I look at women like soldiers now, and older women as grizzled retired Generals that I wholeheartedly salute.

I also never realized how instantly bonding sex can be on the receiving end. I already felt close to her before we began our little experiment, but now I feel like she’s tattooed under my skin. Even though she was staying the night, I almost begged her to call me the next day.

I read that and I think, Wow, maybe there is hope for our culture. That’s just so awesome. But then I read this in the comments on Dan’s blog:

Ah yes, another bullshit masculine/feminine binary.

And I think, Oh Jesus, just fuck off, OK? Can’t we have heart-felt accounts of intimate acts? Does everything need to be passed through a bullshit sieve of some self-proclaimed thought cop?

Sorry. Sensitive topic, I guess. Anyway, I thought it was a beautiful piece (as, I hope, he was for his girlfriend).

Reader Mike left a comment to my last post:

Please don’t take this as criticism, but I wonder if your expectations on her are too high? It took me some time, but I had to realize that I was the one who wants to be locked up, and if I ever said I was done with it, than she would probably agree and move on without skipping a beat. I have a great wife, and she “plays the game” wonderfully, but in truth, its just an adventure, and not the epi-center of our relationship.

What I wrote was not to say, Gee, I wish Belle took this chastity thing more seriously. Rather, it was that I had stopped respecting it and its role in our relationship (and, ultimately, her right to put me in it whenever she wanted). In fact, Belle’s told me on several occasions that she prefers me as a mate when I’m locked in the device. She’s really not “playing the game” anymore. If I were to say I was done with it, I’m sure she’d go along, but there would be a great deal of conversation around the decision. It’s not just mine anymore.

And while I wouldn’t go so far as to say enforced chastity is the epicenter of our relationship, it is clearly a significant component. It has been integrated fundamentally into how we relate to each other and has radically changed how I perceive my body and its functions.

So, I’m no expert, and defer to your experience and machinations of your marriage, but ultimately, I have to guide my wife through this. I have to let her know that I’m ready to get locked up, and she plays the role well, but she is just supporting my fantasy. If I had never said “chastity device”, she would never have brought the cb-6000 into our life.

Clearly, our experience in the beginning was similar to yours. I brought chastity into our relationship and it took Belle a while to really own it in the way she does now. However, we’re way past the point where this is about my fantasies. This is about both of us and equally as much about how she wants me to be as it is about how I want her to be.

So, when you say “I know (I really do) that it’s all up to her in the end”, I wonder if you are correct? Who drives this element of your life really, you or her? If it is her, AWESOME!! But if this is really all about you, is it fair to ask her to think about your sexual fantasy 24/7 and be able to read your mind?

Enforced chastity has allowed us to be much more communicative, but as improved as all that is, there’s still a bit of mind reading that goes on because we’re both imperfect people.

Like I say, I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’m learning a lot from you, and am very new to chastity. However, I had to learn the hard way that this was more about my kinky ideas than hers.

I don’t think you’re being a jerk at all. Eighteen months ago, you would have been spot-on. Now, though, I feel like we’ve achieved the goal so many men think they want. That is, both partners being equally invested in the many benefits of controlling my orgasm. I am, as I have said so many times before to her and here, an extraordinarily lucky and thankful rabbit.

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Retrograde

I was in, I was out, I’m back in again.

She took me out last weekend and, as usual, I had no idea it was going to happen. She fucked me (or, I should say, let me fuck her) and apparently I was supposed to go back in the next day, but she neglected to follow-up in the morning so I didn’t and by the time she mentioned it that night I gave her kind of a face or something so she said something about taking a break. I took that to mean we were taking a break, but she didn’t, so I was apparently breaking the rules for a week or so.

Thing is, I had just come, so my inclination for incarceration was quite low. In these situations, I might know instinctively what I’m supposed to do, but I find reasons not to absent her firm hand. So, in any event, I was out and about for the week until Monday when she told me I would, in no uncertain terms, be going back in. But not before she let me come again. So, I’m back in, but my head’s not as I’m still recovering from the post-orgasmic subdrop (two in seven days!).

Truth be told, I’m happier when the cock’s locked up. It’s what feels normal and natural now. Being out feels like I’m getting away with something and just leaves me feeling a little out of balance. Regardless, I wasn’t inclined to put myself back in without her explicit direction. And that’s the other part of what feels normal and natural (and happier). I am, again, being “maintained” and cared for. I have her attention. And that makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

She was giving me shit about it last night. Wanting to know if I was suffering, etc. Come on, I said, it’d only been one day. How much suffering could there be? But, she said, she liked knowing I was squirming. She liked knowing my exact condition. And, she says, she likes me better in the steel.

So, I’ve been out (it seems) quite a bit lately. Also, it seems as though I’ve been coming a lot (though in reality, it’s hardly at all — that I’d ever think a couple of times a month was a lot says much about how I’ve changed). Next week, we head to tropical paradise for a week where she’s already said I’ll be out of the device for the whole trip (even the parts when I don’t have to be out for national security purposes). If past is prologue, I can probably expect some more orgasming. And the thing is, I don’t want any of it. I don’t want the cock to be free for any longer than it has to be and I don’t want to come. Not at all. Not for a really long time. I know I can’t wear the thing on the plane and I know there will be activities that will require I remove it and I know she’ll probably get frisky and want a romp and I know (I really do) that it’s all up to her in the end, but I also know that I, too, like me better when I’m starved for orgasm and without access to the meat.

I crave desperately to be back in that deprived state, craving desperately the thing I don’t want to have. Regardless, I’ll do what she says. If I get to come, I’ll enjoy it. If I stay out for the week, I’ll probably enjoy that, too. But that doesn’t mean I can’t hope for the other options. She and I both know it makes me a better man.

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Short respit

I was out of the new Steelheart Short for 24 hours following an episode of corona abrasion. I could feel it coming on Sunday night as a burning sensation after I’d pee but I didn’t ask to be removed because, you know, I’m a guy and we think we can just tough it out. Obviously not a good idea, but I seem to think I’ve been able to get through this when it’s happened before, though in reality, I haven’t.

So the tube came off and the coronal ridge on the right side was red and unhappy looking (and I was reminded again that if I were uncircumcised it probably wouldn’t be an issue). Probably happened Sunday afternoon when I worked out on the elliptical machine without any support. Lots of device motion rubbing against the skin. By the end of the day yesterday, it felt and looked much better. I probably could have gone back in at bedtime, but Belle had me stay out until this morning. She’s gone on a trip for the next few days, so ready or not, I was going to have to get back in there.

I don’t believe this is an issue with the new device as much as it’s a known issue with this type of device. It’s happened to me before. There’s just a higher level of awareness that’s involved in wearing a closed system like the Steelheart.

Back in the secure confines, after Belle left and I was alone in the house, I updated the Portfolio and felt again the newly constricted feeling I will be living with from now on. It’s very much different than the old Steelheart. I said in an early write up about it that the SH-1 was a more forgiving chastity experience since the cock had more room to grow in before being constrained. It’s true that the feeling of being hard in the larger tube wasn’t as intense as the CB6K I had been in before, but it’s also true that the new tube with approximately 60% of the internal volume of the old is still more comfortable than the CB6K and is at least as comfortable (in a different way) as the larger tube. It’s possible my tolerance of being restricted is higher now than it was back then based on how long I’ve been doing this now. It’s also possible the configuration of the CB6K with it’s sharp, hard edges and oval, compressive tube design just isn’t as comfy.

I said the other day that the diameter of the old and new tubes is the same, but I don’t think that’s entirely true. Perhaps it is, but I know that getting everything shoved into the new tube (cock, PA ring, PA fixing) is harder than it was in the old. The effective amount of space in there now is so much lower that the circumference feels smaller. I’ve lost almost an inch and a half of length, after all.

In any event, in the SH-1 I would feel constrained while in the SH-S I feel compressed. Almost exactly like how the Jail Bird feels, but without the mild testicular pain (caused, I suspect, by the lack of space between the cage and the cuff ring along the bottom of the device).

Belle will be gone until late Thursday night, so if I start to feel that the abrasion isn’t healed, I’ll need to bust out the emergency key and be good. I really do not want to do that, but being all tough will only postpone the inevitable. Besides, looking on the bright side, maybe if I get out without her permission she’ll punish me when she gets home.

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Do egrets regret?

Looking through the survey responses, this question popped out from the several comments left at the end:

Do you ever regret choosing orgasm control?

Absolutely not. Zero percent. Nada. My only regret is that we could not have started it earlier. Like, maybe the night of our first date.

Which is not to say it’s always been easy. It hasn’t. Read some of the older blog entries and see for yourself. But right now, it’s all been more than worth it because my heart is filled with love, devotion, gratitude, and a sense that I am unbelievably lucky. I feel this quite keenly.

Speaking of the survey, it’s already received nearly as many responses in its first day as it did last year and nearly twice as many as it got in the first year. I probably won’t keep it open for a couple weeks as planned, so if you’re game, go take it now the survey is closed!

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Feel the burn

Last night, after Belle went to sleep and told me I was allowed to play with myself, there was a point where I had stroked the cock so much that had I dared to even breathe on it, I would have had an orgasm. I had already milked seven thick slugs of ejaculate from myself without satisfying, even in the slightest, my need to come. I was able to pull up with the awareness of how close I was, but just prior I was in a place where I wanted it so bad that my hand wrapped around the cock formed a single thing upon which every molecule of my being was focused.

And then I let go. And the cock bobbed and quivered and flexed and I knew that if my fingers so much as as grazed the flared head of the cock, that I’d orgasm (most likely dryly). Thinking about it now causes a low thrum under the stiffening cock.

It was fucking torture. Fucking. Torture. The smell of the semen was everywhere and the taste of it was thick in my throat and its sticky sliminess was rubbed all over the cock shaft and between my fingers but I did not come. I dared not. It would be a betrayal of everything I lived for now, including Belle’s trust. I existed in that vaporous microscopically thin space between desire and control and it made me burn.

When I knew I had taken things as far as I possibly could, I cleaned up and went to bed. The cock leaked and leaked onto the sheets so that after 20 minutes I was laying in what felt like a post-coitus wetspot. Besides the leaking, the cock also stung from the abuse on its skin – skin that’s not too often abused that way and has become thin and sensitive. The ring flopped in the PA hole and caused the inside of the cock to feel raw and sore. But still, I wanted more. I wanted everything I could not have because it’s no longer mine to take.

My sleep was fitful and I often found myself cleaving to Belle, pressing the hard cock into her leg and putting my hands inside her bedclothes. I want her so bad. Then, now, always. I’m consumed by desire for her and the gift only she can give.

Living this way is so much harder than being in the device. So much more intense and distracting. Belle told me I was going back in on Sunday morning (which is an odd time), and truly, I will be thankful to have the cock put out of reach. Especially if she doesn’t let me come before the key turns.

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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.

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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.

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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”.

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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.