Tag: orgasm control

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Fire

Up until last night, it had been something like 10 days since I was able to touch Belle in any significant way. The trip didn’t help, obviously, and neither did her period which arrived just before I left. With the kids out of the house, I was hoping to get a little action (even though we’re going to a downtown hotel for the night tonight). And yeah, I got my action. And yeah, it was really good.

Which is to say, it was totally normal. With the exception of her using the butterfly clamps on my nipples, it was pretty standard fare. But, it had been ten days. I was really fucking ready for her. She put the clamps on me and would pull them until they finally pulled off (which hurts in such a fantastic way) and them put them back and do it all over again. The trashy pain slut within was reveling in the attention and the contents of the tube were hard and straining.

But whatever I felt before paled in comparison to how it felt once I got my mouth on her tits. The pressure on my balls was greater than even the merciless morning wood erections. My balls ached and throbbed as the steel ring pressed into them and my fire for her burned uncontrollably inside me. I just wanted her so, so bad. It’s not even possible to tell you how bad I wanted her. I wanted to bite her and kiss her and eat her and drink her and fuck the shit out of her. I wanted to come in her and on her and crush her in my arms. It felt like I was exhaling clouds of testosterone. The prehistoric lizard was riding high, the little white rabbit under it’s scaly feet.

I crawled over her, between her legs, and sucked her nipples while rubbing the hard steel tube over her mound. Her hips started to gyrate and I could feel the cock sink into her inviting, wet pussy. But, of course, it didn’t. I never left the unyielding tube. It’s so odd to feel the pressure of an erection like that one but nothing else. No surface stimulation at all, just…pressure. Like the pressure at the bottom of the ocean pushing back against me.

I rolled off her and pulled her pajama bottoms off and stuck my finger three knuckles deep into her fantastically soft, wet and hot pussy. Jesus, I wanted it so bad. I was kissing her face, sucking her tits, and fingering her clit all in a jumbled cloud of activity I have a hard time recalling now. I was lost to the fire, consumed in the passion of the moment and her body and my love and lust for her. When she came, I cried out, too. I wanted it as bad as she did. I wanted to feel it. Had to feel it. The only type of release I can get.

As she basked, I kept my finger firmly shoved up her snatch. I wanted to rut in it, rub my face in it, cover myself in her juices and scent and power, but I was good and let her come down from the clouds in her own time (though I know I was whining).

She talked to me. Said something. It cut me and seared me to hear her talk about what I could and could not do and what I had to do, but I honestly can’t recall any of her words. I was so far gone. I could smell every bit of her. Her pussy, her skin, her fucking spit and her hair and it was everything to me. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more aroused and lost in the passion. If she had presented the key at that moment, I probably would have injured myself getting the device off. Everything in the universe was her.

Eventually, she slept, but I was too high. I went downstairs and played Xbox in the nude while precum leaked on my inner thigh. The hormones subsided and, two hours later, I crawled back into bed with her. Her body moved close to mine and it was like the fire, smoldering, flared back to life. I did eventually sleep, but it was fitful.

And you may be wondering, this is good? This is what you want? Yes. Yes a thousand times. I can’t tell you why, but yes. Fucking hell, yes.

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Savaged

I’m both an avid fan of Dan Savage and a practitioner of a kink that (depending on who you ask) is way more common that most people think or hardly practiced by anyone. Being both those things, I’ve always devoured any little tidbit of Savage wisdom regarding chastity and/or orgasm denial, though they’ve been few and far between.

So, imagine my surprise when the topic came up in his nationally syndicated column. “w00t!” I thought (seriously, I did think w00t!). Our time has come! Free at last! Wait, no, not that exactly. Anyway, yeah, fantastic exposure for the locked and horny crowed.

Or so I thought.

Except in the most extreme cases, WIFE, male chastity play isn’t really about orgasm denial. It’s more of an elaborate, extended kind of foreplay, a way of introducing elements of erotic power and control that usually result in the denied/chaste man having more orgasms, not fewer.

WTF? Am I doing this wrong? Is everyone I know doing this wrong?

As for safety: Make sure you get a chastity device that fits properly, WIFE, as you don’t want his dick to go numb, develop gangrene, and fall off—that would be nullification, not chastity. And don’t deny your husband orgasms for weeks or months on end, as that could elevate his risk for developing prostate cancer.

Oh, Jesus, not that too!

I don’t know what the opposite of w00t! is, but I was thinking it. These (relatively few) words could set back chastity play ten years. Apparently, we’re not in it for the positive aspects of denial, we’re really in it for more orgasms PLUS we’re playing with the dreaded C word, as well.

FUUUUUUUCK!!!

But just as Dan taketh away, Dan can also giveth. Or somethingeth. He quickly wrote one of his patented “I fucked up” blog posts which, frankly, endears him to me more than anything else. It’s so refreshing to see that kind of open-minded and honest approach to correcting oneself, especially on the internet.

But that’s not all! Not only did he essentially set the prostate cancer thing straight (which is to say, he pointed out how confusing and unhelpful most of what’s known about it and what causes it and how to avoid it is), he also pointed his readers to several websites on the subject. Including Chastity Forums. And this blog.

Well. Hello there all you new faces.

I feel the need to introduce myself and my kink to all the Savage readers turning up on my digital doorstep. And yeah, all the attention is a little disconcerting.

It all started one afternoon when I was looking for sex toys my wife Belle Fille and I could use. I don’t remember what, exactly, I was looking for, but it could have been a flogger or a crop or something. Anyway, I was on this site (I forget which one now) and it had, like, 18 different categories of toys plus this other one called “Miscellaneous” and I’m like, Seriously? You have 18 categories and there’s still one called “Miscellaneous”?! So I checked it out.

And that was the first time I saw a male chastity device. It was the horrible Houdini design, but the concept of it burned into my brain like nothing had before. In about five minutes, I had devoured enough content (including the fabulous Tickleberry site) to know this was something I really needed to try. That night, I showed what I found to my wife and we ordered a CB-6000 straight away. A year later, we upgraded to German steel.

Note that my story is different than most others. It is typically the case that the guy obsesses over chastity for years before approaching his partner with it. In fact, I’m sure most guys with the kink never bring it up for fear of being rejected. That wasn’t me. I had never thought of it before, but as soon as I discovered it, I realized there were a lot of hints that I’d end up here eventually. It’s been two years now and I can say we will never go back. I’ll never come whenever I want again. And when I do, they’ll be few and far between.

I could go on and on about why this is a Good Thing, but assuming you’ve read this far, I think the best I can do at this point is tell you to read more of the blog (and the other Dan linked to and some of the blogs in my blogroll). And maybe check out the forum. And, of course, if you have any questions whatsoever, please feel free to leave them in the comments.

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The hard part

Friday morning, Belle wanted some. I was still in my funky mood and not entirely interested in giving it up, but damn if my hormones didn’t betray me. All she had to do was put her hands in the right places and show me her tits and I was all over her.

She came with my face planted firmly against her snatch, my tongue pressed hard against her clit. I rolled over next to her, hand grasping the hard steel tube between my legs, seething.

“How do you feel?” she asked, knowing I had not been myself lately.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” was all I could say. It was true. The cock was throbbing in its prison. It had been nearly six weeks with only a brief trip out when I was sick. I wanted to feel her hot pussy envelope her hard cock. Really. Bad.

“Well, you’re still going to have to wait,” she said. I’m only half way to my next orgasm, sometime around the end of December. “Maybe, if you’re good, I’ll let you in for a little bit so you can remember what it felt like, but not right now.”

The thought of being let out and allowed to fuck her, even without coming, has been with me ever since. Countless times each day, hand on my crotch, thinking of being free and balls deep, hot and wet. I really can’t stop thinking about it.

Tonight, as we went to bed, she knew I wanted it and I had a pretty good idea something was going to happen. Once the kids were asleep, she told me to get naked and I plastered myself against her, slowly grinding the steel into her leg, my lips against her chin and throat.

“Do you deserve it?” she asked, knowing clearly what was on my mind.

“What?” I stumbled. “I…I don’t know. I don’t know if I deserve it. But I want it. I want to fuck you so bad.”

“That’s not the same.”

I continued to nuzzle her and kiss her and wait out her judgment. I wanted the steel off. I wanted to be inside her.

“You don’t deserve it,” she finally said. I whimpered and the cock surged. She told me I hadn’t been keeping up with my duties lately, which is true, and that I needed to shape up before she let me fuck her, even without coming. I lobbied back, reminding her of all the things I had done in the previous 48 hours, desperate for credit. Desperate to salvage the opportunity.

“Don’t whine,” she said firmly. “You told me to make it hard. This is the hard part. Do a good job and maybe I’ll let you out. In the mean time, I’ll let you give me an orgasm.”

It’s true, I had told her it had to be hard or it wouldn’t feel real. But fucking hell, all I wanted was a few minutes out. Just a little fuck with nothing to show for it afterward but a hard, wet dick. But no. I could feel the desire within me that had been building and feeding itself for days buckle and snap under the finality of her position. The door had closed. I would have to try harder to make her happy.

A few minutes later, I had Mr. Darcy out, but not in the harness. I was fucking her alright, but with the life-like, Thumper-sized dildo in my right hand. I pushed it home, all the way to the base and flicked my index finger over her clit. She started to writhe and squirm and I could imagine how hard she was clamping on the dildo deep inside her while the real cock, her other cock, pouted in its tube. She came with her ass off the bed, head back, hand clutching mine hard, silent scream contorting her face.

After a little glow time, I pulled Darcy out, sucked him off, and placed him back in the nightstand. She fell asleep, sated. I wrote this, still hot, still horny as all fuck.

Good night.

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Stacks

Maymay has this blog post that’s been sticking with me recently called “How not to fuck up a D/s relationship.” In it, he correctly points out that successful relationships are not a monolithic mass but are actually made up of multiple layers (like onions or, perhaps, parfaits), each building upon the last.

Expounds brother Maymay:

There’s this concept of layers, or more technically a stack, that is fundamental to the construction of many things in our world today. The basic idea is that one layer builds upon the things it receives from the layer beneath it and provides things to build upon to the layer above it. In this way, a robust and reliable system can be developed—and maintained—by segmenting different pieces of the system.

I think that a D/s relationship could benefit from a construction similar to this. It’s the way I think about my relationship with Eileen. I am at once her friend, her lover, her boyfriend, and her slave. Indeed, I am her slave because I am her boyfriend, and I am her boyfriend because I am her lover, and I am her lover because I am her friend.

I was reminded of this because, for the past two weeks or so, there’s been a kind of dissonance between Belle and I that’s taken the wind out of the sail for the sexual part of our relationship. The cause of the issue stems from a commitment Belle made to me a few years ago totally disconnected from anything this blog usually covers so the specifics are not important, but I’ve been noticing that she hasn’t been living up to it. For whatever reason, I find it hard to discuss this particular issue with her so I let it stew until it became a real impediment to everything else.

I finally asked her what the deal was. Why had she not done what she said she would? Her answer was, “I guess I just got lazy,” which is funny because the first thing I said in response was, “I don’t get the option of being lazy in my commitment” meaning, of course, that the device doesn’t allow it.

This is where it gets kind of squishy. I do think of her commitment as being more important (i.e., a lower stack, in Maymay’s parlance) than my commitment to chastity, but I think in Belle’s mind my chastity has stopped being just a game we play. It’s been elevated over time to be a fairly significant commitment I’ve made to her. A sign of my devotion. A permanent part of our relationship. And for some reason, I played right into that by equating my chastity to her commitment. So, I guess, what this boiled down to was a conversation about our commitments to each other and how we need to keep them. And a tacit implication that I will probably be chastised for the rest of my life.

So anyway, after Belle said she’d change her behavior back to match my expectations, I felt like a valve had been opened inside me. Within hours, I found my entire perspective about the device and our exchange of power had flipped. Before, I had developed a kind of begrudged resignation toward the device and had more or less lost my interest in being sexual with or even touching Belle. Last night, though, I was all over her and fell asleep clutching her body, my hands up under bedclothes. Her hand was down around the device and she stroked my balls as she fell asleep and I just about melted. On the way into work this morning, I sensed the tube on my body and the stirring of the cock inside and a warm, excited fluttering was in my chest. Once the issue with the lower stack was resolved, the issue with the higher one was, too.

All this is a long way of demonstrating that every time Tom says $200 worth if plastic locked on your junk won’t fix your relationship is totally and obviously correct. Also, chastity has stopped being a kink for us. I don’t think of it that way anymore at all. It’s how we are, not what we do.

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Quinta dispositivo

Yesterday morning, I guess Belle woke up with a bee in her bonnet since I opened my eyes to find her wide awake and staring at me. She told me to close the door and get naked. Morning has always been the best time to fuck Belle, but what with kids and all, it’s a rarity nowadays.

In any event, I got naked as requested and got into bed and, sleepy or no, quickly found myself all worked up. My hands were everywhere and I fought a strong urge to chew on her and soon my fingers were deep in her soaking snatch. She came nice and hard and complimented my technique and I laid there and throbbed in my tube. Fucking hell, I wanted a piece of that. But, you know, it’s just been five weeks. I have at least seven to go.

Later, I was taking the device off for a good clean and shave (and also to put the PA fixing back in I took out Friday morning), and I found the tube full of clear, viscous precum. It was everywhere and all over the cock. I think it hadn’t dribbled out the tube because, with the PA fixing out, I tend to fill it entirely and therefore block the hole. As Belle was working her Kegels on my fingers, I was leaking what seemed like a tablespoon of useless natural lube.

By the time I took the tube off, though, I found the cock to be as flaccid as it seems to get so I took the opportunity to measure again for our new device, the Mature Metal Jail Bird. It seems to be the trendy device all the cool kids are getting these days, so what that heck. Belle said we could get one.

It’s not that I’m unhappy with the Steelheart. Far from it, though I have been thinking lately that I might be needing to get a smaller tube for it. No, it’s not that chastity’s making the cock smaller (contrary to a fairly common misconception), but over time I’ve found my body’s changed and the fit of the device now seems kinda big and clunky. I will probably still order a smaller tube from the Fatherland and, of course, having another device in the mix will make living without our main axe easier.

The proprietor of Mature Metal recommends as close a fit as possible to your penis’ flaccid size. I measured once on Friday and got a length of 2.25″. On Saturday, it was 2.5″. Over on Chastity Forums, a lot of guys seem to get 2″ or so, and as I said, MM advises smaller over longer for comfort (though, of course, that’s entirely nonintuitive). I ordered 2.25″ and then sent an email asking him to make it 2″.

A big reason why the length of the tube is so important is I’m asking MM to add an extra steel bar just under where the head of the cock will be in order to lock it on with my 4ga PA ring. That ring’s impossible to take off without tools, so it should provide really good security. Maybe not quite as good as the Steelheart’s (since that’s all internal and unreachable without the key), but way better than nothing. In any event, since the Jail Bird fits so closely to the size of the flaccid cock, I’m hoping there won’t be any movement relative to the piercing and I won’t end up with pulling on the ring.

Belle and I had a date last night and I asked what the longest period was she’d leave me locked. After a moment’s pause, she said six months.

“But that depends on how the new one works,” she added. “I’m not sure leaving him in the current device for months on end is a good idea. It’s like he’s a little Chilean miner in there. I want him to get out once in a while and breath. I imagine he needs sunglasses every time he sees sunlight.”

I reminded her that the Jail Bird is an open cage design.

“I know,” she said, “and if I like that one, I might just leave you in it indefinitely.”

So. According to Mature Metal, we’ll find out what Belle thinks of it in 2-3 weeks. Then…who knows?

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Talk to the hand

So, here we are two years in and here I am a blogger with not a lot to blog about because things are going pretty OK. I could talk about how I’m a month in on my three month orgasmless cycle and how Belle’s not letting on as to when I’ll get to come (Before Christmas? This year, even?) or I could write about the night alone in a downtown hotel we’ve scheduled and how it’s way hotter for me knowing that she’s not going to let me come there, but I don’t know…it’s all the kind of stuff we’ve been over before. At the moment, I can’t seem to find a reason to talk about it. Maybe later.

Over on Chastity Forums, however, a new member calling himself Bez introduced himself to us recently. Here’s a snippet of what he said:

About 18 months ago I read about male chastity which I interested me. I discussed the subject with my wife, to my surprise she took some interest agreeing that I did ‘play with myself’ more than I should and she would try being my keyholder.

And that reminded me of something I did want to blog about. And I’ll say right up front that I’m in no way picking on Bez who seems like a very nice, very sincere guy.

If you read Bez’ entire intro and the stories of many, many other men, not only on CF but also on other forums or blogs or miscellaneous online groups, you come to realize that an awful lot of us have similar stories. First, we’re at, around, or over 40. Second, the spark had gone out of our marriages. Third, we turned to chastity to help bring that spark back. Yup, check, check, check. But, overlaying that, and present is Bez’ intro, is the “I jacked off too much” theme. That is almost universal in these stories.

My issue with this is that it’s the man’s masturbatory habits that seem to be implicated as the cause of the marital issues the couples are having. If only he’d stop punching the monkey, it seems, their sex life would still be healthy and they never would have misplaced the spark. Frankly, I find that perspective to be anti-male and anti-sex. I contend that masturbation is not the malady but merely a symptom of a larger issue.

I do speak from experience here. My marriage to Belle had turned sexless after 10 years and I not only turned to porn and masturbation for relief, but eventually a living person. The porn, masturbation, and even the other woman were not the cause of our problems. We were the cause of our problems. Jobs, kids, stress (see jobs and kids), and the unsexy reality of sleeping with the same person for a decade all contributed to us losing focus on that which allowed our relationship to remain strong: our sex life. We stopped trying. Both of us. Yes, I cheated and that was wrong and I’m not trying to lessen what I did, but it was a symptom of a different issue. We stopped trying.

Men, by the way, are different then women. I’m not a woman so I can’t say how it is for them with any kind of certainty, but guys are constantly producing the byproduct of our reproductive systems and are constantly being prodded by millions of years of evolution to get rid of it. We cannot help but find ourselves with the urge to have sex at fairly regular intervals. If sex is nowhere to be found, we know what to do. Luckily, it’s not a chore. Most of us like jacking off. I view it as “sex for one” – clearly inferior to multiple person sex, but still pretty damned good (if you’re doing it right). I abhor any suggestion that masturbation is dirty or wrong or in any way negative because it’s not. It’s natural and it’s fun and, yeah, I miss it.

I also dismiss the idea men turn to masturbation because they’re lazy or can’t control their urges. Like I said, jacking off is pretty good, but sex with another person (especially if that person is someone you love) is almost always better. The prevailing sentiment seems to be that men abandon sex in favor or masturbation all by themselves, as if their partner in the relationship is blameless. This simply isn’t true. It’s a complicated set of events that leads us to that state, but lack of trying or lack of wanting on the guy’s part is not to blame.

So when I hear things like “we agreed I played with myseld more than I should” it makes my teeth grate. Men are not the reason marriages drift apart and their sexuality is not the problem. I am not saying that some men haven’t developed destructive masturbation habits. People can do all kinds of things to excess (from sex to drugs to video games to eating), but most men are not like that. Most men are horny and healthy and addiction has nothing to do with it. Let’s not play the victim card here. Men who masturbate instead of having sex with their wives are not sick or addicted or at fault. They’re just men.

That being said, there are obvious positive attributes from strictly managing a man’s orgasm. Doing so seems to trick the guy’s brain into a tight and (sometimes) intense courtship cycle. It can be a great benefit to some. But, as a wiser man than me has already pointed out, locking a couple hundred dollars worth of plastic on a guy’s dick does not a healthy marriage make. As far as I can tell, the hormonal brain acrobatics are only responsible for a portion of chastity’s benefits. Locking a guy up and then resuming things as they had been is a recipe for disaster.

The single most important reason it works (when it works) is that both of them are focusing on each other again. She “controls” him while his only outlet is her pleasure. In biology, beneficial symbiosis is called mutualism and it’s what happens in a successful chastity arrangement. It’s also the supreme irony: His denial of orgasm leads to a much more fulfilling sex life for both of them. But, even here, the orgasm or his lack of them isn’t the primary driver. It’s the attention he’s getting from her and vice versa. That’s why chastity makes marriages better. Interaction, intimacy, and attention.

At least, that’s my experience. YMMV.

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Monkey bites

Tomorrow is Denying Thumper’s second anniversary. I don’t have a cake or anything, but I thought it was worth mentioning.

At the beginning of this past weekend, I told Belle that I thought she needed a minimum of two orgasms to make up for the two week long menstruation/travel/illness-induced dry spell we’ve had with regard to sex. She seemed receptive to the idea so, as we settled into bed Saturday night, I was highly expectational that something was going to happen.

It all started kinda slowly, but picked up speed rapidly. I was kissing her and licking her nipples and pressing against her sex when she latched onto my neck and started to bite and suck. Shortly thereafter, I was had three big, dark monkey bites on my shoulder/neck and a painfully tight tube. The erection her cock was trying to achieve was not the run of the mill kind that manifests whenever she allows me to pleasure her. It was seriously trying to bust out of the steel. And it hurt.

“I want you to eat me out,” she said breathlessly into my ear. Fuck yes.

I got up to close the door and the entire package of cock and device stood straight out and bobbed up and down with each step. By the time I turned around, she was totally naked with legs spread wide. I crawled up between with my head lowered, thankful for what I was about to receive, and dove in. I found, though, that the cock was so hard inside its prison that I couldn’t lay on my stomach as I usually do. The shaft refused to bend down and out of the way so I had to go down on Belle with my ass raised off the bed. That changed my angle of attack and made it so that I could only reach up and finger one nipple at a time.

She was quite enjoying the attention I was able to give her pussy and after a short while said, “Fuck me with your fingers.” I inserted first my middle and then my index finger and fucked them in and out, curving them upward to maximize G-spot stimulation, all the while continuing to flick my tongue over and around her clit. Her juices were everywhere.

When her orgasm came, I could feel it everywhere. The energy of it ran out of her pussy, through my fingers, and across my whole body. The encased meat throbbed in sympathy. I kept my tongue planted even though she was pushing it away. By the time the orgasm crested, she was limp and glowing and I was ringing like a struck bell, face still in her pussy, fingers still up her snatch.

Sleep came late for me that night.

Sunday, we were supposed to break out Mr. Darcy, but we had a bunch of family over that night and she was too tired to play. Her decision was somewhat disappointing, I admit, but even though I was really interested in more Belle-time, my disappointment didn’t curdle into anything worse. It’s at times like these, lately, that I’m able to somehow redirect the negative energy in a way that actually makes me feel good. It’s all for her, after all. She holds all the cards and deals them how she wants.

She snuggled up into me and fell asleep while I watched the Phillies dismantle the Reds, hand on my steel tube between my legs. I was and am horny, but two years in, I feel like we’re doing it right. Right for us, anyway.

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PA5K

Belle thinks it’s funny to name my chastity devices. That means last night, after the PA-5000’s box had been opened and the enclosed device secured onto the cock, she was running through a bunch of, “I think we should call it…” scenarios.

I thought most of the names were kinda silly, so I said (maybe more shortly than I should have), “I think we should call it the one I wear when I’m away from you.”

To which she replied, “I think we should call it the one you wear when I tell you to.”

Snap!

“Sorry, Belle Fille,” I said, quietly.

“Let’s not forget who’s in charge around here, OK?”

“You’re in charge, Belle Fille.”

“That’s right.”

—

My first impression of the PA5K is that it feels really weird compared to the other devices I’ve worn. It’s very light and, as anyone can see, it doesn’t involved anything more then the end of the erect shaft. It’s sort of a tease for someone like me, accustomed to a full trapped-ball device, since it feels, when flaccid, that I’m free to have an erection. And, in fact, I can achieve pretty much a full erection. It’s like I have a cock again. However, I can’t do a damned thing with it.

For those of you reading this who don’t have penises attached to your bodies, understand that in order to successfully jack off, you need to be able to stimulate the area of the penis on the bottom of the shaft and adjacent to the head. In other words, right where the lock on the PA5K sits. Typically, this involves grasping and rolling whatever foreskin you have up and over the penis head (with or without lubrication). Also, not possible with the PA5K. It not only covers the money zone of penile stimulation, it also anchors that area to the wearer’s PA hole. Basically, it makes that entire area static and untouchable. So, you know, a fairly effective chastity device.

That said, it’s not the experience I’m used to. It doesn’t arrest the erection much at all. Also, there’s no ancillary sensation around my scrotum. Also also, I can jack off about 60% of the hard cock, though as I said, it’s the wrong 60%. I probably could not masturbate to orgasm wearing the PA5K and it’s enough of a deterrent that I’m not likely to try for very long.

On a chastity intensity scale of 1-10 where the CB6K is (or can be fitted to be) about an 8.5 and my Steelheart is about a 7, the PA5K is about a 4. Maybe less. It’s been really easy to live with in the 20 hours or so I’ve been wearing it.

The only issue I’ve had so far is with pain around my PA. It was worse in the morning, but I don’t think it had anything to do with the erection. First of all, the “ring” part that slips up and into my piercing doesn’t move around or hang down into my urethra like a real ring. Instead of shifting around as my position does, it stays fixed relative to the hole and makes the meat move around it. This is putting areas of my urethra into contact with the device that normally don’t touch my PA jewelry much at all. Second, it’s made of plastic which, as I’ve mentioned before in discussing the drawbacks of the CB6K, tends to grab my skin (even the skin inside the cock). In the morning when everything is try, I can really feel it.

With regard to fit, I probably could have bought the middle size. When I measured the cock before, I was doing so around the base where it’s thicker. Up near the end, where it’s narrower, the PA5K nearly perfectly encircles the erect shaft. When flaccid, there can be a fair amount of space between it and me. It’s not a bad fit (or, at least, it doesn’t seem to be). In fact, it provides a very subtle pressure when hard. Quite easy to deal with compared to the cramped confines of the CB6K tube.

Regardless of what Belle wants to call it, I think it will end up being the perfect travelling chastity companion. She’s decided that I will wear it until Sunday night to make sure it’s acceptable, then I’m back to serving hard time in the Steelheart until the time comes that I need to fly.

—

After she allowed me to give her an orgasm, and while I was pressing my erect yet still chastised cock into her ass as she was falling to sleep, I said, “God, I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

“Thumper, it’s hardly been two weeks yet,” she scolded me gently, “You’ve got a long way to go before that’s going to happen.”

“I know, but I really want to.”

“You’ll need to do better than that when it’s time for the sesquicentennial.”

“Sesquicentennial? You’re going to leave me locked up for 150 years?” I asked.

“No, but the times coming when I’ll leave you in for 150 days.”

Whimper. “A hundred and fifty days is a long time,” I said quietly.

“Yes,” she replied, “but you’re up to it.”

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Token

“I kinda like watching you squirm. When you’re like this.”

Belle said that to me last night as we were laying in bed and I was looking up at her, imploring her to allow me to share in her orgasm. It was a no-go, but she let me dangle just long enough for me to get really squirrelly.

“Whimper,” I replied.

A little while later, after I had internalized the hormones from earlier, I thought about how I’d like to work myself over with the Njoy pur (and whatever else struck my fancy). But, as I’ve mentioned before, Belle doesn’t let me do anything sexual with my body without her permission. No ass play, no self-administered nipple torture, no solo activities of any kind (other than the consumption of porn). I have to ask first.

“So, how’s this work?” I asked. “If I want to play around by myself. Do you give me permission in advance…?” I trailed off.

“Sure. You don’t have to run off and do it as soon as I say yes. You can do it whenever you want.”

Which is a relief. The only thing more embarrassing that having to ask your wife if you can masturbate (even with a locked cock) is having to then scamper off and lock yourself in the bathroom…where she knows what you’re doing.

“So will I have blanket permission for a certain period…or what?” It seemed to me that it made sense to let me have permission to take advantage of whatever private moment I could find, but how would she know when I was done? Seemed like I could find a way to abuse that arrangement.

“We need a token,” I said. “Something physical that I have to get from you that allows me to play with myself that I can give back when I’m done or that you can take back when you want to.”

“Like the little reward tokens at daycare?” she joked.

“Pretty much exactly like that, yes.” I said. “Can I have the token now?”

“What token? We don’t have one.”

“I don’t know. Can’t we have a virtual token or something for the time being?”

“OK, sure. You can have it. We need to pick something.”

“Agreed. Thank you, Belle Fille.”

Then she more or less fell asleep. I almost drifted off, but, as usual, my buzzing sexual background radiation woke me back up. I was laying there, spooning into her, wide awake. And still in my pajamas. She had forgotten to give me permission to take them off. Damn.

I rolled over and read porn. Lots and lots. Kristen again, but also Nifty. Nifty is mostly gay stuff and I’m finding recently that my pendulum is swinging back in that direction. As I peruse the Tumblr porn tsunami, I tend to linger on the gratuitous cock shots. I don’t have any particular urge to do anything with them when I see them, but not having a hard cock of my own to appreciate, I’m draw to these others instead. Fat ones, fatter ones, soft(ish) ones, hard ones, smooth ones, hairy ones, flying ones, big ones, really big ones – all kinds. I’m a little obsessed. I stare at them, slack-jawed. Sometimes, when I get like this and I’m all locked up and can’t see a real live hard cock for myself, I feel kinda like a third sex. I don’t have what they have. Instead, I have this hard shiny thing that gets really uncomfortably tight from time to time.

Anyway, I’d read some porn, then roll over to try to sleep. But my brain would keep working and I’d be drawn back to the iPad to read just one more story. Well, that one wasn’t all that good. Maybe just one more. Fuck the device is tight. This is killing my nuts. OK, time to sleep. *sigh* I’m not tired. Damn, iPad’s back on again. And so on. I eventually did drift off about 2:30 or so only to be woken by a late-summer thunderstorm. Belle woke up, too, so I spooned back into her again, just as I had done hours earlier.

“You can take off your clothes, Thumper,” she said  sleepily as she rolled over.

“Thank you, Belle Fille.”

And then I slept.

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Evolution

The hardest thing to deal with regarding this whole enforced chastity thing (at least the way we play it) isn’t being physically locked or not coming for weeks and months or anything like that. The hardest thing to deal with, for me, has been really and truly accepting that she has control over my sex. All the time, no matter what. I’ve struggled with that over the nearly two years (seriously? has it been two years already?) since I gave her the cock, sometimes more successfully than others. Lately, though, I feel like my ability to deal with this reality has improved.

Fundamentally, I’m a fairly self-centered and selfish person. Not to a fault, but my default POV regarding any situation is usually to ask how it can be made to benefit me. I am, to put it bluntly, spoiled. It may be partly the effect of being an only child, but I don’t thing it’s that simple. In any event, top that with a healthy frosting of control-freak tendencies and mild obsessive-compulsiveness and you end up with a person who has to try very hard to see when he’s being selfish.

But that’s what I have always been with regard to sex. Even before Belle, but especially after chastity entered our lives. Before, if I was in need, I could take the situation in hand and resolve it (and resent her for not being a part of it). Now, that’s simply not possible. She’s the sole focus of my sex drive. On occasion, all that pent up energy has led me to become too pushy. Too much focused on my urges and not enough on hers. So much so that I’ve forgotten our deal. The deal I proposed and wanted.

At the end of my last lock-up, there was a period in which we had no sex. Maybe 10 days or so. I really wanted it, but she never responded to my advances and made none of her own. I don’t know what the deal was, but anyone in a relationship knows this happens from time to time. In the past, something like that would have seen me building up pressure like a propane tank with a faulty safety valve. Eventually, there would have been words and hurt feelings and all kinds of nastiness. But not this time. All I needed to know was that she hadn’t forgotten me. That she knew I was still there and still dealing with the consequences of what I had given her. That was all. Somehow, that was enough to help me deal. Oh yeah, I still wanted to feel her hot wet pussy and eat her all up, but the feeling was in stasis. Waiting for her to need it.

This is a big deal. Somehow, all the months of denial – from ejaculation and access to my own body – have made me lose the feeling of being owed sex by her. As if it was an entitlement. It is not mine anymore. I have willingly given up my right to it. And I know it. I can feel it.

Frankly, the thought that I’d someday be in this place scared me. I don’t know why. Maybe I thought truly submitting my sexuality to hers would mean I’d lose mine. That by not acting on my urges or by insufficiently acknowledging them, they’d go away. Or something. I don’t know. What I do know is that submitting (or “surrendering” as the cool kids are calling it 😉 ) is really hard.

This doesn’t mean I’m still not horny as hell. I am. I’m all kinds of horny. But I’m not going to pressure her no matter how bad it gets. I will still struggle from time to time, but I know that this is how things are supposed to be between us. I feel like I’ve reached a high ground and, when things get bad, I’ll only need to find it again and not wonder if it exists at all.

The thing I really want Belle to know with regard to this is that she should never feel guilty. Not even a little. When she feels that way she tends to close up, get quiet, and let it fester and then it blows all out of proportion. I want her to know she can manage our sex lives in any way she wants. That I really want her feel the freedom to do or not do anything. I will be OK.

And if I’m ever acting like I’m not OK, please remind me of this post and tell me I’m just being a spoiled brat.