Tag: orgasm control

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Changing outfits

The other day, I was stripping out of my day clothes and into something more comfortable whilst in front of Belle. She looked over and saw the Looker dangling between my legs and said that this weekend she’d “change my outfit” (meaning I’d be locked in a different device from her collection). Also, she indicated that she’d likely want to use the penis while it was available.

Last night, I was snuggled up against her, pressing as much of my body against as much of hers as possible, and asked when I was coming out. Based on how these things have gone down in the past, I assumed I’d have a day or so of freedom. She told me I misinterpreted what she said and then let me know how it was going to go down this time.

“So you’re just going to fuck me and then lock me back up?”

“Pretty much.”

Whimper.

For those wondering, it’ll be the Steelheart Short this time around.

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Happiest penis on earth

We’re back from our journey deep into the heart of the Happiest Place on Earth.

For those who were wondering from my previous post on the subject, the West coast version of the HPOE does not use metal detecting wands on park guests. That meant, after the first day, I was in the L02 until we departed. It’s hard to be around so many people and wonder how many other men are locked up. Or how many would like to be if only they could build up the courage to bring it up with their partner.

Anyway, it was good that the device was off for at least one reason on that first day since it was our wedding anniversary. To celebrate, we booked massages at the spa in the resort. In the past, my experience with massages has been that they leave a towel or other cloth for you to climb under during the rubbing, but in this case, the sheet was whisper thin. When on my back, I’m quite sure the masseuse (a guy who had a definite gay vibe about him) could see if I was circumcised (and that, of course, made me very much aware of the massage-induced tumescence that can spring to life from time to time). Any device would have plainly been on display. In general, I wouldn’t advise anyone wear one to a massage unless it’s your thing to share your sex life with strangers. Personally, I wish we lived in a culture where it would be acceptable, but really, it’s not. In any event, I had a 90-minute deep-tissue rub-down that left me rubbery, fragrant, and slick with oil. Really great. I need these more often.

Belle mentioned during our fantastic dinner afterward that the resort’s security allowed for me to be in my usual state and that I would be the next morning. Beforehand, though, she took advantage of our private bedroom and the penis’ availability to bring herself to orgasm while fucking me from on top. This is about four times now that she’s been able to do that without me coming which is a feat I’m pretty happy about. She prefers penetrative orgasms and I’m very pleased to be able to help her get them. At least for the past several times, I’ve been able to put myself in a place that keeps me far enough away from coming as necessary. This means I don’t actually get a lot of pleasure from the sex, but that’s not the point anyway. And usually, she let’s me go for a ride after her post-orgasmic glow recedes. Then, I can fuck like I mean it, but without the natural pay-off.

I went right back into the Looker as soon as we got home and remain there now, though Belle’s mentioned she might want to get off on the penis again this weekend. Not sure exactly, but I’ve been wearing the new device for probably just over a month total now. Interestingly, the urethral plug has become less and less noticeable during that time. I still feel it every once in a while, but it’s nothing at all like it was for the first week or so. Like wearing a device in general, the fact that I have this seven to eight centimeter titanium tube impaling the penis has become second nature. For those wondering, there’s been no internal pain or discomfort. After it comes out, it feels as though it was never in. Even the weird cavitating sensation I talked about when peeing, while still present, is no longer a discomfort.

The only issue I’m having with the L02 right now may or may not have anything to do with the plug. For some reason, since putting it back on when I got home, I’ve been getting the foreskin and edge of the glans pinched against the edge of the cap on the end of the cage when laying on my stomach in bed or after shifting my seated positon, etc. Not all the time, but enough times that it’s noticeable and not a fluke thing. I don’t know what’s changed, but I wonder if the penis isn’t moving as freely along the plug as it once was. When wearing a steel device for a long time, there will eventually form deposits like hard water scale. In the Steelheart, this happens near the inside end of the tube where the little bit of urine that doesn’t drain can sit. It’s possible something similar is happening on the plug shaft and that’s keeping the penis from settling in as far as it used to which, in turn, is leaving things in a pinch-able position. The way to deal with these deposits is to soak the device for a few minutes in vinegar. Afterward, they rub right off. Kinda like getting the scale out of your coffee maker. If Belle lets me out this weekend, I’ll do that and see how things change (assuming she puts me back into the L02 and not one of her other options).

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Workin’ it

This post is supposed to be an update on the fitness program, but I find myself out of lock-up prior to our trip and I’m having a hard time keeping my mind on anything specific for too long. The free, unlocked, unplugged penis is very needy and distracting. My last orgasm was about the 5th or 6th of July, after all. I am at or very near uncharted denial endurance territory. Even just putting some jewelry into the PA this morning with the penis all flippy and floppy and squishy was an ordeal. It wanted to chub out while the PA hole had shrunk from disuse making the 4 gauge circular barbell a tight fit. Then, not to waste a perfectly good stiffy, I again “tested” the Fleshlight with exactly the same results as before. What a thing, man.

Aaaanyway, fitness. Yes, still going to the trainer three days a week. I’m stronger now that at any point in my life, I’m sure. I can bench, lift, and curl weights I’d never even try in the past and can push through dozens of sit-ups. When I started, I couldn’t do a damned thing (my plank was about 30 seconds). It’s hard to believe how out of shape I was. The results are evident all over, though I have had a hard time losing any more weight. I’m stubbornly stuck. The muscles under there are nice to have. I can feel a marked difference in core strength and, for example, when on the back extension machine, my ass is as hard as stone. But still the bit about the middle. Frustrating.

Belle’s also seeing my trainer now. She goes before me on the same three days I do. Even she’s getting some muscles and is happily past the every-muscle-in-my-body-hurts-oh-I’m-going-to-die phase. I’m really glad she’s joined me in the routine. We’re even taking our stuff on our vacation so we can work out together at the hotel.

With regard to working out and the various chastity devices I wear, there remain no issues other than an occasional odd bulge nobody’s ever brought up with me. The Looker 02 still has the tendency to give me a penis fuck when I’m squatting or doing other similar movements. I haven’t been jogging for quite a while thanks to peroneal tendonitis in my left foot. It’s been a few months of wearing a brace and going to physical therapy, but I’m almost back to being able to run again. I’ve been doing it in smaller increments on the treadmill and the L02 is quite evident when jogging. As in most other things, it’s not painful or even uncomfortable, but very there. The first time I ran for ten minutes with it on, an image of the impaled penis stuck on a long rigid tube flashed in my head every time I closed my eyes. The sensation was so clear it forced the impression into my mind. That said, I’m actually looking forward to finding out what it’s like to run with it on for an hour or so.

The thing about all this physical exertion, and the thing I want to get across more than anything else, is that starting is massively difficult. Inertia is a hard thing to push past. But, once you get going, the nice thing is that your body starts to crave the workout. Whatever chemicals get blasted into your brain are addictive so that the fitness routine because self-perpetuating. I’m going to miss two sessions with the trainer and it bugs the crap out of me. Not beging able to run, hard and for long distances, actually made me depressed.

I don’t want to get preachy, but all you have to do is give yourself a taste. Get started and your body will take over from there.

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Scruffy and smelling of wood smoke

Back from my weekend away from Belle. It was the last hurrah hang out in the woods with the squirrels and other furry critters (and friends) weekend of the year. Not in tents this time but all huddled together in a rude, uninsulated “cabin” in the sticks. Belle at first said I’d be going in the Steelheart but I’m not ashamed (OK, maybe a little) to say I begged to be let out beforehand and she gave me the key.

The night I got back (and after I showered off four days of campfire stink and shaved off a week of stubble), she didn’t make me go back in so I was treated to the pleasure of falling asleep next to her truly naked with the penis nestled up against her pointedly disinterested hand. It got kind of hard but sensed it was being ignored and let me sleep. Being jammed into the cabin left little privacy outside the inside of my sleeping bag, but I was able to whip it out and jack off on the highway a few times. Of course, not to completion.

Yesterday morning, she left out the Looker 02 for me to put on after I got back from the trainer. When she told me what the timing would be (after I worked out and she went to work), I was planning on getting some nice edging in before going back under the lock and key, but was surprised to find I forgot all about that and was back in the device before I had a chance to do anything. I wanted to play with the penis but apparently wanted back in a device more (or perhaps I’m just that well trained at this point). In any event, I put the L02 on after lubing the tube with nothing more than my own spit. The bulbous end got hung up at the opening before popping in and getting swallowed up by the penis. It’s been maybe ten days or so since I last had the tube shoved up there and it didn’t feel quite the same this time. Still very invasive and never far from mind, but every little motion wasn’t telegraphed through the sensitive walls of the urethra. I guess it’s been broken in like a shoe. Regardless, it’s surprising how quickly this kind of invasion has become just another standard part of my chastity.

In other news, I was able to sneak a try at the Fleshlight Flight masturbator before I left. Suffice it to say, if I had had this thing and the internet when I was 19, I never would have left the fucking house. I fear for the future of our species. I’m pretty sure young men’s biological motivations to hooking up with young females will be totally short-circuited by this wonder of space age materials. No, I didn’t come, but holyjesusfuckingchrist, did I get close. Lots of leakage which I let dribble into the squishy sleeve. After regaining my composure, I’d fuck it again all sloppy and lubed up with my own warm semen and that shit just about made my head explode (both of them). I’m not saying it’s better than Belle, but if I didn’t know, it’d be good enough that I’m not sure I’d be all that motivated to find out what a real girl was like. Which leads me to worrying about our reproductive future. In any event, if you’re the kind of boy who get’s to masturbate and come and all that, you should check this shit out.

In a week, the whole famn damliy head off for a theme park vacation. I can’t be locked up for travel, of course, but it’ll be really weird if she lets me stay out for five full days. The Happiest Place on Earth would be just a little happier if at least one penis in it was trapped in a steel cage.

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Flashback

Remember that time when you first started seeing your significant other? When you’d want to put every little bit of them in your mouth and thought the taste of their spit was the best thing ever and that they smelled like magical unicorn butterflies (work with me here)? And when you fucked them all you could hear in the back of your head was, “DEEPER!!” and you’d be all like, “I’m in as deep as I can be!” and that voice would say, “Oh hell, let me,” and you’d try to grind yourself past the point of absolute total insertion and dangerously close to pelvic trauma? As if you could, if you just pressed hard enough, actually fuck yourself inside of them. And every other word out of your mouth was telling them how much you loved them because, truly, you did and couldn’t stop saying it?

Yeah, that was me on Sunday. Belle let me get her off and then I begged to be let out so I could take a ride. She thought about it for longer than I thought she would and would have been OK for different reasons with either answer, but she eventually said yes. The key came out and the Looker 02 slid off and out and, despite the impatient boner, I got the ring off. Then I was Mr. First Paragraph man.

No, I never came. Of course I didn’t. But it was great. So great. She told me she wanted me to put on the Steelheart, so that’s where I am now. Not much else to report, really. Being in the Steelheart is like being in the house you grew up in. A little tight, but homey and comforting. I’m away from Belle starting tomorrow until next Monday night. Not sure what she’ll expect my state to be whilst away. Probably find out later tonight.

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Risk

Over on the Looker 02 review, someone asked if I could address the risk of contracting a urinary track infection from the device. Of course, I cannot. I’ve only just started wearing it, after all, and most of my medical knowledge comes from watching St. Elsewhere when I was a kid (it was on after The Cosby Show and Family Ties – maybe the best night on TV ever…but I digress).

This UTI thing follows conversations about devices like the Looker 02 all around the internet. I guess that’s to be expected and I admit leaving something up your dick for a while must statistically increase your risk of getting an infection to some degree. But, since all we have is anecdotal information in the first place, I have to say the only people I’ve read talking about this eventuality are those who haven’t worn the device. Those who have (including a commenter here on my blog who wore a similar Steelworxx device for two months solid) haven’t, as far as I saw when looking into it, reported problems. All I do know is I urinate about eight times a day, presumably flushing the tube of contaminates each time. Some even leaks around the tube which seems to help keep it lubricated and probably cleans it a bit. But in the end, I just don’t know.

What we’re really talking about here is a risk/reward calculation.

If you downhill ski, you’re running a risk of ending up like Sonny Bono. If you swim in the ocean, you’re running the risk of ending up like Chrissie (or of just drowning). If you ride a motorcycle, you run the risk of becoming an organ donor. In our society, we indulge in risky behavior all the time and, while the behavior may or may not be acknowledged to be risky, it’s generally accepted as OK (and even cool in the case of the motorcycles). It’s only when we get to sex that the giant RISKY hammer comes down hard. Yes, you can contract all kinds of diseases from sex (some easily dealt with, some chronic or deadly without treatment) and you can create new life and all the super unsexy responsibilities that come with it, but you can also experience intense pleasure from sex. Sexual contact is one of the great gifts of humanity. Diversity of sexual expresion is one of the things that defines us as human beings (and the freedom to express our sexuality is one of the things that defines a great society).

I’m not saying everyone should feel free to have unprotected sex of all kinds with whoever they want all the time. I’m saying there’s a risk/reward scenario at work in every sexual situation. Should you let that guy you just met fuck you bareback on the first date? No, that’s stupid. You could get HIV or pregnant or something (depending on your gender combinations – I’m trying not to presume). Should you give him a blowjob? Well, you could get a desease that way, but the chances are low. Would you rather give him a blowjob through a condom? Ew. You decide. Should you have sex on a picnic table? You could get arrested, you know. Should you let that top put a ball gag in your mouth? You could choke on your own vomit and die. Etc, etc. Similarly, should you practice long-term orgasm denial? I, for example, haven’t come since July and won’t until January (hopefully). Some research says that might be bad for my health, but other research says it’s nothing to worry about. Personally, I’ve decided to risk the consequences for the reward.

Same goes for the Looker 02. I might end up with a UTI or I might not. If I do, it’s an easy thing to get rid of (though it sounds like a bummer of a thing to have). I’m OK with that.

To me, the excessive bias against “risky” sexual behavior in our culture has more to do with a built-in prejudice against anything that’s not male-female monogamous/married missionary-style sex than an actual evaluation of any given activity’s chances of doing you harm. Each degree of movement away from that basic starting point ratchets up the risk sirens and we’re taught that risk in sex IS NOT WORTH IT. Do nothing risky! Play it safe! It’s not worth the consequences!

Well, I say it is. Sometimes. Sex is worth the risks.

Note that this post is not directed at the commenter who asked the original question. I didn’t perceive any kind of judgemental bullshit from them. Their comment was just the catalyst that eventually led me to write this.

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Two days, zero problems

I’ve had a titanium alloy rod shoved up the penis for over two days now and have had little issue with it.

The first day, I could feel each and every little shift of the hollow plug as the penis moved around it. Truly, a long slow fuck of the meat shaft. That night, though, I wasn’t woken up by the morning wood at all. The ring for the Looker is the same slightly larger size as the ring I got for the JB2 and is also the Steelworxx “anatomical” ring (which means the bottom 30% or so is bent back away from the cage leaving more room for the testicles to hang, but not nearly enough for them to escape). I will definitely be sending the Steelheart Short back for this modification.

The next day, I was with the trainer and that was the true test of my ability to wear the Looker long-term. Everything was fine, if not occasionally distracting. For example, he has me do about 30 squats (15 with weight and 15 without). As you can see from the diagram I stole from the internet, this means keeping your back straight while squatting down enough to allow your butt to drop below your knees. No problem. But, it tends to pull your junk back so that one’s penis actually retracts a bit. I can’t say I knew this before yesterday but I do now since each squat caused the penis to slide about half way back on the plug and then forward again as I forcefully raised myself back to a standing position. Thirty all-out penis fucks.

Second night, I was awaked by the nocturnal tumescence, but not due to the ring or the shaft being too tight. Having an erection in the Looker 02 is more intense since it no only presses against the cage and isn’t allowed to grow, but it also clamps onto the plug as the meat hardens. I can feel the added and unyielding stiffness of the plug pushing back from within and the bulb end creates an intense area of pressure just behind the A-ring. It’s not painful, as such, but it’s really there. That’s what woke me up.

This morning, Belle let me take it off so we could switch to our regular lock and I could perform a quick inspection and take some pictures for my review. I had been tending the porn farm beforehand, so when I removed the cage, the plug pulled out a long strand of creamy precum. I poked and prodded myself, but found no sore or tender spots, so felt OK putting it all back into place. I intend to leave it there for as long as Belle wants me in this device (or my body starts to bitch).

I have to say, I’m surprised at how “natural” the plug feels now. It’s just another aspect of being locked in a device. A more intense and hotter aspect, to be sure, but I don’t feel “invaded” and there’s no real discomfort as I thought there might be. I’m once again blown away by how resilient our bodies (and especially their most tender parts) can be.

After the jump, I’ve included another shot of the Looker in action.

Continue reading “Two days, zero problems”

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Hello there

How long has it been since I last posted!? Shameful.

Well, I can only hope to catch you up the way you do a friend who’s decided to start watching Lost with you when the seventh episode comes on: bullet points (usually delivered over the opening credits, but I have more time).

  • Why haven’t I blogged? Frankly, I was depressed. Nothing to do with Belle or sex or anything like that (though the hormone roller coaster may have played a supporting role), just stuff. One of those times when the various circles in your life’s Venn diagram all come together in random suckiness. A harmonic resonance of shit, so to speak. But I feel like I’m coming out of it. For example, I’m back on the horndog wagon. Feeling pretty frisky. That’s always going to help the brain chemistry.
  • Have I had an orgasm since we last met? Nope. Almost three months now. Keep reading.
  • A little while back, I mentioned I was hoping Belle would use a newish hitty thing on my ass and she did but I didn’t like it all that much. Having never been struck by a cane, I wasn’t sure how it would work out. Apparently, I’m more of a flogger boy. Or a wide-backed wooden hair brush boy (which is what she turned on me when the cane fell through).
  • Belle fucked me again and, like last time, I was able to hold off so she could come. I got really close, but sent the orgasm off the rails by thinking of politics. Not as fun as baseball, but remarkably effective.
  • Belle also let me have a week out of lock-up (in the Steelheart Short), but I’m back in now (JB2). The first night out, I edged myself for about an hour while reading naughty stories and, while I didn’t come, I got very close and leaked quite a bit. The thing that got me to stop was a kind of weird free-flowing of ejaculate that just poured out of the penis. It didn’t shoot out and it didn’t feel anything at all like an orgasm, but a huge quantity of the stuff just kept coming out. The bedroom reeked of it (funny how when you only smell feminine sex how pungent male sex smells). Anyway, I freaked out because I was afraid Belle would wake up and think I cheated, so I licked up all I could and went in the bathroom to clean the rest off. It was all over my stomach, down into my bellybutton, coated over my nuts, and all down one leg and still dripping. Guess I had some build-up I needed to get rid of.
  • As counterintuitive as it may seem for a guy who a) sports a penis that’s almost always locked in steel, and b) isn’t allowed to come even when it’s not, I decided to purchase a fancy new Fleshlight. I know I can’t use it very often but I’ve always really, really wanted to try one and I got a coupon code in the email so pulled the trigger. All I’ve been able to do thus far is stuck my finger in there and holy shit does it feel good. NO IDEA when I’ll be able to poke it as intended by the manufacturer, but I’m looking forward to the chance. Now that I’ve written this, it may never happen (Belle didn’t know I got it until she read this).
  • My birthday was between now and my last post. I told Belle all I wanted was something that wouldn’t cost her any money, and she (bless her) thought I meant I wanted to come. Au contraire. I wanted not to. The present I wanted was the absence of a thing which is kinda deep if you think about it. Anyway, she agreed to give me what I didn’t want (or whatever, this is getting confusing) and now I won’t come until January. That’s essentially six months, assuming I don’t blow my load on New Year’s (or accidentally some time in between). I know that Belle likes it when I come so I appreciate the present.
  • The upshot of that is that after I got her off on Sunday, she let me fuck her and damn but didn’t I want to come? It was kinda cool knowing I couldn’t because of the aforementioned birthday present and that lifted the often-encountered “man, I really want to but I hope she won’t let me” conflict. Even better was telling her how badly I wanted it and hearing her say of course not, silly rabbit.

I think that’s it for now. Nice to be back.

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Wanting it

Had to take the JB off due to a sore spot. Nothing wrong with the device. It’s just what happens from time to time.

That meant, when Belle told me to give her an orgasm later that night, there was available erectile tissue at hand if she wanted it. At first, it didn’t look like she did (as usual), but after a little bit, she pushed my hand aside and climbed onto me. She guided the penis into her pussy and slid down on it. She moaned, I gasped.

Obviously, my biggest concern was coming before she was able to. I more or less let her drive and tried to keep the penis (now pretending to be a cock) in one position while she moved over it.

BASEBALL, I thought. With all my might, I thought about baseball. Green fields. Division standings. Etc. If I even twitched I felt the orgasmic mechanisms start to move, so I avoided twitching and tried not to think about how I was in her for the first time in six weeks. Batting averages. On-base percentages. Earned run averages. Statistics. Not how fucking amazing her hot wet pussy felt moving over the several million deprived nerve endings in the erection.

The trickiest bit is when she’s about to come. Her movements become faster and more dramatic. I pretended like it wasn’t my concern and just kept sucking on her nipples.

focusfocusfocusfocusfocus

Then it was over. She came. And I hadn’t! But holy shit, was I close.

As she laid on top of me, glowing, I tentatively moved the penis in and out three times.

“Who said you could do that?”

Freeze.

She moved off of me and the penis slapped back wetly. I pressed into her, whimpering just a bit.

“What do you want, Thumper?”

“I want to be inside you.”

“You just were.”

“Yeah, but I had to concentrate so hard I couldn’t really enjoy it.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

It took me hours to fall asleep and, even then, I had a hard time staying that way.

This morning, I was again up against her.

“What are you thinking, Thumper?”

“I want to be inside you.”

“You already were.”

“I know. I want to go inside you again.”

This time, she let me. She pulled her pajama pants off but left her top. This wasn’t about anything other then letting me get the penis wet.

And it did get wet. She was so fucking hot inside it almost burned and, since there was zero foreplay beforehand, she felt very tight. It felt glorious. I have no idea how long it went on because whatever place I was in mentally didn’t have a clock. All I know is I fucked and fucked and fucked. I broke out into a cold sweat from repeatedly racing up to the edge before backing off. Slower, faster, slower, stop. Repeat. When I started, I didn’t want to come. But I realized at some point that now I did. And badly. And the only thing in the world keeping me from thrusting the one and half more times it’d take to spurt was that Belle didn’t tell me I could.

When I finally put words to how I was feeling, she made me stop. The ride was over. No orgasm. But holy shit, did I want one. My head was swimming in the need for it. I felt like biting her and squeezing her and having my way with her. But I didn’t do any of those things. Instead, I thanked her and she told me to make her breakfast. So I did.

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Leakage

One of the nice things about where I sit at my job is that I’m in an office with my screen facing away from the door. That’s convenient since I will sometimes tend the porn farm while on the clock. I don’t feel especially guilty about that since the clock is mine.

So yesterday, I was filling a few minutes before I needed to leave for a client meeting with a little Tumblr trolling and, I admit, got pretty worked up. It’s been about three weeks since Belle let me come, so no surprise there. I finished queuing up the smut, gathered my things, and walked out of the office (confident that the confines of the Steelheart made the still-stiff penis no more visible than usual). On my way out, I stopped off at the men’s room for a leak.

There’s a specific way this works when one’s penis is in a steel tube. On the way in, I grabbed a bit of paper towel to absorb excess liquid I’d shake out when finished. As the end of the stream approached, a different sensation took its place. Something akin to the feeling of needing to pee, but without the pressure of a bladder full of urine behind it. Very similar to what I feel when milking myself. It was the feeling of an engorged prostrate needing some relief.

Once the peeing was done, I bore down and flexed the internal muscles used for ejaculating. They’re a bit out of shape, but about three moderate slugs of milky goodness oozed down the penis and slowly, like ketchup leaving a bottle, dripped out of the tube. I held the towel to the opening and shook it, catching more of the silky substance.

Upon exiting my vehicle at my client’s office, I felt the distinct and tell-take cold trickle of more ejaculate on my left thigh. As I walked up to her office, I felt more of the stuff. I tried to make a few furtive glances down to see if the goo was soaking through my pants but didn’t see anything. We had our meeting. It was uneventful except that I kept thinking about the stuff on my leg.

Once it was over, I stopped in again at the men’s room on the way out. My pants showed nothing, but once I released the device from my underwear, I was hit by the pungent smell of male ejaculate. My balls were slimy with the stuff. Still have no idea how it dripped down my leg. I cleaned up the best I could, pulling on the tube and craving the ability to well and truly empty its contents, and then left.

The funny thing about this is that, yes, it was annoying and potentially embarrassing, but it’s also somehow exhilarating and fun. No, I would really rather not have my female client see a stream of semen soaking though the leg of my jeans, but being put into the position where it might happen was, I admit, kind of exciting. It’s not entirely unlike those times when the tube of the device is visible between my legs. I’m actually totally over that as a source of angst and take little action to disguise it. Am I unfairly pulling people into my kink whether they like it or not? Or am I just being who I am and letting them process what they glimpse in whatever way they like?

Hard to say.