Avoiding temptation

Recently, due to travel, I’ve been in and out of the Steelheart and the Holy Trainer Nub. Since I was most recently traveling either with coworkers or family, the experience of my recent TSA run-in has caused me to go through security unsecured which has led to putting devices on in bathrooms immediately after.

I traveled for work a few weeks ago and took the Steelheart through in my carry-on. Same when I went to visit Frodo. It’s never caused any TSA agent to want to inspect it though I assume it shows as a very metal object on the X-ray, just not in a shape that they find interesting. There’s no telling if it ever will get flagged for inspection, but so far it hasn’t. Since on the work trip I knew where I was going to be the whole time, I felt comfortable being in steel, but this trip we were on last weekend was in touristy areas and occasionally steel becomes an issue so I was in plastic.

Someone messaged me to ask how I avoid temptation when locking and unlocking, especially when I’m alone, and does the penis ever get ideas of its own and make putting the device on difficult.

Starting with that last point, yes, it can get difficult. Though that’s the exception. I’m usually moving too fast and with too much purpose for the thing to get to a difficult state. It’s not uncommon for it to be plumped from the act of being contained, but if I keep my wits about me and don’t think too hard about it, it stays in a workable state. I’d guess more than 90% of the time there’s not much more than a little plumping that occurs. Barely amounts to a chubby.

With regard to the avoiding temptation, I think the thing about that is I don’t want to be unlocked. Not ever. I resent having to be that way. And because I want to be locked up, I can generally be trusted with the key. Belle lets me have it when I need to take it with me and we don’t get hung up on where it is or what I’m doing with it (though when I went to see Frodo she asked for proof I was locked which is just sweet and hot).

While with Frodo, I did have to unlock a few times due to concerns about possible metal detectors (which were unfounded, it turns out), but again, I am never thinking of ways to cheat and/or get out of chastity. There is simply no way I could be with Frodo like that. I’d hate it. It’s impossible to consider. The Rules are the rules and I’m so invested in them the idea of not following them is totally alien to me. Luckily, Frodo gets that and has never even joked about me not being true to Belle’s expectations. To the contrary, when I was unlocked while we were out and about he made a point of telling me I didn’t need to be that way.

No, it’s not unusual for me to crave the contents, but it never goes beyond that. Just this morning on the way to work, I was distractingly horny and intensely aware of the Steelheart and what it was keeping me from and the desire to have access was achingly palpable, but that’s as far as it goes. I crave the crave. That is the point of what I am: always yearning, always struggling, never satisfied. Controlled. Obeying. Denied.

Unf.

Popping the lock and letting it out would destroy everything. Temptation only works when the prospective object is something one desires. I do not desire the penis as a penis. I desire what not having access to it creates.

The Rules (updated)

The rules under which our dynamic operates have evolved over time, but the last time they were updated was almost three years ago. My previous post discussed a rule I put in place for myself about not touching the penis, but rules I put on myself are easily waived or bent. Rules Belle puts in place carry much more weight. So this morning…

Therefore, here is the updated list of Rules that I follow.

  • I can only come when Belle tells me to and, if she tells me to, I have to.
  • I must be wearing a chastity device at all times, unless she says otherwise.
  • When unlocked, I cannot touch the penis except for maintenance purposes or to swap devices. Never for pleasure, unless she has released it for sex.
  • I am not to volunteer how I feel about having an orgasm and must never ask for one.
  • If I have sex with someone else, the penis must always be locked. No exceptions.

The revised “no touching” rule replaces one that said I wasn’t allowed to play with it. Touching leads to playing so, in reality, this is better. The definition of “playing” isn’t as definite as “touching.”

These are the rules she expects me to follow. I vow to do so. Of course, it’s hard. If submission were easy, it wouldn’t be worth much.

Paws off, Rabbit

Traveling again. In an attempt to not repeat the weirdness of my last expedition, I chose to go through security unsecured. Since I was flying at 6:00PM, I was out all day. And, in an irrational burst of caution, I packed the Steelheart in my checked bag rather than carry it though the checkpoint as I’ve done in the past.

I should note that Belle is also traveling. She’s overseas and will be getting home the same day I do. She left traveling west and will return from the east, which is nifty, but it means I’ve been more or less self-locking for the past ten days or so. Having already figured out my game plan for the this trip, I let myself out prior to my shower to use the opportunity to properly clean everything and shave the bits the device conceals, etc.

It should not have been surprising, but nevertheless was, that even simple and utilitarian contact with the contents caused it to start to swell. The very concept of “penis” changes when it’s continuously locked away. It goes from being a (most of the time) low level nag of desire to something 100% real and pressing and actionable in seconds. While locked, even when I have the key, I know the penis is there and smoldering like Smaug under the Lonely Mountain, but like a dragon laying on a pile of gold, it’s an abstract threat. Once the cage comes off, the fire returns to its belly and it becomes fucking ready.

I was able to tend to its maintenance without doing anything untoward but the simple feeling of the water from the shower head striking the tip of the thing made my knees buckle and the shaft stiffen. It took every bit of will power to avoid going to a Bad Place. And knowing I’d be on my own recognizance for over 16 hours…

I decided that my own personal rule was going to be that if I was unlocked for some reason other than maintenance (cleaning, shaving, etc.) or when Belle was with me and also naked and she was expecting me to use it for her, I would not touch it. Not ever. Not even to pee. I bargained with myself about touching through clothing and had decided through my jeans was OK but not my underwear (which, if you follow me on Twitter or Instagram, you know is often skimpy and sheer) but then scolded myself for such a thought since there was no legitimate reason to touch it through my pants other than to make it hard and feel pleasure. So no touching at all. Side effect of that means I have to sit to pee, but guys like me are used to that already.

I’ve never done the device-less chastity thing. It was…interesting. As soon as I finished my internal debate and set this new limit, the exposed contents veritably loomed before me. Tempting. Yet radioactive. All of a sudden I became massively aware of it. Its every movement. How it moved when free, how its plumpness caused that to accentuate. At one point, the tip of it bumped the bathroom counter as I was getting ready and the contact caused a sharp intake of breath. I was relieved when it was stowed into underwear and then packed away in my jeans. And even then, the hypersensitivity that comes after being inside a steel tube for weeks was incredibly distracting.

I thought peeing would be pretty straightforward but in realty, absent steel pulling it down, it turns out the penis doesn’t naturally drop so that, untouched, its stream would go into the bowl and not spray over or against its edge. I eventually figured out if I spread my legs wider than usual and pushed down above the shaft I could get it in a usable position.

Hours later, I got into my hotel room, exhausted and ready for bed. Like most men do, I absently put my hand down my pants and BAM felt it. Fuck. Get that Steelheart, I said to myself. After turning the key, the steel weighed the newly secured penis down. The pull of the cold metal set me at ease.

I know, I know, I know, I’ve said this before, but it never ceases to amaze me how much more normal being locked makes me feel. To not feel cool air on the device contents and to not feel it move naturally and flop around. To instead feel the the tug of gravity or just the snug tidiness of compression. To be unable to touch any part of that part of myself except for what I can reach with my finger.

I’ve written before that I feel I was born for chastity. How I was pre-wired for it. Over the years, it’s been so firmly planted in my existence that the object involved is something my body and mind feel are an internal part of my body. I don’t feel comfortable or secure when it’s not on me. In it’s absence, I feel more exposed. Vulnerable. I am left with the assumption that, for some of us, being in chastity is 100% natural. For some of us, it is how we’re supposed to be. Which, by itself, is a comforting notion.

Initiation

Regarding my 10 Rules For Locked Men post…

There were some comments on Twitter and even one on the post about Rule 5:

You are not to initiate sex other than to reinforce your availability to your keyholder to satisfy their needs and desires.

It was pointed out that sometimes people do like for their men — even their locked men — to initiate sex. That’s, of course, correct. Regardless of the state of the penis, one’s sex partner won’t always want to be the one to initiate, for a variety of reasons. The point I was making was based on my experience and probably mostly directed to men who are newly locked up.

I recall early on I was fucking horny (stars, asterisks, daggers) all the time. I wanted sex and a lot of it, even if the penis wasn’t coming out. I was all over Belle and left her feeling pressured to have sex. So, for a while and once I pulled my head out, the “never initiate sex” rule was one I put on myself. Now, I do initiate sex. But I only do it thoughtfully and based on an understanding of her rhythms and preferences. I don’t jump on her during the week. I will ask or suggest or offer. But it’s her call. Weekend mornings I know she’s receptive so I feel comfortable being more physically forward then. She can say no and I’ll back off immediately without complaint, but I know that’s less likely. She prefers sex in the morning and weekends are the days she’s most comfortable doing it. I shape my behavior around her preferences.

Like any good sub, I want a list of ALL THE RULES but I also know no two couples are exactly the same and my list was merely an attempt to document how we/I approach being nearly always locked up. The correct approach for anyone who finds value in them is to discuss them with their partner and amend, extend, or delete whatever doesn’t make sense.

The one thing I think is inviolable for submissive men who are locked up (oddly, not all men in chastity are subs or see their conditions as acts of submission) is that to allow one’s penis to be secured by another is to acknowledge a totally new, radical, and fundamentally different relationship to sex. Almost everything men are taught to think about it and how to approach it by culture has to be retrained. Reflexive responses need to be rewired. Behavior needs to be reconditioned. If you read the rules, they all basically point to the same basic set of ideas:

Sex does not belong to you. It’s not for you. It’s not about you.

The penis has been put in the middle of our cultural understanding of sex through thousands of years of conditioning. Mostly led by men. Mostly in cultures where men were trying to cement their central role of being in control. But for a guy in chastity, sex may not include his penis. Not often or maybe not ever. And he has to be OK with that. Has to really believe and feel it. Has to be willing to only have sex that’s in service to his keyholder’s pleasure and satisfaction. That’s what Rule 5 was about. It’s what they’re all about. It’s what chastity, in my opinion, is about.

I didn’t get that at the beginning. Didn’t get it for a while. But I get it now.

Let it be

I was just having an email exchange with someone who has been struggling recently with the level of frustration and horniness he’s dealing with as a result of having been self-locked for a few months.

I, of course, understand those difficulties. While I’m not continuously and distractingly horny like in the old days, I still have periods of intense feelings. Sometimes they last for days but other times they come on in a great crashing wave from seemingly nowhere before receding into the background again.

My advice for guys who are like me and find themselves in places like that is to do what they can to focus not on the what and how but on the why. Being horny and locked up is what and how but the why is because we need to be that way. We need to have our penises taken away and feel the tool of that denial in their place. We need to experience the frustration of inaccessibility and the build up of unsatisfied sexual release. It’s how we’re meant to be. I can’t tell you why. That’s above my pay grade. But it just is.

We can’t stop the horniness from building and, really, we don’t want to. Once we feel it and live with it we know it’s supposed to be there and if it weren’t — if we did what needed to be done to make it go away — we’d mourn its absence. We’d be less happy than we were before. And all we need to do is to feel a hard penis in our hands or an unlocked one in our pants to know that’s the case. It feels wrong. It feels like cheating. Especially in the seconds after orgasm.

The horniness we live with, even when it’s distracting, is not the problem. It’s the point. It’s our natural condition. We can’t fight it. We can’t obsess over it. We need to accept it into ourselves and let it be present. To feel it as an affirmation rather than a distraction. Because when it’s gone, its absence will leave a sucking void inside.

Do not endure. Accept.

Wandering the vacant rooms

I was out of chastity for thirty-nine days. By far and quite easily the longest time I’ve gone without that restriction since Belle first locked me up over nine years ago. I came ten times during that period, each by my own hand. That’s twice as many orgasms in just over a month than I had all year in 2017.

Whilst I was away from home (Americans need to start saying “whilst” more, don’t you think? And maybe “betwixt,” too.), Belle sent me a text saying I needed to go back in the minute I got home. Hearing her express a preference and give me the direction was a step in the right direction for me and us. We still have things to work on, but that’s a start.

I wanted out of chastity because I was sad and feeling like an afterthought. I felt like our relationship had been given a spot at the back of the bus. And that left me feeling empty and lonely. But once I was out, I felt…more empty. More alone. But I also lost the sense of who I was.

I’ve been denied normal orgasmic release for coming up on ten years. The penis has been locked away, off and on, for the same amount of time (more on than off lately, recent issues notwithstanding). I think I’ve always told myself that I could go back to “normal” if I wasn’t locked up and was coming on a regular basis. Not letting the denial energy build up. Just squeezing one out whenever I had the barest urge. I told myself that, but had I really been listening, I would have known that wasn’t the case. That when I went back to “normal” I was just as miserable as I was before. Because I’m not normal. I’m not supposed to come whenever I want. I’m not supposed to be able to reach in my pants at any given moment and feel the penis, squishy or otherwise.

Whatever I was before chastity and denial and submission and bottoming is gone. Jacking off in the shower was like wandering my boyhood home after the last family had moved out. Vacant rooms, bare walls. Cold. “Normal” me — which was never really me, just the facade I put up for forty-some years to satisfy cultural expectations — is dead and irretrievable. I never want to live like that again. I can’t.

I had already decided to stop jacking off before I left on my trip. I needed to restart my pilot light and feel those denied urges again. Not that I would have been able to resist forever using nothing but will power. I was even toying with the idea of putting myself back in lock-up, but felt the only way I would in reality was if Belle told me to. And she did.

What’s been absolutely confirmed to me by this experience is how little I think of my own orgasm. Three to five seconds of bliss in exchange for all the energy and dynamism and emotion that comes from not experiencing it? To never feel the drop after coming. To maintain myself in a stable, denied, horny and headspacey state of being. It’s so much better for me. It’s so perfectly clear that it’s exactly who I am supposed to be and how I’m supposed to be.

IMG_0307So I was going on about ten days without orgasm when I was in the woods and got Belle’s text. I was already feeling a bit horny, but seeing her wishes spelled out and knowing I was going to go back in kicked it up a notch. That led to a night of less than two hours sleep as my imagination kept playing bespoke dirty movies inside my head. The penis was hard most of the time but I was sharing a little one-room cabin with another guy (and a mouse). I realized at some point in the night my underwear had a large patch of precum soaked through.

The next day, I spent time trying to nap in my hammock. Just me and my tented underwear. Again, the imagination and the penis conspired. Everything was firing now and I felt much more in my element. Horny and desirous. Only lacking the friendly confines.

I will admit to losing my will in my hammock. Inside the bug netting and under the rain tarp, it was the only place I could get some privacy and I did edge myself for some time. I didn’t come, but I did leak quite a bit into my hand and, having nowhere else to put it, I had to eat it. The fact that I could was the, eh…”proof in the pudding” as it were that I didn’t orgasm. The drive home was long but I didn’t whip it out on the highway. I did rub it quite a bit though my pants.

Literally within ten minutes of being home, I was putting the Steelheart back. And it all just clicked into place. It was a bit odd feeling the heft and the bulk of the tube again, but I got used to it quickly. It is, after all, more me than what it contains.

Of course, Belle left the next morning. She’s gone until Thursday. But the whole week after that we’re up at the northern compound enjoying Independence Day. We have some stuff to figure out, but the corner has been turned. Sanity is returning.

Rabbit v. Lizard

Yesterday I said…

I’m not allowed to ask for or refuse orgasm. But it’s how I’m feeling. I wish they didn’t need to happen. I feel like enough “plumbing” issues are taken care of with the occasional expression of fluid when I’m allowed to penetrate Belle. I just really, really, really don’t want to come.

…and based on a few comments, I think that was misconstrued. Totally understandable since it deals with the most difficult to understand and explain paradoxes of enforced chastity and orgasm denial.

There are two aspects to what drives us to orgasm (and I’m talking about men since while I’m very familiar with how to make a woman orgasm, I’m not an expert in how they work internally, and this is entirely my take since I’m also not a doctor, sex expert, Holiday Inn Express patron, etc). The first is biological. Hormones and brain wiring and stuff that’s buried very deeply into our evolutionary source code. It’s an animal force and in my previous writing I characterize it as the Lizard. It’s less something we consider and more something we feel. It’s the thing that in most people works together with the second aspect that leads to orgasm. The higher brain is where imagination and emotion and logic and fantasy and all that stuff live. I’ve called that part of me the Rabbit. It’s the part that has allowed me to enter into this dynamic with Belle, to consider what it means to be a sub, a bottom, and to act upon those things. And while I think of this lower brain Lizard and higher brain Rabbit separately, actually they’re fused into what constitutes my sexuality. Within me, they wrestle and the Rabbit stays in control (most of the time), but they’re like two halves of a single thing.

An attempt at an example: sometimes guys jerk off in the morning right after they wake up. Their cock is hard and they’re groggy and they feel a tickle in their balls and the next thing they know they’re squirting on their stomach. It’s almost mechanical. That’s the Lizard. Other times a guy will be in a situation that’s hot and get hard. He’ll think about that later when he’s jacking off. Thinking about the person or the situation and fantasizing and playing with his cock until he explosively shoots his load. That’s the Rabbit. He stokes the flames the Lizard provides. Except in me, the thing that makes the Rabbit super hot is to not let the Lizard get what it wants. The concept of not coming is hotter than coming. Of wanting to feel like I want to come, but not doing it. In me, the Lizard and Rabbit are not friends. They’re in constant tension.

So when I say I “really, really don’t want to come,” that’s the Rabbit talking. Because it’s the Rabbit where all the emotional, psychological stuff resides. I think being in long-term “lifestyle” denial invariably creates a lot of conflict between the Rabbit and the Lizard. The Lizard wants to stick the penis into things and squirt seed all over and fulfill evolutionary destiny. My Rabbit couldn’t care less about that stuff and wants to be the best Rabbit it can be. But they need each other. The Lizard rages against its imprisonment and the Rabbit is constantly trying to do the right thing. To not let the Lizard influence it too much. To be a fucking rabbit.

As an aside, it’s kind of funny since my Thumper nickname was given to me by Belle when we started our relationship because she thought I wanted sex as much as a rabbit supposedly wants to fuck. And that morphed into Thumper because I also have this weird tic where my feet tap and wiggle when I’m really turned on. And it’s true rabbits have a promiscuous reputation and I truly do want to have sex quite a bit, but rabbits are also the bottom of the food chain. So even though they’re apparently ravenously sexual, they’re also constantly the prey and they need to balance that out. Without really knowing it, the nickname works for me on many levels. 

Anyway. The biggest thing that’s changed in the past couple of years and that’s perhaps accelerated in the last several months is that the Rabbit/Lizard power ratio has shifted dramatically towards the Rabbit. The Lizard has gotten quite lazy and doesn’t fight as much as he once did. The Rabbit has him pretty well locked down. He still stirs and pulls on the chains like the old days, but not as often. When I’m feeling Belle squirm and moan under my fingers, he’s there. Then the penis gets as hard as it can and the craving of feeling it slip into her is the greatest. And yes, at those times, I want to come. At least, the Lizard does. In the past, the Rabbit might be swayed by the power of the Lizard’s insistence, but not anymore. He knows orgasms are like cupcakes on the counter. They look good and will be fun to eat in the moment, but after won’t feel that great. After, there will be regret.

Long way to get around to saying “really, really don’t want to come” means the Rabbit doesn’t want me to come. I actually do have the craving to come that ebbs and flows and is impacted by life like everything else. And that’s the paradox of denial. The chemical Lizard craving for orgasm lives on while the Rabbit higher brain’s desire not to keeps it all under control.

Then I said…

I reject the old trope that being locked up and denied for longer and longer periods makes one hornier and hornier forever. That’s simply not how it works.

…which was not to mean being denied doesn’t massively increase one’s level of horniness. Of course it does. But there’s an element to some hawt chastity porn that it’s an ever-increasing line that stretches off into eternity. In reality, it builds up well past normal in the course of a week or so and continues to grow more slowly over a two to three week period but then it kind of plateaus. I find it can actually drop after that and slowly go up and down like long, rolling waves (while still remaining well above normal for a guy who comes whenever he wants). It can even drop way, way down. That’s the funk I was in last week and before. Where the desire to come and have sex is actually really low to zero. That’s the worst part of denial. It’s not common, but it happens.

The thing that’s not usually mentioned is how carrying a load of unreleased hormones around can cause super quick swings in desire. I can go from zero to packed tube in seconds in the right conditions. And then it can go back down again just as quickly. I also have pretty extreme swings in emotion, though I’ve gotten better at controlling those. I can be quick to anger or on the verge of tears very suddenly. I don’t think men are accustomed to or designed to have so many hormones in their system.

But like anything else, the body adjusts. The hormone load becomes the new normal and their absence the oddity. Not coming for three or four months at a time for years dramatically changes how your body works.

Right now, I am super horny. Which is my preferred state, though it can be massively distracting. I bet it’ll stay this way for a week or so more before leveling out and moderating some. What I do not want to feel is something below what’s normal for most people. For the Lizard to go to sleep entirely. Because for me, that’s death warmed over. When that happens, it’s like a light goes out somewhere. But right now today, the light is a roaring flame and the lizard is back to plotting his escape.