Tag: orgasm denial

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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.

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Mailbag

Matt Cook hasn’t had an orgasm in seven months, and he hopes never to intentionally have one again.

Now that’s an opening line. Certainly one that will grab my attention. It comes (ahem) from an article found by the inimitable Tom Allen in which the practice of Karezza is described. Kareeza, also know as “coitus reservatus”, is described by Wikipedia as “a form of sexual intercourse in which the penetrative partner does not attempt to ejaculate within the receptive partner, but instead attempts to remain at the plateau phase of intercourse for as long as possible avoiding the seminal emission.”

The article on Matt Cook wasn’t the first time I’d heard of Karezza, though. I received the following from reader Athena an embarrassingly long time ago:

I would be very appreciative to read a mans view, in particular your view regarding “Coitus Reservatus” or aka Karezza. I’m requesting this because you’re very gifted at expressing yourself in a manner that is easily understandable for your Female readers.

I want to approach the topic with my boyfriend, as I’ve been researching the practice lately. But finding contemporary and relative articles has been a challenge.

Would you agree that Karezza can be, for some the next step in the progression of chastity within a relationship?

I’m not sure I’d compare Karezza to enforced male chastity for a couple of reasons. First, chastity is, as we practice it, more than incidentally about power exchange. It’s a form of BDSM. Karezza, as I understand it, has no element of power exchange whatsoever. The man willingly controls his orgasm to promote the “deepest human affection.” Secondly, it sounds is if there is regular penetration by the man (and some kind of preternatural ability to avoid orgasm on his part). In my experience, the penis rarely gets wet, especially for recreational fucking without possibility of orgasm (alas). Of course, the end product of both is similar. The girl comes and the guy doesn’t. The resulting feelings and attitude of the man are likely very similar, but the getting there is all different.

But that doesn’t mean I disagree with you that it (or some form of it) could be a “next step in the progression of chastity within a relationship” for some. Honestly, I’ve felt for a while now that I was doing this chastity thing all wrong. I want to be denied. I do not want to come. Oh, I do, from time to time, get the urge and feel the need and she does let me, but immediately afterward I invariably wish I hadn’t. Even as I’m building toward the orgasm, in the back of my head I’m hoping she won’t let me. In all the hawt chastity porn, the man is desperate for orgasm all the time and his evil wife is constantly dangling the possibility out there but rarely letting him have it. That’s not me. I want to be denied and denied and denied. I’ve felt this way for a long time and, I recall, when I first said on this blog that I didn’t like having an orgasm as much as not having one, some readers suggested I was Doing It Wrong. Perhaps my denial has led me to a place not unlike where practitioners of coitus reservatus find themselves. Like Matt, I’d be happy if Belle told me I would never intentionally come again.

So yeah, the idea of coitus reservatus does appeal to me, but the lack of any kind of domination or submission doesn’t. I am where Matt Cook is, mostly. But I still want the D/s, bondage, and masochism. I’m a kinky bastard, after all.

Anonymous said:

After few months with playing with CB-6000 and some doubts, my wife came to conclusion, that she like benefits of using chastity device (short term, not permanent), but not the device itself. Reason – tube-like shape and imagination of everything inside swollen, sweaty, and without much ventilation, works for her rather as a turn off. We looked for some cage-like devices, but I still don’t get it – how to take it off with full erection, while most of them (all?) has closed, one-piece rings? I know the ordinary method (one potato, two potato, weenie to get in, and backwards to take it off), but HOW, when my precious member, when full erected, is pointing straight at my face, when I look at him? is it even possible to take off the ring with an erection?

If the ring is fitted correctly, you can’t get it off when you’re hard. Impossible. But, (again) if it’s fitted correctly, you probably don’t really need to. At least that’s my experience. The A-ring of the Steelheart, when left on, is like an almost but not quite too tight cockring. It has the benefit of making the penis’ erection a tad larger and it gives me a bit more staying power (plus, it’s kinda uncomfortable which pushes my masochism buttons). I’m not sure that a device without the integrated lock would work as well, though. My Jail Bird has a post sticking out for the lock to engage the cage and, while we’ve never tried it, it’s likely that the post would poke Belle.

My advice: Figure out a way to get the ring off before you’re too hard and/or make a fun little game of defeating the erection so the ring can come off (bag of ice water on the cock, for instance).

Beth said:

I’ve never commented but I’ve enjoyed reading your blog immensely for the last year or two. I was hoping I could get a piece of advice. I’m a lady in a 5+ year relationship with a handsome gentleman- I’d say he’s a switch/sub and I’m a sub/switch. We’ve been doing light BDSM play for 2-3 years now but in a couple of weeks we’ve decided to try a 24 hour power exchange since it’ll be the first time we’ll see each other in 3 months (!). I’ll be domming but as we’ve never done anything like this for more than an hour or 2 I figured I’d ask if you had any particular “care and keeping” advice.

From our earlier play I know some of the standard considerations (plenty of conversations ahead of time, sit down in an uncharged situation before to revisit soft/hard limits, yellow/red safeword system, have quick access necessary safety equipment (trauma shears for rope play, etc), plenty of downtime afterward to process and recharge and snuggle) but a scenario of this length is new territory for both of us and I imagine there are things I haven’t thought of. Should I try to break scene every few hours to check in or is that too disruptive to the “subspace”? We’re both very much looking forward to this and I just want to make sure it goes as smoothly as is reasonable to expect.

Beth, to me it sounds like you’re doing everything right. All that communication up front is so critical and it sounds like you’ve done it in spades. With regard to breaking the scene, if I were in his position and had the requisite safewords, etc., I wouldn’t want you too. The more time spent deeply in the subspace, the better.

Your handsome gentleman is lucky to have such a thoughtful and considerate top.

John said:

Recently got in to chastity with my partner. Actually, he complained about my spanking the monkey too much and sort of took matters into his own hands. I am currently locked in a Bon4. Hoping for a jailbird or steel heart soon. I had reservations at first, but have since found it fucking awesome to hold back. The longest time so far is 5 days. He teases me mercilessly while i am locked up. We had to do some experimentation with different ring sizes, lubes, underware, etc., but thanks to the advise on your blog, things have improved significantly. Just wanted to say thanks for the awesome blog, and keep up the good work.

Have I mentioned how hot I find the idea of gay male chastity? Sweet Jesus. I’m glad things are going well for you guys, John. Send pictures. Really.

I apologize to those who sent in feedback. It took me far too long to get to it all this time around.

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How I should be

Got home Saturday after three days on the road. I love these trips, but the getting there and back is grueling. Before the sun went down, Belle was already saying I needed to go back in to the steel. Not until Sunday, though.

Sunday morning, she was up early getting the boy ready to leave for camp. I wanted some fun, but it wasn’t to be. By midmorning, I had the Steelheart back in place. But, you may be thinking, didn’t I have a new Jail Bird waiting for me? Yes, I did, but it wasn’t right. I ordered it with a security screw and it came with a hole for a regular little padlock. I tried it with the one and only little padlock we still have from the old CB6K days but it was one of those black Masterlocks with the plastic shell and it made the unit too bulky. It was quite visible poking through my sweats. Also, I’m not a big fan of the way the lock sits sideways on the JB.

I don’t really consider the screw omission to be Mature Metal’s fault entirely. The order started as an email exchange about getting a new base ring, the more observant of you might remember, and it evolved into a whole new device after several messages sent back and forth. We ended up using a non-standard channel for the order and they missed a detail. Had it gone through their site, I’m sure it would have been right. In any event, it’s going back to get screwed.

By Sunday night, Belle and I had found some personal time. Naked, I laid close to her with my head down on her chest while she fingered my sack and basically drove me crazy. She asked me how I was doing being back in and I, in that state with that sensation, would have told her anything. I said I was glad to be back in. I was happier that way. I told her how I never got used to having a normal penis during the trip. Each time I took a leak it felt weird handling a soft flap of meat rather than a steel tube. And in the morning, the unencumbered erection was a distraction. I felt like I was cheating somehow. It was wrong. She told me I was suited to being locked up. That it was how I should be. Then she let me get her off.

When it was over, I was amazingly turned on. The tube throbbed with beat of my heart, bit into my nascent erection and pulled on my nuts. I wanted…something. Not to be out, but to be out. Not to fuck her, but to fuck her. Not to come, but to come. All the conflicting and otherwise contradictory urges that come with the denial of orgasm.

I’m on my third day back in the steel and it feels like I was never out. Belle’s right. This is how I should be.

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Fireworks

So it’s true, sports fans. The bunny did come over the holiday weekend. Once on Thursday inside Belle and once again the next day all over my stomach (with Belle in attendance, however).

She let me out in the morning and yet again chose not to get herself off on the penis and opted for my fingers. Once done, she let me go inside and have at it. I tried so hard to make it last. I felt very confident that I would. That I was in control and would have enough time to really enjoy the old-fashioned sex, but my mind started inserting images and thoughts into my head. The fact that Belle hadn’t needed the penis to get off and that it was usually locked up, forgotten, and unnecessary. That it and my ability to control it was a shadow of what once was since, of course, I have essentially no control over it at all anymore. That lack of control is what makes it such a worthless object for Belle. There’s really no way to stop the orgasm. I can’t stop it. It’s coming already…right now…there. Done. Well less than a minute and I was copiously pumping nearly six weeks of pent up ejaculate into Belle. It felt like it was over before it even started.

The next morning Belle wasn’t really interested in anything but allowed me to jack off next to her in bed. Again, I wanted it to last so I could at least really enjoy the build up to an actual climax as opposed to the stopping and retreat that normally happens when I have access to the penis. And again, while I lasted longer than before, it was over so soon. Just a hair trigger it all that remains (at least so soon after I get out).

Friday night, she asked me how I felt. Pretty flat, to be honest. Orgasm is a massive let-down now, though at least I’ve already started to feel the build-up again. The floppy-floppy weirdness of the penis will wear off in a few days (along with the odd jellyfish-like gelatinous nature of my nuts – they’re so much more orderly when trapped by a steel ring).

Next we’re in an interesting period. The boy and I head out later this week to go camping on the west coast. We won’t be home until the 21st. Based on the conditions we’ll be in and the lack of essential privacy, I won’t be able to go with the Steelheart on. It needs to much hygienic maintenance. But, if the new Jail Bird arrives in time, it’s possible I could wear that. It wouldn’t be to keep me from doing anything since the lack of hygiene privacy will mean no masturbatory privacy, either. It’s really more about the control thing. Even when it’s not necessary, it’s there. All the time, it’s there. That’s what we both want. But, if the JB doesn’t land before I leave, it’ll just mean one or the other will go on as soon as I get home.

Now that I’ve come (and assuming she won’t let me do it again before I leave), I’m thinking about the next time it might happen. Belle likes to attach these occurrences to holidays or holiday-like events. My birthday is close to Labor Day, so that’s a possibility. In mid-October is our anniversary. Closer in, there’s a couple of weeks here and there when both kids will be absent at camp or visiting relatives. Those are also viable options. Or, since she’s reading this and knows I know how it works, she might skip over all those options entirely. Or she may not care and pick one anyway. In either event, I won’t know very far in advance and will have little choice.

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I neglected to add…

Belle got home late last night and wished me a happy anniversary. I had no idea what she was talking about.

“I read the blog,” she said. Ahh, I see. Four weeks. As in, my observation on Saturday that I’ve been locked for four straight weeks today. That anniversary.

And it was, truly, late – a school night, no less – so I didn’t think anything sexual was going to happen. And it didn’t. But even just hearing her acknowledge that my condition was known to her made a difference. That she hadn’t forgotten and, presumably, didn’t take it for granted. I laid next to her in bed, half rolled over on my side, and she left her hand in a spot where she could idly finger the hair just above the penis in its prison while we fell asleep. That minor, intimate contact along with the simple words charged me up. It was enough so that when I woke up this morning with the massively tight tube I didn’t feel grumpy or annoyed. I felt contained and comforted. I don’t need to be strung up and whipped or tied to the bed all night or facesat until I turn blue to know she cares. Sometimes, all it takes is a few words and a gentle touch.

Regarding the the thing I neglected to add as referred to in the title of this post, I forgot to mention in my previous missive that working out has become a sure-fire way of avoiding the dreaded chastity insomnia. I am trying like hell now to work out every day, not just because I crave it and want to feel good, but I’ve noticed that no amount of hormonal blood level can stop me from sleeping on the days I either see the trainer or run for three miles.

Friday afternoon, for example, I wanted to run badly, but the kids and I went out to see a movie and have dinner. We didn’t get home until after sunset and while I wanted to, I didn’t put the shoes on and take off. Subsequently, I was restlessly tossing around until after 2:30 AM. Not sure when I finally slept, but I knew as I laid there staring at the ceiling and doing everything except looking at porn (which is what I really wanted to do) that had I exerted myself, I would have been in dreamland.

Speaking of dreams, I’ve had several recently in which the chastity device was featured. I can’t recall the details, of course, but in one, the device just fell off of me. I’ve had that happen in dreams before and each time I remember feeling like I’m going to be in trouble. Try as I might, the device simply won’t go back together and I’m left with it in pieces in my hands. Other times I suddenly find myself in a situation where the device is visible in front of other people. I’m either all of a sudden naked or it’s out of my pants or something weirdly dreamy like that. At least one dream involved a urinal and other people. Not sure how, exactly, but the device was discovered.

Speaking of devices, I’ve ordered a new Jail Bird. There’s not a thing wrong with the Steelheart (obviously since I’ve been in it for a month) but sometimes a boy just wants some variety. For those keeping score at home, the previous Jail Bird went permanently out of commission when I accidentally snapped the post off the A-ring in an attempt to make it less constricting. I was going to just send the cage back and get a new ring, but I can’t find the damned thing. It’s got to be somewhere, but it’s not in any of the little hiding places I’ve used before. I suspect I got clever in where I put it but too clever to remember where that was. So, in any event, a new one has been ordered. I went with a slightly larger A-ring this time and opted for the oval option. We’ll see how that works. Expect a full report when it arrives.

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A pair of milestones

Two milestones to report on today. One of minor consequence, one not so much.

I’m coming up on four weeks in the Steelheart. Not a record or anything, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the little feller for a month (on Monday). Long term lock up and denial, like everything else in the universe, operates on a cycle.

  • I first go in, usually after just coming, and the best I can hope for is that the device doesn’t piss me off for the first week.
  • By the second week and into the third, I’m pretty horned up. Everything is sparkly and fun and the hormones leave me nicely buzzing.
  • Past the third week, absent any external boost, things start to drag. Occasionally, it’ll feel OK being in, but left on my own, everything starts to sag. I can get depressed, demotivated, and all around bummed out by the experience.

The third stage can be averted though some kind of sexual contact with Belle. I think it’s possible to stay in the second stage or very early in the third indefinitely as long as I’m getting the kind of stimulation that keeps the hormones fired up. Belle’s got a new job and is working a lot and has shown little to no interest in me, so I’m well into the third stage now. Plus, she’s out of town again this weekend so there’s no hope of any relief on the horizon. I’m not abjectly depressed or anything, but the bloom is off the chastity flower. Long term chastity is a team sport, as I’ve said. You can’t play it by yourself. I’m not to the point of wanting out or crying uncle, but something has to give soon.

The other milestone is with my personal training and exercise. Getting fit seems to be a bit of a trend in the kinky blogosphere of late. Must be something in the lube. Anyway, I though I was six months in, but doing the math in my head yesterday, I realize I’m not quite there yet. I started in mid-January, so mid-July will be six months. Right?

So. Progress. I have lost weight, but it’s not happened in way I’m familiar with. According to the scale, I’m down to 223 pounds from my peak of 237. On paper, that doesn’t sound too impressive over five months, but I think a lot of the fat loss has been compensated by muscle gain. I feel different. I’m harder all over, but especially in my legs and arms. I have muscles where I’ve never seen them before. Drying off in the bathroom the other day, I was shocked at what my shoulders and arms looked like. Plus, my clothes are fitting differently. It’s definitely working. My scale is one of those fancy ones that measures fat as well as weight and the fat line on its accompanying iPhone app is dropping faster than the weight line, so again, yippee!

I’ve found that cutting back on food has been very difficult, especially as I’ve started to run more. I just need more fuel than I used to. Eating like a bird now would impact my ability to function. I don’t really pay attention to the weight I’m using at the gym, but I know that I can now bicep curl 120 lbs (both arms at the same time) and bench press in the neighborhood of 150 lbs. Those aren’t Olympic numbers or anything, but they’re way better than I could have pulled off before. I’m also able to run for more than 4 miles on a treadmill (which is easier for me than running outside – the best I’ve pulled off on the road is like 3.3 miles) and plank for almost two minutes. I remember the first day working out I was only able to plank for about 30 seconds. God, what a lump I was.

The thing about all this working out is that once you start, it becomes kind of a perpetual motion machine. I wake up every day after the gym with some kind of muscle aching and the running can often cause my legs and feet to hurt the next day, but the only thing worse than doing the exercise is not doing it. I crave it. Running is not all that much fun, either when it’s happening or immediately afterward, but I really want to do it. It bugs me to go more than one day with no exercise of any kind now. That’s good…right?

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Pillow talk

Belle and I had one of those checking-in moments the other night. She knows how desperate I am right now and wanted to make sure I wasn’t going off the rails. Usually, this starts by her asking me how I’m doing and me answering in a non-verbal grunt and shrug kind of thing. This from the guy who always says communication is so important in our kind of relationship.

She teased more out of me (so to speak). I told her I was fine. Not GREAT. Just fine. I told her how horny I was and she once again reminded me that I had only been locked up for a week. A mere flicker of a butterfly’s eyelid for me. Do butterflies have eyelids? It matters not. You get the gist.

I may have asked how long she meant to keep me in. Usually, it’s fairly easy for me to see the milestones upon which I get out. I can’t see one of those before mid-July at this point. She told me she was thinking of letting me out for Father’s Day. Honestly, I had forgotten all about Father’s Day. If I hadn’t, I might have dismissed it since it was relatively so soon after Memorial Day (about three weeks). It’s not always easy to know what “getting out” means. Do I also get to come? Or is it just freedom?

In my somewhat needy and totally horned-out condition, I admitted I didn’t want out. I didn’t want the device off and I didn’t want to come. OK, accuse me of bottom topping. Go ahead. I’ll wait…

Humming…

But it’s true. Yeah, my body is saying it wants out and wants to come, but my soul wants to stay in and be denied the pleasure. Even on Father’s Day. Especially on Father’s Day. The denial is so much more potent when it happens even when a reasonable person would expect otherwise. It’s best when it’s capricious and unfair and in no way respectful of what’s “right”.

What I want more than anything else is her. Not the porn, not the stories, not anything but her. To feel her writhe at my touch and hear her breathe fast and ragged before she finally tenses up in orgasm. That’s what I want. Not freedom. Not access. Certainly not orgasm. I have that feeling in my loins of a swollen prostate and I clutch and claw at the steel tube desperately wanting to get at its contents and I end up grinding into the mattress and being too distracted to sleep, but I also don’t want it to stop. Not ever.

I can’t tell if after all this time she’s thinking about letting me out because it’s what she wants or if it’s what she thinks I want. We seem to be past the point of her showing any kind of interest in the penis as a sexual object , though I supposed she might still want to feel it inside her. Maybe even wants to see it flopping around in the air. I don’t know. We kinda fell asleep after all that (which is to say, she fell asleep and I laid there soaking in my swirling hormonal caffeine).

Yesterday, I was grumpy at the end of the day. More annoying life stuff that I had misinterpreted or forgotten about or whatever. We were snappish at each other. Not sure how much of that was the hormones talking. It does manifest that way sometimes. I desperately wanted to defuse the situation so, when she came to bed, I offered to rub her feet with the lotion. I had hoped it would end in sex, but it didn’t. Just her feeling really nice (which is good, too). I again failed to fall asleep before 2:00. Still too wound up.

Belle leaves in a few days for a trip with some girlfriends. Yes, the kind of trip where in the porn stories the wife tells her friends about her husband’s locked penis. Just the girls and some wine in a quaint setting. I hope to be able to get her off before she leaves. If not, I’ll makes sure her favorite vibrator makes its way into her suitcase. If she’s going to be so relaxed anyway, it’s better for me to know she’s able to take advantage of the opportunity. Even if I don’t get to participate.