Tag: orgasm denial

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Damn dam

As I was preparing myself for the day yesterday, the though occurred to me that there was a chance I’d be confronted by a metal detector. I mean, it was our plan to enter a Federal installation and all. There was the key and there was the device (all freshly cleaned and lubed), but I decided against it. I had been to Hoover Dam several times, but not, apparently, since 2001.

So there we were, in line to the visitors center, and I had already passed by about 56 large yellow signs warning me of the extreme security measures in place, but I looked right though each of them. We were in line for the 90-minute tour, though my mom had already said she wasn’t interested in it (some kind of fobia about being at the bottom of the damn and all that water or something) and the female offspring didn’t seem all that into the idea, though the boy was. Then, just as I was about to cross the threshold into the lobby, I saw them. It was just like an airport in there. Multiple X-ray conveyers and metal detectors. And guys in uniforms. They might even have had guns.

Shit, I thought as a cold wave of inevitability laced with a healthy dose of panic washed though me. Then I thought, I can’t go through there. I’ll set it off, and apparently said it out loud, too. The boy made some kind of acknowledgement, though I was feverishly woking out what to do next and didn’t really hear him.

“Let’s go have lunch,” I blurted. It was 11:30 and the tour was an hour and a half, so it was a plausible cover to get me out of there. On the way back up the escalator, I worked though all the escape options. There weren’t any, of course. The device cannot be removed at all absent heavy tools or the key (which was on the 47th floor of our hotel back in the city). There was no way we were getting in there.

At first, I was very disappointed. Not just because I wanted to see it, but mostly because I was going to potentially ruin it for everyone else. However, when I came up with an alternate plan over a meal of snack bar burgers and turkey wraps, nobody seemed to mind. In the end, we spent an entirely enjoyable couple of hours crawling over the dam, checking out its nooks and crannies and muscular WPA architecture (it really is a beautiful thing).

So anyway, vacation planning affects aside, it’s probably a good thing I’m in it. When I took the SH-S off before we left, I should have done it after my shower since, once again, I succumbed to the sensual pleasures of antibacterial soap applied properly (though without climatic completion, of course). The cock’s siren song is so strong that this morning I saw the key in my dop kit and really, really, really thought about using it. Just a little bit of jacking off surely wouldn’t be so bad, right? Just a little? I can only imagine what it’d be like were it not there.

And, for the record, I did not use the key.

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No cheating

We’re travelling today so I need to come out. The plan was for me to pop the seal on my emergency key and then reseal it when we get back on Monday (and, in between, put the device back on). I wanted to be able to demonstrate conclusively that I did not release the meat prior to our departure, so I made the following video. Nerdy, true. Obsessive compulsive, maybe. But, no one can accuse me of cheating.

[wpvideo sQO50L0W]

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Bedtime story

Sleep is good. Saturday, the night Stryker’s Beast mauled me, I got to bed late and slept little. Too horny. Sunday night, I went to bed early but woke up two hours later and was wide awake until 3:30. Horny again. Yesterday, I felt like the walking dead by about 6:30 in the evening. Slogging through the kids’ homework was torture. By 8:30, I was ready for bed. The kids were all down and out by 9:00. The pillows were waiting.

But then, the little voice of the hormone sprite whispered in my ear. “It’s time,” he squeaked. The irresistible force of my horniness started to push up against the immovable object of my exhaustion. I procrastinated in the bedroom, looking at dirty pictures and reading smutty stories. The Beast called to me. The occasional twinging aftereffects of my weekend ass stretching had reduced to nearly zero. I had kept the area shaved and was ready and very willing to put that dildo back where the sun don’t shine. Except for the tiredness. I laid there, internet in hand, and waited for the internal struggle between raging hormones and expiring brain cells to work itself out. Finally, at about a quarter to ten, I gave up. Whatever fire the sexual frustration lit was smothered under the blanket of weariness. I slept like a stone and didn’t wake up until 5:30.

The pressure in the tube was intense and reassuring. I could have eased it by taking a leak, but I decided to lay there and revel in it. I even exacerbated it by rolling onto my stomach and putting my ass up so as much blood as possible rushed into the cock. I rolled over on my back and let it’s awkward heaviness flop around. I reached down and felt the hard smooth tube and the heat it radiated from within, my tight nutsack and the hairless trail that led from its encircling steel ring to my asshole. I still needed rest, but I was rested enough that the peaks of my desire rose above the fog of sleepiness. Had it not been so close to the start of the day, I might have acted, but there was no time. Instead, I simply allowed myself to experience the unique attributes of my life of chastity. Tight tubes. Hormones. Desire.

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Stryker’s beast

If you’re really not into graphic accounts of self-administered anal action, this post probably isn’t for you.

Last time, I said the “realistic” Jeff Stryker dildo seemed ridiculously large. That got me doing some research to find out how big he really is. According to a page called Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Penis Size But Were Afraid to Ask, Jeff Stryker’s cock is 7.5″ long (measured in the proper way along the top, from the pubic bone to the tip). As you can see in the picture below, the “realistic” dildo is actually about 9″ long measured in the same way. That’s about a 20% increase. I’d estimate the insertable length to be about 8″.

Besides the length, the really interesting thing about this dildo is its girth. The circumference just under the head is a half inch greater at 7″ than lower down the shaft where it’s 6.5″. While I can’t find any reliable information about Stryker’s actual girth, I can say these proportions are accurate based on the numerous times I’ve watched him put it to use, though the actual size of the dildo is much larger.

So yeah, it’s bigger than the original. For me, it’s at the very limit of a usable size. While I might be able to get something bigger inside me, that’d just be showing off and not really all that enjoyable.

I haven’t had anything this big to play with in a while. In the recent past, when I felt like getting fucked, I’ve used a cheap vinyl dildo that’s 6″ insertable with a circumference about 4.75″. Nothing too impressive, but also pretty easy to use. Prior to climbing Mount Stryker, though, I made preparations. First thing I did was remove the hair around my asshole. I’ve found that hair is hard to lubricate and will grip a dildo and get pulled in and out with it keeping things from being nice and slippery smooth, so I shaved an area about two inches all the way around. Also, I used one of the other new items I bought with the dildo: the Colt Anal Douche.

As Dan Savage says, having anal sex without douching your rectum is like having oral sex with a mouth full of food. The obvious issues of residual fecal matter is what squicks out so many people who might otherwise really get into anal. This is too bad because it’s so easy to deal with when you have the right tool and the Colt Anal Douche is that tool. The really nifty bit, and what makes it better than the run of the mill bulb enema you can get at any drugstore, is the 6″ attachment you put over the spout on the bulb. The water comes out of it along a seam near the top as opposed to squirting out a hole way up into the colon. It feels better and keeps the water where it needs to be. There’s no point in filling your lower intestine with a gallon of water since the only part that really needs to be cleared is the rectum. All you have to do is fill the douche with warm water (get all the air out!), squirt it up your butt, and push it all out. After three or four times, if the water coming out is as clear as when it went in, everything is ready to go.

As I said, it’s been a long time since I had anything this large in my ass. I approached it in the only way you can when dealing with this much mass: slowly and with tons of lube. I used water-based Astroglide as opposed to the silicone lube. I like to put a condom over my toys to make clean up easier and also because I find vinyl actually causes irritation and stinging. Perhaps I’m allergic. In any event, I decided to get things going with the smaller vinyl dildo, sheathed in latex, to open things up and distribute lube all along the soon-to-be assaulted path. Maybe it was because I was staring down Stryker’s beast, but the smaller dildo slid in rather more easily than normal and was soon in all the way to the base. I could feel my prostate was already crackling with electricity. I left the small dildo in for several minutes while preparing the main event. Once it was out of the way, I moved the big guy into place.

It was as if the smaller dildo had never been there. As the fat, blunt head of Stryker’s beast pressed against my hole, I remembered that there’s nothing subtle about this cock. It’s all business from the very start. My sphincter complained, but I kept a steady pressure against it. I’d push, let it sit there as the tight ring of my ass stretched against it, then I’d pull back to give it a few seconds rest. Then I’d push again, trying to get just a millimeter further. At about 2″ in, the fattest part of the cock was starting to come into play and I found the compression of my hole against the condom squeegeed all the lube off. I had to reapply it again and again.

Push, wait, withdraw.

Puush, wait, withdraw. Lube.

Puuush, wait, withdraw.

Puuuush, wait (oh, god, the stretching), withdraw. Lube.

Finally, after maybe 15 minutes of this, my sphincter had finally opened wide enough to envelope the fattest part of the cock. I admit, if I had never actual had this thing up my ass before, I might of chickened out at this point. The sensation of being opened to that extent was incredibly intense and I only had about a third of the thing in me. But I persevered, slowly yet forcefully, until the 7″ circumference of the first half was past my rim.

After that, it was like the cock got sucked up inside me. As the shaft moved along and the slightly thinner part entered me, I felt myself being opened like I hadn’t been in a very long time. Eventually, I had the dildo in all the way to its balls. I couldn’t move it, though. I was so full of it, the best I could do was leave it in place and let my chute stretch along the entire 8″ of the beast. I’d leave it in as long as I could stand it, then pull it all the way out for more lube. I felt my rectum collapse behind the retreating invader.

Then, back in. All the way. I actually bottom out at precisely the point in which the Stryker dildo is in all the way. The entire length of my rectum is opened by it and its head presses against the point where my anal passage turns and becomes my colon. It’s as if it was custom made for my body.

After another 15 or twenty minutes of repeating the cycle of putting it in, leaving it there, and then pulling it out for more lube, I felt myself loosen up sufficiently to start fucking. I can’t even describe it. It’s like having your guts punched, but in a good way. Eventually, I was pistoning the fat dildo in and out, faster and faster, grunting and moaning and feeling the stretch on the way out and the filling sensation on the way in. Over and over. I can’t say how many times and for how long. In the past, I would have come well before I got to this point, but of course, I couldn’t even see the cock let alone stroke it. My entire being was focused on the feeling of this giant slab of rubber invading me, insistently pushing my prostate and everything else out of its way again and again.

I eventually just tired out. My legs were cramping and sweat was flowing down my forehead. A cock that couldn’t come was fucking a body that never would. The only barrier to going all night was physical fatigue. So much effort had gone into even getting to the point were I could put it inside me, that my tank was close to empty by the time things really heated up.

Finally, the dildo slid out heavily with a slurp and a pop. My asshole gaped at the abuse. I felt it with my fingers and easily could get two inside to massage my fiery gland. I could tell I had leaked, but the natural lube mixed with the Astroglide so I couldn’t tell which was which. I used the douche again to sooth my chute and flush out all the extra lube. I had to concentrate to keep my asshole closed so the water wouldn’t simply fall back out. The first time I pushed it clear, the action caused a huge glob of semen to escape the end of the chastity tube. I was well-milked.

After cleaning up and putting everything away, I went to bed, exhausted but still spinning. I read some porn and worked The Portfolio until my eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. After about three hours of sleep, one of my various electronic devices made a small sound, but it was enough to wake me up. I was in a hormone hangover, still buzzing with unexpressed sexual energy. My hand reached around to my asshole and it felt smooth and well-fucked and entirely not mine. It was as if I was fingering a stranger. A stranger who had been used and abused. I could feel the absence of the giant cock inside me and I remember why I loved it so much. I wanted it again right then. I wanted to feel it split me open and stretch me to my fullest, I wanted to feel it punch me again and again.

But I didn’t get up. Instead, I went after my nuts. I squeezed and pulled and slapped them. I found that whatever internal lock that usually keeps me from really working them over had been released, so I crushed them and beat them and felt the tendrils of warm aching pain snake throughout my body. Instead of pulling up when I normally hit myself, I was able to strike them with greater and greater force. They felt swollen and hot and they throbbed. All of my unreleased sexual frustration was taken out on the fleshy punching bag. Putting my finger back on my hot, shaved hole, I decided it felt not unlike a pussy. My pussy. Wet and loose.

Exhaustion retook me and I fell back asleep with the ache of my abused testes still rolling though me. I slept fitfully and woke often, each time finding my hands either on my nuts or along my crack. This morning, I’m still swimming in the hormones from the night before. My ass is craving the Stryker dildo again. I can still feel the void it left inside me. My guts hunger for it. Night can’t come fast enough.

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While the pussy’s away…

Belle leaves tomorrow. She’ll be on the other side of the world for two weeks. Sucks.

Normally, the cock would be secured during her absence, but smack in the middle of her trip, the kids and I are flying to see Grandma in Vegas. So, obviously, the SH-S will need to come off due to national security concerns. For me, this is a tricky thing because I could just say I need to be out for four days because of travel and leave it at that, but I know (don’t I) that I really only need to be out for a few hours on the two days I’m travelling. If I stay out the whole time, I’ll feel like I’m cheating. Also, I know temptation will be too great to avoid unauthorized diddling with the merchandise. So, the plan at the moment is to stay locked up until Friday morning when I’ll pop my emergency key and take the device off for the flight. As soon as makes sense on the other end, I’ll put it back on until Monday when we fly home.

Once home, I would, theoretically, have access to a free key. That’s not going to work for me. I can be trusted, but keeping the key secure is hotter for the same reason using the PA fixing is. The further away access to the cock is, the better.

As you can see, the current security tab in the keysafe is number 553. That’ll be broken on Friday and replaced with 543 on Monday. I’ll post a picture here of the locked device and the keysafe with 543 in place as soon as I’m resecured. Cheating will be impossible (even if it is also very unlikely).

It’s typically the case that Belle lets me pleasure myself in ways unrelated to the cock while she’s gone. She hasn’t yet given me the word, but assuming it’s coming, I’ve obtained a new toy. Well, actually I’ve replaced an old one. Back with I was single and young, my roommate had a porn tape starring Jeff Stryker. I have absolutely no idea what it was called, but the story line involved Jeff’s character being locked up in jail for an ill-defined offense. Once there, of course, he fucked just about everything with his quite impressing cock. There were a couple of scenes in particular I liked. The first was his check-in at the jail where the guard made him strip, turn around, and spread his cheeks. Jeff always played the top (at least in the stuff I saw him in) so to see him have to submit to authority like that was really sexy. There was another scene with him in a supply closet where he totally dominated another prisoner and yet another in his cell where he fucked a guard. Really hot movie. Pretty sure, between the two of us, that my roommate and I wore that tape out. (Edited to add that after spending about five minutes on the Google, I think the movie in question was called Powertool.)

In any event, the reason I bring it up is when I started buying my own sex toys one of the first I got was a “realistic” Jeff Stryker dildo. It looked like Jeff’s cock, but man. It was so big. And yeah, his cock was big, but I don’t remember it being that big. Regardless, I certainly got my money’s worth over the years with that thing. It was big, but just big enough so that I could really get going with it and not feel like I was about to injure myself. Also, I liked that the first half was fatter than the lower half. Interesting sensation, that. Pull out and feel yourself stretch, push in and feel yourself fill up.

Blah blah blah. Fast forward about 20 years and I received a brand new Jeff Stryker realistic dildo in the mail yesterday. Assuming I get the customary permission to abuse myself in Belle’s absence, I’ll post a review here on the blog. Will Jeff’s giant schlong be as great as I remember? How will my 43 year old ass deal with it? These questions and more will be answered…as long as Belle gives me permission to find out.

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6/24/182.5

So, yeah, six months. That’s what we’re doing now. What’s up with that?

A casual observer will claim this is topping from the bottom. I suggested it to Belle so, therefore, I’m a bottomtopper (or whatever). In fact, it was a suggestion. I brought it up but also made clear to her that it was nothing more than a suggestion that she could decide to disregard or modify or whatever.

The logic in favor was pretty simple. She likes me better when I don’t come and am locked in the device. I like me better that way, too. So, why not see what would happen if I was put into an essentially orgasmless existence. No coming and no chance that I would at all for a long time. That’s an interesting element since the way she’s handled me before now, there was always at any time a chance she’d let me come. Now, according to her, I will not be coming – no chance – until mid-September. Will that change how I behave? Knowing that nothing I can do will grant me relief? That was one of the things she made me agree to before making the final decision that this was what we were doing. She’s going to hold me to the six month term absolutely.

There are downsides, of course, and mostly for her. She likes to fuck me. It will be very difficult to do that for any extended period if she’s really serious about not letting me come. Also, she seems to like letting me have orgasms. Not frequently, of course, but she enjoys seeing me enjoy them. So, committing to this means she will be sacrificing, too.

For me, this is about taking things to their logical extremities and seeing how that works. Truth is, I still do like to come. The moment of orgasm is utterly fantastic and, especially when they come so infrequently, totally universe exploding for me. I come so hard now that it feels like I’m turning inside out from the effort. Icy tingles run over my scalp and down my back. Probably the most intensely pleasurable sensations I’ve felt. Those measly little squirts over the bathroom sink I used to give myself with regular frequency aren’t even the same species of what I feel now.

But, everything else that I feel is so much more exiting and just plain better when I don’t get to come. Those nuclear orgasms are really great, but they happen so fast. Once I know I’m going to get to have them, it takes just one or two minutes for me to get there and then they’re totally spent in about ten seconds. In exchange for maybe five or ten minutes of bliss (including the post orgasmic drunkenness), I get hours and days and weeks and months of craving it. Constant tension and expectation and dripping precum. I don’t know if you’re like me, but when I fix myself on something I want, I find that wanting it is almost better than getting it. The actual obtaining of my desires is often (though not always) a bit of a let down. I’m sure there’s a clinical description of this phenomenon and I’m also sure it’s managed by brain chemistry. What I’m not clear on is if it’s a universal behavior or if it’s only present in some people (and if its presence makes one more likely to kink on orgasm denial).

So, I have essentially three questions I hope this experiment will answer:

  • Are longer, extended periods of one kind of mostly low-intensity pleasure (orgasm denial and craving) in exchange for incredibly short yet powerful bursts of pleasure more or less satisfying?
  • How does removal of any hope of orgasm change how I feel and act while being denied?
  • Is there a point of diminishing returns after which continued denial is actually detrimental?

Let’s just say that the answer to the first question is, yes, I a find long-term orgasmless existence more satisfying than infrequent yet occasional orgasms. Plus, let’s say that removal of any prospect of coming does nothing to abate the behavioral benefits Belle and I both recognize as the result of not coming and that extending the denial for a really long time doesn’t have its own adverse results. Would we be able to logically conclude that I don’t ever need to come again? If Belle could accept the changes that would mean to her preferred lifestyle, could this mean I actually do start living an absolutely orgasm-free life (or one that’s essentially so because they’d occur with extreme infrequency and probably accidentally)?

The answer to these questions can only be found in the fullness of time. Also, the answers might not matter if Belle decides that she’d still rather see me come every once in a while. While a lot of this territory feels like ground we’ve already covered, the big difference now is that I’m aware that this is a two person arrangement. While it is, obviously, about me, it’s only partly so. Wherever this experiment takes us, it has to work for us both.

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Drippy tube

So, to recap from the vacation, I was, indeed, locked up the entire time. Besides being out for the flight, the only other time she let me out was one morning when I went diving. Other that that, 24/7. I was, of couse, also out for the flight home, but we got back so late that she let me stay out that night.

Next morning, we were both home having taken the Monday after off as well, though the kids were at school. I was getting dressed and ready for the day when she asked me if I wanted to make her come. Well, fuck yes. Plus, being out, I figured there was perhaps a chance I could get the dick wet (though she had just started her period). No, though. I got her off with my fingers while she stroked the cock lightly, but just enough, so that I was always wanting more. Mixed with a few slaps to the nutsack, I was groaning right along with her when she finally came. Regardless, she got out of bed and left me there, hard and wanting. The cock bobbed and throbbed in the air while she went about her business unpacking.

Eventually, I got up, still hard, and went into the bathroom for my shower. I decided that my current state would not allow me to soap up without also playing with the cock, so I put the SH-S on. While the cock wasn’t rock hard at this point, it was still respectively pudgy so it was a bit of a trick getting everything through the ring and stuffed down the tube.

Something I haven’t mentioned here is that I have not been using the PA fixing with the new Steelheart. I found after a few days of wearing it that it was just too crowded in there and I was getting pinched. However, while I don’t need the extra security, it is so much hotter with the fixing in place, so it’s in there now. I woke up last night with a pinch, but took a leak to soften the meat and then repositioned things so that by this morning I felt no ill effects at all. I’m going to see it I can leave it in place for the rest of the week.

I’ll need to figure it all out by Saturday because Belle will be off on another one of her world tours. Two weeks of no Belle. I hate hate hate these trips, but there’s not much that can be done. In the middle of her absence, the kids and I are flying off to Grandma’s house for a long weekend, so I’ll need to use my key to get out prior to leaving and to secure everything again once we get back.

In any event, it’s been about two weeks since my last orgasm and stuff’s building up in there. Two mornings in a row, I dripped precum after my shower while getting ready at the mirror. I get why that was yesterday since she let me share one of her orgasms, but this morning was same old same old. Regardless, long ropes of thick clear fluid hung from the hole in the steel tube, sticking to the hairs on my legs.

Two weeks down, 24 to go. That’s a lot of morning drips.

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Quickie from Paradise

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it was good.

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Horny + sick = bleh

I’m sick. Bleh. I feel like crap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah yes, another bullshit masculine/feminine binary.

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

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

Reader Mike left a comment to my last post:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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