Tag: orgasm denial

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Retrograde

I was in, I was out, I’m back in again.

She took me out last weekend and, as usual, I had no idea it was going to happen. She fucked me (or, I should say, let me fuck her) and apparently I was supposed to go back in the next day, but she neglected to follow-up in the morning so I didn’t and by the time she mentioned it that night I gave her kind of a face or something so she said something about taking a break. I took that to mean we were taking a break, but she didn’t, so I was apparently breaking the rules for a week or so.

Thing is, I had just come, so my inclination for incarceration was quite low. In these situations, I might know instinctively what I’m supposed to do, but I find reasons not to absent her firm hand. So, in any event, I was out and about for the week until Monday when she told me I would, in no uncertain terms, be going back in. But not before she let me come again. So, I’m back in, but my head’s not as I’m still recovering from the post-orgasmic subdrop (two in seven days!).

Truth be told, I’m happier when the cock’s locked up. It’s what feels normal and natural now. Being out feels like I’m getting away with something and just leaves me feeling a little out of balance. Regardless, I wasn’t inclined to put myself back in without her explicit direction. And that’s the other part of what feels normal and natural (and happier). I am, again, being “maintained” and cared for. I have her attention. And that makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

She was giving me shit about it last night. Wanting to know if I was suffering, etc. Come on, I said, it’d only been one day. How much suffering could there be? But, she said, she liked knowing I was squirming. She liked knowing my exact condition. And, she says, she likes me better in the steel.

So, I’ve been out (it seems) quite a bit lately. Also, it seems as though I’ve been coming a lot (though in reality, it’s hardly at all — that I’d ever think a couple of times a month was a lot says much about how I’ve changed). Next week, we head to tropical paradise for a week where she’s already said I’ll be out of the device for the whole trip (even the parts when I don’t have to be out for national security purposes). If past is prologue, I can probably expect some more orgasming. And the thing is, I don’t want any of it. I don’t want the cock to be free for any longer than it has to be and I don’t want to come. Not at all. Not for a really long time. I know I can’t wear the thing on the plane and I know there will be activities that will require I remove it and I know she’ll probably get frisky and want a romp and I know (I really do) that it’s all up to her in the end, but I also know that I, too, like me better when I’m starved for orgasm and without access to the meat.

I crave desperately to be back in that deprived state, craving desperately the thing I don’t want to have. Regardless, I’ll do what she says. If I get to come, I’ll enjoy it. If I stay out for the week, I’ll probably enjoy that, too. But that doesn’t mean I can’t hope for the other options. She and I both know it makes me a better man.

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Short respit

I was out of the new Steelheart Short for 24 hours following an episode of corona abrasion. I could feel it coming on Sunday night as a burning sensation after I’d pee but I didn’t ask to be removed because, you know, I’m a guy and we think we can just tough it out. Obviously not a good idea, but I seem to think I’ve been able to get through this when it’s happened before, though in reality, I haven’t.

So the tube came off and the coronal ridge on the right side was red and unhappy looking (and I was reminded again that if I were uncircumcised it probably wouldn’t be an issue). Probably happened Sunday afternoon when I worked out on the elliptical machine without any support. Lots of device motion rubbing against the skin. By the end of the day yesterday, it felt and looked much better. I probably could have gone back in at bedtime, but Belle had me stay out until this morning. She’s gone on a trip for the next few days, so ready or not, I was going to have to get back in there.

I don’t believe this is an issue with the new device as much as it’s a known issue with this type of device. It’s happened to me before. There’s just a higher level of awareness that’s involved in wearing a closed system like the Steelheart.

Back in the secure confines, after Belle left and I was alone in the house, I updated the Portfolio and felt again the newly constricted feeling I will be living with from now on. It’s very much different than the old Steelheart. I said in an early write up about it that the SH-1 was a more forgiving chastity experience since the cock had more room to grow in before being constrained. It’s true that the feeling of being hard in the larger tube wasn’t as intense as the CB6K I had been in before, but it’s also true that the new tube with approximately 60% of the internal volume of the old is still more comfortable than the CB6K and is at least as comfortable (in a different way) as the larger tube. It’s possible my tolerance of being restricted is higher now than it was back then based on how long I’ve been doing this now. It’s also possible the configuration of the CB6K with it’s sharp, hard edges and oval, compressive tube design just isn’t as comfy.

I said the other day that the diameter of the old and new tubes is the same, but I don’t think that’s entirely true. Perhaps it is, but I know that getting everything shoved into the new tube (cock, PA ring, PA fixing) is harder than it was in the old. The effective amount of space in there now is so much lower that the circumference feels smaller. I’ve lost almost an inch and a half of length, after all.

In any event, in the SH-1 I would feel constrained while in the SH-S I feel compressed. Almost exactly like how the Jail Bird feels, but without the mild testicular pain (caused, I suspect, by the lack of space between the cage and the cuff ring along the bottom of the device).

Belle will be gone until late Thursday night, so if I start to feel that the abrasion isn’t healed, I’ll need to bust out the emergency key and be good. I really do not want to do that, but being all tough will only postpone the inevitable. Besides, looking on the bright side, maybe if I get out without her permission she’ll punish me when she gets home.

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Do egrets regret?

Looking through the survey responses, this question popped out from the several comments left at the end:

Do you ever regret choosing orgasm control?

Absolutely not. Zero percent. Nada. My only regret is that we could not have started it earlier. Like, maybe the night of our first date.

Which is not to say it’s always been easy. It hasn’t. Read some of the older blog entries and see for yourself. But right now, it’s all been more than worth it because my heart is filled with love, devotion, gratitude, and a sense that I am unbelievably lucky. I feel this quite keenly.

Speaking of the survey, it’s already received nearly as many responses in its first day as it did last year and nearly twice as many as it got in the first year. I probably won’t keep it open for a couple weeks as planned, so if you’re game, go take it now the survey is closed!

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Feel the burn

Last night, after Belle went to sleep and told me I was allowed to play with myself, there was a point where I had stroked the cock so much that had I dared to even breathe on it, I would have had an orgasm. I had already milked seven thick slugs of ejaculate from myself without satisfying, even in the slightest, my need to come. I was able to pull up with the awareness of how close I was, but just prior I was in a place where I wanted it so bad that my hand wrapped around the cock formed a single thing upon which every molecule of my being was focused.

And then I let go. And the cock bobbed and quivered and flexed and I knew that if my fingers so much as as grazed the flared head of the cock, that I’d orgasm (most likely dryly). Thinking about it now causes a low thrum under the stiffening cock.

It was fucking torture. Fucking. Torture. The smell of the semen was everywhere and the taste of it was thick in my throat and its sticky sliminess was rubbed all over the cock shaft and between my fingers but I did not come. I dared not. It would be a betrayal of everything I lived for now, including Belle’s trust. I existed in that vaporous microscopically thin space between desire and control and it made me burn.

When I knew I had taken things as far as I possibly could, I cleaned up and went to bed. The cock leaked and leaked onto the sheets so that after 20 minutes I was laying in what felt like a post-coitus wetspot. Besides the leaking, the cock also stung from the abuse on its skin – skin that’s not too often abused that way and has become thin and sensitive. The ring flopped in the PA hole and caused the inside of the cock to feel raw and sore. But still, I wanted more. I wanted everything I could not have because it’s no longer mine to take.

My sleep was fitful and I often found myself cleaving to Belle, pressing the hard cock into her leg and putting my hands inside her bedclothes. I want her so bad. Then, now, always. I’m consumed by desire for her and the gift only she can give.

Living this way is so much harder than being in the device. So much more intense and distracting. Belle told me I was going back in on Sunday morning (which is an odd time), and truly, I will be thankful to have the cock put out of reach. Especially if she doesn’t let me come before the key turns.

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Gone virtual

“This is an experiment,” Belle said.

“You’re experimenting on me?”

“Well, you said you didn’t need the device anymore to remain chaste. Let’s see how that works for a while.”

This exchange took place about 50 hours after she let me out of the device, 36 hours after she fucked me, and about 8 hours after I assumed I was going back in.

Let’s rewind. She let me out on Saturday but decided to wait until Sunday morning to fuck me. At the prospect of having access to the meat again, I asked if I’d be allowed to play with it.

“No,” she said, “It’s coming out for my pleasure, not yours.” Fair enough. For however long I was to be free, I was not to pleasure myself with the cock.

Sunday morning, she fucked me. Climbed on top and rode me until she came. I was extraordinarily happy not to come before her, but that was due more to her wanting the cock as badly as she did than my ability to control my orgasm. I was about 70% of the way there and rising rapidly when she quickly came. Had she taken as long as she usually does, I would have been dead meat.

For a moment, I though she’d take the “mine, not yours” thing all the way to it’s logical conclusion, but she let me flip her over and fuck until I came. That took about two minutes and twelve seconds, then I spewed and spewed. It got all over the sheets, my leg, and (obviously) way up inside her. That stuff is nasty. Especially right after the event that causes it to emerge. Anyway…

As I’ve said lots of times before, one orgasm doesn’t do anything to satisfy my desires for more longer than a few hours. Then, it’s as if it never happened. By Sunday afternoon, I was right back in the hunt. I took a long hot bath and found myself on Kristen’s Archive which, for a man in my position, was perhaps not the smartest move I could make. Then again, while I had, at times, a very hard and very available erection right there, I did not stroke it. Not once.

So, that essentially leads up to the conversation that opened this post. I am, unsurprisingly, pretty worked up and my body is telling me, since everything is out there and flopping around, that I need to do something. Either take matters into my own hand or convince Belle to give me access or whatever. But no. She’s conducting an experiment. I’m now in virtual chastity. No device and no touching.

This kind of chastity has a different edge to it. In the device, my control is abdicated. The cock becomes a nonissue because it’s as if it doesn’t exist. Now, it does. And I have to touch it. It gets soapy and wet when I shower, it gets squished and squashed in my pants, and I have to handle it every time I take a leak. Plus, because I’m wearing the thick PA ring, it’s got heft and density all its own. There’s never a time I’m not aware of the unencumbered cock between my legs. Now, my chastity comes as a result of both her control and mine.

Of course, I’m not saying it’s better or worse. Just different. Hot in another way. I’m kinking on the constant temptation kept in check solely through my devotion to her control over my body, but I also really get off on the inescapable steel. About a week from now, Belle goes away on another business trip. I can’t imagine she’ll leave me to my own recognizance while she’s gone. Until then, at least, I’ll have to continue to resist temptation.

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Coupon

I’m going to get fucked this weekend.

Back on Valentine’s day, Belle gave me a card that, according to what was written in it, was good for “one night out”. I pressed her subsequently for more details. Was it just what is said? A night out? No, it meant I’d get to come. Just the one time? Yes. When would I have to go back in? The next morning. Could I use it whenever I wanted or did I need to give her some warning? Etc., etc.

But this morning, as I was groggily walking around the house with a steel tube still full of morning wood plumpness, she told me not to try to use my coupon this weekend because she felt the need to “connect” with her Thumper. I wasn’t going to use it, but it was nice of her to tell me.

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Permanence

Yesterday, over on Sarah Jameson’s Male Chastity Lifestyle list (of which, to be a member, you need to buy her guide to male chastity [which I think is worth your investment if you’re interested in the subject {OK, no more nested parathesis, I promise}]), the following question perked my interest:

Sarah has written about the behavioral changes that occur in a men and the consequent changes in a relationship because of denial. The state of denial is facilitated, if not made possible, by a chastity device.

Would anyone care to comment on the possibility that these changes could become permanent, no longer requiring a device. That is, could a man get to a state in which he voluntarily allowed his wife/lover/SO complete control of his orgasms? Would this be desirable?

I supposed, were I a good member of that list, I’d make my response there, but I’m not going to. (Imagine me with my thumbs in my ears, fingers waving about, and tongue sticking out.)

First things first regarding this question. I don’t believe the premise is quite right. That is, changes do not occur in the relationship or the man just because of the denial. The denial is, itself, one of those changes and provides the catalyst for further changes. I don’t question that our relationship has been impacted due to the integration of orgasm control, but the real precipitating event was that we became close enough and open enough with each other that the control of my orgasm was even a possibility. I think a lot of men confuse how the cause and effect works which leads to a lot of frustrated (in the bad way) people who believed orgasm control to be a panacea of relationship bliss.

So anyway, he goes on to say that denial is facilitated and even made possible because of a device. That’s how it was for me, yes. I very much needed the device to make my denial possible. I was so turned on by the prospect and so far removed from the mechanics of my own orgasm that I could barely control myself. Also, I said that the cock belonged to Belle, but when I had access to it, I didn’t act or even think that way. Had it not been for the device, I don’t know that it ever would have worked. That said, there are guys who don’t use a device and don’t seem to need it. Everybody’s different.

Now, though, I very much feel in my heart the things I wanted to feel two+ years ago when we started this. The changes the questioner refers to have been integrated into me to such an extent that the device is not, strictly speaking, necessary to maintain Belle’s control. In the beginning, I wanted her to control me, but didn’t really feel it. Now, I really do. Deeply.

For instance. You will read a lot of guys out there who want their partners to deny them more than their partners might want to. I was one of them (as anyone who’s read this blog long enough will know). When she told me I could come, I was disappointed. It never seemed long enough. Orgasms even left me depressed. Even though I had given her control and said I wanted her to control it, I felt she wasn’t doing it right.

Now, my attitude is totally different. I embrace my desire to come and will happily take whatever she gives me whenever that happens. In fact, I’ve kind of flipped around in that I want to come, and will tell her so, with a genuine hope that she’ll let me. I admit that there’s still a desire inside me to be denied by her for a very long time, but it’s driven by my need to demonstrate to her that I’ll endure whatever it is she asks me to. And even though I want to come badly most of the time, I still get a bigger thrill from her saying no. In essence, I’ve allowed myself to arrive at a place where I win either way.

Which, I guess, gets back to the second part of his question. I have gotten to the point he describes. Belle now has complete control over my orgasm and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I will niggle a bit with the “could a man get to a state in which he voluntarily allowed his wife/lover/SO complete control of his orgasms” part because, of course, all of this is voluntary. Yes, Belle locks an inescapable steel device onto my body, but it’s not there against my will and never was. Chastity and orgasm control/denial are only involuntary in the porn stories (as hot as they are).

To summarize, my answers to his questions are “yes” and “yes”.

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Back to normal

On a day that a lot of guys look forward to getting their dicks wet, I got the opposite yesterday when Belle told me it was time to lock me back up.

My freedom wasn’t a function of Belle’s timing. There were a combination of events (including air travel) that required I be free and those events were over on Sunday, so Valentine’s Day or no, she reasserted her control over the situation. The free week and the single orgasm ensured that my hands were down my pants as often as possible. My urge to orgasm can never be sated with a single squirt (at least, not anymore). At first, I wasn’t sure what I was allowed to do with regard to diddling her property, but the rules seem to be I am allowed, while free, to touch myself but, of course, am not allowed to have an orgasm.

While I edged myself countless times over the week, I can say I was never actually close to losing control. The higher brain functions were firmly in place and every part of me, from my hand to my brain to the cock itself, knew that there may be milking but there would be no coming. I honestly don’t want to come without her now. I feel like our dynamic is really humming and, frankly, my relationship with her is worth so much more than a furtive squirt. I see the times when I can touch the cock as a real gift from her – a break from normal – and I wouldn’t want to violate the spirit of the gift by taking advantage of the access.

In any event, I had a hard time cleaning the cock this morning because it kept filling the tube so much that I couldn’t flush any water in there. It wanted to come out and play, but neither of us could make that happen. While updating the Portfolio this morning, I really felt the need to pull on it. Of course, all I have is a hard, unfeeling steel tube. Perhaps for that reason, more so than usual, the pictures of cocks are really speaking to me. The various urges ebb and flow, but right now I really want a cock and there are just too many pictures of beautiful ones on the Tumblr.

In other news, I expect the shorter Steelheart tube will be landing soon. These custom steel devices take so long, especially when they’re forged in the Fatherland. Getting back in the swing of sporting the steel has me once again jonesing for a less obtrusive protective device.

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Hers

Earlier in the week, Belle let me out for a fuck. Not just that, but she let me come, too. It was one of those maintenance fucks in that she didn’t want anything out of it except to let me pop one inside her. Apparently, she felt I needed it. I didn’t even get to play with her tits. I tried to stretch it out and enjoy the sensation, but it’s impossible for me now. I used to pride myself for being able to hold off until after she came, but I’m lucky to fuck for more than a minute or two now before losing it.

The next day, she asked me how I was doing in a way that we both know means how is Thumper doing. As in, how is her submissive, orgasm controlled husband? In the past, I would have had either mixed emotions or been downright upset from having an orgasm, so she’s careful to check in with me to see how I’m doing. I appreciate that, but I feel I’ve moved past those fits of pique. I was thrilled to come, more than thrilled to be allowed to fuck her. Somewhat disappointed that she didn’t want to come because I so much enjoy making her do it, but I leapt at the chance to get the dick wet.

Just one orgasm is never enough to blow all the steam off after a month or so of denial, so I was still very interested in action, even more so since the cock was free and flopping around. She hasn’t let me come again, but for several nights, she would grasp and stroke the cock, putting me in quite the state, before she closed her eyes to sleep, hand still wrapped around her hard, quivering cock. It’d slowly, slowly deflate as she drifted off. I was wide awake, of course, and once picked up my phone to look at porn. Its flaccid state was replaced with rock hardness again, still in her hand, though she was asleep. I’m allowed to look at porn, but felt nervous still since its effect on me was very evident. Had she woke up just a little, she’d have know what I was doing. The thought of her “catching” me hard and horny left me feeling embarrassed, though I can’t say why.

Before I left home for one night (another reason she let me out since I was flying), she let me get naked and I came on to her as forcefully as I could. She ignored the cock totally as my hands and mouth moved all over her. It ached it was so hard. I wanted inside her again. I wanted to come again. She wanted to come, too, and she let me give her an orgasm, but with my hands. Then she rolled over and slept, never having even acknowledged the hard cock and my obvious desire to use it.

My trip was overnight and in a hotel, but I shared the room, so there was no monkey business. Now I’m back and still horny and I can’t wait to see her. I can’t wait to get back in bed with her, to feel her body next to mine, to press the cock – hard as it will be – into her drowsy form, even if she basically ignores it again. As I said above and have said before, I am totally comfortable with her controlling the cock and my orgasm and she is doing it perfectly right now. She can lock it up, stroke it, let it come, leave it alone, smack it around, slather it with Icy Hot, or let me fuck her with it. It is hers. What it does and feels is hers. What I do with it is up to her. Everything is hers.

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Further heretical musings

Belle’s back, so all’s right in the world and order has been restored. We had a lovely time last night talking, not about anything specific, just stuff. My libido is in neutral since she’s got her period and isn’t much interested in anything, though I can feel it rumble a little way down deep when I kiss her soft, full lips.

I’ve been thinking more about this idea of “giving” one’s right to orgasm to one’s partner. On the surface, this seems like such a strange and radical idea, but how different is it from committing to life-long monogamy? On the face of it, that’s just as strange a notion, especially given how we as a species have evolved. Also, it seems from my narrow and jaundiced perspective that our culture seems to expect women to essentially promise their orgasms to their mates. Male masturbatory excess is practically venerated while the idea that a woman might touch herself for pleasure still seems to be an issue for many (including women).

Of course, in light of recent events here, I’ll intercede at this time and say what I am talking about applies specifically to monogamous relationships between one man and one woman. I cannot and will not attempt to suggest that this applies to the gay, transgendered, polygamous, left-handed, Martians, or Green Party members. Edited to add, “…and anyone else who thinks I’m full of shit. Feel free to consider my ideas worth what they cost you to read them.”

So anyway, this “gift of orgasm” thing. I do not believe, in any way, this should be construed as kinky. Why? It’s a simple extension of monogamy. In practice, I’ve found that tying all my sexual release to my partner has drawn me closer to her than at almost any point in our marriage. So why isn’t this implicitly or explicitly part of the marriage vows? Why should the idea be considered so strange if the benefit (as least as has been demonstrated in my relationship) is so great? We exchange rings, why not our right to independent orgasm as well?

Of course, for me, layering on the control, power exchange, and bondage aspects of enforced male chastity make the whole thing hotter and  more fun. But all that’s just frosting.