Tag: orgasm denial

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An admission

Belle has instructed me to come here and admit to you all that, while she has given me permission to milk myself when I feel the need, my little solo session with the dildo wasn’t about that. Yes, I did end up expressing seminal fluid, but my motivations had nothing to do with prostate maintenance and everything to do with my being a horny little slut who wanted his hole fucked out. I have a special dildo for prostate massage that’s to be used in what Belle describes as  “clinical” milking which is very different from the penis dildo with balls and throbbing veins I wore myself out with the other day. From now on, if I feel the need to be fucked, I am to ask Belle for permission before doing so.

Also, before she let me give her a very nice orgasm last night using her vibrator, she said she may leave me in the device until our anniversary in mid-October. I’m not entirely sure if she was serious (I doubt she can live without her cock that long). I think the longest I’ve been locked up was 4-5 weeks (and that was in the CB6K). So, assuming no physical damage forces me out and assuming she’s serious and assuming she can stand not fucking her cock for three months, that would be something over 100 days in lock-up and even more without orgasm (assuming, when she lets me out, I get to come). That’s a lot of assuming.

Regardless, I’m terribly lucky to have Belle Fille in my life. Lucky and grateful. She makes me very happy and I love her so much.

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Abuse for one

Since coming home, I’ve been hopelessly, desperately horny. It’s not the slow burn kind of horny, either, but the insistent resonating kind that sits up in my chest and makes my arms feel light. I’m pretty much all over Belle whenever I have a chance and I find myself following her around from room to room. I fall asleep clutching her and whenever I stir at night it’s to find her body next to mine and curl into it again. All this latent sexual static hanging around is like shoveling coal into my subbie furnace. I am so feeling it.

In short, fucking awesome.

I was home alone for most of yesterday. Originally, I wasn’t sure which day I’d get back from my trip so I scheduled it off just in case. In any event, hours of alone time would usually mean at least one jack-off session back when such things were among my options. Had I been unlocked, I’m quite sure I would have been edging myself non-stop. However, I am locked and therefore any such behavior is impossible. But still. Damn. I’m horny.

I decided to make due with what I had available.

A couple of years ago, I bought some pants or something from Old Navy that had two clippy things connected by a shoelace. I have no idea what they were supposed to do, but I have three of them (for a total of six clips). I should post a picture of the things. They don’t fit together like a clothespin (where one side presses against the other). Instead, their ends interlock and form a circle when closed. Plus, their springs are more than a little tight. The end result is an absolutely wicked bite that’s far more intense than any device I’ve bought designed for nipple torture.

So yeah, I put them on. My nipple meat twisted between the pinchers and the pain was like twin lasers of pleasure shooting into my brain. A benefit of their clampiness and the way their ends fit together is that they grip incredibly well. I was able to pull them hard – much harder than even the Japanese butterfly clamps – before they’d finally come free. Of course, it’s no secret that the more stimulated one is, the more pain they’re able to tolerate. In the case of yesterday, I simply could not find my limit. These things are friggin’ medieval and pulling on the twisted pink meat caused a lot of pain, but all I could do was hurt myself more. There are few times I’ve felt like that.

It wasn’t enough, though. I needed something more.

Belle has long ago given me permission to milk myself as needed, so solo anal play is a permanent option for me. Thing is, even though I like taking it up the ass as well as the next boy, it’s not a pleasure in which I often partake. Not only is it a bit of a hassle (props, lube, clean-up, etc.), but I find that I have to be in a very particular frame of mind to kick it off. Yesterday, I was in that frame of mind. Fuck, I would have done anything.

I busted out a moderately-sized latex suction cup dildo I bought a few years back. It’s bigger than most men, but not ridiculously so. I find it fairly easy to accommodate while still providing a satisfying sensation. I wasn’t interested in demonstrating any amazing feats; I just wanted to get fucked.

I really don’t understand guys who won’t at least try taking it up the ass. Men are designed to experience intense pleasure that way though the conveniently-placed prostate. Of course, it’s all mental. Worries about cleanliness, whether or not it makes you gay, etc. Bullshit. It can be pure awesome when done right. I did it right.

I’m not sure if the denial makes the prostate more sensitive to stimulation, but there are times when it felt like a fucking supernova was up inside my colon. Being locked allows me to experience levels of stimulation I’ve never been able to before. I would have shot my load way before feeling what I get to feel now. It gets to the point where the penetration and the friction over the radiating prostate consumes everything and I simultaneously want it to go on forever but stop immediately before my head explodes.

Of course, the milking was successful. Like never before, actually. Early on, as the muscles in the region contracted involuntarily, I squeezed out several shots of clear precum. Then, milky white juices started to leak from the tube. Not in a big shot or a steady stream, but slowly and in little dribbles. Even hours later, I was finding a slick mess at the end of the tube. I have no idea how much came out, but it was substantial.

But even then, I wanted more. When Belle came home, I asked her to abuse my nipples when we went to bed. They were still sore from the earlier torture when she placed the chrome clothespins on them and then left them there. Again, it was nothing but liquid pleasure. She left them on for maybe ten minutes, during which time little moans and groans escaped from my throat and my ass squirmed into the bed. She wouldn’t let me mess with her, though, so I went to bed cruising though a mass of abject desire.

This morning, my nipples feel plump and tender, the large muscles in my thighs ache, and I can still feel the assault on my sphincter. Even so, I know for a fact I’d be doing it all over again today if I had the chance.

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And I’m off…

Leaving for the cross-country camping trip today. I hate, I hate, I hate, I HATE leaving my family. I miss them, I miss the familiar routine, and I just hate saying goodbye. I know I’ll have fun on this trip, but that doesn’t stop me from getting all weepy at the last moment. Anyway…

Good news is I’ve settled right in to the Steelheart again. Seems as though whenever I’m out for a bit, like I just was, reentry is a little bumpy. I get chaffed and irritated in spots and it always seems to be in the wrong spot or pinching funny or whatever. Eventually, the skin gets used to it again and the sore spots go away. Then, through some trick of the mind, over the course of the week or so I’ve been in, the difference between the cock and the device narrows. Eventually, it feels as though the device and I are the same thing. It’s an extension of me. The physical sensation of wearing it starts to overwrite the physical memory of being free. It’s at just this moment, when the steel’s slipstreamed into my consciousness, that I start to get the idea I could wear this thing forever.

Belle very kindly shared one of her orgasms with me last night. I say “kindly” because she was pretty tired and, had it been any other night, she probably would have just gone to sleep. But she didn’t and Pink and I were allowed to get her off. I tried to make it last as long as possible without abusing her gift. There were no heroics involved, but I lingered as long as possible on her nipples and especially on the soft, wet folds of her pussy. It seems a logical extension, since I don’t have a functioning cock any more, that her sex and orgasm replace mine.

Of course, there’s no way I could know what a woman’s orgasm feels like, but I think I’m as close to knowing as any guy ever will be. I know when it’s starting to build, I can feel it start to crest, and I sense it’s surge of power as it jumps from her skin to mine. It leaves me in a very excited state, but also with a sense of accomplishment and contentedness. It’s how things should be.

Afterward, as I turned over at some point, the motion contracted some internal muscle and I felt a couple squirts of precum ooze out into the tube. I don’t seem to be making as much of that as I used to. I remember one day, about a year back or so, standing in the bathroom following an evening of similar activity and feeling it running down my leg in a long, sticky rope. I suppose it’s just another of the ways my body adjusts to the new reality. Occasionally, I can feel my prostate sitting full and juicy down under the locked cock. I’ve never been one to have wet dreams or anything, but it’s been two or three weeks since anything came out of me. I’d imagine that sooner of later it’ll take care of itself somehow.

The only real issue I’m having is in regard to sleep. It’s the same old story. She comes, falls asleep, and I start to fall asleep only to jolt back awake until the wee hours of the morning. Eventually, I get board and find myself on the internet, reading some blogs, checking out a few stories, tending the portfolio. If I’m lucky, sometime between 1:00 and 3:00 I’ll finally drift off, some sexually charged fantasy dancing in my head. I’ll be interesting to see how that goes on the trip. For most of it, I won’t have any internet and therefore only my fetid imagination to keep me company.

So, with that, I’ll take my leave for the moment. I may find my way back here sometime over the next week and a half, but there’s no telling. I already have an HNT offering lined up for tomorrow, so there’s at least that. Maybe I’ll get another in the chute for next week.

See ya!

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The christening of Mr. Darcy

Belle Fille likes penetration. Yes, she also likes my tongue and my fingers and her vibe, but she really likes fucking her cock. Which, of course, presents a problem. The first and most obvious is that she also likes to keep her cock locked in a steel chastity device. That makes fucking it rather inconvenient. The second problem is, when she lets the cock out, it’s usually been a while since it’s come and my stamina is for shit. If I don’t maintain total concentration, I’ll squirt. Easily 3 out of 4 times, I’ll come before she does, nearly always without permission.

Which is what led me, several months ago, to buying a strap-on cock. Belle’s very particular about what’s put inside her and claims the cock on me is the perfect size. As has already been established, I am five and five eighths inches long when erect and about one and a half inches in diameter. Not huge, but nothing to be ashamed of either as it places me at the very top of the penis length bell curve. As luck would have it, Vixen Creations offers a little bit of heaven that measures almost exactly the same size as me. They call him Tex. So I bought him and a vegan harness with straps that go around both my legs so as to leave room for my steel tube in between.

And then it sat. For months. Belle knew I was going to get it, but she wasn’t eager to try it out. I’d bring it up occasionally, but when the opportunities presented themselves, she’d demure and have me do something else. I remained (mostly) patient.

In an attempt to entice her to give it a shot, I gave Tex a new name. Belle’s favorite author is Jane Austen and her favorite book is Pride and Prejudice. In that book, there’s a character named Mr. Darcy who, in the BBC television adaptation, was played by Colin Firth. Colin Firth is, according to my Belle, a fine looking man and is on the list of the three men she’d be willing to have sex with other than me (the other two are Pierce Brosnan and George Clooney, so the chances are pretty slim). So anyway, I naturally named the dildo Mr. Darcy.

Then, after months of gentle prodding and subtle cajoling, last night was to be the night. Belle Fille would finally allow me to pleasure her with Mr. Darcy.

We started out very slowly. I had already lit all the candles to help set the scene and she had already had me remove my clothes. We laid in bed and talked for quite a while. So long, that I was sure she was getting cold feet again. I prepared myself for this so I wouldn’t appear disappointed. It is, after all, entirely her decision if, when, and how she’ll come.

After a bit, she asked, “So, is it best for you to have it on during the whole event or should you make me wait in the middle. I don’t like waiting.”

“Then I’ll have it on the entire time.” I inserted Mr. Darcy through the rubber O-ring and made sure the curve of his erection was centered just like the real thing. Then, I put my feet through the harness and pulled it up over my hips. I had already adjusted it to be snug, but not too tight. The two leg straps nestled in between both sides of my nutsack and my legs, then met up along my ass crack. The base of the dildo sat on my pubic bone and pushed the biocock down and out of the way so that it was very close to a natural positon.

Not wanting to move too quickly, I laid on my back next to her and let everything soak in. It all looked so real. I saw my legs bent at the knees in the background and my hair-covered chest in the foreground and in between was sticking up a very familiar-looking cock. Its color was lighter than my skin, but its shape and proportions were perfect. We both sort of marveled at the sight.

As we laid there, continuing our little chat, I found myseld holding it and squeezing it just as I would Belle’s cock.

“You’re such a guy,” she said.

As we started to kiss, I had to will my hands off the thing. I wanted to keep stroking it even though it wasn’t about to go soft and I couldn’t feel anything anyway. It just felt nice having that familiar shape in my hand.

I started in with the typical pre-game activities and soon found my fingers flitting over her clit and probing her pussy. The natural fluids were doing their thing, but I was worried about there not being enough lube. As I moved up over her body, I put saliva into my hand and rubbed it up and down Mr. Darcy’s shaft. The material from which it’s made feels remarkably lifelike when wet. It’s soft and spongy on the surface and more firm in the middle. Not unlike an actual cock.

I lined Mr. Darcy up with Belle’s waiting pussy the best I could. For not the last time, I realized how much of the feedback from the biocock I rely upon when fucking. Of course, with a real cock, you always know if you’re lined up and she’s hot and wet. With Mr. Darcy, I had to use my fingers to make sure everything was in place. I ran Mr. Darcy’s head up and down the soft, wet lips of her pussy and she moaned just a little. Then I slid it into her.

I’ve thought about this moment a lot over the past few years and I always knew, logically, that I wouldn’t feel anything. But still, it was very strange being in this familiar position, making these familiar motions, and feeling absolutely nothing. I could feel her body moving receptively beneath me just like when it was me inside her, but that’s where it ened. It took a few seconds to make sure he was lined up inside her properly and his angle of insertion was correct. It was close to being in the right spot on me, but was off just enough that I had to shift my normal positon slightly. This allowed me to suck on her nipples more easily, though.

As I was fucking her, I had to reach down occasionally to make sure I didn’t pull all the way out. Again, with no sensory feedback, I was sorta flying blindly. Her reactions were good, but after a few minutes she asked, “What if I want to fuck you?”

Which I took to mean me. As in, the cock on me. “You’d have to unlock me,” I replied.

“No, what if I want to fuck you? As in, on top.”

“Oh! Well, tell me to roll over.”

“OK, roll over.”

So I rolled over and made sure Mr. Darcy was lined up as she slid down his already slick shaft. I started to buck my hips in a reciprocal fashion, much more so than I dare to when she’s actually fucking me. I found it difficult to keep up the right rhythm since – again – I couldn’t feel Belle move over the cock she was fucking. I eventually figured out that if I placed my hand on the small of her back, I could maintain the correct pace.

The next way I realized strap on fucking was different than the other kind was that I was getting tired. The actual work that fucking entails seems to be masked by the sensation of doing the fucking. Absent that, it’s all just a lot of moving around and I felt myself starting to tire, though not enough to stop. I just think it’s funny how much work fucking your wife turns into when it’s not actually you getting up inside her.

I sucked and licked her tits as she rode Mr. Darcy freely. Looking up at her, I saw her face contorted in pleasure, her eyes mostly closed and her mouth in a permanent O shape. She was obviously enjoying herself, but not in the way she does when fucking me. I could tell it felt different to her. I could tell she was fucking a different cock.

After a bit, it started to become apparent that something was not quite right, though. She had been going too long. Eventually, she called it and rolled to my side. To finish her off, I brought out Pink. She came so hard that she dug her nails into the side of my throat, clutching my carotid artery. I took it as long as I could before crying out in pain.

As I took the harness off and pulled the wet Mr. Darcy through the O-ring, I couldn’t help myself but suck his length into my mouth. I cleaned Belle’s juices with my tongue before placing him back in the nightstand. Can’t do that with a real cock.

The postgame report is good. While he didn’t make her come, Belle enjoyed Mr. Darcy and says we’ll get to use him again. Next time, she’ll let me stay on top longer to see it that helps her get off. Also, if I find myself beneath her, I’ll probably not fuck back with such vigor. In any event, I hope that with practice Mr. Darcy will be able to give her the kind of pleasure I can’t when I’m locked up and not allowed to come.

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Push me, please

The other day Belle said she wasn’t sure what I meant when I said I wanted to be pushed. As in:

First and more importantly, I want to be pushed. Pushed in every regard. I want her to hurt me a little more than I can stand. I want to be denied past the point at which I beg for release. I want her to set high expectations with regard to my service. If there is a knob somewhere that turns to ten, she should set it to eleven. I want to do all these things because that’s what this particular submissive wants more than anything: To show his dominant partner that he can go farther than he thinks he can for her. And then, once I achieve that goal, I want to be pushed past it again. In everything. Always. Make me prove how badly I want this. Because while I may not enjoy the moment of any particular act, it will, in retrospect, fill me with warmth and happiness.

I tried to explain that there’s a desire within me to go far beyond my comfort zone if for no other reason than she’s asked me to do so. I pointed her to Maymay’s post related to this (is there anything he’s not written about?) and also sent her a couple of Sarah Jameson’s emails that, I think, touch indirectly on it.

Sarah Jameson, for those who don’t know, writes the Male Chastity Blog. She’s a “normal” woman, not unlike Belle, with a husband who likes abnormal things, not unlike me. She writes with confidence and, while I don’t always agree with her, find that she’s right far more often that not (at least IMO). Besides the blog, she also sends out a multi-part email newsletter on the subject of…wait for it…male chastity. Why an email, I can’t tell. If it were me I’d put it all on my blog and not make people wait for it all, but whatever. I recommend it, especially for those just starting out.

So anyway, in part 11 of her series, she asks, “Just how long can a man wait?” Her initial response sends an electric shiver down my spine:

Well, the truth is… your man doesn’t have to orgasm ever. As in NEVER.

But then she give what I think is the best advice I’ve read on the subject:

Over time I’ve come round to the way of thinking that you should keep your man in orgasm denial for at least 50% longer than he asks for and thinks he can stand.

Why?

Because in the early days, while you’re still working out the ground rules, he’ll be basing his own estimation on insufficient knowledge. To HIM, fresh into male chastity, even a week seems like an eternity.

So if he thinks a month, make it six weeks; if he thinks six months, make it nine months; and if he thinks a year… woe betide him.

This is nothing to do with domination – this is to do with playing the game he’s asked to play and keeping HIM within the rules.

I don’t agree, however, that is doesn’t have anything to do with domination. I think it does, at least for me, because it certainly has something to do with submission. My submission has no value if it entails only that which I am willing to do on my own. It only gains value, to me, when it crosses out of my fantasy bubble and starts to make me squirm. It would become zen-like to be taken far out of my zone – to be made to truly suffer – for the benefit of my top. Often, I feel as though Belle humors me and, as soon as I seem to become uncomfortable or inconvenienced or whatever, she’ll pull back. But that’s just when it’s getting good!

Her next message, conveniently enough, covers “what to do when he claims he can’t take it anymore.” This, I thought, was particularly insightful:

He WANTS to orgasm as a fleeting thing; but he CRAVES denial long-term. It’s how it works with most men. And when they’re begging with their blue-balls, they really do mean it.

But if you don’t give in, he’ll thank you, I promise. Don’t feel sorry for him – he’s getting what he wants, and that’s more than most people in the world ever get.

Belle specifically asked me to explain this bit of ironic drama the other day and I couldn’t. Sarah doesn’t explain it, really, but she perfectly captures it. In the moment, there are times when I want the orgasm badly. Palpably. Like, life and death. But, what I want even more is for Belle to deny it to me, especially if I really, really, REALLY want it. See point number one above.

The next bit is also terrific advice:

I know from John [her husband] that feeling of wanting to come all the time is amazing for [men]. Yes, when you’re making love at that point it can get a bit uncomfortable, but it soon passes. Rather than feeling sorry for him, try empathy: share his feeling without taking responsibility for it or for making it better.

Yes, yes, yes. “Oh, poor baby, I know it’s hard…” Not guilt, not confusion, not sympathy. More like, “Look, fucker, you asked for this so you’re going to get it and, while I can empathize with your situation, there’s not a damn thing I’m going to do about it other than pour honey on your agony.” But, you know, nicer than that.

Or not, because, in fact, that would be a fucking hot way to put it…

Of course, I’m talking about more than just orgasm denial. I’d like her to require me to wear the device past the point I beg for it to be taken off. I want to provide any and all service to her (house, body, whatever she asks) past the point of comfort or convenience. I don’t want her to be a bitch or some über domme, just to set for me very high goals and expectations. To understand that when I’m in a place where most people would be unhappy (and even if, in that moment, I am unhappy), that I’m actually where I need to be.

I know this is hard for Belle to wrap her head around. It’s all very weird and alien and a million miles from how she’s wired to interact with the world (and her husband). I can’t expect her to understand why I am the way I am. I don’t understand that myself. But if she can figure out what all the buttons and levers do – how to leverage my kinks – I think we can use them in a way that will make both of us more satisfied.

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Woodsy

In about a week, I’m leaving for a 10 day camping trip. I only mention this because Belle had told me I would be left unlocked while I was gone since I’ll be with a group of folks who are otherwise unaware of my…condition. But then, night before last, she told me she wishes she could leave me locked. And honestly, I wish I could be, too.

The device and I are on pretty good terms at the moment. The first night she put me back in it, I was so excited that I didn’t fall asleep until 3:30. Last night, I fell asleep OK but woke up several times for the customary reasons. Eventually, I’ll sleep right through that stuff, but I’m still in adjustment mode. I’d feel the steel ring and tube containing the straining meat and a happy little ball would start bouncing around inside me and I’d be wide awake for a while until things settled down. Right now, the device, as a symbol of our dynamic, is on the right side of things. I’m happy so I love it. Wearing it because she wants me to makes me feel very good. She told me last night she liked my attitude better when I’m locked. A small thermonuclear detonation went off inside me to hear that. I know we’re back on the right track. I can feel it.

So anyway, I was thinking about what she said. She wished she could leave me locked up on my trip. And I think it’s possible. This won’t be like last year’s trip when I backpacked into the Rockies. This time, we’re going to be driving into Northern California. In fact, I’m driving all the way out there, so nasty TSA metal detectors aren’t a factor. Also, I’ll probably be sleeping in the bed of my truck (inside the camper shell – what, I don’t seem like the truck type?) so I’ll have a modicum of privacy. I can bring the soapy water I need with me (even though it will be verrrry cold) and take care of things out of sight and sound of the others.

That’s not to say there won’t be other inconveniences. I’ll need to make sure I’m properly shielded when answering the call of nature, for instance. And we’ll have to see how the Steelheart likes hiking around. But, as far as I can tell, it’s all perfectly doable. Remember the part about pushing me? This is a perfect example. She wants me locked. She shouldn’t really consider my inconvenience if that’s the way she wants things. That’s pushing.

Besides, worst case, I’ll still have my emergency key.

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Weekend sex

We did have some nice episodes this weekend and since it’s been so long since I wrote about the sex parts, I’ll relate them to you now…

On either Friday or Saturday, I went to bed highly expectational that something was going to happen. I was sporting the free meat so almost anything was possible. She told me to get naked and I snuggled up against her, nuzzling her tits through the fabric of her pajamas and running my hand over the outline of her mound. She lifted her top and I latched on to her nipples, licking and sucking each one in turn. My blood rose pretty quickly and the soft spot just under the high point of her crotch that told me I was on her clit. I pressed down with a circular motion. Just seconds later, she started to come. I could feel her heat and dampness through the fabric and flicked my tongue over erect nipple as her head went back and she whispered in breathy insistance, “I going to come.”

And she did. And it was really fucking hot. She said it made her feel like she was 16 again and we were fooling around in a car. It was all so rushed and determined. I was left feeling like the man of steel and, after allowing her time to bask a bit, I asked if I could enter her. She seemed to hesitate and I thought for a second she’d refuse, but she pulled off her bottoms and opened up for me.

This was the first time I fucked her with the new ring in and, more so than any other I have, I could feel its gravity move though the head of the cock and slide against the wet walls of her pussy. My PA piercing has  taught me there are nerve endings inside the cock as well and, that night, as I fucked her slowly and deliberately, trying to feel every centimeter of her sex slide against mine, all the little nerves were firing. I love that new ring sofuckingmuch.

In the hight of the passion, as the urge to speed up and spew reached its zenith, the fact that I was not allowed resonated in me like a struck bell. I felt suddenly and immensely grateful that I was with a partner willing to take on control of my release. I thanked her for accepting my cock and reiterated how right it felt that she decide when I come. As I was fucking her and as I was grappling with the rising, desperate need to ejaculate, I embraced with all my being her right to refuse me the pleasure. It was not going to happen.

I fell asleep pressing as much of me against as much of her as possible, hard, sticky cock between us.

The next night, or maybe the one after that, she abused me. She started off slow and gentle, just how I like, caressing every part of my desperate sex and stroking the cock until an orgasm was just beginning to bubble to life. Then she started slapping, lightly at first and then with more determination, my balls. Eventually, she was striking them with force and I was gasping for breath, drawing my knees up instinctively, and clutching at my aching sack. The pain would radiate for ten, twenty, thirty seconds or more before receding, then I’d slowly open my legs again. That’s the most delicious part. My higher brain, with its weird chemistry and crossed pleasure wires, fighting my lower reptile brainstem’s blind protective instinct. Each millimeter my legs moved apart was a minor internal battle. Then, she’d place her loose fist against my nuts, draw back, and strike them again.

This kind of pain is, for me, the beluga caviar of masochistic pleasure. Certainly an acquired taste, it’s also very intense. I couldn’t do it every night, but sitting here now, encased, reliving the unique radioactive agony…I want it again. A lot. I’m getting all dreamy just thinking about it.

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A reader’s questions

A reader sent me an email chock full o’ questions and, since I can’t get motivated to write about anything else, I thought I’d reply to them here…

Have followed your postings for some time and really enjoy them.

Thanks. I enjoyed many of them myself.

Does Belle control your appearance and grooming…hair, body hair, nails etc.?  Does she ever groom you or tell you how she wants it done?  How are they kept?

Not any more than any other wife. She likes me to look a certain way, but it’s not always the way I want to look and also not always appropriate for work (don’t get carried away – she like me on the scruffy side, is all). I probably would modify my appearance for her if she asked me to.

Ever get into bondage or cock and ball torture?  How have you been tied or what have you had done to cock and balls?

If you’ve followed me for some time, you’ll know I’m very into CBT and bondage. I’m not always in the mood, but when I am (or when Belle pulls me into it), I like it a lot.

As far as what’s been done, Belle’s punched me in the nuts, applied Icy Hot to them, pinched and squeezed them, affixed clothespins in and around the area, and (while tied up) rested a bag of ice on the entire package. I have a fantasy of her really kicking or kneeing them, but have thus far not pushed it because I’m not sure where the line is. I have grown to really appreciate testicle pain (again, while in the right mood), but am afraid of actually damaging them.

Now that I think of it, I recall that, prior to being with Belle, my masturbatory habits included wrapping a light chain (dog leash) around my cock and balls in order to cause constriction. In what was probably a strong foreshadowing of my future kinks, I liked the sensation of binding and squeezing. At some point, I lost the chain and used other various objects such as boot laces.

Ever get tied, tortured or used by another guy?  Interested in that?

No, I haven’t. Interested? Well, sure, in the same way I’m interested in any guy at this point. I’m not going to be acting on my interests since the rules of my relationship don’t allow it, but I think the dynamic differences in being topped by a guy versus a woman would be fantastic to experience. Guys have the ability to penetrate in a way that’s very obviously dominating.

Do you find yourself more bi as you are in chastity without cuming longer?

I am not any more or less queer when in chastity, but I am metric tonnes more horny. I feel as though I’m a perfect Kinsey 3 in that I’m usually equally attracted to women  and men. My level of frustration doesn’t change the direction of my attractions, though it can make them much more intense.

Ever made to service other guys or women?

I’m up to anything, but Belle’s not interested in sharing, as far as I know.

Sure these seem like random questions…I appreciate your answering them.

No problem.

I’d like to learn more about you.

Obviously!

Chastity is a huge turn on to me.

Me, too.

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Belle free

Sometime, things just don’t work the way you think they should (or want them to).

A couple of examples. First, that nifty little keysafe thing I got to keep my emergency keys in. Yeah, well, that broke the first time Belle opened it. Quality. Then the penis plug I ordered showed up. Yeah, that ended up being too fat to fit up my urethra. And trust me, I tried. At least it’s a quality piece of stainless. If nothing else, it’ll look great dangling from my keyring next to the car keys.

Then there was Belle’s cock. It started to feel a little weird in the tube in that overly sensitive and irritated way it does after it’s been in for a while. In this case, it had been three weeks exactly. She let me take it off to inspect the hotdog and, while there were no visible signs of wear, she let it stay out for the day to recuperate. That night, she wanted it back in. Not only because she was about to leave town for a few days (and she never leaves me alone anymore with free meat) but also because she expects and prefers my default condition to be locked.

But I asked not to be. Truth is, I was kinda sorta miserable. I can be locked indefinitely and enjoy it, but absent any external stimulation, it starts to become monotonous. So, even though she was going to be gone, she agreed to leave me out as long as I didn’t go overboard with the jacking off to porn. And, of course, I wasn’t allowed to orgasm.

In the past couple of days, I did manage to fit in a significant amount of self abuse. I really enjoyed the edging and took myself to the brink innumerable times, but found, after a while, a little voice creeping in to my mind as I did it. It wasn’t exactly telling me I should go ahead and come, but it seemed to be trying to distract me at the very worst moment so I’d accidentally find myself all gooey. Make me miss half a beat until the moment of no return was passed. I didn’t come, but it seemed as though I was crossing the admittedly vague guidelines she left me with. Time to stop.

But, of course, I have terrible self-control. So, I decided to lock myself back up. I know it’s not the same as when she’s around since I know exactly where the key is, but the device is serving as my deterrent. Also, the edging – even though Belle wasn’t part of it – was just what I needed. I don’t need any more at the moment, though I really want it. Once I was back in the device I felt an odd sense of wholeness descend. Not like last time where it felt alien and intrusive. This time, being out felt out of sorts and being back in felt normal. The device has become my security blanket.

In any event, I look forward to the next few days very much. The kids are going to be out of the house for three nights and Belle and I are spending one of them in a lovely B&B we’ve gone to in the past. I really, really need to have sex with her, and more than once. I need, in the very bottom of my soul, to feel her come hard. I desperately want to find myself back in the pre-London subspace. I don’t think one weekend can fix everything, but I hope it’s the beginning to the way out of the particular rough patch.

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What they don’t tell you

For those of you keeping score at home, you’ll know I’ve been locked up for just over two weeks now. Sixteen days, to be exact. During that time, I think I’ve given Belle one orgasm. Maybe two. I can’t remember. Bottom line is, it hasn’t been all that eventful around here.

This is the stuff they don’t talk about in the hawt chastity porn. The week where she’s slammed at work and doesn’t touch you because she’s exhausted followed by the week she gets sick and isn’t in the mood followed by her period. Oh baby, do that to me one more time. And you know, as a normal guy, I’d take things into my own hand and deal, but I’m not a normal guy, am I? Not by any stretch of the imagination. She wants and expects I’ll be locked in the device all of the time, even when when she’s busy tired sick and menstruating. And so I wait. And I get kinda down. And I forget why I started doing this in the first place.

I suppose there are those of you out there who come here to fantasize over the sex stuff who might even think this is hot. A guy, totally unable to not only act on his sexual frustration but also beginning to lose it due to inactivity, locked in stainless steel…no end in sight…WHACK WHACK WHACK. Well, have a nice time. Don’t let me stop you.

I don’t blame Belle. How could I? Busy weeks happen. Sickness happens. Periods happen. Sometimes, they even happen all on top of each other. But that doesn’t make it any easier. All those “be careful what you wish for” bullshit stories out there talk about the exact opposite of my problem. Trust me, as a guy who’s been there, too, this is way harder.

I’m not saying I want to stop. I’m not saying I want out. All I’m saying is, I want this time to be over so I can go back to enjoying Belle and the condition in which she keeps me.