Tag: orgasm denial

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A conundrum

The fear of death by blood loss kept me out of the device Friday night. As I said, I was fairly upset that I had, once again, done something that had forced me out of chastity prior to Belle wanting me out. I really want to play by the rules with these things and the rules state she decides, not me. She said she wouldn’t punish me since it was an accident, but I felt bad just the same. I decided to make the best of it and try to get a good night’s sleep without the usual early morning bulgefest.

At about 4:30, I woke up anyway. Not because my erection was encased in plastic but because it wasn’t. The change in sensation was enough to throw me off and there I was, as usual, awake and thinking about a boner I couldn’t do anything with. I was, however, happy to see the ‘lil gusher from the night before had been sealed and no more blood had leaked from it. Over the course of the next few hours, I tried to find a comfortable position for my big, stupid hard-on and drifted in and out of sleep.

At about 6:30 or so, we were both awake and I was nestled into her, trying not to impale her on my early morning, sex deprived firmness. We continued a conversation we started the night before about how were we feeling with where the relationship was evolving. I told her I need to find ways to serve her better. That somehow my submissive inclinations were pointing me towards needing more ways to please her and that I wanted her to help me find those ways. There was a lot of close contact and kissing and me feeling dreamily subbie. Her body, being so close, tempted me and my hands wandering all over it.

At this point, she rolled onto her back and moved her arms away from herself. I took this as a sign she wanted me to go further, though I didn’t get clarification on what she wanted. It felt a little to me like she was opening herself for me to enjoy. I can’t say why, but I sensed a tenseness in her that didn’t suggest she was really in the mood. I thought to say she didn’t need to do anything she didn’t want to, but the words never came out.

After a few moments, my mouth was on her breast and my hand was on her snatch and it really became clear she wasn’t ready. I pulled back and asked if this was what she wanted. No, not yet. Damn, I should have said something when I thought to. We held each other again and she said sometimes, that’s all she wanted. I said she should only do what she wanted and no more. I had assumed she wanted what I was doing. I should have asked and she should have said something. We came to a new understanding: I am no longer allowed to initiate sex without expressed permission. I can ask or she can offer, but I’ll never assume again. I wanted her to understand that this meant I would not try to read her or seduce her or in any way take the initiative without permission. In essence, I was finally and fully letting go of the last threads I still held of the traditional male prerogative of sexual initiation. When it came to sex, she was now fully and completely in control. She said that was exactly what she wanted.

Later in the morning, after the kids were settled with their media and food, we were back in the bedroom. Now it was time for me to make her come. Since the cock was unexpectedly available, she wanted me to fuck her with it. I told her I was worried and asked to use the desensitizing gel. No, that was no good for her because it would mean using a condom and she like to feel my skin. OK, super. I guess we’ll do it your way.

She was very ready for me. I’m not sure what it was that got her so wet (perhaps it was the thought that she now held all the cards with regard to sex), but just the act of sliding into her nearly made me shoot my load. I tried to keep most of my attention focused on her upper body and only let every third or fourth processor cycle think about what I was doing down below. I was fucking her sort of shallowly hoping that might help me keep control, but she started to move her hips counter to my thrusts and I found myself going deeper and deeper. Soon, my cock was fully engaged with her snatch and I felt the need to pull the emergency brake. A very tiny amount of my fluid spilled out, but I had stopped the orgasm.

The entire time I was trying to keep the lid on my orgasm, she kept her hips moving so that I never really stopped fucking her even though I was trying to stay still. I started in again, more slowly than before, but that caused our rhythm to be out of whack. She wanted faster and, honest to god, so did I, but if I had tried I’d lose control. She stopped me and said it was no good. She wanted me to go faster but knew if I did I’d come.

Belle’s the kind of girl that, once you start her down the path to orgasm, any deviation or delay could cause the entire trip to go bad. With that in mind, I quickly slid down her torso and pressed my mouth against her pussy. My arms were wrapped around her legs allowing my hands to pinch and play with her nipples while my tongue danced over and dove into her depths. I expected to taste my own semen, but couldn’t really make it out mixed with her juices. Eventually, she came really hard. It was a terrific orgasm for her, even though getting there had been a little messy.

I had moved back up her body so I could kiss her while she basked in her afterglow. I could feel my still wet, chilly dick slap fatly against her invitingly warm pussy. After giving her a respectful amount of basking time, I asked if I could go back inside her. She said yes and I slid in the best I could without a full erection. She was everything I knew she would be: warm, wet, amazing. It was a supremely indulgent moment and I simply enjoyed being enveloped by her. After a few moments of this bliss, she started biting and sucking on my neck in the way that makes my knees wobbly. I experienced the unusual sensation of becoming fully erect while motionless and inside her. Jesus, the biting felt good. I told her to bite harder. Harder. Oh fuck, harder! She pulled away, leaving me panting and spent (and with two giant monkey bites on each shoulder). I rolled off, hard yet satisfied.

So now we’re left with a conundrum. She likes it best when it’s my cock that makes her come. However, she won’t let me use the numbing gel since that would mean I’d need to use a rubber and she wants to feel my skin. As I have gone on and on about, I’d really like to use a strap on with her, but no dice. She want to feel me. I’ve tried to say it will be me since I’ll be doing the fucking, but she’s not interested (damn it). All she wants is my naked, hard cock but that’s the one thing I can’t use in the way she wants me to. I have no solution. Unless she’ll allow us to experiment with other options, I’m not sure what to do. I want her to be as fully satisfied as possible but am physically incapable of doing so while maintaining her control over my orgasm. Maybe with time and practice I’ll develop the technique necessary to become the lover she needs.

After the sex, I cleaned up and she locked me back into the CB-6000. That’s where I am now, way, way more frustrated and turned-on than I’ve ever been after only a single week denied. She still hasn’t told me when I’ll be released from the cage, though she knows the date. She has no idea when I’ll come again, so I’m operating under the assumption that it won’t be before we get back from our trip – two more weeks minimum. Since I only get nine more orgasms this year, it’s entirely possible I won’t come again until March.

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Back in the plastic

Second full day in the cage. It’s been a few weeks since I was last in and there’s all these little things I need to relearn each time. Like, don’t forget to put a bunch of Q-Tips in my pocket before I leave in the morning and which underwear hides the tube best.

I think I’ve spent enough time in with my piercing to say that it definitely has a negative impact on hygiene. Back before the PA was put in, I could pee standing up and otherwise align all the holes such that a minimum of urine got into the cage. Now, depending on how misaligned things are, I can actually feel the warmth all over inside the tube. The urine sprays all around inside it and I’m left needing to clean myself much more often and thoroughly than before.

On the plus side, the piercing is healed enough that it can take some pulling so I think I’m ready for a PA cable. I took a trip to my closest Home Depot and couldn’t find the simple pieces I needed to construct it, so I might just bite the bullet and buy one. I am concerned about prolonged pulling on the piercing, though. My dick will often pull back up the tube about half way. If it was secured by a cable and that cable basically kept the ring in my piercing at the opening of the tube, I can imagine periods of persistent pulling. Not sure if this would lead to damage after a while or cause the hole to migrate or just plain hurt.

Mentally, I find myself more aroused, frustrated, and submissive than I would have expected only a few days after coming (especially in such a spectacular way). I’m not nearly as bad as I was that morning Belle allowed me my orgasm, but I can feel myself getting there faster than usual. I think this could be caused by a few different things. One, I now know the path to this mindset better than before. Also, I just came from a really sweet subbie place and would very much like to get back there. Also also, Belle usually does not put me right into the device after coming, so the constant reminder of her control coupled with my inability to in any way interact with the cock has quickly reminded me of my position on the sexual org chart.

She still doesn’t know (or is not saying) how long I’ll be in here. The first logical window of opportunity for escape would be next Thursday. We’ll be leaving on a family vacation early next Friday and I can see her being nice and letting me out beforehand. However, I’ve already fallen behind in our Covenant’s requirement that I be physically chastised at least 50% of the time. If she left me in there over the vacation and let me out when we returned, I’d be back on schedule. We’ll have to see which Belle wakes up next Thursday; the sweet one or the one that likes to rip clothespins off my nipples.

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You come when the groudhog says you can

Today is Groundhog Day. According to reputable new sources, our nation’s best marmot-based weather prognostication technology says we will endure six more weeks of winter. So the thought occurs to me, why doesn’t anyone use the big rat to decide when they’ll come next? Sees his shadow, you don’t come ’till sometime in March. No shadow, you’ll be erupting in two weeks.

These are the things I think about.

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To O or no

I woke up Saturday, the day I would be allowed to come, deeply, deeply horny. More, I think, than I’ve been so far in the four months or so in which Belle’s been denying me orgasms. I spooned into the her still-sleeping form, doing my best not to wake her in that poky, annoying, denied male way, but did, in fact, place a hard, protruding, poky piece of meat between us. My first instinct was to be the eighth dwarf (Gropey), but give myself credit that she more or less woke up on her own. It wasn’t that I thought she was going to give it to me right then, but the day had dawned, and every little part of me knew today’s the day.

She had a little surprise for me. I was to be the beneficiary of her special, 24-hour, two-for-one orgasm sale! She was going to let me get one in the morning, and another in the evening. Holy. Shit.

Of course, even when I get to come, I come last. This time, Belle wanted to get her orgasm from the cock. Any time she has me put my dick in her after a couple of weeks of denial, I get worried. I placed myself in the zone and focused on her experience as much as possible. I could feel myself slide in and out of her, but in trying to ensure her orgasm came first, it didn’t feel like fucking as much as a side effect of making her happy. It’s hard to explain, but the sensation seemed to be routing through a different set of neurons or something. In any event, I was miles from coming when she started to approach her own orgasm. As usual, her peaking excitement caused mine to start to rise. She started to make shallow, short little moans and raise her hips to meet the thrusting of mine and I suddenly felt myself coming at the same time she was. Instead of thinking, “Oh, cool! We’re coming at the same time!” I thought, “Oh shit, I’m coming and she’s not done yet!” My orgasm started, but I clamped down on it as soon as I felt it. Once she was done, it was my turn, and I immediately felt the dregs of my orgasm come spilling out.

I couldn’t even tell at first if I had come. I eventually decided I had, though poorly, based on how I felt. Beforehand, I had been craving some abuse and feeling very submissive, but I could sense that those feelings were somewhat lessened. The idea of being hurt didn’t turn me on as much and I definitely felt a shift in my submissiveness. So, yeah, I came, but it was a really crappy orgasm.

Belle told me afterward that she knew I was going to screw it up (her exact words) which is why she offered the two-for-one. She wanted me to have a good orgasm and suspected correctly that my first crack at it would suck.

Night came and I was ready for the main event. This time, her orgasm was achieved a little differently. She wanted me to finger her but, before I could get there, she started to finger herself. I was working her tits while she was working her clit. Feeling left out, I started to fuck her with my fingers. Using this cooperative finger-fuck method, she came quietly yet hard. One of her more intense orgasms.

My turn started and I could tell I was already in the wrong frame of mine. I had a hard time staying hard. She was doing her best with scratching and pinching and hair pulling, but it was all having the opposite effect of what she intended. Eventually, I became too flaccid to stay in her and had to roll off and take a little break. After a bit of stroking I was able to get back in the saddle. She focused more on my nipples this time and that really worked for me. My orgasm, when it finally came, was almost feminine. Instead of spiking like a big exclamation point, it built slowly and evenly over an extended period. I started breathing harder and faster as I felt it get closer. Once I started, it felt like I just kept shooting wave after wave into her. So much so, that it spilled out of her and backed-up all over me. This was it. The kind of head-exploding orgasm that makes all the denial and frustration pay off.

These two experiences make me think I have a wiring problem. Well, not so much a problem as much a need to relearn how to come. My denial has trained me to stifle my “natural” need to orgasm each time I have sex to such an extent that I seem to be shying away from coming even when I’m allowed to do so. I need to figure out how, when she’s given me the green light, to allow myself to reroute to the old circuits and just enjoy it.

It also makes me think this behavior might have something to do with all the stories about extended chastity causing erectile dysfunction. While I haven’t been locked-up for a few weeks (but will be by the end of today), the same kind of dynamics are in play. No orgasm, no opportunity to orgasm, and, in effect, positive reinforcement for not orgasming. I’m not at all surprised that I’m experiencing these issues since my brain is by far the largest, most complicated, and most important sexual organ I have. I can see how what’s happened to me could happen to others and lead them to think that they’re dealing with physical damage rather than the manifestation of a psychophysical issue.

In any event, I came! WOO-HOO! Last night’s was one of the best orgasms I’ve had, like, ever. Belle will lock me up sometime today and hasn’t decided how long I’ll be in. According to our covenant, I need to be locked up for half the year and have so far only seen the inside of the polycarbonate for 12 days in 2009, so I expect at least a few weeks. If I was to guess, I’d say at least until after she’s had her period. Also, she reminded me I only get to enjoy nine more orgasms this year. Divide nine by eleven and you’ll find I will have to go for more than a month a couple of times.

Plenty of time to experiment with with the wiring.

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Descent into subdom

I am totally the alpha dog in my office. Granted, it is a relatively small office and I am an owner and all, but sometimes I find it dizzying to move from my role as supreme creature in one environment to my wanna-be guysub role in the other. The fact that I read the blogs and write this one often while in the office only makes it weirder. Yes, it’s nice to be the boss when you want to dick around on the web all day.

It makes me wonder about the difference between those subs who are subbie in all they do vs. the ones who are quite the opposite in other aspects of their life. The bloggers I most enjoy, on the male side, are those who appear to only be submissive when it comes to sex. But I really enjoy the dominant female bloggers. That’s one of the reasons I was sorry to read of the demise of A Place to Draw Blood Laughing, though I expect it’s less a demise and more a caterpillar cocoon phase thing. I’ve recently acquired a taste for the omnipresent Bitchy Jones (and really, who hasn’t?). But wait, I’m digressing.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. All-the-time subs vs. sexual subs. I think a big part of why I like being sexually submissive is because I’m so not all the rest of the time. It’s like taking off a heavy coat at the end of the day or something. And I think I’m really starting to get the hang of it. I find myself less and less obsessive over what Belle’s going to do or let me do. I accept that I can’t have my cake and eat it to. Either she’s calling the shots or she’s not. I do feel free to make requests, but I have no expectation that she’ll go along with them.

I also find myself wanting to more and more do things for her around the house. The past three days, I’ve totally handled the end of day stuff (dinner, clean-up, even picking up both the kids a couple of time). It’s not as though I never wanted to do things for her before, but now I find I want her to spend as much time as possible relaxing and less time doing all the things she would be “expected” to do based on her gender. I want to take more and more work from her and am feeling less and less selfish. I’m turning into a total stereotype! All I need now is the fucking maid’s dress and black pumps.

I suspect this new found desire to be her housemaid might be coming from a combination of being terribly horny and her recent ability to make me hurt. Like I said following the silent ice and clothespins episode, I woke up the next morning still feeling the subbie headspace lingering over me. Over the course of the week, as we’ve had sex and she’s hurt me more (like last night – two words: yay clothespins!) it’s remained. In fact, it’s strongest in the morning. The hornier I get and the more she hurts me, the more I want to make her happy in any way I can. It may not be PC to say this, but it feels like the penis-hating feminazi femdoms might be right about the salutary effects prolonged orgasm denial has in controlling the feral manbeast. At least for this feral manbeast.

I have spent a lot of time wondering if I’m thinking about this or feeling it “right”, as if there’s One True Way to sexually submit. That’s one of the big things I’ve learned in that past few months: there is no One True Way. This will feel for me the way it feels. I will not expect myself to be one way or another nor will I deny any feelings that arise along the way. It is the way it is. And the same goes for Belle. She will be what she is and feel what she feels and like what she likes and I will adjust and adapt and get the fuck over whatever doesn’t match my preconceptions. Note, I will continue to obsessively self-analyze, I just won’t get too hung up on what I find along the way. Anyway, that’s the plan.

What I’ve found this week is, when it works, it really works. I get all warm and fuzzy and happy and want to curl around and into her. I don’t expect we won’t still hit our share of bumps along the way, but the past several days have shown that this path is not wrong for us. I adore where we’re heading and she’s starting to unearth what she likes about it, too. What a difference from ten days ago.

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An ocean of her

Oh, what a night. And forgive me if this one’s a little all over the place, because the evening was, too.

So it starts out with me telling Belle that the “other woman” contacted me via IM. I have agreed to always tell Belle when this happens since, as should be pretty obvious, my cheating on her has put certain trust issues between us. O.W. IMed me on Tuesday and I forgot to tell Belle until last night. Sometimes I forget, but I always dread it because it’s an opportunity to dredge up the silt from the floor of our relationship.

I can hear you saying to yourself, why the fuck do you have any contact with O.W.? Just cut her off. The issue is, I met her through my involvement with a wildlife non-profit which we are both still associated with. I have chosen not to do anything that could potentially damage her standing within this group (or, of course, mine). It’s made up of a lot of fairly conservative folks and an extramarital affair would be very serious to most of them. Our history is not known to more than just a few of the group and there are occasions when, due to the group’s activities, we need to communicate.

Anyway, Belle knows I’m with her for good and we’ve figured out all the things that led to the affair and have successfully addressed them. I am now more fully committed and closer to her than I have ever been, as evidenced by my ability to draw out my kinky side with her. She knows this. But of course, it’s difficult for Belle to deal with these instances where O.W. appears uninvited in our lives. Last night was no different. She cried, I cried, things I did that make me cringe and feel incredible guilt are dragged back out from under the bed. It was an all-around no-fun time.

However, it didn’t end that way. Prior to all the drama, it had been a great night. I made dinner, did all the cleaning, and Belle relaxed and sipped wine. I rubbed her neck, she read the blog, we talked a little about it. It was all heading in a good direction. I desperately wanted her to be in a mood that would allow me to go down on her. I’m at about two weeks denied at this point and I find, as I’ve written before, that my reptilian brain starts plotting ways to consume her. Last night, I wanted desperately to bury my face in her pussy. No, I mean REALLY. I wanted to cover myself with her scent.

I totally saw from a mile off that we were definitely not heading in that direction. In the past, I would have gotten mad or overly frustrated by this, but not now. I still tentatively made the offer of orgasm, but she rebuffed as expected. I was over the top horny, but accepted it as part and parcel of the position I want to hold in our sexual relationship.

I was able, though, to talk to her about us, rather than O.W. and us. I wanted to go over the whole “is she enjoying/getting something out of our sex” thing. She says she’s not doing anything she doesn’t like and likes some things better than others, but to ask what she needs more of or differently is a bit premature. I’m totally cool with that and don’t want to rush her in anyway. I built-up my courage and asked her if she enjoyed the other night with the ice. Did she enjoy, in any way, hurting me? In fact, she said she did get some cruel pleasure from ripping the clothespins off my nipples. Seriously! I was over the moon happy to hear that. It was wonderfully cruel and hurt like fuck and she liked doing it! It’s like I won the lottery. After she said that, I started craving more pain. It was almost like craving sex. I wanted to get slapped or whipped across my ass with a belt or something. I offered a couple of times that if she wanted to take her frustration over O.W. out of my hide, she was more than welcome to it. No dice (and probably not a good precedent, anyway).

So on that high note, we turned off the light. I stripped (as she instructed) and spooned into her. I asked if she had thought about when I was going to come next. She paused for a while, as if unsure she should tell me, but eventually said I was going to come on Saturday. The cock jumped. I asked her if she knew when I was going to be locked up again. She paused again. Yes, immediately after coming. The cock did more than jump. I pressed my hardness into her.

Wanting her to understand better my desire (and, perhaps, to try to make her feel better following the emotional thrill-ride of the previous hour), I told her that I was profoundly horny and deeply frustrated, but instead of some free-floating need to fuck, it was entirely focused on her like a magnifying glass over an ant hill. I wasn’t just horny. Porn, for example, would not do it for me. It had to be her, specifically. That’s what I craved. She turned over and faced me in the dark. Hmm, I thought. That was unexpected. I continued to tell her that I thought she was beautiful, fucking hot, and was really turning me on. I let my hand wander over her body, down her pajama bottoms, over her ass…and she said nothing. I continued, thinking it was surely a trap – I would probably end with nothing and I braced myself to accept it properly and without resentment. I kept talking. I said that thoughts of her punctuated my day, that I couldn’t get her out of my mind, how badly I wanted to bite every part of her, how desperately I wanted to take her in my arms and pleasure her in every way.

At this point, I was squirming, crushing my hard cock into the bed, and pawing her like a bear cub. My desire was running high and on display. She wasn’t saying no, but she wasn’t saying yes either. I asked her, can I pleasure you? Yes, I could.

I dove under the covers and pressed my face into her midriff. I lifted her top and suckled her breast while my hand went between her legs and felt her heat. My male animal lust started to rise and I had to fight to keep myself gentle and tender. I wanted to eat her alive. Her pussy was too tempting and I found my face pressed against the fabric of her crotch, inhaling deeply. I actually bit her mound before getting back under control, but it wasn’t very hard and I don’t think she felt it. I pulled down her bottoms and planted my face over her hot, wet snatch.

Oh. My. God.

I was on all fours, parallel to her body, head down in an ocean of her. Her smell, her juices, her soft and tender flesh. I rubbed my face all around getting soaked and feeling her juices run up my inverted nose. My tongue dove deeply into her then flitted over her clit like a hummingbird, back and forth, over and across, again and again. The entire world ceased to exist and all there ever was or would be was HER. I lost myself in it all. It seemed to go on and on, but was over all too quickly. Suddenly, her thighs closed in on my head. She was pressing her pussy against my mouth and clamping onto me. I couldn’t hear anything, but felt her hips buck in rythm with the pulsing of her orgasm on my tongue.

Afterward, I came up for air and she laid there, as if lifeless. My cock was raging, straining but I was feeling her reflected afterglow and all was good.

So now I know I’m coming on Saturday. For a brief moment, I was deflated it was so soon, but that didn’t last long. Now, right now, I want to come badly. I want to come in her, on her – I don’t care. I just want it so bad.

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Personal Jesus, the second coming

Wow, how many people have I insulted in how many ways with that title?

There were some really great comments in Personal Jesus that I wanted to address, so I’m moving them out here so I can do so more publicly.

First up was Dev who said:

I think the suffering thing is one of the hardest for the dominant partner to deal with, even if the dominant partner happens to be a sadist (like me). Because to really push the suffering can mean really taking the partner somewhere that they really do not want (in the moment) to go, but are deeply thrilled by. It takes a lot of trust to know that this is really all right. It takes a lot of times of them coming back later and telling you how awesome it was for them.

I have seen a change in Belle’s behavior regarding the suffering as we’ve gone along. Before any of my sexual oddities became clearly known, she always knew I liked a little pain in my sex. She’d twist my nipples or scratch my back and it was all good, but it never really hurt. She was holding back because I’m sure she didn’t know how much pain I really wanted or could take. Now, she’s freaking medieval with both her use of nails and when she abuses my nipples. After each event, I have been careful to tell her exactly how much I liked what she had done and, as best I could, describe how much pain she had inflicted. She’s become quite adept at making my nipples scream and knows the tender places into which she should dig her nails. She has, on several occasions, really hurt me which, of course, I adore. A newer thing for us now is CBT. With that, we’re about where we were with the nipples three months ago. Each time, she hurts me a little more, but she hasn’t yet crossed my limit. And don’t even get me started with the biting. I get positively weak in the knees, the way she bites me.

Then Tom Allen said:

[I]f you want to suffer, then how can you really call it suffering? And if Belle doesn’t care one way or the other about it, then you’re going to feel that she’s doing it simply to satisfy you.

I can’t really answer that first question. It’s a conundrum. As I said above, I’ve always enjoyed a little pain in my sex, but to truly suffer – to be taken to the edge and beyond – I think that’s different. I can’t say why exactly, but I want to suffer for her. I want something above a dash of painful spice. And it’s reciprocal. I want to feel it from her and for her. This is altogether different than anything I’ve expressed or desired before.

And as far as figuring out what to do if she never really enjoys it and is only doing it for me, I guess I’d respond that everyone in a relationship does things like that (or should). It’s a give and take and while I need to be prepared to do for her things I know she likes that I don’t particularly care for, I expect she’ll do the same for me. And I need to get over the fact that she’s not enjoying it as much as me. My Belle is the personification of the good, giving, and game partner, as I also try to be for her.

Tom went on to say:

Ms. Rika has an interesting take on this – she writes (her website has been hijacked) that it’s more important for her to find what she wants, and to dominate from that perspective. Later, when she’s more comfortable, she can “reward” you by doing things that make you feel good, simply because one acknowledges that partners should make a point in pleasing each other a little bit, as long as it’s not too far out of their comfort zones.

I think that’s a very sensible approach and one I think we should work on. I want Belle to find the vector into this that rings her bell. I will endeavor to be patient while we find that path.

You need to stop feeling disappointed that she doesn’t “get” what you get; and start supporting what she does get. Remember, you’ve had years and years to develop your twisted, perverted fantasies; she needs time to catch up.

Maybe I sound disappointed on the blog, but I’m really not. I appreciate so much what Belle’s been willing to try and how much she has given me in a relatively short time. I do get impatient but it’s because I’m so damned horny all the time. I’m not a patient person to begin with. Mix in some hormones and it’s even worse. Nevertheless, I know I’m a very lucky man to have such a mate.

Then Dev came back and said:

One thing I’d recommend – and since I don’t know either of you, this could be totally horrible advice, but that’s what you go to the Internet for, right? – is that you be really, really open to hearing from Belle the truth about her own personal experiences. Use your very best encouragement and just handle whatever you hear back. And do this often, like all the time.

I’m doing this. At least, I think I’m doing this. At least, I’m trying to do this. I’ll ask her to make sure I’m doing this.

I remember pretty early in my relationship with Jos, we were lying in bed and he asked me what I wanted to do. I couldn’t figure out the answer, because the question I was actually asking myself was, “What would be [from an outside or ‘objective’ perspective] sexy to do next?” And then suddenly I realized that, no, I can just do what I actually want to, and it will be all right.

That must sound really basic and messed-up not to “get” but it actually took trust for me to promote my own wishes in bed rather than thinking of it from some overview perspective about what is sexy or right or good to do, etc. Having a partner who encouraged honesty was a big deal in that process.

Who am I to criticize someone for not getting something obvious? This whole blog has been an exploration of me figuring out otherwise obvious things.

So did Jos do anything to help you come to that realization or did you get there all on your own? I agree that women are socialized to consider the needs of others before theirs, even in bed, but I really want Belle to do what she wants first and primarily. This is very hard for her. She’s been brought up in an environment that was about putting others first. When it comes to our sex, I want it to be about her first, second, and third.

I read what I just wrote and realize I need to fight the urge within me to want to be treated unfairly and to suffer. I need sexual gratification. I need it to be about me every once in a while. I know that. I’m not saying I want to live some kind of malesub porn fantasy where she brings me out to worship her pussy every night and then kicks me to the floor when she’s done. No, not that or anything like it. I do, though, want our sex to be about her mostly and for most of the time.

It’s one thing to try (for instance) beating someone. It’s another thing to know that you’re going to have to claim that you liked it, or that you insist on it, or that it wasn’t for them at all but for yourself. You (the dom) should be able to actually just do it, and then reflect on how it was for you, and be honest if it didn’t work.

I agree. But what’s my role as the sub? Am I allowed to ask for things that she doesn’t like? Or should I just accept what works for her and move on? This is the tricky bit for me because I’ve never been submissive before in anything. I have no idea what the rules are. I said above that I assumed we should continue to do for each other things we know the other likes, even those things we may not be individually thrilled with. Does that continue to apply in a D/s dynamic? Should she do things she’s OK with mostly because I like them?

I don’t know. This is getting to be a ridiculously long comment.

And that’s turned into a rediculously long post in response to your rediculously long comment! Regardless, thank you both so much for your thoughts. I really appreciate them.

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Personal Jesus

Following some of my recent posts, a friend emailed me to caution against forgetting that there’s two people in my relationship. He was concerned that I might lose sight of the fact that Belle needs to get something out of all this, too. I have endeavored to always keep that in mind, but I appreciated the reminder and last night shared the email with Belle.

This very subject has come up in our most recent counseling session (yes, we’re still doing that). What I need and want now requires so much more proactive involvement from Belle and what she wants and needs has remained pretty much the same. So, what’s in it for her? I am prepared to do whatever it takes to satisfy any fantasies she has or wants to explore, even those that would fall outside the nascent D/s framework he have going. So far, she hasn’t asked for anything out of the ordinary. Absent a quid pro quo fantasy exchange, I asked Belle what she likes about what we’ve been doing. What does she get out of it? Here’s what she said:

  • The deeper intimacy we share now that all my kinks have been exposed
  • Our increased amount of communication
  • Reading this blog (sort of relates to the two above)
  • The turn-on she gets from watching me clean the kitchen for her (relatively new)
  • Pink, her little vibe
  • All the extra orgasms she’s been getting

I may have missed something, but it’s mostly right. It’s not a bad list. It is obviously a woman’s list, but that doesn’t make it bad and, since she’s a women, it’s unsurprising. I’m overjoyed that she’s actually getting something out of all this. Whether it’s worth the extra effort she needs to put in is only something she can answer, of course.

After she was done relating these things to me, she said the look on my face suggested I wasn’t satisfied. No, it’s not that I wasn’t satisfied, but there was one thing in particular I was hoping she’d say that she didn’t (though I never, ever want her to say it unless it’s true).

Having this conversation allowed me to frame up something that’s probably second nature to a lot of experienced submissives. Now that the words have formed in my head, it seems so obvious that I can’t believe I’ve never said it before in quite this way. Basically, I want to suffer for her and I want her to recognize and appreciate that suffering.

“Kinda like my own personal Jesus,” she said.

Depeche Mode? That was unexpected. “Yeah,” I sad, “Guess so.” What else should I expect from the Catholic school girl?

Nearly everything I want in our sexual relationship eventually gets back to this. The orgasm denial, the pain, the bondage – all of it. For me, that suffering is a demonstration of my love. The more she asks me to suffer, the more I’m able to show her how much she means to me. The other night with the ice was perfect in that she went beyond where I was comfortable (the “easy” pain) and really and truly pushed me. It hurt. And I was thrilled. Not having orgasms is the same kind of demonstration, though it’s a longer, slower burn. I don’t think until last night she really appreciated how hard not coming is. She said she could go months without orgasm and not really feel a difference, but for me, it’d be rough. Unlike her body, mine continues to produce hormones and fluids and is designed to expel them regularly. There are chemicals my brain will only make after an orgasm that help keep me in balance. Plus, I can feel actual pain from not releasing. I assumed she knew all these things, but I think she thought not coming just made me hornier. Yes, it does, but it’s so much more than that. And I want and am willing to experience these things for her.

She shot back, quite rightly, that I wanted to feel these things, right? They give me a perverse pleasure. I like the whole pain and suffering thing. So surely it’s not all about genuflecting for her. My response is, of course it isn’t. I do need to get something out of the relationship. Being submissive doesn’t mean I don’t want to experience gratification, it just means I get it from different places. This, I think, is the common denominator of all relationships. Mutual gratification.

Which, of course, gets us back to the beginning of this post. I’m not sure we resolved anything specific during the conversation, but we surely moved some heavy boxes around. I’m glad we talked and I’m glad my friend gave us the little shove we needed to get the ball rolling.

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A good scene

Last night went a long way towards defrosting the prolonged funk I’ve been in. It started with Belle making a nice little orange roughy dinner (they’re ugly, but they taste good). After the kids ran off in all directions, she told me what was in store for me later if I did a good job cleaning up the kitchen and dishes.

I’ve mentioned previously that the whole domestic side of D/s hasn’t really manifested for us, but as she was sitting on the couch in front of the fire reading the paper and watching me clear the settings and wash the dishes, etc., she told me that she could see how some women get turned on by making their men work for sex. She also said that she was sure I’d rather she get turned on by making me do things in the bedroom, but really, I found that her getting turned on turned me on. She was relating how it got her going watching me work for the privilege of being sexually tortured by her and I’ll be damned if I didn’t feel the cock start to plump in my pants. Needless to say, with that as my encouragement, I took to my labors with greater vigor. Occasionally, I’d look up to see her watching me, a sly smile on her face. I remained plump while the kitchen looked better with every passing moment.

Laying in bed later, she instructed me to check to make sure the kids were out. They were, so she further instructed me to close the bedroom door and take off my clothes. Five milliseconds later, I was beside her, stripped, in our enclosed environment. She started to touch me and I whimpered. It was all very sweet and gentle, but it’s been ten days so a little was going a long way, if you know what I mean.

She then laid out the evening’s activities. First, I was to lay on my back. Then, she was going to affix plastic clothespins to my nipples (where they would remain for the duration or what would follow). Then, she was going to torture me with small baggies filled with ice cubes. After that, I was to give her a back and neck massage before bringing her to orgasm with my fingers. Finally, through it all, after I said my phrase of subservience, I would not be allowed to make any sounds whatsoever (except for those sounds made by breathing). I would not speak again until the next morning. That was the worst. Being quiet is really hard for me.

Now, if you get around the blogosphere, the preceding might sound familiar. In fact, Dev just posted about a similar scene between she and Jos. I recognized the similarities, but wasn’t complaining. This was exactly the kind of thing I wanted her to do, so who gives a shit where the idea came from? As Picasso once said, great artists steal. Yay for stealing! I said my phrase and laid on my back.

Emotionally, I felt myself descending into subspace. I realized I hadn’t been there much since my little freak-out and its warm envelopment was like salve for my psyche. I was placing myself under her control and it felt good.

She started by attaching the plastic clothespins. We’ve got a couple of nipple torture devices and these clothespins have the lowest level of intensity. I was somewhat disappointed that she was using these since, a minute after she put them on me, I stopped feeling them. It was like they weren’t there. After those were on, she started touching the cock and balls and stroking my inner thighs and stomach. It was all very soothing as I laid there, eyes partially closed, hands unsecured but holding onto the headboard above me.

Suddenly, she grabbed, squeezed, and pulled on my scrotum. Not allowed to make noise, all I could do was suck in my breath and hold it while she crushed my balls. She let go and let me lay there for a few moments before placing the first sack of ice on my scrotum. The shock of the feeling was intense. SO COLD. She just let it lay there and I could feel the cold sensation start to turn into a burning one as my balls tried to crawl up into my torso to escape the ice. I started to ache from the cold. Finally, she removed the ice and traced lines up and across my body with it. She let both of them rest on my nipples while she started to stroke the cock. Slowly at first, but with greater speed and intensity. Normally, it’s difficult to make me come this way, but I could feel semen start to boil in me. She backed off and removed the ice.

I laid there slowly writhing as the various sensations faded. My balls were still very cold and I closed my legs to help them warm. I shifted my closed legs away from Belle, but she grabbed the one closest and roughly pulled it back to her, forcing my legs back open. I wanted to moan, but bit my lip and tried to steady my breathing.

She started to run her hands over my legs and across the cock and balls again. It felt nice, but I was wary and knew the pain would be coming again. At one point, she made a motion with her hand that made me flinch and I realized I was scared of what was about to happen. I laughed at the thought. She didn’t really seem to have a plan, but I was nonetheless dangling at the end of her string. It was wonderful.

After a little while of this kind of treatment, she eventually ended up with both bags of ice on either side of the scrotum and the base of the still-hard cock as she treated it to long, insistent stroking. I again felt the orgasm building within me. I also felt the ring in the PA piercing start to hurt with the abuse, but I couldn’t talk. I moved my hand in to try to give her the message that it hurt, but she slapped it away. Now what? It hurt, but not so bad that I couldn’t take it. I felt that saying something would break the magic of the moment, but wasn’t I supposed to make any serious discomfort known? As I debated all this in my head, the growing realization of my impending orgasm loomed large. I was confused. Did she want me to come? She sure was putting her all into it and I was making it quite clear though body language of where we were heading. I started to actively fight the orgasm, bearing down on it and trying, through force of will, to keep it in me. The ice on my aching scrotum seared while the cock was hard and it took everything in me to keep from coming all over both of us.

Suddenly, she stopped. I was left panting, reeling from how close she took me. She took one bag of ice and placed it over the throbbing erection and ran the other all over my body before slapping it against my balls. Eventually, she removed the bags and ran her hands all over me in a soothing way. She was bringing me calmly back to earth. There was the matter of the clothespins to deal with, but they were so gentle I barely knew they were there. She brought her hand up to my right nipple and ripped the fucking pin off. Oh. My. God. Then she did the same to the left nipple. Holy fuck. That hurt. Then, as the blood rushed back in, they started to fucking throb. Maybe she didn’t know what she was doing, but that was bloody brilliant.

After a brief transition period where I cupped my poor, abused nipples it was time for the massage. I straddled her ass and rubbed the oil into her neck and shoulders. The cock was hard again and nestled between her ass cheeks, pointing up her spine. I gyrated my hips and ground my balls into her. I desperately wanted to fuck her at that moment and had to stop and place my head on her back. After regaining my composure, I poured my desire into her neck with my hands. Eventually, I went too far and she used her safeword (“ouch”), so I backed down.

Her orgasm was of the manual variety, but I so badly wanted to bury my face in her pussy. She came as usual and then, after letting me lay my head on her stomach for a minute or two, she rolled over and went to sleep. I was mute through the entire event.

I laid there, hard and horny, yet also drowsy and satisfied. She had taken me very deeply into my subspace. Maybe deeper than ever before. She had really tortured me, made me truly uncomfortable, and pushed me to the edge of composure. It was a terrific experience. Yes, it would have been nice to have been bound and wearing my collar, but I loved all of it. This morning, I awoke and still felt the submissiveness lingering within me.

Yep, all in all, a good scene. A really, really good scene.

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Static charge

Dev posted this yesterday:

…I worry that when we don’t have sex, orgasm denial becomes more like orgasm neglect.  Since Jos only comes with me these days, I start to feel like a vanilla girlfriend who agrees to put her boyfriend in chastity and then forgets about it completely.  “You can’t have an orgasm” is sexy.  “I don’t care” is not.

This nicely ties back to what I last posted, so I thought I’d give it a shout-out here. The rest of her entry is great, so check it out.

So after I wrote my previous post, I mentioned to Belle that I needed to do some naked stuff with her and, thankfully, she was thinking the same thing. We stripped and rolled around and eventually she told me to use the cock on her. She was worried about how it’d feel since the issue with the piercing was so recent, but I can report that once in, I felt no pain whatsoever. This is interesting since I can get the occasional twinge from just walking around or sitting down, but actually thrusting it into an enclosed space was fine. Weird.

She’s settled into wanting me to fuck her from above. Earlier in our relationship, she couldn’t come this way, but for some reason she can now and favors it over riding me. That’s great for her, but it’s a whole lot harder controlling my orgasm when I’m doing the fucking. I had warmed her up a bit beforehand, so it didn’t take too long before she was getting close. I was feeling the oncoming storm as well, but felt she was a little ahead of me so wasn’t too worried. I just kept sucking her tits and thinking about baseball (no, seriously – baseball) while trying to read her signals.

It was all going great until she started talking. She was saying how great her cock felt and how good I was at using it on her. That kind of thing. Over and over. My brain, being the biggest and most sensitive erogenous zone on my body, soaked this talk up like a sponge and I quickly found all thoughts of green baseball diamonds leaving my head. Suddenly, I was about to come and had to stop. I froze and tried to bear down to keep myself from doing it . She was still talking, but I was entirely focused on keeping the Rube Goldberg-esque orgasm mechanism from kicking in. Just as I felt myself getting the upper hand, I realized what she was saying was, “FUCK ME” over and over. I had to keep going.

What came next was very strange. I started fucking her again and she quickly started to come. I felt myself squirt into her, but I’m not sure if it was what locked and loaded from skirting the previous orgasmic edge or if I was actually coming. There was some intensity to the leakage that seemed related to orgasm, but it wasn’t the same. A few moments after she came, I knew I hadn’t because of how I felt. I still wanted to fuck, badly. I wasn’t floating in that post-orgasmic lethargy. The urge to bite her was strong. No, I hadn’t had a real orgasm. But what was it? An abandoned orgasm? A ruined orgasm? No idea. But it wasn’t a real orgasm, and that’s all that counts since I did not have permission to have one.

Last night, Belle was out to dinner with a friend and I was left at home. I was in bed absentmindedly fingering the ring going through the cock and felt it start to respond. I wasn’t trying to play with myself, but that’s eventually what happened. I really like the sensation of the loose remainder of my foreskin sliding up and over the metal. It’s fucking great. Personally, that sensation is better for me than how it feels when fucking. In any event, I brought myself to the edge several times. Deliciously close. Not so close that I leaked, but pretty damned close. I tried to stay awake, but I couldn’t and fell asleep before Belle got home. Now, as I’m writing this, I’m feeling hornier than I have in many days. It’s good to have that current running through me again. If Belle’ll have me, I’ll zap her with it tonight.