Tag: orgasm denial

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Carnivorous butterflies

It’s obvious, based on my last two posts, that there’s a certain amount of conflict within me. I guess this is to be expected. I am profoundly horny and deeply frustrated. Perhaps more so than at any time in my life. I have never felt so submissive or more easily manipulated.

For those keeping score at home, it’s now been eight days since my last orgasm and I’ve been in lockup for six. In addition, for various reasons, I have not been able to engage Belle in any significant sexual play in several days. I am left with no outlet. No way for my seed to spill, no pleasurable sensations for my meat, and no emotional release through satisfying my Belle. My chest is filled with quivering, delicate butterflies yearning to get out and consume human flesh. It is torture.

But let’s be real. Don’t for even one second think I’m not the happiest, horniest little bunny in the forest.

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WTF was that all about!?

OK, all that “gee, wouldn’t it be swell never to come again” crap from earlier today is out the window.

Belle had a work thing to go to so was home later than usual. As soon as she got home and was in my sight, I wanted her. I wanted her so badly. I managed to contain myself for a few minutes, but as she was standing next to me sorting through the junk mail, I kissed her. Deeply and wetly, sucking on her lips and breathing in her smell mixed with the odor of cheap bar food and wine. In fact, I more than wanted her. I needed her.

After a few moment of kissing, I staggered off to the bathroom and noticed that in that short time, with nothing more than the kissing, I had managed to leak precum into the device. Thick, sticky, and clear. I’m not normally a copious producer of precum, so this was somewhat surprising.

In bed later, she informed me I was to attend to her grooming. She allows me to keep her pubic hair trimmed and tonight I was to go down there and play barber. This was after my basically begging her to let me out of the device. I really really really need to feel my hard cock in my hand. I want so badly to stroke myself, knowing full well I’m not going to come but just desperately needing to feel the sensation of a free and happy erection. She said no and told me to get trimming. I went to work, moaning slightly at the sight of her pussy knowing all I could do was groom it and not touch it or otherwise play. Her aroma was intoxicating.

After, when the trimmer and towel and all the other grooming accoutrement had been put away and she was once more in my arms, I begged again for release. She again said no, that I wasn’t getting out until Saturday. Oh, and I wasn’t going to come once I did get out, even though she had previously told me I would. She said she was going to ride her cock and I was going to get nothing. And then I realized. I really did want to come. Really and truly. All that rubbish about not coming from earlier? Well, it’s fine to go on like that when she’s not around, but once I was in her presence and could feel the small of her back and taste her mouth and inhale the aroma of her womanhood and she said I wasn’t going to get to come…well, something in me went click. I will do whatever it takes to get an orgasm on Saturday.

Whatever. It. Fucking. Well. Takes.

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Hardly ever vs. never ever (ever)

Today, I stumbled upon this on the web and I find myself reflective. It’s a quick read, but allow me to quote the salient point:

I told my boyfriend, David, if we are going to be married, he would haft [sic] to surrender himself to me, which included chastity for life. He would never be allowed to masturbate, or enter me.

So after fifteen years of marriage, the dude has never come. Not once. I have to admit that the idea of never being allowed any kind of sexual release ever again is a little thrilling. I have found myself recently resenting the idea of orgasm since I’m finding myself so satisfied with denial. Once I do come, I know it’ll be two or three days to get back in the same mental and physical state as I was before the orgasm. Maybe more since I’m finding I’m actually building up a resistance to the affects of not releasing. I know I just told Belle I’d be happy with 2-3 releases a month, but could I ever want it even less? Once a month? Every ninety days? Once a year!?! Egad, when will it end?

I know I’m a more attentive mate since I’ve ceded control over my sexual destiny to Belle. But what drives that? If I resent the idea of an orgasm (and, incidentally, finding myself intrigued by the concept of ruined orgasms) then from where am I deriving my motivation? I assumed that I was more attentive and sweeter and all that because I was trying to get her to allow me to come, but what if I find myself never wanting to come again? And why do I find the idea of not being allowed to come actually arousing?

Unsurprisingly, Tom Allen has already tread this ground:

I mean, the orgasm denial was pretty hot, but much of what made it hot was the tantalizing hope of being allowed to come, even if that was “tomorrow.” Like the White Queen’s promise of “Jam tomorrow, jam yesterday but never jam today,” at least there was a hope that today would sneak up on tomorrow. But for the first time I began to be concerned that this might turn into a long-term arrangement with no hope that she would allow me to come.

No hope of coming. Ever.

Goddamn, that’s so freakin’ hot.

No, no, no – it’s scary and frightening and making me very insecure. I want to come, of course. Orgasms are fun. They feel great. Gotta clean those pipes once in a while, blow off some steam, relieve the pressure. Right? Right?

Then why was the idea of it making me hornier than ever?

Unfortunately, I’ve not been able to find the post where Tom explains why he’s so horny (and yes, that passage is where I stole this site’s motto). Here I am on the brink of going away to a no-kid romantic weekend in a secluded cabin in the woods with Belle and I’m actually a little taken aback by the idea that she’ll at some point give me permission to come. And I’ll have to do it. *shudder*

Twenty years ago, my entire reason for being revolved around shooting my wad into or onto anyone who’d let me. Now, I find myself thinking about sex and my partner maybe even more than I did as a hormonally charged youth with the exact opposite desired outcome. How does this make any sense? I honestly have no idea.

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Broken bunny

I slept about 2 hours last night. Yes, I seem to talk about sleeping a lot, but that’s when the roosters come to…well, roost, isn’t it? Last night wasn’t about discomfort in the chastity device, though. It was about my own body turning on me.

It’s been six days since my last orgasm and four days locked up in the CB6K. I’ll say again that many old hands at chastity and orgasm denial will laugh at my proclamation of six and four days as anything like meaningful milestones, but for me they are. Not only have I not had a release since last Wednesday, I haven’t been allowed to engage in any meaningful sexual activity with Belle since Saturday. That night, after I brought her to climax with my mouth, she teased me mercilessly in an interesting new (for us) way.

After her orgasm, I wanted her to caress my stretched balls and perineum (since my encased cock was unable to receive stimulation). I really wanted her to feel how hard I was and how strained I was in her device. Instead, she touched me everywhere but where I craved she would. I was on all fours above her and constantly trying to reposition myself so my cock would be where her hand was only to see her hand move elsewhere. It was excruciating and she knew it. It left me very, very aroused.

Sunday night, it was more of the same. No touchy the cocky. I wasn’t quite as horny afterward, but I was still running pretty warm. Last night, we talked a lot and she used her nails on me and bit me a little. Also, she said she really wanted to feel my cock in her, but that it was not to be. Maybe tonight (which means, of course, she’ll need to release me if only for a little while). Three nights of teasing led to one night of little sleep.

Basically, the lust – combined with the confinement of the device – finally got to me. I awoke about 30 minutes after we went to sleep with my brain buzzing. I spent some time online reading a few blogs and browsing FetLife which eventually brought me to this video of runied orgasms. Well, needless to say, sleep was out of the question after watching that. Read some more sites and eventually posted my first entree into pornographic fiction before laying in bed for hours and feeling sorry for myself. I almost woke her to beg for release since I knew 12.6 seconds after cumming I’d fall deeply asleep, but I didn’t bother her. I just laid there and buzzed. Until 3:00 in the morning.

Maybe I can come home early today and take a nap.

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A Week

It’s been almost a week since the last update. Sorry for shirking my duties!

Last Sunday morning, Belle woke saying she was hot for Thumper. This, I might say, is a nice way to wake up. Unfortunately, our youngest was up and in and out of our room, so Belle told me that I’d have to wait until that night to satisfy her craving. The previous night, I had made up for Friday’s transgression by giving her the orgasm she was denied 24-hours earlier. I guess that wasn’t quite enough, because she woke up wanting more. By lunchtime, I was also locked up in the CB6K. I went in voluntarily so I could test a new combination of ring and spacer sizes (middle ring, second to smallest space). Even though I wasn’t interested in being in there very long, Belle decided I might have to keep it on for a while. She reminded me that she, not I, decided when it came off. Putting it on of my own volition didn’t change that.

The day went by and we spent the evening over at her parent’s house celebrating her dad’s birthday. Belle had more than her fair share of wine and, by the time we got home and into bed, she was over the “hot for Thumper” phase from earlier. Now, at this point, if it were me in her position, I’d just say, “You thought we were going to have sex? Too bad.” But instead, she went somewhere else.

One of the things that lead to the troubles we experienced in out marriage was lack of sex. I don’t blame her for this. We both let it happen over a long period of time. We just stopped having it. We’d go six or eight weeks with nothing whatsoever – her not offering and me not asking. She didn’t seem to need it and I’d go and look at some web porn whenever I wanted to cum. Combined with other factors, this eventually led me into a short-lived affair. Last Sunday, instead of using her position as my sexual dominant to cover for her lack of interest, she instead took a left turn and started crying. She was worried, she said, that by denying me sex after suggesting we’d have it earlier that we were heading back to the place that caused our marriage to suffer.

Two things here. First, nothing could be further from the truth. Our troubles before were caused by joint sexual apathy, but now I felt we had a fully-engaged love life. She was denying me because I wanted to be denied. I was 1500% more satisfied with a fraction of the ejaculations. Second, as soon as she became vulnerable to me – when she cried and expressed her worry – I was completely blown out of my subspace. I could no longer be submissive to her and the presence of the CB6K on my cock went from being sensual to annoying in about 1/10th of a second. I asked a few times to have it removed (requests she basically ignored) and finally asserted that it had to be removed. The entire D/s dynamic was swept away.

I tried to explain how she had nothing to fear. That I was really much happier now and how she could use her disinterest as just another way to tease me (in effect, giving me what I wanted by not giving me what I wanted), but she was still weepy as we went to sleep. I can’t say we were fighting, but there seemed to be some unresolved issues. The next morning, I was still a million miles from feeling submissive. By that night, though, things were getting better. We had another, less tearful, conversation and I felt myself descending back into my subspace. I got a little heated up and she rebuffed me in the “right” way, which helped a lot. Now, I’m feeling close to where I was before. She let me cum Wednesday (somewhat unexpectedly) but has since locked me up again and said I will get out until next Friday (which will be eight days in the device, twice my previous record). Not only that, I’ll have been without orgasm for ten days (also a new record).

There’s more I can say about the ups and downs of the previous week, but I don’t have time at present. Suffice it to say, we’re heading back to a place where we’re both comfortable, which is good, and I’m walking around with the buzz of sexual denial keeping me on edge, which is great. It was amazing to me how quickly the trappings of sexual submissiveness could be pulled down, but am happy to feel them returning. All I ever want her to do is what feels right to her. As long as she’s happy, I will be, too.

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Thumper fails

The monthly visitor has left the building, so last night I had a feeling Belle was going to let me out. At first, she requested a massage to her back and feet, so I lit the candles, got the oil, and laid out the towel as she put the youngest to bed. Once that was done, though, she said she was cold and just wanted to be under the covers so I could warm her. Fine by me! I stripped (with permission) and climbed in. A few minutes later, she told me to get the keys and the little prison was off.

My last orgasm had been six days earlier. I have no way of knowing since I didn’t keep strict records on such things until I gave up control of my sexual satisfaction to her, but I’m pretty sure six days has to be one of the longest times I’ve gone without release in my adult life. So, needless to say, being naked and under the covers with my wonderful Belle Fille, my mind (and hands) immediately went to her body. She told me the massage was off, but that didn’t mean I was without instructions. First, I was to get her nice and warm by manually stimulating her with my fingers. Then, I was to mount and fuck her – slowly – until she archived orgasm. I, however, was not to cum. Normally, she’d let me cum after her, but I got the impression that this time I was out of luck.

After a little while of sucking and licking her nipples and doing my dead level best to stimulate her clitoris, I could no longer stand the anticipation and begged to fuck her. I mounted her and felt her soft, warm moistness envelope my six-day-neglected cock. I nearly shot my load right there. I forced myself to consider other, less interesting subjects and started the long, slow strokes she requested.

I can make my Belle cum about 99% of the time using my fingers, mouth, or cock. The most popular paths to her orgasms are my fingers followed by her getting on top of me and riding my cock. Mounting her missionary-style is the one that takes the longest for her. Knowing this, I also knew I was going to have to concentrate very hard not to cum. After several minutes of fucking her slowly and continuing to pinch, suck and lick her nipples, I found myself on the very brink of orgasm. I withdrew and, hoping to buy some time to recover, started to rub my dick head against her clit (something she’s enjoyed in the past). This time, however, she ordered me back in. She wanted me to fuck her to orgasm and didn’t much care that I needed to take a break. So, back in I went.

I felt a small slug of ejaculate escape upon entering, but I think was whatever had locked and loaded from the edge of the orgasm I had just come down from. I felt OK, though, and continued to work on her tits. I felt very much like her pet at this point. I was suffering – straining not to cum and in an awkward position fucking her while also working her tits. I was nothing more than her tool. A big meat fucking machine with her favorite dildo attached. She started to whisper how good what I was doing with her cock felt. I could sense she was getting close. She was breathing heavier and moving her hips in counter motion to my thrusts. Her mind was entirely on her own pleasure and without regard to what I was feeling and I knew it. And I loved it. And that’s when it happened.

I felt the wave of the orgasm too late to do anything about it. I came and I came. Probably six or more spurts into her. I tried to stop it and fought every one so that, even though I had been saving it up for a week, I didn’t enjoy a moment of it. I knew I had failed. She had not yet cum, but I did. I tried to keep going but the sensation on the head of my cock was too intense. Besides, I was starting to get soft. She told me to stop but to leave it in there. I pushed in as far as I could while she moved her hips around me. She did achieve a fierce little orgasm, but nothing like the OMFG type I had hoped she’d get.

I know there are dommes out there who would really make me pay for such a terrible transgression. My Belle’s not one of them. She does acknowledge that I owe her, but has so far not made clear what, if any, punishment I’ll receive for failing to contain my pleasure before hers. On the one hand, I love her for her sweet gentleness. She was really happy I got to cum and didn’t feel too much put out for not getting a good one herself. She says I owe her one tonight and that I better be able to contain myself this time. On the other hand, though, I wish she’d be a little tougher on me. I need to feel that what I did last night will lead to consequences I may not be happy about. If I know all I’ll get is a light verbal scolding, will I fight as hard next time to keep from cumming?

The best part for me about how she reacted was immediately after her little orgasm. She said she wished she had a harem so she could get the next guy to come finish the job I was unable to complete. Maybe he’d be a more worthy lover. This was perfect. The thrill that went down my spine as she said these mildly humiliating and non-threatening things (of course, there is no other guy and there never will be) was delicious. However, I think she felt that saying them hurt my feelings or something because she immediately started to backpedal. It’s kind of funny, actually. I think there might be a snarling little dominatrix in there somewhere. How else would those things have come from her lips at just the right time to stoke my feelings of failure and inadequacy? But then the nice girl came back and tried to cover it all up. I love that nice girl, don’t get me wrong. I married her. But, when I’m her pet, I’d much rather have the bad girl come out, kick up her feet, and stay a while.

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Thumper: An exotic pet

Wednesday night, after Belle released me from the device, we had amazing, intense, and extraordinarily satisfying sex (at least for me). While we were discussing the affect the CB6K had on me and us, I was able to explain to Belle the four pillars of my kinkiness. In short, they are:

  • Orgasm tease and denial – This is foundational. Not sure a lot of folks would consider this a kink in an of itself, but, as I’ve written about previously, I’m categorizing it as a core kink for me and our relationship.
  • Pain – I am a masochist. When I’m aroused, any feeling of pain seems to amplify my pleasure. So far, Belle has been unable to inflict pain on me that crossed my threshold beyond sexual enjoyment. Pinching, scratching, hair pulling, and biting have, so far, only increased my arousal.
  • Bondage – I desperately want to be tied up. We have experimented with this very little, mostly due to lack of proper equipment. I remember telling her about my desire to experiment with bondage at the very beginning of our relationship, but she had no way to deal with that information at the time and nothing ever came of it. Truth be told, I’ve never really been tied up by anyone, but I’ve often fantasized about being secured with straps and ropes and unable to control the things being done to me. Plus, bondage porn is some of my favorite.
  • Anal play – This is the one thing that I have plenty of experience with. In my youth, I had several male sex partners and have held a fascination with putting things up my ass for as long as I can remember. However, with the exception of a brief period near the beginning of our relationship, Belle and I had never really talked about it and we’ve never integrated it into our sex. It has been relegated to solo masturbatory sessions for more than a decade.

You may notice, as I have, that the first three bullets involve activities often related to dominance and submission (D/s). I’ve written at the beginning of this blog that I wasn’t especially interested in being Belle’s slave. Interestingly though, the closer we edge towards activities with strong D/s overtones I find I have more interest in being dominated, in at least a sexual way. I am still decidedly NOT interested in Belle dominating me all the time in all we do. However, in bed, I’ve yet to find the bottom of the pool of my submissive desire.

So once the talking part of our evening was over (or, at least, the part where we talked exclusively since we usually talk quite a bit while making love), and Belle was being especially cruel to my nipples, raking her nails down my back and ribs, digging them into my ass cheeks (almost, but not quite, as good as ass biting), and squeezing and pulling on my balls, I blurted out that I wanted to be her sexual pet. I had already used the metaphor to describe all these new kinky needs suddenly gushing from her husband and how it was not unlike having an exotic animal left in your care with no idea what to do with it. It clicked in my head that, in fact, I did want to be her sexual pet. Like any well-trained and obedient animal, I was eager to please her and willing to accept just about any command. The attention she was lavishing on my body was profoundly arousing. While I was still her husband, lover, and friend, I also found myself moving to a place in my head where I was, absolutely, her pet. And I loved it.

Since I’m often over-thinking things, here’s my take on this. I don’t want to be a slave because, in my mind, that requires the abdication of too much authority over my body to someone else. I do not want to kneel before her or wait for her command (and she’s not interested in that, either). However, a pet still has the ability to think and act for itself. It can have an overwhelming need to satisfy its master, but as any pet owner knows, even the best-trained animal will sometimes do what it wants and try to take control of a moment. In this way, I think the pet metaphor is a much better expression of my need to be submissive while balancing my dislike of being totally dominated.

Yesterday, my wonderful Belle Fille called me from San Francisco, where she’s visiting a friend. To while away the afternoon before her friend came home from work, she was doing some shopping and happened upon a local sex shop called Good Vibrations. She called me and we both shopped the store as she walked the aisles and I surfed their website. She’ll be coming home Sunday with cuffs, straps, a feather tickler, nipple clamps and – the thing I’m most happy about – a fur-lined collar for her pet.

My wife is making her kinky little bunny very, very happy.

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Like a Twinkie without the creamy filling

Random thought. Like I said in the previous post, Belle and I have been away from each other for a week with just one short (yet productive) visit. In that time, I have hardly touched myself, let alone masturbated. This is not the version of orgasm denial I had in mind! Once I get home, we’ll get back in the swing of things, but the absence of orgasms along with the absence of teasing or some other intense sexual stimulant isn’t fun, it’s just sad.

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Triple play

Last night I spoke to an old friend about this strange new world of orgasm denial (OD). It was refreshing because I felt very much that I wanted to share this with someone other than Belle. I’m sure most people would tend to keep this kind of thing to themselves, but I’ve been compelled to talk about it and I think I know why. First of all, now that I’m being totally open with Belle about everything I’m thinking and wanting, it’s sort of broken down a wall I had built between my fantasies and real life. Since she’s the most important person to me in the world and knows everything I just don’t feel like I need to keep it a secret from anyone else. Second, in the short time Belle’s had control over my emissions, I’ve gotten a glimpse of the incredible transformational potential of OD.

I know that in my body (and, I assume, the bodies of most other guys) my brain, heart, and dick are all on the same circuit. Get control of one of those things, and the other two are easy pickins‘. Get two, and it’s game over. What I feel has happened in our relationship is that my brain and my heart conspired to hand over my dick to Belle. Due to the tremendous trust I have in her (brain) and the great love I feel towards her (heart), it was perfectly natural for me to hand over my dick (which really serves him right for being so easily distracted and only waking up a couple of times an hour). The erotic power of this arrangement also pleases both the brain and heart immensely and that helps keep the dick in it’s place. Then, since the dick really is a simple minded yet powerful little guy, all the focus of his attention gets whittled into into a sharp point. In short, he has no other options. Like a kid frying an ant with a magnifying glass, he targets Belle and makes sure the brain and the heart (those elitist eggheads who put him in this spot to begin with) have no choice but to follow his imperative and focus on her more than they did before. That’s the beauty of this scheme. A simple yet sincere act of trust and love has, in effect, worked to increase those same feelings many times over. Soon, she became the absolute center of my universe. She hardly ever leaves my consciousness and her pleasure and well being have become a primary objective of mine. When she’s not near, I think about when she will be again. When she is near, I am always thinking of new ways to make her even closer to me. Heady stuff.

Truth be told, I had no idea OD would prove to be so potent. I am not a person with religious faith nor have I ever really felt its absence. However, this concept has proven to be so transformational that I begin to understand the zealot’s drive. I want everyone to do this. I think it should be standard operating procedure and, in fact, written into the marriage vows. Hell, I might just found a church around this. I could use the tax write-off. Anyone interested in joining Our Lady of Perpetual Denial?

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Yay, enthusiasm!

So I wrote the preceding post before talking to my Belle Fille. Now, I feel 180% better.

I’m still new to all this and I’m not used to carrying around all these hormones. I think my previous funk was from losing the physical closeness of she who keeps my key. Without her near me, all my energy and pent up frustration just curdled. Once I heard her voice though, it was like the sun shone down upon me. Now I’m excited again and the guys who’s sites left me angry and nonplussed earlier are humorous and entertaining again. Most of that shit’s still not my cup of tea, but who am I to judge what gets them off? March forward to happiness, my sexually deprived brethren!

I told Belle how I was surfing for porn last night but since I wasn’t able to actually do anything to myself it ended up being unfulfilling and actually somewhat mesmerizing in the way documentaries about animal mating habits on the Discovery channel are. She told me to stop torturing myself because she’d being doing plenty of that herself tomorrow night. Oh, that felt good! She also told me that she spent the day thinking about how I looked in the shower and what a great ass she thinks I have and how she wanted to bite it (take note: ass biting sends me over the fucking moon). Suddenly I had a vision of her telling me to get in the shower, lather up, and start stroking myself while she watched though the glass door and fingered herself or, even better, used the sweet little dildo I got her for when I was otherwise detained. (Imagine me now looking like Homer Simpson thinking about donuts: mouth open, tongue lolling out, drool.)

Oh god…there’s that wave of desire building up in me again. Except now it has a focus: Belle. As long as all those tornadoes of testosterone are crashing up against her, it’s fucking great. Absent her, they’re left to batter against my own doubts and insecurities. I so needed her tonight and she gave me just what I was missing. Thanks, Belle. See you tomorrow night. XO