Tag: orgasm

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Of lizards and pistons and pinchy bits

The answer to the question, “Why hasn’t Thumper posted recently?” isn’t “Because he had an orgasm,” it’s “Because he had two orgasms.”

It all started about ten days ago. Belle told me she was going to let me out for the weekend and I’ve found that once the meat knows its freedom is set at a fixed point in the future, it starts to get irritable. On that Thursday, I was dealing with an odd pinch in the tube and no shifting or pulling would make it go away. Finally, I asked for Belle’s key so I could remove the internal pinchy bits but she decided to just let me out altogether a day earlier than scheduled. And, of course, upon inspection, I found nothing wrong with it. It was just bitching.

That Saturday morning, we had sex. I got her off using Pink, the hard cock being essentially ignored by her. Not a bad plan on her part because it had been two months since the last time it had been of any use and its effectiveness as a pleasure object would likely have been limited. After she came, she let me mount her. I tried my hardest to make the experience count since I was not sure she’d let me have more than one shot this time around. I was doing OK at keeping a good pace and varying the tempo so I could just feel her soft, hot wetness slide along the hungry shaft, but at a point much too soon for me, something snapped. I would describe it as a mutiny in the control room of my brain, but it wasn’t like that. More like a rerouting of control around my brain. The lizard brainstem and lower half of my body essentially told my brain to fuck off and that they were going to handle the action from that point forward. I literally could not stop. My only function and my only focus was being a meat piston. I fucked the shit out of her…for about 28 seconds.

Then I came in a way unlike the more recent events. No tingling, no feeling of being pulled inside out, just grunts and flexing and surging and the need to fill her up. Fill her with the cock and fill her with the seed and make damned sure nothing else happened until that was over. I cannot say it was the most fun orgasm I’ve had, but “fun” is a concept unknown to the lizard brain. It was function. It was like when two dogs start going at it and you have to turn a hose on them to make them stop. The basic need for all living things to pass on their code drove my hips into her and pinned her to the bed with the cock until the transfer was complete and, finally, felt its own sense of animal satisfaction at the effort.

Sunday night, she gave me a handjob. I thought she’d let me come, but all the way up until the final moment I half expected her to pull her hand away so there was a bit of a race going on internally between her stroking and my getting all the ejaculatory mechanisms lined up in time. I grasped the headboard, hands up over my head, as she pulled the orgasm from my body. It was actually quite wonderful and left me feeling dopey and fuzzy sleepy warm. But, she wanted me back in right then, so she rubbed the sticky goo on her hand all over my chest allowing its stench to fill my senses. Then, she handed me the key and sent me off to the harsh white light of the bathroom to reaffix the steel and clean the goobery mess from my chest hair. I did it, reluctantly. My fuzzy sleepy warmth was all washed away by the experience. I came, and I liked it, but I was not allowed to bask.

For the better part of the week after, it was this thing. This annoying, clinging, intrusive alien sitting in my pants. Almost immediately, the internal security bits were biting me again, so she let me take those out, but that didn’t make my mental opposition to being encased any less severe. Just the opposite. None of my usual routines work the same way when the PA fixing and ring aren’t in there. With them, enough space is held open to allow water to be easily flushed though, but without them the stupid meat is easily squished and squashed and blocks the free flow water in and urine out. The end result of all this wasn’t as bad as I probably felt it was, but for days it was like canned meat swinging between my legs. Nothing good about it.

Things started to shift by Thursday. I was to drive a few hours away that day and be apart from Belle for two nights. Suddenly, the idea that I had to have the fixing and ring in place was paramount. Their absence made me feel incomplete rather than inconvenienced. My device was not whole and neither was I. That morning, Belle left me with her key and I dutifully tended to the total securement of the cock with no ill feelings or surreptitious squeezes. She had given me an opportunity to make it right so the idea of taking advantage was furthest from my mind. I put in the ring, threaded the fixing though it and then slid the still-flaccid cock into the tube and felt along with it the sensation of warmth and comfort and security. It was like putting on my favorite sweatshirt, not an implement of bondage and sexual frustration. I was where I was supposed to be and it felt right.

I was back home by Saturday and she let me give her an orgasm. I had the palpable feeling of being a human sex toy as it was all about her and not at all about me. She didn’t care that I would be left horny and caged and unable to sleep. That was my place. I should get used to it. I was cleaving to her as the orgasm pulsed from between her legs and I grunted along with her moans. I was coming, too, but though her pleasure. As expected, I slept fitfully.

Now, a week in to a lock-up of undetermined length, the meat and its cage have settled back into their symbiotic relationship. It’s a part of me again. I look in the mirror and I see it and it looks like me. Its contents don’t. That thing looks like the other. The intruder. But it’s OK because the lock is on and it can’t get out.

Funny how that works.

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Gone virtual

“This is an experiment,” Belle said.

“You’re experimenting on me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Hers

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

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

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

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

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

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Pillow talk

It went something like this…

“I’m horny.”

“I know.”

He grinds into her, pressing the steel cage between their bodies.

“It’s been a long time.”

“A long time?! It’s only been…what? Two and a half weeks?”

Whimper.

“You’ve gone far longer than that, haven’t you?”

Quietly, “Yes.”

The cock in the cage swells.

“You’ve got a long time more to wait.”

Quietly, “I know.”

“Two weeks is a long time for a normal man, but you’re not normal, are you?”

“No.”

“No. You’re more…evolved. Aren’t you?”

Whimper.

“You don’t need to come as often as regular men. Two weeks. That’s nothing for you, is it?”

“No.”

The cock is pretty hard now, but stifled in its prison. Her cock, not his. Right where she wants it to be.

“Maybe you’re getting weak. Maybe we need to push you to new feats of endurance.”

Whimper.

“Stop whining.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He kisses her on her lips. Her full, warm, lips – redolent of all the things he wants but will not get. Not that night.

“Good boy. Now, I’ll let you give me an orgasm.”

“Thank you.”

Whimper (inside).

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Just don’t

During my recent week of ridiculous orgasmic bliss, while laying in bed with Belle enjoying the afterglow of maybe the second or third she had let me pull out of myself and onto my hand and stomach, I said something to the effect that all orgasms should be like that. That is, enjoyed in the company of one’s partner.

In the moment – that dopey, sleepy, unfocused moment – it seemed so right. So natural. It was one of those “everybody should be doing it this way” kind of epiphanic visions that those of us who fuck around with our hormones experience from time to time. If the time comes when Belle and I no longer use chastity devices, I think this will be a permanent modification of our lifestyle. It seems like I’ll only ever come with her knowledge and/or permission from now on.

I realize this is skating pretty close to the point of view that it’s men’s “addiction” to masturbation that drives couples apart. I still don’t buy that. Men are not addicted to masturbation. Saying that is like saying they’re addicted to breathing or eating when they get hungry. A man’s reproductive system and the motivation behind his need to orgasm are totally different than a woman’s. It’s kinda like that candy production line Lucy and Ethel worked on where the chocolate keeps coming out, forever and ever, no matter what they do. With age, the line might slow down a bit or even stop, but for the majority of a man’s life, that line just keeps on chugging, driving the desire for release, piling up little chocolates that need to be wrapped.

We know what happens when that cycle is tampered with. I’ve been trying to describe it for the past 2+ years on this blog and I still can’t fully relate what it’s like, but the net result of letting that natural desire for release build (and then attaching it to your partner’s pleasure) can lead to relationship-altering benefits. It’s not all sugar and fairy dust, to be sure, but then again, nothing ever is.

So anyway, back to my moment. I saw that absent a device and absent the partner’s control over the release, another way this could work (and perhaps work just as well) would be to always – and I mean always – come in the company of your partner. Just don’t ever let yourself fall into the lazy trap of disconnecting sexual pleasure from your partner. That’s what happens when men become “addicted” to masturbation. They and their partner allow them (consciously or not) to take the path of least resistance and, after time, a groove gets carved into their brain and it becomes the main way they achieve the release that’s always building within.

But it doesn’t have to be that way. Just don’t let it. Just don’t come without them. I guarantee you they will be thrilled by the idea. You don’t need to bring D/s or chastity or any of the “weird kinky shit” into the conversation. Just tell them you never want to have another sexually pleasurable moment without them ever again. They’ll melt.

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Where I am

I’ve received a couple of messages like this one from reader Andy (who’s favorite color is green):

No entries in so long…what’s up? Are you ok?

Yes, I’m OK. Thanks to all who asked.

To recap. Last we spoke, I was unlocked. Belle left me out for the period between Christmas Eve and New Year’s. I think I went back in on the 2nd. Anyway, I had come five times in that week. It was an interesting period for me because, even though I was coming fairly regularly, I didn’t really lose the urge to do so until the fifth time. After that one (which, like the first, happened inside Belle), I was well and truly tapped out.

But the fact that I wanted to come more even after the third and fourth effort and how the urge shut down so completely after the last makes me think there’s a significant mental component to my desire to orgasm. I knew she was going to let me come a lot over a relatively short period of time, so I kept wanting to do it. Also, I knew when the last one had happened and my need for more shut down commensurately.

So anyway, she put me back in the day after the fifth. I did not want that fucking thing on me. I’ve written about this before, but the stupid thing really bummed me out for a while. Four to five days, I’d guess. I was just this big, heavy, clunking thing and I had razor burn behind the ring and it hurt and I was grumpy about it and hated it. And she said she didn’t care. In-the-moment hottness factor of zero, retrospective hottness factor of 8. Then, at some point, I asked her why she put me in it. First, she said, she thought it was sexy. Yes, she now apparently thinks her husband is more sexy with a secure cock than he is with a functioning one. Two, she said she thought it was good for me. I am imprisoned for my own good.

It speaks to how I’m in such a different place now that just writing those last few sentences have filled my tube and caused my heart to pound in my ears. About two weeks in and the hornies have started to come back. I had a hard time falling asleep last night because of how turned on I was and that hasn’t happened since she put me in. That’s a good sign, I suppose. Also, the device has transmogrified back into an extension of me and not some clunky steel thing I have to put up with. That’s always kind of a magical thing, to be honest.

So, as is typical for men in my position, I start to wonder how long I’ll be like this. The Christmas/New Year’s break, while unscheduled, was not entirely unexpected. It was one of those markers on the calendar that seemed like logical points for her to let me out. Birthdays, anniversaries, major religious holidays, etc. But, looking forward, I don’t see another logical release point until our family vacation at the end of March. She hasn’t said anything other than making vague and ominous warnings about “duration records”. I have an overnight business trip in February, but other than that, it’s not looking good for the cock.

There’s where I am. Not bad. Not fantastic, but could be way worse. Thanks again to those who took the time to enquire.

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Fourth quarter, third shot

Belle continued the zone flooding/hard reset regimen and let me come again night before last. We were watching Monday Night Football (can’t believe NO pulled that one out) and, early in the fourth quarter, she said, “Get naked. Then take care of yourself.”

“Do I have a choice?” I was actually kind of sleepy.

“No.” Well. OK, then.

I admit it was a little surreal laying next to her in bed, watching football, jacking off under the covers. Like that’s normal or something. She paid little attention to me and stayed engaged in the game while I pulled on the cock and felt my heavy 4 ga circular barbell flop around in my PA. I don’t usually get to wear that piece since the cock is almost always in a steel tube, so it’s a bit of an extra treat to be out and sporting it. Anyway, even though I’d already come twice in three days, I was able to get it up quickly and found my groove easily. I didn’t waste any time and squirted quietly onto my stomach (being careful to avoid the sheets). She never stirred or said a word. It was like I was clipping my toenails or performing some other mundane act of self-maintenance. I thanked her and missed the rest of the game as sleep quickly reached up for me.

Fast-forward 24 hours and we were in the same spot watching a different game (Sunday Night Football on Tuesday!), me naked, but this time the word was never given. And yeah, three orgasms in five days, but I wanted to go again. After the game was over (skol Vikings!) and she was asleep, I wanked slowly and kept it hard for a while, but never got to the edge. Normally, two shots would put me down for a week or more, but here I am still unlocked and with the possibilities of more orgasms floating around out there. I’m not crazy horny like I can be when I haven’t come in weeks, but I’m some flavor of horny I can’t say I’ve been in a while. There isn’t a constant tickle in my groin for activity, but my brain is definitely instigating something. The lizard knows there’s a chance of more sticky white goo out there and isn’t sated in the least. He wants more. Will he get it? Only Belle knows.

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Let’s get small

Belle let me out on Christmas Eve morning. I had absolutely no idea it was going to happen. She hadn’t dropped any kind of hint whatsoever. Even more surprising was the orgasm she let me have right after the tube came off. Note, I said tube, not device, because the ring was still on. By the time the cock popped out, it was too fat to get the ring off.

“That’s OK,” she said, “We’ll fix that soon enough.”

The ring is very tight when the tube’s not there to restrict the erections and it made my ball sack plump out like a punching bag. Ironic since she did give it a few whacks, but nothing extensive (alas). She mounted me and slid the overly engorged cock inside the warm wetness. We came shortly afterward at essentially the same moment (which she always likes), though the tight ring made the ejaculation feel restricted and weird. For those playing along at home, that was just about seven weeks since my previous orgasm.

She let me go again this morning, but it was for the sole purpose of making me come. She didn’t even remove her top. I fucked her for maybe 1.3 minutes before spewing so fast that I almost missed it. We had discussed the possibility of putting me through a “hard reset” with regard to orgasm. Perhaps making me come 5-7 times over a week to “flood the zone”, as it were. Then go back to denial. This morning’s quickie might have been step two in the zone flooding procedure. She’s not sure yet.

Anyway, as to why I came so fast. I told Belle today about my last post (which she has not yet read). I told her that the cock felt smaller to me, even though it wasn’t. She immediately got it.

“Well, it is smaller than that hunk of steel you were carrying around down there. Also, I’m sure the feeling of smallness reenforces your submissive tendencies.”

She’s right, on both counts. No, neither of us are saying that guys with smaller dicks are naturally submissive or anything like that. Nor that guys with non-small dicks can’t be submissive. But, I admit, the idea that I have a small dick does put me more in the proper subbie state of mind. Of course, it’s not small. It’s perfectly average. Also, we both know it gives Belle a great deal of pleasure. But the idea. That’s the thing.

So, back to the uber-quick orgasm from earlier. The entire act seemed perfunctory. She essentially said something to the effect of, “Come on, let’s go.” This wasn’t about making love, it was about getting me off as efficiently as possible. In my head, I had a flash of a trusty chastity porn story: This was the one day of the year the lovely wife let her normally chastity-bound husband put his little dick where her boyfriend’s much more substantial member frequently goes. I mean, seriously, I don’t even think it was that well formed in my head, but as soon as the outlines of the concept of the fantasy appeared, it was like a direct circuit snapped into being from the cock to my brain and BAM!, I was coming.

It was later that day when she correctly deduced two of the three reasons I’m feeling small. One, the device feels bigger than what it contains. Two, it plays into my submissive tendencies and I’m projecting smallness onto it. But three was that the guys I’m seeing stream by in the never-ending current of pornographic images I peruse for the Portfolio are all bigger than me. Even the softies are big and plump and heavy-looking. I know, duh, right? It’s porn. They’re going to use the better-than-average-sized guys more often. But, when I’m locked and have been for a while, their cocks become my only frame of reference. I don’t have a proper one (just a big steel tube), so when it makes an infrequent appearance, it seems smaller than normal.

So I say to her, “You know, you could use this to your advantage.” Meaning, she could reenforce my feelings of penile inadequacy to drive me deeper into my subspace. I know she doesn’t think the cock is small. I know it isn’t. I know she loves it and gets off on it and all that. But if we pretended otherwise – if she were to comment on how small it was or how she wished it were bigger – that would have an impact on our dynamic.

It sounds cruel, but it’s just make-believe. Not unlike the other make-believe we use in our relationship all the time. I don’t know if I’ll always get off on the small penis thing. Like I said last time, I’m as surprised as anyone that I’m feeling this way. Now we’ll see if Belle’s willing to use it against me.

Mailbag
You may have noticed a link at the top of the page called Feedback. It’s a new way to share your comments or questions with me, as a few people have already done.

Eric said…

Hey there, Love your blog! You’ve really inspired me to get the same set up. However, I’m wondering if it is possible to use a cable to support the weight of the device. Check this out. Hopefully you won’t have a problem viewing this, as you may need to log in. Do you think this would fit with the integrated lock and PA fixing? Thanks and happy holidays! Eric

The image Eric linked to is of someone’s CB6Ks fitted with a long wire worn around the guy’s waist like a belt. I’m guessing it’s an anti pull-out measure.

To answer your question, Eric, I think the weight of the Steelheart would make a thin steel cable bite into your skin. It would probably work with the Steelheard since it has two alignment posts like the CB6K does, but if you’re wearing a PA fixing like mine, I’m not sure what the extra cable would accomplish. I don’t find the device needs any extra support, though someone wearing a larger cuff ring might, I suppose.

Chaste said…

Thumper, I’m shopping for a strap-on as a stunt dick for servicing Goddess. Where did you get yours? Thanks and Merry Christmas and Happy new Year

Merry Christmas and happy New Year to you, too!

I got Mr. Darcy and my harness at Edenfantasys. Good luck!

Long-time reader Pastry Chef said…

Hey Thumper-can’t say I like the new look. I miss the links and the low contrast is just boring. I was wondering-do you find yourself less pulled to blog now that you run a forum? Happy Holidays!

Happy holidays to you, too!

I’m sorry you don’t like the new look, but I do. A lot! I switched three minutes after finding it. I love the minimalism and the Helvetica. I know from previous experience, though, that I can’t make everyone happy. Every new look as turned someone off. Hopefully, you’ll get used to it. In the mean time, I’ve added a links page.

Regarding the forum and posting less, my recent spat of postless days has had more to do with what was happening in my head than on the forum. In fact, I haven’t spent any time at all there for several weeks. Back when I was, though, I wouldn’t say it was making me less interested in posting, but it does burn off some of the finite daily energy I use to write on the blog. On the other hand, it’s also given me things to write about I might not have otherwise. It’s probably a push. As I’m just trying to get back into the swing of things, I suspect I’ll spend more time and energy here than there, though.

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Hotel

I apologize in advance for the extreme length of today’s missive. I didn’t intend for it to go on and on like this, but there was too much to say!

As I mentioned the other day, Belle and I had a kid-free few days this past weekend. We celebrated by spending Friday night at a luxe downtown hotel with an on-premises spa.

We checked in and decided to grab a light dinner downstairs before retiring for the night. I had brought along a number of toys and accoutrement, but wasn’t too sure what would happen. I was locked in the Steelheart and Belle had just come the night before, so if it were any other run of the mill Friday night, nothing would have happened. I braced myself for that eventuality and had an alternate checklist of activities if she happened to fall asleep or something. I didn’t wonder if she was going to let me out because it’s a given that my normal condition is to be exactly as I was.

Back in the room, she wanted to lay on the bed and talk which was great because I like talking to her. She allowed me to go naked since it’s the state I prefer to be in when it’s an option. So there I was, naked with a big shiny thing where the dick usually is, with her snuggled under the covers in her jammies. And we talked.

At some point – and I’ll tell you right now that most of this evening is something of a blur for me so what you’re reading is my best approximation of the events – she mentioned that she planned on letting me out that night. She had already told me I would be out for the massage the next day, but as I said, I didn’t expect to be released before morning. Once she said it I knew I really wanted out. You just don’t say no to these kinds of opportunities. I expect I was not unlike an excited puppy from the time she mentioned it to the moment she let me out.

Back on the bed, now totally naked, she made it clear that I wasn’t to touch the merchandise. It was at this point that I started to get the idea that something was going to happen, though I had no idea what. She had previously said I wouldn’t come until the end of the year, but there’s a ton of stuff you can do besides that with a hard cock if you’re imaginative enough.

“What did you bring?” she asked.

I told her: the flogger, the bondage straps, nipple clamps, my collar, handcuffs (but not the key) and Mr. Darcy with his harness.

“Not Pink?” she asked, meaning her favorite vibrator.

“No, I couldn’t find it. I assumed you brought it.” It hadn’t been in it’s normal positon in my nightstand (handy for when she wants it), nor was it in hers.

“I didn’t bring it,” she said. Come to think of it, we need to figure out where that went. Anyway…

“Get the clamps and your collar.” A thrill of excitement when through me. She hardly ever collars me. “And the cuffs.”

I brought the collar over to her side of the bed and kneeled and dropped my head so she could buckle it behind my neck. A low subbie thrum started inside me.

Back in bed next to her, I asked if she had ever wanted to try the nipple clamps.

“No, I don’t like pain.”

“How do you know until you try?” I asked, “Maybe you could try it just for a second on one nipple.”

She pulled her top down so her right breast was exposed and she placed the clamp gingerly onto her plump, succulent nipple.

“OWW!!!!” she said. So much for that idea.

She griped about it for another five minutes or so before attaching a clip to my left nipple. Then she strung the other through the ring on my collar and clipped it onto my right nipple. Then she pulled. And pulled and pulled. And the cock rose accordingly.

“You are so weird,” she said.

“I know,” I replied as the cock twitched and surged.

She snapped the handcuffs around my left wrist.

“You have the keys, right?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“You sure? Because this’ll be hard to explain during the massage tomorrow.”

She got up and got the keys to the handcuffs, showed them to me, and then placed them on her nightstand before closing the cuffs around my right wrist. They were tight, digging into me. Every movement caused them to bite harder.

Collared, clamped, and cuffed. I slipped a little deeper into my headspace. She teased me by running her fingers around the throbbing cock, over my balls (slapping them lightly) and back up to the chain connecting the clips. Pulling. I groaned. The cock flexed.

“Please touch it,” I begged.

“No.”

Whimper. Whine. I moved to kiss her, but she pulled her head away.

“Please let me kiss you. I want to kiss you.”

She moved her head back down, just close enough for my lips to graze hers, but not close enough for a real kiss.

“Please…”

She kissed me, full on the mouth, but just once and she didn’t linger, then she got up from the bed and started to rummage through my bag. She brought out the bondage stuff and strapped my ankles to each of the king-sized bed’s feet. I retained some movement, but couldn’t close my legs. Next, she started looking around the room as if she had misplaced something. She grabbed a cloth napkin from the bar and tied it over my eyes like a blindfold. I couldn’t see a thing. Then she made a little happy sound like she had discovered something she had lost. That was followed by a few metallic sounds. CLAMP CLAMP!

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Maybe I should go down to the bar and have a drink. Leave you like this to stew.”

Groan. I think she considered it. Really was thinking about it, but then I felt her get back into bed with me. She continued the teasing from before. My cock was desperate for real touching, preferably stroking, and I moved my hands down as if to oblige but she jerked them back over my head.

“No touching!”

They weren’t tied that way, but it was clear she wanted my hands up over my head or near my face.

“Please,” I begged again, “please touch it.”

“If I do, then what? What’s in it for me?”

“Anything. Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, please, just touch it!”

“OK…”

I felt something cold and sharp on the hard shaft. It clamped down on either side of the cock and moved up and down, slowly.

“How does that feel?”

“Ungh! It hurts!”

“Hurts bad or hurts good?”

“Both!” I writhed.

I could feel the metal bite the smooth, silky skin of the shaft but also feel the internal stimulation of being stroked. I needed this so bad. Craved it. Two months since I last came, and she was jacking me off with some kind of sharp, painful metal device.

“Do you want me to stop?”

I paused. It hurt. But it also felt good. Really good.

“No.” I said quietly, then moved my hips closed to her, arching my back so she could get a better angle on the meat. What felt like sharp little teeth were biting into the stiff shaft and it hurt, but I couldn’t imagine it stopping. I was getting more than enough jacking off stimulation to hold my attention.

Occasionally, she stop the stroking and I’d feel her use whatever it was on my nuts. She’d clamp the sharp teeth round one of my nuts and squeeze. Then the other. Then back to the shaft. I could actually feel the rumblings of an orgasm, even against the pain of the metal.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Yes? Want me to stop now?”

“Oh FUCK, no. Don’t stop. Please.”

“Does it hurt?”

“YES! But I like it. I want you to jack me off.”

“You. Are. So weird.”

“I know,” I said softly, moving closer to her.

“And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

More stroking. More biting. More feeling the need to come, though I realized it was never going to get there with the level of stimulation I was getting from whatever it was she was stroking me with.

“What is that thing?”

She pulled the blind from my eyes and held the ice tongs in front of my face, snapping their little teeth together.

“Jesus Christ!”

She moved it back down to the cock and grabbed it with the little teeth.

“I thought you liked it,” she said.

“Ungh,” I replied as she stroked me some more.

She put the tongs aside and pulled off her shirt. I tried to kiss them, get my mouth on her nipples. She pushed me away.

“Not yet.”

Then she started to flog the cock and my balls. Gently, but then with some force. Not enough to damage me, but enough to get my attention. She’d slowly drag the suede lashes over the straining and, now thanks to the ice tongs, stinging meat. Then flick them across the shaft. Then the balls. Then dragging them again, seductively. Lovingly. Again and again.

“Please, will you fuck me?”

“No.”

Whine.

“Not yet, anyway.”

More flogging. More pulling on the clamps which had, by this time been on me for much longer than usual.

“I really should just leave you like this all night long. Tied up, nipples clamped.” I whined again.

“Please. Please fuck me. I don’t need to come. I just want to feel you. It’s been so long. Two months.”

“I know,” she said cooly, “That’s a long time, isn’t it?”

“Please…” was all I could muster. I wanted it so bad. Was so horny. She had played me perfectly all night, leaving me right on the edge of where pain turns to pleasure, but not going too far. I needed to feel something soft and hot and wet on her cock. I wanted her.

She took the cock in her hand. I moaned deeply. This wasn’t her pussy, it was pretty good.

“It stings.”

“Really?” and she stroked me harder.

The cock stiffened. I could feel my balls drawing up. I was getting close…

Then she stopped, leaving me bobbing in the air.

“Oh God!”

She waited, perhaps counting the beat of my heart by the bounce of the cock in midair. Then she grabbed it again and resumed the stroking.

“You want me to fuck you?” she asked.

“Oh, Jesus, yes! Please fuck me!”

“And…what’s in it for me?”

“Anything. Anything you want.” And I meant it.

She made herself completely naked and climbed on top of me. She straddled my hips and moved the abused, desperate cock in position against her pussy’s lips. Then she plunged down onto it. I lost my breath, unable to breath. It felt so good. So amazing. Hot. Everything I needed it to be.

Her breasts were in my face and I tried to get her nipples in my mouth, but her motion as she fucked her cock made them hard targets.

“That’s a good boy,” she said, “Good Thumper. You know what you’re supposed to do…”

But it was too hard. I couldn’t keep hold of them. Eventually, she moved off and I slipped out with a wet smack against my stomach. She removed the clips from my nipples and twin lasers of intense pain seared into me. Unmoved, she pulled them out of my collar and tossed them aside. She picked the keys to the cuffs up off the nightstand but didn’t have a good handle on them and they fell into the hot wax of the candle.

“Fuck!” she said. Then she got the tongs and used them to fish the keys out.

Clamps and cuffs off, she put her hand over the cock again.

“Oh good, you’re still ready,” but she stroked it a few times for good measure before mounting me again.

She fucked me slowly as I sucked her tits. Her eyes closed, she was enjoying it at least as well as I was. After the initial shock, I settled in to as useful a position as possible. She may have given me what I was begging for, but now it was for her.

Best intentions aside, I said, “I’m getting close.” She slowed down. I could see her working it out in her head. Would I come or not? It had “only” been two months. After a smal rest, she’d pick up her rhythm again. I’d focus on a place far, far away, but it was so hard. The two months and the stroking, both with her hand and the ice tongs, conspired against me.

“I’m close,” I said again. What would happen? Would she roll off of me? Make me finish her in the normal way?

“Go ahead,” she said, and started to fuck me faster.

“Really?”

“Yes. Fuck me.”

And I did. I fucked her as hard and as fast as I could. Moments later, I felt it. From somewhere deep, deep inside the orgasm started to build and grow and rush forward before exploding out of me and into her. Three, four, five giant loads of semen surged out of me. I cried out at the intensity. The entire world had gone away and all there was was this feeling. My orgasm.

It finally subsided and I was left a gibbering, gooey mess. She rolled off of me and I felt two months of pent up desire ebb from my pores. Fuck, that was awesome. Even as the cock was laying against me, fat and happy, it continued to ooze its payload. Now, of course, I was repulsed by it. The slippery, foul smelling paste. While she attended to herself, I got some tissues and wiped as much of it as I could from my skin.

She got back into bed and I cleaved onto her.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Awesome. Thank you so much for that. It was so great.”

“I haven’t come yet.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

I started in again on her nipples and fingering her pussy. It was super slick with my ejaculate and felt wider than usual. Well-fucked. She seemed to enjoy what I was doing, but it didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

“I want you to eat me out.”

Oh, fuck. I cringed. I whimpered again. “Really?”

“What’s wrong? I thought you liked that.”

“I do, but…” I just came in there!

“Well, you should have brought Pink. Come on, cowboy, get to it,” she said as she spread her legs wide. “You said I could have anything.”

Busted. I was groaning the whole way down. I could smell it. I had already felt it. I knew it was in there still. There had been so much.

I closed my eyes figuring it’d be easier if I couldn’t see anything. Don’t get me wrong, I love pussy, but I’ve never found it to be the most appealing thing immediately after an orgasm. Regardless, I figured the band-aid approach was best. Just get it over with.

My tongue stared to lap at her clit. That would be the area of least contamination, I thought, but she liked how it felt and started to move her pussy around, guiding my licking.

“That’s a good boy,” she purred. I licked. Oh, god. I licked and lapped and reached up to her nipples, hoping she’d come so I could stop.

“Can you taste yourself?” she asked.

I grunted noncommittally. Of course I could. Fucking hell.

When she finally came, she pushed my face into her and my tongue deeper into her pussy. She clamped her legs around my head. There was no getting away. Her orgasm spasmed across my tongue and she squeezed more of my seed into my mouth on onto my face.

When she unclamped, I moved out as quickly as possible, wiping my face with my hands.

“Good job, Thumper.”

Next morning, before we went to get our 80 minute deep tissue massages (can you imagine?), she allowed me to jack off one more time and finish with an orgasm. She was in the bathroom getting ready and would occasionally look in my direction, a look of bemusement on her face.

“What?! You said I could!”

“I know…”

I tried to draw it out as long as possible. To savor the rare moment of self gratification. I came again and, just like before, it was copious. Great globs of it oozed out of me. The orgasm was half as intense as the night before, but even then, was ten times better than I used to have when they were mine.

Later, after the rubbing and the fragrant oil and the fruit juice, as we were leaving the spa, she asked if I was relaxed.

“Oh yes,” I replied, “In more ways than one.”

—

In thinking about this after the fact, I can easily say that night in the nice hotel when Belle Fille abused me and then fucked me and then made me eat my own seed from her was one of the top five sexual experiences of my life. I’m so, so lucky to be married to such a wonderful and caring woman.

Thank you, Belle Fille. Thank you for everything.

Posted on

In out up down

Hey, kids! Miss me?

So…what the fuck’s up with you? Sorry for the prolonged radio silence. Started out, there wasn’t much to talk about. For the week or two before Labor Day, things got quiet between Belle and I. No sex to speak of and me locked up tight. It’s the kind of thing that would have made me all introspective and pissy before, but this time there was a more peaceful vibe settled over me. It’s hard to describe, but I was contentedly anxious. I wanted the contact with her very much but also was able to recognize that control over that contact was, as I wanted, totally hers. I would get it when she was ready, not before. We talked a little somewhere in there and I told her not to worry about it. All I wanted was to know that she hadn’t forgotten me.

Then Labor Day rolled around and, as usual, so did my birthday. She let me out after just over two months because the time had come. She wanted to feel her cock inside and she was going to let me come. I had this great idea that she should let me come before she wanted to fuck me so I’d be better able to control myself when the big moment was at hand. She went along with it and allowed me to jack off next to her in bed. That orgasm had been about nine weeks in the making and felt, as usual, amazing. So much better than a normal orgasm. While it was happening – mid-spurt, as it were – I couldn’t breath. I was pumping semen all over my hand and stomach and literally could not take a breath. That’s how amazing it was. Immediately afterward, I was disgusted by all the sticky, creamy stuff all over me. Plus the smell. Ew.

That night was a disaster. She was ready, but I couldn’t get it up. Oh, the irony. She felt like it was her fault and felt bad which, of course, made me feel bad. I don’t know what the deal was, but it sucked. Then she got her period.

I was out for the rest of the week. Belle said she wanted to “air it out” for a while. So I walked around like all the other boys, but was pretty much always aware that things were not “normal” down there. I could feel stuff I wasn’t used to feeling. I slept through every hard-on. It was kinda like being on vacation.

Saturday, we went on a date. She asked me how I was feeling being unlocked and still under the effects of a (relatively) recent orgasm. I kinda shrugged. I felt fine. Truth is, I don’t like the empty post-orgasmic period. Everything feels less interesting and kinda gray and flat. I have grown so accustomed to the heightened sensation of living with all those hormones pumping through me that, while I still really enjoy the actual orgasm when it happens, I dread the time that follows. Which is good, I guess, since Belle told me I was going without for three months this time. She’s thinking Christmas/New Year before I come again.

In any event, Saturday night she finally got what she wanted earlier in the week. All the plumbing worked this time and I was able to hold off long enough for her to ride me to a very satisfying orgasm. After, she let me fuck her until I came, making sure to mention along the way that it wasn’t going to happen again for at least 90 days.

Sunday, the day I was supposed to be reincarcerated, I woke up feeling very much not in the mood. I was pretty happy with my free meat and decided not to bring up that she had intended to put me back in that day. I thought I had gotten away with it, too, when she finally came to bed that night, but she tossed the device at me, lock disengaged. I sighed and disassembled the parts. As I started to put it on, the meat shrank back at the cold metal’s touch. It’s back to being a thing, not a part of me. All day today it’s been pinching and shoving and generally being in the way. I feel encased. And, as usual at this point in the game, very much against the will of my body.

I got a text message from Belle just before lunch. She said,

I forgot to tell you this morning, “Welcome to Day 1” 🙂 I love you. Have a good day.

Three months to go.