Counting the stages and keeping my mouth shut

About a week ago, I tweeted…

Which pretty much sums up how it works most of the time. I can get to the point where I want to come so badly that I start at the second stage and only find my way to stage three about four hours later, but most days not. We can call them the three stages of denial.

But maybe there’s a fourth. See, Stage 1 there, “I hope she doesn’t let me come,” doesn’t even activate until she hands me the key to the Steelheart. It’s like the penis is a tiny Dr. Evil frozen away in its orbiting Bob’s Big Boy. Out of sight, out of mind. So really, the first question is whether the penis even gets out.

This morning, Belle didn’t let it out. It’s usually the case that the little Dr. Evil defrosts on Saturday mornings we’re not doing anything in particular. It gets let out, I get her off, then I stick it in, but she decided to leave it be today. On the one hand, I like getting out. A lot. More than I crave orgasm at any given moment, I crave sensation from the penis. Feeling her hand on it, feeling it hard and free, pressed against her, rubbing against her skin, sliding into her hot wetness. Just feeling. The Steelheart provides both no sensation in that when I touch it and grab it and claw at it all my hand feels is perfectly smooth, numb hardness that never changes but then, on the inside, it’s high pressure. Intense, consistent, unyielding resistance to my excitement. So yeah, having an erection that can be touched and feels good is something I look forward to.

But I also don’t think I deserve to be unlocked. Being locked is the default. Being unlocked is the exception. Not a treat or a reward or whatever. I hate it when I expect to be unlocked. I’d rather assume it’s not going to happen and be pleasantly surprised when it does than the opposite. Of course, when she wants it out, it should come out. It’s entirely up to her. I just don’t want her considering me and my cravings in that decision. I don’t want her to be nice to me just because.

So when I wrote that tweet last week, it was after we fucked and I didn’t get to come. Which, being solidly in Stage 3, was a relief. But when I was in her and sliding the penis in and out and losing myself to the amazing feeling of that the intensity of Stage 2 made me say to her how badly I wanted to come. I immediately felt bad for saying it. After, I apologized.

The thing is, there’s no reason for me to tell her. None. Because it doesn’t fucking matter. If I say anything about coming, one way or the other, I’m trying to influence her and that’s bullshit. Especially when the fucking penis is inside her at the time. If she wants me to, she’ll tell me. Otherwise, it’s business as usual. Maybe I want to, maybe I don’t. Who cares. That’s the deal. I don’t come until I do and I don’t whine.

Maybe a part of me just wants her to know, “OMG, I’m so being denied right now!” but, of course, she knows that. But another part of me, the part that sits way down my brain stem and acts more than it thinks, is trying to put its finger on the scale of her decision. Maybe she’s considering it and by saying something it’ll cause her to lean towards letting it happen. I hate that part of me. That I can’t always keep it stifled. I’ve spent a long time learning how to keep it as far away as possible from the button that makes me come. Now I just need to learn to keep it from my mouth.

Orgasm denial and enforced chastity all boils down to managing conflicting urges and desires. I want to fuck you but don’t let me out, GAH coming would be awesome, I better not tell her. WHY DID YOU TELL HER!? Lock me back up, no keep me out, be nice to me, BE MEAN TO ME. Seriously, it’s stuff like this that makes me think being a top would be exhausting work. Subs are annoyingly complicated. We’re lucky anyone puts up with us.

Panty problems

This whole panty thing got kind of out of control. After reading the post about it, Belle related to me that the idea didn’t do anything for her. That’s fine, if a little disappointing. Totally out of left field and, truth be told, it’s not like wearing something like that is a core part of my sexuality or anything. I’m just experimenting. But then she made a point of saying, “I’m not interested in ever seeing you wearing them.”

That made me feel weird and awkward and sat between us like a dead fish for several days. Suddenly, I was embarrassed and worried she’d even see them in my drawer. I was afraid of being judged and found to be somehow wrong. Then, after a negative comment from a follower to a quickly posted image on Twitter, I spiralled into a very foul mood and impulsively deleted the tweet. It’s one thing to hear something like that from your partner. It’s something quite a bit different to be pantie-shamed by a fellow anonymous perv on the internet.

In any event, Belle’s intention wasn’t to be harsh. I could tell by the tone of how she said what she said. It was an honest comment and I’m glad she made it, even though it pained me. My response was also honest, but I wasn’t mad at her for feeling how she feels and I’d rather she not take it back or try to gloss over it or anything. We’ve discussed it and, after, I’m in a better place if only because the issue is out there. It’s not resolved because I don’t know that it can be.

It was surprising to me how quickly my ego destabilized from this little adventure. I’ve been on pretty good ground for a while and haven’t felt the “freakish freaky freak” thing in a long time.  Then, BOOM, there it was. In any event, like I said, we’re past the worst of it and I’m feeling somewhat better now. I still don’t think I could let myself be seen by her in them, though she said incidental observation (like when I was changing for bed or something) wouldn’t bother her. It’s still a tender spot. At least I can bring myself to put them on without feeling self-loathing.

Practically speaking, I’ve worn two pairs now for a day each. I find I like the boy brief cut better than the thong cut (I also got these but haven’t worn them yet). I don’t have a general problem with thong-style underwear and have several pairs. They’re really good for achieving that commando feel while still providing a bit of support for the steel. I think what I like about the boy brief panties is that I could feel the lace on my ass under my jeans. I was often reminded that I was wearing them and that was satisfying. The other styles look good on, but are just like any other underwear once covered by pants. I also like the incredible lightness of lace. They’re there but just barely. A very appealing material for me. I’m wearing the briefs again today without a device because I’m going to an event tonight where there’ll be metal detectors. I was worried the lace would rub uncomfortably over the penis (which is often very sensitive to that kind of thing right after getting out following a long time locked-up), but there’s been no issues so far. I will be posting HNT this Thursday of what that looked like this morning, so beware all panty-hating types (and Belle).

I’m still trying to figure out the appeal in general of panties. I think it’s that I’ve always had a thing for sexy underwear most men wouldn’t wear (a fetish?) and these are just an extreme example of that. There’s no doubt when you see them that these are for men because they have ample pouches cut into them. I don’t feel like I’m wearing women’s underwear at all and still have no desire to do so. But I do like the lacy stuff and more feminine look of these. Weird.

In any event, I’ve picked up two more pairs. A pair of red (because that’s all they had) shorts and a pair of tanga briefs (a cut I’ve never heard of before). We’ll see how those go.


I have kind of a well-known thing for underwear. I like ’em colorful and skimpy and even sometimes sheer and see-through. So I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise I also have a thing for lacy stuff. But surprised I am.

This is one of those brain twisting sexual self-discoveries. At least I assume it’s sexual. See, I squick out over sissies. Hard. And the idea of wearing women’s clothing and makeup and stuff does nothing for me. But I just discovered that underwear designed for men using materials and cuts typically used in women’s underwear is…OK. More than OK. Like, distractingly hot. Like, I couldn’t fall asleep last night, it was so hot.

The thing I struggle with right now is that this clothing, which I think of as men’s because it’s got pouches in the crotch, is shown on fucking hot obviously male models, etc., is sold on a site for cross-dressers. And…I’m like…gah! And not the good “gah.” I mean, of course. The underwear looks like panties so why shouldn’t they call them that? And really, isn’t that part of why I like them? I have a black sheer thong I occasionally wear (like today, duh) and if someone were doing our laundry I’m quite sure they’d put it in Belle’s drawer by default. What man would wear such things? It’s a very naughty feeling knowing I’m wearing outrageous underwear over my locked steel chastity device (even the fucking device falls into this secret naughtiness category, if I think about it). Having underwear (panties) that are all lacy and see-through or with a frilly fringe or a ruffled bottom is just…fucking sexy as holy hellfire.

So I bought some. Three pair. (With my allowance, not Belle’s money.) And I’m like…what the fuck?

I have limits. Some of their offerings I am definitely not interested in (but, you know, if it works for you, go for it). Others are…intriguing. Weirdly and oddly. But there it is.

So I don’t know what this means. I don’t know what this makes me (or that it even matters). I don’t know how Belle will react (I hope well). But I do know I want my frilly panties to get here ASAP. That, I know for sure.