Turn and face the strange

It’s funny because I was thinking about writing something more or less on the topic of change. Specifically, change in how one expresses their sexuality or identity because, you know, that’s the kind of shit I talk about here. Then this shiny turd appeared over at Drew’s blog (emphasis mine):

Drew, you will always be the one who changed Thumper and forced your sissy feelings on him. This is all garbage that further justifies why the concept of gay marriage is bad. You can’t keep it in your pants and want us to accept that?

The comment was left after Drew composed (the second part) what must have been a difficult post on the subject of actually being in an open relationship when it’s the other guy who’s about to get lucky (Axel, not me). He bared his soul to a certain extent and wrote what must have felt like pretty raw and exposing stuff. But this post isn’t about that, specifically. And it’s not even about the comment, really, but it popped into being in the midst of me pondering this topic so it kind of has to be part of it.

I mean, after I point out the vile and disgusting prejudice on display. What a fucking asshole. Truly. I’ll say again, if you feel as this person does regarding marriage equity, know that I can’t stop you from reading my words and gaining value from them, but also know I begrudge that benefit and think you’re amongst the most terrible and reprehensible people on the planet. I hope you choke on it. Have a nice day.

Anyone who’s read this blog for a while (like, earlier than about a year ago) knows that I haven’t really changed at all since Drew appeared on the scene. I was always very open about my bisexuality and the sundry kinks I enjoy. Drew has only provided an outlet for some of my kinks and, to a certain extent, impacted the kinds of things I write about here (like these very words — oh, so meta!). If that’s the change the commenter takes issue with, I’d refer them to this post.

In fact, the fetish core to this site’s raison d’être — enforced male chastity — has probably been with me for as long as I’ve been alive. My sexual attraction to members of my gender goes as far back as my attraction to those of the opposite gender. But, I was not always aware of my interest in things like bondage and masochism and I never thought of the concept of an open marriage as being anything like something I could do.

It seems to me that we’re overly invested in wanting to be “normal” when it comes to sexuality and sex. We’re saturated with images of what that looks like from our earliest exposure to media. Boy, girl, happily ever after. It’s only recently that it seems as though our culture is starting to be OK with recognition of the other dynamics that make up healthy human sexuality. That there is no one definition that fits all. I think the younger generations are going to be significantly healthier than mine was.

Personally, I think we’re born with all our various kinks and preferences fixed in our heads at an early state (maybe before we even emerge). We don’t develop kinks as much as we unearth them. We don’t “turn gay” as much as we allow ourselves to accept that part of ourselves. Why do I say this? Not because I have science on my side (not that I’ve looked), but because it seems perfectly apparent to me. Before I knew what chastity was, I liked the feeling of penis constriction. Before I knew what gay was, I was drawn to some males more strongly than others. Before I looked into BDSM, I knew I responded strongly to images and scenarios involving capture, containment, loss of control, and domination. I also know that I psyched myself out over many of these things or simply disallowed myself to think about them outside of masturbation. But no, I didn’t become kinky at some point in my forties. I finally let myself be kinky.

But I do think we evolve from a relationship standpoint. I think what we want from a partner changes over time. I never thought about openness with Belle because early on my feelings for her were such that I didn’t want anyone else. Saw no point in anyone else. There was no room inside me for anyone else. Now that’s changed. Luckily, we still have a connection and I still want her and need her in my life, but we’re both fundamentally different. We know more about ourselves and each other. We are much more confident in our bond. We have already made all the extra people we’re going to make and they’re well on their way to being self-sufficient. So now, the intensity and perhaps the motivations of how we once felt have changed.

I think we need to allow ourselves as people to change more than we do. To see that in some ways our sexualities are fixed but the way we express them is more fluid. We need to not feel guilt for feeling the way we do if it’s different than “normal” or how we’ve been identifying for years. We will always be left- or right-handed, but we will not always draw with a crayon or write with a fountain pen or paint with a brush.

We are so much more complicated than we allow ourselves to believe and capable of so much more variety and experience than we’re aware. We should embrace that, not bury it. We should revel in it, not feel shame. We should especially not let others make us want to bury who we are or feel shame because of their internalized self-hatred.

Dining among the beautiful people

Belle and I went out to dinner Saturday night at a shmancy new restaurant that feels like it’d be better suited to Soho than our fair prairie metropolis. Even the people in it seemed to be imported from one coast or the other. Where do these people live? Food was pretty good, though.

Anyway, we had a chance to talk, just the two of us. It was nice and something we needed as there were real life things that had to be discussed (but are unrelated to the world of this blog). Along the way, Belle asked how things were going with Drew.

At no point in my life did I ever think my wife would be asking me about my boyfriend but there she was doing it and all I could do in response was smirk. But it was fantastic and wonderful and such a great thing to be able to chat to her about him and me and me and her and the funky life we all lead. She’s entirely comfortable with the position Drew has in my life and that makes me very comfortable. It’s amazing to me how well this whole thing is working out and I’m impressed with all four of us involved that we’re able to be so perfectly cool about it.

To clarify about Drew’s “position,” I feel for him about how I’ve felt for all the other men I’ve been involved with. In the way my brand of bisexuality allows, greater than just a friend but less than someone I’m romantic with. I feel close to him and very fond and am quite pleased the pressure to have to feel more than that isn’t present. It’s great to have a relationship like this where I can be totally honest about what I need and can give back and not have to worry I’m not giving what he needs. In fact, I think I’m giving him exactly what he needs.

I told Belle again that I encouraged her to find her own Drew-like person, but she again said it wasn’t for her (and no, I’m not harping on it). She’d be afraid of developing an attachment beyond that which I have (or can have) for Drew, nevermind the time commitment something like that would require. Funny thing is, I expect if she ever did pick someone up on the side like that that she would develop feelings for him but I don’t find that in any way threatening. I know what I am to Belle. That said, of course, I’d be jealous. But not an unhealthy jealousy grounded in fear and insecurity. Maybe jealousy isn’t even the right world (or maybe we don’t have a word for it). I think whatever frisson I imagine I’d feel would actually be healthy for me and our relationship. The natural byproduct of our inherent promiscuity as a species. A little high octane fuel, as it were.

A little while back, Belle said she was glad I wasn’t poly. Thing is, I don’t know that I’m not. Do I love Drew? I don’t know that I’d go that far. As I said, I’m fond of him. I feel inside me the capacity to be fond of more than just him, though like Belle, I can’t imagine having the time. When I was unfaithful to Belle, I think the part of it that may have bothered her most was when I said I had “feelings” for the other woman. And of course, I did. I’ve never been good at sex without some kind of attachment like that. But nothing in those feelings changed how I felt about Belle. If anything, it drove me to feel more deeply for her. Nothing in those feelings were a threat to Belle. Same with the feelings I have for Drew. There’s not a finite reservoir of affection inside me that can only be divided up so many times. I don’t think that about any of us. More than ever, I think the limiting factor in how many loves we can have is that insecurity and fear. If not in us, then in our partners.

But whatever. The point of this post is to point out how great my wife is. That she could find the security in herself and to know well enough what she is to me to allow me the freedom to have Drew on the side. She’s awesome and I’m lucky. We’re all lucky. And for that, I’m grateful.

Dawning appreciation

Sex at Dawn didn’t so much show me how others live or reveal to me some mystic, hidden secret about human nature as much as it put form and structure around things I had already figured out about myself and human sexuality. It has left me thinking and feeling things more deeply than any book I’ve read in a long, long time. Maybe ever.

Cheating on Belle was certainly the most colossal screw-up of my adult life. I don’t see Sex at Dawn as a way to retroactively create for myself a pass on that in any way. But man, do I wish I had read it before all that went down (not that I could have since it was published about two years after those events). So much of how we human monkeys are put together I intuited from that and subsequent experience, but it’s all laid out in the book. It all makes so much more sense now.

The affair was about more than sex. It was about connectedness with another human. It was about feeling alive and vital. And in becoming involved with The Other Woman, I felt things I didn’t know one could feel for more than one person at a time. Not the same type of love I feel for Belle. But affection and interest and many similar aspects of how I feel for her. Nothing that detracted from Belle’s place in my heart. If anything, I felt more in love with her. I wonder what it would have been like had I been honest with her and all the feelings of significant guilt and fear hadn’t been clouding the picture.

But that’s in the past and it’s what led to the present and the present is good. I regret the choices I made, but not the consequences.

The most interesting reaction I’ve had to the book is how it’s colored my opinion on marriage. Not being in love with someone and wanting to spend a really long time in their company (up to and including the rest of your life). Not on being committed to them and pairing up and building a life. But absolutely on what I think is a government sanctioned perpetuation of the myth of one-man-one-woman monogamous bliss. I think that’s bullshit.

Monogamy is expected. It’s assumed to be the natural order (just like heterosexuality). But it’s not and everything about us says that. Our physiology and psychology are both hardwired against it and constantly fighting it. This is obviously so. And yet, when we succumb to our innate drive to be promiscuous, we either do so duplicitously and hurt those we love or we do it with their (or one another’s) consent and are judged harshly for it by others. The stock assumption is because relationships that are open to other loves or other sex partners are complicated that they’re wrong and should be avoided. This is the same kind of thinking that makes people avoid anything other than standard, married, boy-girl missionary sex and it’s just as wrongheaded.

All human relationships are complicated, it’s just that we have more experience with some than with others. There is nothing innately bad with being in some kind of affection dynamic with more than a single person. There is nothing intrinsically immoral about having sex with more than the one person you’ve decided is the one you love more than any other. Because we have all been culturally indoctrinated to believe we are a certain way and to reject dynamics and realities that don’t align with that paradigm, we react negatively. We recoil and feel uneasy and fearful. We are afraid of who we are because we don’t know who we are.

And that’s why I think state-sanctioned marriage is bullshit. There are many ways for people to find happiness and love and commitment. It’s no one’s place to judge and it’s not the role of the state to pick winners and losers. Conservatives like to say that gay marriage will lead to the destruction of “traditional values” and I hope to fucking god they’re right. People can be happy and children can be lovingly raised and the world and our society will be better for it once we get out of the way of who we are and how we need to be, both on the scale of us as a species and the scale of us as individual people.

Of course, those who choose monogamy are free to do so. Just as those who choose to have their junk locked up by their spouses are free to do so and those who want to be tied up and beaten are also free to do so. Just as any consenting adult is free to do anything else with another consenting adult (or group of adults) that results in no harm to any other uninvolved person. Is there any better definition of freedom than that?

Reading Sex at Dawn has crystalized a lot of things I was already thinking. It’s given form to feelings. I don’t think I’ll ever think specifically the same way again. And that’s a really good thing. If you haven’t already done so and are sex-positive and open to new experiences and want to better understand what it is to be a sexual, loving human being, read it. Just read it. If you’re not those things…what the hell are you doing here?

Born to fuck

Belle says to me last night sort of out of the blue, “I’m really glad you’re not polyamorous.” She’s making the correct distinction between having multiple loves versus multiple sex partners.

I’m about halfway through Sex at Dawn and it’s rocking my world. Pretty much everything the popular culture wants us to believe about human relationship is wrong. So much guilt and shame and bullshit piled up in an attempt to hold back how humans evolved to be. Not act. TO BE. It’s a remarkable read and I’m sure I’ll say more about it when I’m done.

But the thing that I keep thinking about is the difference between polyamory and promiscuousness. Humans are designed to be promiscuous, but are they designed to be polyamorous? Belle’s right that I love only her. And I do it deeply. But could I love someone else at the same time? I don’t really know. I suspect that if I did it would have a different texture than the love I feel for Belle. I suspect that multiple loves take on unique qualities based on the unique combination of those involved. I know I can’t feel anything like the love Belle gets from me for a man (as we’ve already discussed in length), but another woman?

I doubt it if only because I’d know how it would make Belle feel. Not that it’s going to happen, of course, but the merest whiff of the potential to hurt her would cause me to immolate any other potential affection dynamic. The term “affection dynamic” is interesting to me as I think about love in the context of what Sex at Dawn says about us as primates. The entire concept of one-on-one exclusive and eternal love might just be part of the big lie that I talked about. When Belle says she’s glad I’m not polyamorous I hear fear that if I was I might leave her. As if love is binary. I will never leave her. I will die with her. Period. But that fear based on the idea that one person is always with another single person is pervasive.

She said again it’s why she’d never want someone of her own on the side. She’d be afraid of developing entangling emotions for them. I would be shocked if she didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think she should if she wants to. I don’t fear her leaving me. I know what I am to her. Of course, if such a thing were to happen and I needed to find a way to share her, that wouldn’t necessarily be a straightforward process for either of us, but I do not fear it.

I’m just spitballing here. Not making any suggestions or saying anything will happen. But I am trying to process where cultural conditioning ends and real human behavior begins. If anything, Sex at Dawn makes me angry. Angry at the powers and individuals who are invested in and part of the industrial complex of enforcing the dominant paradigm of human relationship in Western culture. Angry at those who are judgemental and rigid and think my business (or yours) is theirs. Angry that we are so fucking hung up on sexuality that we can’t talk about it. Not the average reader of this blog. I’m sure we’re relatively OK talking about it. But all of them. The ones who have been taught that sex and desire are things to fight against. To resist. To minimize.

We are sexual monkeys. We were born to fuck. Perhaps even to love. But we traded that in for what we have now. And that makes me angry.

In the shadow

I’ve had a stressful week. I know, that’s not a very encouraging start to a post on a blog about kinky sexual practices.

I’m starting to wonder if I don’t have some kind of pathological disorder when it comes to getting stressed out about otherwise totally achievable tasks when they start to pile up. That, and leaving home. This week, I had a bunch of smallish things I had to do that you’d think someone in my position would be able to pull off without breaking a sweat but they were related to going on a business trip to a place I’d never been to meet people I didn’t know. That made me freak out a little inside. Well, maybe more than a little. I was functional, but eaten up with dread and that created a block that led me to put off what I knew I had to do for about two weeks until the last minute. And now I’m on said trip and walking around with a little ball of foreboding in my stomach. I’ll probably be fine once I’m actually in the conversations I’m here to have, but it’s leading up to them that’s bugging me.

The week started out, though, really well. Sunday, Belle and I had zero sex but I was left feeling very satisfied. I even told her I liked the day and she was surprised since I never got unlocked and never got into her pants.

That morning, she started out by telling me I wasn’t getting out. I was to remain as I had been and there would be no free penis time that week at all. That brought forth the forces of gnawing repressed sexual hunger and the warm and cozy sense of total submission to her. They met in my chest like opposing firehoses sprayed into each other’s maws and the resulting conflagration of energy combustion fueled my craving little bunny persona. I simultaneously wanted to rip her clothes off and fuck her violently while also bowing down to her will and curling up in the shadow of her domination. That is what being submissive feels like to me and it’s wonderful.

In any event, we started to get down to the business of getting her off but were distracted by the noises of children and their sleep-over guests and she decided we’d stop. Of course, I wanted to keep going. Badly. Really badly. But her decision was enough to throw a blanket over all my cravings and I didn’t put up a fight. Again with the gnashing and thrashing of my subjugated sexual monster overlaid with the obedient fuzzy bunny rolling over on his back. I felt really good about myself that I was nearly as satisfied by my reaction to being left locked and loaded than I would have been by feeling her come against my fingers or tongue.

Later that night, as we went to bed, she said she wanted me naked and next to her so I was expectational but all she wanted to do was feel me there and I didn’t get annoying. Another win. She also said she kinda sees the point of the clear Holy Trainer in that being able to observe the penis all smashed in there and controlled was a turn-on to her. Not so much that she liked it better than the Steelheart, but she got it. She reiterated to me again (because I need to hear it) that, in fact, she prefers me the way I am when denied and locked up over the me who isn’t locked or has come and, while the sex lizard bellowed in anguish, the rabbit purred. If, indeed, rabbits purr. Whatever purr-like thing rabbits do, it was doing.

So she left me feeling exactly like I want to feel. On many levels. And there was no sex. And it was still awesome.

But then the week started. The thing I had put off was on and in the forefront of my mind and the trip was perched down at the end of the week like a vulture and these things were interrelated and bugging me significantly. Then the furnace started acting like a fuckhead. And then it snowed and got really cold.

Fucking life.

In short, I got moody and irritable. But I tried like hell to hide that from Belle. Turns out, a lot of that feeling got rerouted to Drew. I didn’t want to be a dick to him, but trying to raise the enthusiasm necessary to be engaged in that dynamic was very difficult. And it made me even more annoyed. Not specifically with him, but with it all just being one more fucking thing I had to stress over. More things that piled on top of all the others that were freaking me out. I was really kind of a mess.

But it led to us having a conversation today to reset expectations all around. We agree that what we are able to do with each other is frosting on the cake of our primary lives. It’s entirely optional. It has to live in whatever air pockets exist around our “real” lives. And in my case, this week there were none. Plus, for me, this is just about sex. And I don’t say that in any way that should be construed as minimizing it because I think sex is very important. But I just don’t know that I’m wired in a way to be able to handle what we had both tried to establish in the past few weeks. Which is to say, I’m not looking for a polyamorous situation (and I’m not saying he was trying to make this into one) and I can’t do what I thought I could absent that kind of commitment. What I really want and have always wanted was a friendship with a guy who’ll screw me on the side. And that’s about it. And that’s OK with both of us.

So yeah, resetting expectations. He wondered if this would look like some kind of failure, but I rejected that. We aren’t failing at anything. We’re doing something new for both of us that’s also quite complicated. It’s evolving. It’s adjusting to the contours of our primary lives. If we can make that happen and still feel like we’re getting what we want out of it, how can that be failure? Quite the opposite. And there’s still elements of D/s involved because that’s who I am and it’s the kind of sex I need to have (future post topic: kink as a sexual orientation). It’s also who he is and what he wants. So we’re not totally abandoning that aspect at all. Evolution.

I’m still feeling a little freaked out and hate that I’m not home with Belle right now, but I think I’m over the worst. The hardest parts are behind me and I’ll be home in less than 24 hours. Home to my Belle and the warm bed and my place next to her, curled up in the shadow of her dominance. Purring. Or whatever it is rabbits do.


So, a funny thing I’ve noticed. Since this whole Drew thing came along, I find myself a lot more attentive to Belle. Very much more in my Thumper zone. I don’t need to get into all the examples, but it’s true. She’s noticed it, too. She appreciates it.

I have some theories as to why this is. First, I am terribly grateful to her (as always). That she would show so much trust in me and allow me the freedom to seek out and engage with someone like Drew. It’s like a dream come true, really. The prospect of it all makes me happy and I want her to be as happy or happier because it wouldn’t be possible without her. So I find myself especially focused on ways to please her and remove stress from her life. And she’s very stressed lately.

The second theory is a bit more complicated (but not necessarily contradictory to the first). Belle’s been aware for some time now of the whole me and all my inclinations and predilections and, for those she hasn’t wanted to participate in, has allowed me space to indulge them by myself and I have always indulged them by myself. So there’s been these two worlds I kinda live in. The one with Belle and the one with just me. But, you know, I’m a sub. All the way down. Not a switch. Not at all. A sub. I crave what I have with Belle in both my worlds. And now, with Drew, I’m not alone in that other world that Belle doesn’t come into. She’s let someone else enter into it and he’s assumed a similar role as she has in our marriage. Not the same emotional role because only Belle can be that to me. But the same role with regards to power exchange. Because, as a sub, that’s what I want and need. To give up power.

So now, I spend a lot more time in that subby mindset. I don’t drift out of it and get lazy and forget. I don’t have as many opportunities to get selfish. I’m more often primed to want to serve and demonstrate my gratitude for being dominated. No matter where I turn and which “world” I find myself in, I am able to focus on someone above me. This adds to my happiness and that makes me much more inclined to be good at being her sub.

Now, this all sounds like Belle and Drew are somehow equals in my mind. Even writing the words “Belle and Drew” suggests that. But it’s not the case. I’ve written before about how relationships are multilayered with basic, foundational elements below and optional dependent additions higher up. My base relationship with Belle is fundamentally sound. More so than it’s ever been. That allows us to layer on the chastity and denial and D/s and all that. And, it allows the entire Drew layer, too. Drew and what he represents is not in any way equal to Belle and what she is to me. It does not exist beside my primary relationship. His layer is dependent on Belle. It’s just another being held up by our base relationship.

I may enjoy my interactions with Drew and he may develop into a good friend over time, but nothing will ever change how I feel about Belle and our life together. She’s my North Star. She’s my reason. Even in the depths of the darkest times between us, I never not for a second could imagine a life without her. And that we could have gone through all that and come out stronger and even so strong that something like Drew could become possible is remarkable to me. I count myself among the luckiest of rabbits.

All that gratitude and optimism and excitement is not sapped from my primary relationship with Belle. It feeds back into it. For someone who grew up on Disney cartoons and the dominant cultural relationship paradigm found everywhere else in our media, the idea that opening up a relationship under the terms we have would actually drive a net benefit is a remarkable revelation. We puny mortals do not have finite pools of affection and interest. We can make as much as we need, on demand. And seemingly, the more we make, the better it is for all concerned.

I’m babbling now. It’s enough to say Belle continues to find ways to make me a very happy person. As I said on our anniversary, she is primarily responsible for all the best things in my life. My gratitude and devotion to her is boundless.

A tale of two talks

Belle and I and the kids just got back from a long weekend in San Francisco. Truly, one of the great cities of the world. The weather was fantastic and we ended up walking, according to my phone, about 75,000 steps in four days. That’s some miles.

So yeah, awesome, except that the kids were there. No, of course, I love my children, but Belle and I weren’t getting any time to ourselves since we were sharing a room with them. The third night we were there was our seventeenth wedding anniversary so we let the kids get room service and we went to a lovely little Italian place away from the (obvious) tourists.

I was anxious to talk to Belle about Drew. I told her earlier in the weekend to catch up on the blog so she already knew of him from that, but I had been texting with him from time to time and felt a little furtive not having had a chance to speak with her directly about him.

So, over some really excellent pasta and a bottle of passable Croatian Pinot Grigio (who even knew there was such a thing?), we talked. As with the last time a guy passed through our orbit, she wasn’t bothered or concerned. She’s really OK with it. That was an incredible relief for me. Not that I was worried so much about her not being OK, but you never know.

Since then, I’ve spoken to my old high school boyfriendthing who has a similar open arrangement with his husband and he told me that, even though it all seems OK and everyone is saying they’re OK and OK is raining from the sky and filling OK lakes and streams all around, you never lose that nagging worry that everything isn’t OK. Good to know I’m not just neurotic.

Anyway, over on the other side of the country, Drew was having the same check-in with his husband who similarly reestablished that everything was, as had been previously agreed to, OK. In fact, Drew wanted me to point this out specifically to you, my readers, since he didn’t want anyone to think he was doing something under the table with me (which isn’t a sex pun but totally could be now that I write it out).

So while the sailing on the Sea of OK seems pretty clear, I’m left with a bit of a paradox. Belle’s my closest and best friend. There are few corners of my soul she hasn’t had a view of at this point and I strive to be as open and honest with her as possible in all things. Also, since she’s my best friend (no, really — I know guys are supposed to say that about their wives, but in this case it’s true), I want to tell her about the things that are happening to me that are new or I’m excited about. Like Drew. But I also want to be really super careful not to drain the OK tub by accidentally crossing some informational line I’m too doped up on hormones and unicorn farts to see. I talked to her about that tonight over an unusually kid-free dinner. She’s still…you guessed it, OK, and doesn’t have a problem hearing about Drew as a person but we’re still feeling around in the dark about anything beyond that.

For example. I know the date when my first in-person meeting with Drew will happen. Belle asked when I was going to be able to see him but I felt weird telling her the actual day. I didn’t want to put her in a place where it was hanging out there and she could think about it as a specific thing and then get up that morning knowing THAT WAS THE DAY, etc., so I was cagy. And I felt bad because I want to be honest and I definitely do not want to sneak around. So that’s a thing.

Where I left it with Belle was I was going to keep things from her but I wasn’t going to be dishonest. If she wants to know something, I will tell her, but will otherwise try to be respectful of her right not to know until we get a little deeper into this arrangement. I won’t even link directly to any posts about Drew on The Portfolio (where all the Drew-specific tell-alls will be housed mixed in amongst the porn and smut). I don’t know if it’s the right way to do this since neither of us have been in this spot before, but it seems the way to go for now.


On the subject of the significance of a chastity device, I just said:

Of course, it is a sex toy. But the “only” part doesn’t really do it justice. It’s a sex toy that represents something larger. It represents a level of commitment equal to, say, a collar in any other D/s dynamic. While it’s hard to wear a collar in public, it’s relatively easy to wear a chastity device. I think the drive to find the perfect device that can be worn in all situations and at all times stems from those who, like me, see it both as a physical restraint ensuring her control and as a symbolic expression of how significant and profound the changes wrought by denial and chastity can be on a relationship.

I’m thinking hard on this today (pardon the pun) since I’m about to take off on a week away from Belle in the wilderness. She’s let me out this time around (though I’ve done it before locked up). Sometimes I don’t want the device on. I like being free. More often, I don’t. Part of that is driven by the unique Venn diagram of kinks that makes up who I am but it’s more than that.

There are two ways one can integrate chastity into their lives. One is purely tactical. That is, they wear a device during a specific scene but don’t all the rest of the time. I’d guess these guys typically come at the end of their play. The other way is more strategic. That is, the device is employed as part of something larger. Neither is right or wrong or better than another, obviously. Also, I admit to simplifying. There’s as many ways to do sex as there are people. 

In any event, ours is the strategic approach. Belle locks me up because that’s how we live in our D/s dynamic and we both like how being locked up and not having regular orgasms changes my personality and the way that improves our relationship. I’ve given her this control over me and, even though there’s this steel thing involved, being true to our dynamic is mostly in my hands. That is, I could cheat. I could find ways. I could come without her knowing. But I don’t. I’ve made a significant commitment to her. She decides when I come and when the penis is free. 

The way we do it is in conjunction with our healthy marriage. It’s not a pathway to a healthy marriage. You don’t fix your relationship with chastity. You get to do chastity because you’re relationship is already fixed. 

I take my commitment to her very seriously. That’s why I find so much significance in the devices she locks onto me. As I said, they’re both physical and symbolic. Not unlike a wedding ring. In the same way I feel naked without my wedding ring, I feel naked (most of the time) without her device locked onto me. I resent not being able to wear it. 

In a comment to my last post, Tom called out those guys who wear their devices into gym showers, etc. I don’t think that’s cool, personally, but I do understand the desire to let the world know about my commitment to Belle and our relationship. I think that’s human nature. I’d guess a lot of these locked-up gym goers are exposing their states for different reasons, but there’s a big part of me what wishes we didn’t live in society where chastity and what it can represent is so…weird

Anyway, I won’t be in any device, but I will try keeping the old locking cock ring on while I’m gone. Not at all the same experience, but the symbology is the same. At least to me.

Horrible no good night

“Well, at least it’ll give you something juicy to blog about,” said Belle following the biggest, nastiest, most horrible fight we’ve had in…maybe ever.

It all started on Instagram. As regular readers from way back should know, about eightish years ago I had an affair. The Other Woman (TOW) was a friend of mine and still is (though we have far less contact now, for perhaps obvious reasons). I follow her on Instagram and we’re friends on Facebook, etc., because as friends join these sites you follow them and they follow you, but I can’t even recall the last time I laid eyes on her or we spoke (another reason for this is she lives about 900 miles away). Our contact is tangental and not unlike a lot of acquaintances in the age of social media.

In any event, she posted what could be described as a provocative selfie to Instagram the other day. I found it a bit of a surprise (I know, the guy who posts penis pictures to Tumblr should be surprised, but whatevs) and commented something like, “Um…hello.” I didn’t “like” the picture and no back-and-forth comment conversation took place as a result. I honestly felt as though I did nothing wrong.

Of course, you can see where this is going.

Belle’s also on Instagram and, it turns out, looks at the activity of those she’s following (like me). Also, it turns out, that comment showed up there. I hardly ever look at that and didn’t even think about being “caught” by it. I wasn’t thinking about being caught because I didn’t think I had done anything to be caught over. Regardless, she caught me.

And then everything went to hell.

I’ve put off writing this post because I really don’t want to get into it again. It was the worst fight we’ve ever had, I think, including the rows we had back when I told her about TOW. These were worse because I felt as wronged as she did. I have literally given her the key to my heart and yet was being accused of…what, I can’t say. Betrayal something. And I know her reaction was just pure fear and unearthed all kinds of nasty nuclear waste. It was all horrible. It was the only night I’ve ever not slept with Belle.

Oddly enough, Belle had let me out of the Looker 02 earlier in the day. We were going to have a kid-free evening and, even though she was on her period, she let me out for good behavior. We floated in the pool (me totally naked) and planned on just hanging out with one another. It was to be a good time, even though I didn’t expect any penis action.

So, on that horrible no good night, laying on the guest bed steeped in my rage, there was opportunity. My higher brain functions were generally advising “this too shall pass” but weren’t too terribly in the mood for an in-depth analysis. My lower brain functions — the Lizard — was whispering all kinds of things. I felt the “devil on my shoulder” thing more strongly than ever before. Ideas were popping into my head seemingly from outside my brain.

The Lizard and the potential orgasm it advocated became a kind of entity in the room with me sitting just to my left. It presented a path I could take. A justified path, it argued. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not even close. The penis never even got hard. The Lizard/orgasm entity slithered back into whatever crevice it inhabits all the rest of the time.

Belle and I talked the next morning. We shared our relative positions and gingerly moved forward in the haze of an emotional hangover. Raw and tender and trying not to touch the bits that had yet to scab over.

The next day, I told Belle something that I had assumed was perfectly obvious, but I don’t know I ever said it in so many words. She is the most important thing in the world to me. More important than my own sexual relief. My love for her exceeds my love of orgasm. And it will always be that way. I am hers.