Tag: relationship

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Crossing the Rubicon, Part 3

[This is the last part of a three-part post. You might want to read the first and second parts first.]

I chose to call this series of posts “Crossing the Rubicon” because of what happened on the morning of the last day of our weekend. As I’ve written in the past, being tied up is one of my oldest and deepest desires. I’ve never been tied up by anyone before, though it’s been part of my fantasy life and a major player in the porn I enjoy since as long as I can remember. I did bring it up to Belle early in our relationship, but her reaction caused me to put it back in the dark hole in my psyche from whence it came. She wasn’t actively opposed to the idea, but I sensed trepidation and maybe some fear. I let it drop. Now, all these years later, it was back to the surface. I had told Belle everything I wanted done to me and she had shown sympathy and a willingness to try, if not a comprehension of what motivated me.

On her trip to San Francisco, Belle had purchased some light bondage gear. Basically, some simple tethers with clips on the ends and four velcro cuffs with attached rings. Nothing too severe, but inexpensive and packaged in an accessible and non-threatening fashion. It was my understanding that we’d finally put these to use over this weekend, though the opportunity I thought most obvious had come and gone due to too much drink and hot water. Sunday morning, she indicated we’d finally take the plunge.

To me, this was synonymous to the first time I had sex. I had wanted to do this for so long and now the time had finally seemed to come. I asked if she wanted me to prepare the room, and she said I should while she made her coffee, ate her cereal, etc. Back in the bedroom, I tried to figure out the best configuration of the tethers. Our bed was king-sized with no headboard or footboard (like we have at home). I eventually attached the tethers to the legs of the bed frame, but I found by laying them out and trying different poses that I’d be stretched into an extreme spread-eagle position. I bound one ankle and one wrist to make sure it was even physically possible and the sudden reality of the moment finally struck me. I found myself incredibly nervous and self-conscious. Ironically, as I was preparing the bed in a way to maximize my physical vulnerability, I discovered a deep well of emotional vulnerability. Doubt crept into my mind. Was this going to be fun? Did she really want to do it? Maybe this was the wrong time. I tried to put those thoughts aside as I finished the preparations. I went back out to the living room and waited.

It seemed to me, as the minutes ticked by, that Belle was dragging her feet, just as I suspected she had dragged her feet with regard to bondage all along. Finally, after she had exhausted just about every delaying excuse possible, she sat down next to me on the couch by the fire. She said she wanted me to know that she was “sexed out” and not interested in further penetrative activities with me. That’s what she said, but what I heard was a serious lack of interest on her part and felt she was trying to work her way out of the event. It played directly into my doubts and fears and vulnerability. I told her maybe we shouldn’t do it since I was not interested in it if she wasn’t. There was only going to be one first time for this, I said, and if we couldn’t both be into it, I didn’t want it ruined. I was angry, scared, disappointed, and embarrassed to even be in that position. I started to cry. I was a mess.

In the past, that might have been it. I might have been impulsive and we might have fought and the entire event would have collapsed in a heap of resentment. Luckily, though, we kept talking. She told me she just didn’t want me disappointed if she didn’t come at the end of this. That she did want to do this, for me, but that she wasn’t interested in sex being a part of it. I told her who came and when was entirely under her control and, if played correctly, it was practically impossible for me to be truly disappointed. I told her that the erotic torture she had put me through the previous morning, upon being released from the CB6K, was all I was expecting with the only difference being this time I’ve be tied down. I sensed she was making this thing into a bigger deal than it needed to be. That I wanted to be tied down by her and only her and anything she did to me would be wondrous. All I wanted to do was share the experience with her, my love. That’s all.

Finally, I stopped crying. We had gotten past the road hazard and would continue the journey. She told me to go back to the room, get naked, lay on the bed, and wait. I did as she said and, while in the room alone laying nude in the middle of the big bed, felt a level of apprehension and anxious expectation unlike anything before. Involuntary shudders rippled across my body and my teeth were beginning to lightly chatter. She entered the room and I felt very naked, vulnerable, and exposed.

She started with my right wrist, then my left. I tested the restraint and found them to be light, yet quite secure. I knew I could not overcome them and the thought sent an electric wave through me. Next, she secured my right ankle, then my left. I tried to move and found my range of motion severely limited. Goosebumps broke out across my body. Finally, she placed a blindfold over my eyes and kissed me on the mouth. I was going to explode with anticipation.

I heard her move through the room. She seemed to be looking for something, but I didn’t know what. She left the room, then came back in. I heard the light switch go on and her rifling through our toy box. Then the light was switched off. I honestly had no idea what was going on or what she was looking for.

I felt something light and feathery brush against my chest. Was that a feather? Where the hell had that come from? She dragged it across my nipples, down my legs, across the cock and my balls. I instinctively moved my head as though, if I could just find the right angle, I’ve be able to see what was going on, but to no avail. Finally, I figured out that I was feeling the ends of a simple rubber flogger Belle had purchased along with the restraints. I had dismissed it as a novelty, but was happy she brought it out as it was totally unexpected and might be able to give me a mild stinging sensation.

Her first swing of the flogger did nothing to change my perception that it was a toy. It struck my chest with a light, almost tickling sensation. I found some pleasure from not being able to see it before it hit me, so the shock of the feeling was sudden and surprising. Each impact caused me to sharply intake my breath. Then, I was even more surprised to find the sting of the little flogger to be getting stronger. She started flailing on my left hip and upper thigh with rapid succession and then alternate with my right side. In fact, after a while, I felt myself actually approaching the limit to the amount of sensation I was going to be able to withstand. I writhed, moaned, growled, and barred my teeth as the pain’s intensity became almost more than I could bear. It occurred to me we had never established a safeword or any other way for me to tell her she had gone too far when, at the very moment I felt I was going to break, she’d move to another spot on my body or suddenly start gently brushing my skin with the feathery ends of the rubber strands. While all this was going on, I started to self-analyze my reaction. Was I enjoying this? Was it good for me? Oh god, yes. It was everything I had hoped it would be and more.

I felt the areas where she had struck me burn and sting and I felt the cock between my legs flop around. Interestingly, it didn’t get hard as I had expected, but it was flushed with blood and felt fat and heavy. She would occasionally concentrate the light sensation over my groin and I found myself simultaneously fearful she’d strike me there and hoping desperately that she would. She never did, but she did grab and pinch my nipples with a force I’d never felt her apply before. Did my restrained and vulnerable position give her greater strength or did it only feel it that way because I was helpless?

I honestly have no idea how long the flogging went on. She eventually grabbed the cock and started stroking it roughly. I had to ask her to be more gentle as somehow she had unknowingly crossed into bad pain. I felt the flogging portion of our session was over and that now I was expected to come, so I begged to have my hand released so I could bring myself to orgasm. At first, she declined, but I think the effort eventually got to her and she released my right hand. I was immediately stunned to feel how hard the cock in my hand was. It had been so long since I stroked it, but even so, this was bigger and harder than I had remembered it could get. My legs being spread made it harder to come, but she told me I’d have to do it the way I was. No more of me would be released. She started to twist my nipples and I finally felt the stirring of an orgasm start to build between my legs. When the orgasm finally came, I felt its sticky ropes fly across my stomach. I was panting, blind, and euphoric.

Belle released the other restraints and removed the blindfold. As she laid next to me, I felt the warmth of her skin and was surprised to find her naked. In addition, she had a light sheen of sweat over her from the exertion of the session. She snuggled in and I felt the comfortable warm afterglow of the orgasm wash over me…just as she scooped up a great glob of come and spread it across my lips. “Time for breakfast!” she said merrily. We both immediately burst out laughing as I told her through my sticky, gooey lips that the idea of eating my own come was admittedly more enticing before it came out of my body. I licked off my salty treat and felt my love for Belle Fille bursting inside me.

—

Later, we were back in the hot tub. As we climbed in, I showed Belle the welts she had raised on my skin. I was delighted, but she was taken aback. I reassured her that I loved the marks she had left and hoped to see more like them in the future. Venus and Mars, indeed.

As I sat there in the bubbling, steaming water and stared across the frozen lake, I felt a different kind of afterglow from our session. It wasn’t from the orgasm. It felt different. In fact, everything felt different. Belle had taken me across the Rubicon – the point of no return. She had popped my bondage and flogging cherries both on the same day. Thanks to her, I now knew what my fantasies really felt like. And they were better than I had hoped. It was almost half an hour later, and I realized I was still softly moaning to myself. It was as if I was purring like a happy cat laying in a sunbeam. The love of my life, my wife, my keyholder, my Belle Fille had brought me across the threshold to a new world.

And I was happy to be there with her.

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Crossing the Rubicon, Part 2

[Don’t miss what happened last time on a very special episode of Denying Thumper.]

Truth be told, most of the weekend involved laying about in front of the fire with me reading and Belle sleeping/lounging/being lazy. Much of the time I was naked, though I’d occasionally put on pajama bottoms if I got cold or for some reason felt like being partially clothed was more appropriate. I love being naked and I seldom get the opportunity to indulge myself as I did this weekend, but even so, sometimes being the only naked guy in a room can turn from feeling sensual to awkward fairly quickly. Also, going out to get firewood in the nude when it’s 18 degrees outside can be a challenge. In any event, in between naps, Belle and I also took a walk, sat in the hot tub, ate, and otherwise just hung out together. I tell you this so that you understand it wasn’t all debauchery and sex, despite evidence on this blog to the contrary. Then again, I know you’re probably not interested in the non-sexual sitting around stuff so I’ll omit it for brevity’s sake.

Later in the day, Belle and I were in the hot tub looking out over a frozen lake. (If you’ve never sat in a 102 degree hot tub when it’s so cold out the water in your hair freezes, you’ve not yet lived.) She was naked, I was naked, and, even though I had a supernova of an orgasm hours before, I started pawing her like she was a drunk bridesmaid at a Catholic wedding. Belle tells me we once had sex in this very hot tub, but I have no recollection of that event (which is odd since it’s the absolute kind of thing I’d usually remember). I really wasn’t thinking about doing it again, but I guess she was since she positioned herself such that I was able to gain entry. Honestly, it was somewhat akward. I had a hard time positioning myself so that I was able to fully penetrate her and the water wasn’t really helping with the lubrication so it eventually petered out. After we left the hot tub and were back upstairs, I guess the tub fuck was just enough to get her motor humming since we were back in the bedroom again using Pink, the little vibe who could. Orgasm this time took maybe three minutes, but was still intense and I was still more than little worried.

Later, just before dinner, we were sitting by the fire when Belle awoke from her second nap of the day (or was it the third?). I was reading Come Hither: A Common Sense Guide to Kinky Sex (a wonderful book, BTW). After a while, she asked me a question and I read to her the entry in the book related to an answer. That lead us to keep reading the book aloud and thusly we found ourselves snuggled on the couch with me reading long passages to her and occasionally stopping to discuss how it related to us. It was really very nice. I bought a bunch of books for her and I to share and we had not yet had much time to ingest them so this was just about the perfect outcome for me, someone who wanted her to learn as much as she could about me and the way I was trying to direct our relationship.

At some point, Belle started petting her cock through my pajama bottoms. She laughed and remarked that in the past it was something she’d never do and now she was doing it absentmindedly. I smiled – a lot – and kept reading. After a bit, she slid her hand down the front of my pajamas and lazily pet her pet directly. I dutifully kept reading, though I admit the words were starting to lose their meaning on me. Finally, she untied my pajamas in order to gain more maneuverability within them. At this point, I simply stood up, let them fall to the ground, sat back down, and continued reading. Sometimes, as I said, you feel odd being the only naked guy in the room but other times it seems the only logical course of action. In any event, as I continued to read chapter eleven, A View From the Top: Sexual Dominants, to her, she started slowly and lightly stroking the rapidly lengthening meat between my legs. I started to read more slowly with longish gaps appearing between words, which, as far as I could tell, were written in a different language. “Keep reading,” she’d tenderly command me, and I did. Next, she started to repeatedly rub her thumb from the underside of the cock’s head to the top and back again. My reading comprehension rapidly approached zero and my eyes started to close as I stuttered the last word over and over. “Keep reading,” I was told. I kept reading. After god knows how long of this glorious treatment, she told me to go to the kitchen and start making dinner. She took over the reading.

We read three chapters this way, back and forth while eating. I was drinking beer, she white wine. I had just two beers, while she consumed more than half a bottle. She was supremely relaxed when she finally told me we were going to go sit in the hot tub for a bit before going to our room where I was to massage her feet. Afterward, Pink would work its magic on her and we’d go to sleep. Normally this would be the recipe for a grand evening, but I admit to feeling a certain amount of disappointment. I badly wanted Belle to tie me up and we had gone through nearly the entire day – the only full day or our trip – and the straps and cuffs never came out of the toy box. If she hadn’t drank all that wine, I thought, then maybe I’d have a chance. But I could tell by the drowsy expression on her face my window of opportunity had closed.

Back in the tub, she maneuvered me between her legs and I found myself giving her a watery fuck again. This time, I had found the right position and probably could have brought at least one of us to orgasm, but she stopped me just as I was getting going in earnest and told me she wanted instead to come by the vibe. Oh god, I thought. It begins. In the past, the cock was her number one path to orgasm. Now, it had been bumped in favor of the petite pink dynamo. If the cock was in her, there was a good chance it would be allowed to erupt. If not, then I was out of luck. Luckily for my team, she was far too gone due to the drink and the hot water to be able to come. Pink had failed on only its third outing. My batting average was way, way better than .666, so I was still winning on points. However, she was snoring and I was hard. At least Pink could be turned off.

I know I originally said this would be a two-parter, but I’ve now decided it needs to be three. So…

To be continued.

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The beacon has been activated

As has been previously mentioned, the affect of orgasm denial on my sleep patterns is of interest to me. Lately, I have been sleeping really poorly. I think I’ve had about 10 hours of sleep over the past three days, and it’s not due to the physical discomfort of being in the CB6K. I seem to be teeming with hormones and they just won’t let me fall asleep or stay asleep. I’ll wake up in the middle of the night perfectly alert, hard-on stuffed into its plastic home, and vivid sexual images passing though my head. Last night, I experienced the sensation of waves running up my body from my waist to my chest and down my arms. They seemed to be waves of pure electric excitement like some kind of emergency beacon activated by my cock to tell the world it’s been abandoned and for someone to please send help. Putting an arm over Belle or her holding me seems to calm these feelings, but does nothing to help me really relax. Yes, I’m calmer, but now I’m touching her.

Last night before she went to sleep, Belle was kind enough to use her nails on my ass, back and my stretched ball sack. We kissed deeply and basically had a heavenly time. It was like pouring gas on a campfire, but I enjoyed every second of it. I told her how happy she was making me and how lucky I considered myself to be since I’ve found many examples on the web of husbands trying to bring OD or chastity into their marriages with little interest from their spouses. I told Belle I am really starting to think of the meat between my legs as belonging to her. I believe that she controls and owns it and, through it, me. She’s exploring what that means to her and on what terms she wants to live with it, and that’s what makes me happy. She’s not just doing it because I want her to. She’s making it her own. And I love her so much for that.

I keep wanting to fuss with the fit of the CB6K. For most of my current stint in the device, I’ve been wearing the second to largest ring (1 7/8″ I think) and the second to smallest spacer. Based on Maymay’s fitting advice, I feel I should be wearing the middle sized ring (1 3/4″) but have a hard time with it. I put it on last night while cleaning the device, along with a larger spacer, but once erect found myself in too much pain. I remember the 1 7/8″ ring also caused pain at first, so I suppose I just need to eventually suck it up, wear the 1 3/4″ ring and make my cock adapt. But I chickened out and reverted to the larger ring just before bed.

So, that’s the state of affairs on this, my ninth day without orgasm and first full week in chastity. Belle and I are leaving town tonight for a weekend in a cabin deep in the woods (without internet). I know she’s not going to let me out until tomorrow, so that will be eight days locked up. I suspect she will allow me to orgasm as well, but if she really wanted to demonstrate her position, she won’t let it happen right away. Or maybe not even until Sunday. That would be delicious. However, I absolutely want to come this weekend. Ten or eleven days without release is enough for this little bunny, thanks.

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Big day

It was a big day today for those of us in acrylic imprisonment. First, I was able to pee standing up each time I went while at work. No, I’m not sure my aim’s good enough to do it at home into the toilet, but standing close to a urinal worked just fine, thankyouverymuch. I just poked the tip of my pinky through the slot (or, at least the tip of the tip of my pinky) and maneuvered Mr. Winky into a position more or less in alignment with the opening and BINGO! Man, I can’t tell you how happy I am about that. Peeing like a grown-up has been, after intimate contact with my cock, the number one thing I’ve missed while being in enforced chastity. Seriosuly, now that I’m able to pee normally and I’ve got the fit issues figured out and can sleep through the night (at least those nights when I am able to fall asleep), I could be in this thing indefinitely. Which reminds me…

I told my Belle Fille the other night that I’d be very happy only coming two or three times a month. Mind you, this is a dramatic improvement over our sex life of midsummer, but I’m not talking about only having sex 2-3 times every thirty days. I’d like to have sex as often as Belle will let me and I want to make her come each and every day (twice on Sundays), but I only want to come occasionally. I want to be denied because I find I am really very happy being denied. I love the mist of sexual frustration that hangs in the air among my thoughts all day. I love how acutely aware of her presence I am whenever she’s anywhere near. I love constantly thinking about what she will or will not allow me to do to her or with her each evening. I love the slightly dopey feeling that comes over me when I smell her while close in, nose on her neck, kissing her jawline…***…um…what? Sorry, where was I? Oh, yeah. In short, I love just about everything to do with denied orgasm. She’s getting pretty good at teasing me (making tremendous progress considering it’s still very new to her and she has no idea where I’m coming from when I say I want her to frustrate me 27/30’s of each month). As I said in a previous post, I am very happy to be where I am and consider myself incredibly lucky to have a mate who will make this journey with me. I hope (and think) she’s getting something out of it along the way.

Oh, almost forgot. The second thing that happened today was I found some underwear and a pair of flat-front dress pants that, when worn together, totally hide the plastic between my legs. The underwear is a pair of low-rise jockey-style briefs that hold my package close in and down between my legs. The pants have a looser crotch. Combined, they allowed me to cruise through the day well camouflaged, comfortable, and peeing on vertical surfaces whenever it struck my fancy. Yes, indeed, a big day it was.

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A Week

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Election day

Previously, I reported that Belle had picked the outcome of Virginia’s presidential election as the determining factor as to whether or not I was to be imprisoned tonight. If the state went for McCain, I was to be locked up. However, after looking at the polls, she’s decided Florida is a closer call. So, if you live in Florida, please take my fate into consideration when casting your vote today. 😉

Last night, Belle and I had a great conversation. I got her The Sexually Dominant Woman: A Workbook for Nervous Beginners (which is incredibly short and simplistic, but written in a nice and nonthreatening way). After she finished it, we talked for a while. It’s clear (maybe obviously so) that the most important part of our integrating OD and D/s into our marriage is communicating our boundaries and expectations. I think she’s putting a lot of stress on herself with regards to being the kind of dominant I’m looking for. She’s never going to be a man-eating dominatrix because that’s just not in her. In fact, I just want her to be herself. I want her to treat me as the junior partner in the sexual aspect of our relationship in any way that’s comfortable for her. I’m just thrilled to be along for the ride.

She did confess a reluctance to participate in any kind of anal play with me. That’s a disappointment, but seeing we have so many other things to get through first (she has yet to tie me up or flagellate me, darn it all), I’m not too worried. I do enjoy it and go through periods where I crave it, but they’re few and far between. Maybe with more discussion and a better understanding of what’s involved, she’ll change her mind, but in the mean time, I’m good.

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Back in the box

Wednesday night, Belle was out of town. Before she left, she agreed to allow me to pleasure myself in her absence as long as I did not achieve orgasm. I have found that I need an outlet for my sexual tension when I can’t focus on her and dry masturbation seemed to help. Also, before she left, she agreed to leave our toy box unlocked as I wanted to play around with some of our new items (I called it “research”).

Earlier in the day, on my way back to the office following a client meeting, I found myself back at the house with thoughts of that unlocked box dancing in my head. I hurried into our bedroom, stripped, and brought out the Aneros. It had been about five days since my last orgasm and I wanted to see if I could milk myself.

My first impression of the Aneros was that it was very small. That was disappointing. As I’ve mentioned previously, I’m an old hand at putting things up my ass and have always been something of a size queen. The Aneros is positively dainty in comparison to some of the things I’ve gotten up there. What I found, though, is that size really doesn’t matter. A couple of drops of JO lube later, and it slid in so easily I almost didn’t feel it. Once in place though, I immediately appreciated its cunningly devised shape. After about 10 or 15 minutes of direct prostate massage combined with a moderate amount of stroking, I experienced my first non-orgasmic emission. It just sort of poured out in a rather lazy fashion and pooled next to my belly button. It was ejaculation without the jack. Since it was a new sensation attached to my dick, I have to say I enjoyed it, but it wasn’t anything like cumming. Afterward, I was still totally aroused, and in fact, remained in a heightened state of arousal for the remainder of the day. There was no post-orgasmic high. No drowsiness. No contentedness. My brain was still buzzing with sexual activity.

Which was probably why I screwed up that night. After all the kids were in bed and asleep, I wanted to repeat the milking experience. I wasn’t sure it was possible since my understanding of how it worked was that there had to be ejaculate backed-up and waiting behind the prostate, but I was horny as hell and couldn’t imagine it would hurt anything to try again. This time, it didn’t even take ten minutes. Either I found the fucking spot on my gland or it was extra sensitive from the earlier session, but the intensity of the feelings washing over me was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Next thing I knew, and with little manual stimulation, the semen was leaking out again. Still not flying out like a normal orgasm, but with more vigor than the first time. In fact, it wasn’t so much the way it came out but how it felt inside that told me I had cum. As soon as I realized it was happening, I tried to stop it, but it was too late. It wasn’t an especially good orgasm, but an orgasm it was. I had broken my promise to Belle. I felt terrible.

Not only had I cum without permission, but I did it after she gave me permission to masturbate. It was just about the worst thing I could do. However, I also knew she would not appreciate the seriousness of the infraction. I could have told her and experienced no repercussions. But, in the twisted way my mind’s working, I wanted her to punish me. I needed to pay for cumming. Even though I’m no big fan of the CB6K, I knew that I needed to put it on. And not just for two days this time. I came without permission. I needed to do some hard time (so to speak).

If we have any issues in our relationship right now, they’re mainly centered around me needing her to be a strong, dominate female and her resistance to doing it naturally. She just doesn’t feel it. I want to be beat up, tortured, teased, and denied and she just wants to snuggle. Don’t get me wrong, I love snuggling (in fact, her absent-minded stroking of my armpit hair while we’re holding each other is one of my favorite sensations). But sometimes, and especially now since its all so new, I want her to domme it up a bit. I have a feeling it will come – that we’ll eventually meet half-way – but it’s going to take time. I’ll go vanilla for her when she wants me to and she’ll tie me up and spank me every so often. But for the moment, it’s somewhat awkward. Case in point…

I spilled the beans to her when she got home the next day. I told her I proactively locked myself up (though she admitted that she wouldn’t have thought of that). I told her she needed to decide for how long I was to be incarcerated and that she should not let my whining and complaining about it affect her decision. I needed to be locked up and denied for a long time. I should never, ever want to cum outside her company ever again. Yes, I do get off on this treatment, but I really do hate the fucking CB6K. Really. She needs show me who’s boss and to use the CB6K as her enforcement tool – the physical manifestation of her absolute control over my sexual pleasure. Hopefully someday, I won’t need to coach her on this and it’ll all just come to her naturally. When it does – when I fear her reaction to cumming at the wrong time or without her permission – then I’ll really be happy.

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Well, that was weird – further thoughts

Regarding this:

So last night she comes home late and pretty much says we aren’t going to be using any of the new items. I didn’t really think she’d be tying me up, but not even the collar? I can’t even try it on? I had built this moment up in my mind – me, the pet, getting my first collar, from her, my owner – and instead I get a tired wife who just wants to go to bed.

If I were in her shoes (which I’d never be since they look so uncomfortable and I have not even an inkling of a shoe/foot fetish nor am I interested in cross dressing) I’d have used this situation as a way to give me what I want without giving me what I want. I don’t expect she’s going to want to have sex as often as I do (especially when I’m getting no orgasmic release away from her), so why not just tell me to be a good boy and heel? Hell, hit me with a rolled up newspaper, even. Tell me tonight’s not the night and if I give her any crap about it she’ll add a week to however long it’s going to be until I get to cum. When the time comes, she can even threaten to lock me up. In short, leverage her disinterest into an opportunity to feed my kink. I suppose she’ll get there. This is all so new to both of us, though I’ve dived deeply into the concept and have read so much more on the topic than she has. Maybe it’s time to give her a tour of some of the sites I’ve been visiting.

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Well, that was weird.

Last night was not especially great. Belle’s flight was delayed so she got home really late. Also, she had to get up early this morning and’ll be at a work thing tonight, so there’s no telling when we’ll get a chance for some quality time. Suddenly, the real world has shoved its nose into our life and I’m not liking it. It’s given rise to some worries.

Last post, I talked about the whole “exotic pet” metaphor. If someone had dropped a lemur or ferret on her doorstep without instruction, Belle’d be just as hard-pressed to deal with it as she is dealing with her suddenly kinky, horny, submissive husband. While I did order her some books, they only can help her so much if, at the end of the day, her heart’s just not in it. I never asked her if she wanted to control my orgasms and we never really talked about adding a large measure of kink into our sex lives. I more or less dumped all that on her. Well, what if she doesn’t like it? What if none of this really gets her going? In order for it to work for me, I need it to work for her. And last night, it just wasn’t.

Since she called me and told me about the things she was buying in San Francisco, I have been fixated on the collar. The other things (cuffs, straps, etc.) are also intriguing to me, but I’ve been imagining the collar almost constantly- the first time she put it on me, the way it would look around my neck, the way it would make me feel. Yeah, I’ve taken this whole pet thing pretty seriously. So last night she comes home late and pretty much says we aren’t going to be using any of the new items. I didn’t really think she’d be tying me up, but not even the collar? I can’t even try it on? I had built this moment up in my mind – me, the pet, getting my first collar, from her, my owner – and instead I get a tired wife who just wants to go to bed. No, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s totally understandable. But I was pretty well crushed by the let down and that, in turn, led me to doubt this entire course we’re on. It also highlights the precarious emotional state I’m apparently in.

I feel as though I’m coming out to her. No, I’m not gay, but I can’t imagine telling her I was would be much more difficult than this. Where we are in our relationship and how quickly it’s developed over the past six to eight weeks, and the fact that sex (or lack of it) was one of the root issues that led to our troubles, has left me feeling a little insecure. On top of that, I know that as I’m exploring my desires I’m discovering new things about myself. As I mentioned in the last post, I’m finding myself much more drawn to D/s (with some reluctance). It’s as if I’m pulling a thread on a sweater and it just keeps coming with no end in sight. I really don’t know what kind of person I am. And I don’t know if Belle’s interested in maintaining whatever it is I’m becoming. And that’s scary.

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Thumper: An exotic pet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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