Tag: relationship

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The year of the rabbit

Yesterday was the first day of the Chinese new year. The Year of the Rabbit. Oh, the irony.

I talked to Belle last night and she’s supportive of whatever I do (then we had sex and she told me I still had to be locked up no matter how bad a day I had and that, in the end, she likes to see me squirm and suffer – sounds cruel, but context is everything). She doesn’t think I should stop writing this blog, but would understand if I did. Well, I’m not going to. Not yet. I’ve decided that writing here might be too important to me to allow it to stop on anyone’s terms except mine.

I want to make something very clear. Yesterday’s post was not in direct response to anything Maymay said. Sure, he was a catalyst because his were the first and most rude of all the comments I received, but I did not have him in mind when I wrote it (regardless of what he might think). But, as long as we’re on the subject, I have decided that I don’t need him or his drama. Thanks to modern technology, it’s fairly simple to amputate him from my life. I won’t remove any existing links from here to anything he’s produced in the past, but I will not be engaging him here or anywhere from this moment forward (this was my final shot, sent in anger, which I now regret, but it is the last). I’m sure May’s a very sincere person and fine fellow to share a drink with, but his view of the world and mine are clearly very different and I simply don’t have the energy or interest to try to reconcile.

With regard to the main point most people are taking issue with – that I am trying to tell everyone from all walks of life how they’re supposed to live their lives – I’m sorry if that’s the impression you have. It’s not my intent. I feel I attempted at various points to say I was talking to people like me in situations like mine, but I’m willing to also concede that I could have done it differently or better. I’m very happy to engage with those who are interested in having civil and measured debate, but I totally reject the notion that the number of visitors my blog receives every day should have any bearing whatsoever on how I express myself. This is still a personal blog about my personal life. It is not a platform for any kind of activism. This is the story of one aspect of my life. Period.

So anyway, back when I said “everyone” should live like I do, I honestly meant it in the same way one might say “everyone” should try that new steak place out on the highway. Yes, the world is full of vegetarians who never eat the dead flesh of other animals, and by saying “everyone” should eat at the new steakhouse one would, of course, not be challenging anyone’s choice to be vegan. That’s ridiculous. At least, I think so. If you are not the kind of person for whom my advice from the other day applies, then ignore it. Don’t tell me how it can’t possible apply to you and by suggesting it should I’m being sexist or genderist or whatever the fuck. If everything I say here has to be scrubbed against the multiverse of human sexuality before it sees the light of day, what will be left? I’m not trying to be insensitive. I’m not trying to exclude. But, as I think I’ve said now about a hundred times, this blog is about me, my sex life, and my love live. If you’re experience is outside mine, then chances are I’ll never be able to speak to it adequately. You might even be occasionally offended. It won’t be intentional.

Now let’s rewind and say Maymay had taken a slightly different tack the other day. Something that started, “I’m sure you didn’t mean to, but have you any idea how much that bothered me?” Would I be writing these words today? Probably not. But that’s not how we started and that’s not how things progressed, so here we are. Maybe half of you will stop reading me now. So be it. I have to be what I am and I have to think what I think and I can’t possibly write anything different.

Lastly, I’ve debated leaving comments off. The feedback page is still working and several of you availed yourselves of it yesterday. I’ve decided to turn comments back on not because I’m dying to be validated but because I’d like to get this “police state” bullshit behind me as quickly as possible. If I need to, I’ll turn them off again and depend on the feedback form from now on. We’ll see.

I now return you to the Year of the Rabbit, already in progress.

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Crossroads

Belle and I started a journey two+ years ago that has led to much discovery, evolution, insight, and – more important than anything else – contentment and intimacy. Now, just when I feel I’ve really started to understand how things can work between us, at the very moment when I feel actual revelation has occurred in our relationship, I find what I write has attracted vociferous criticism. This is because…why?

Is it because I’m exploring concepts and ideas that don’t apply to every sexual being on the planet? Because the anarchic bisexual polygamists are being denied a voice in my extraordinarily personal life? Are you feeling slighted because I, in my selfish exploration of my own sexuality, have forgotten that not all of you are like me?

It doesn’t really matter. This is very personal for me. This is my fucking life. When I am attacked for feeling the way I do, it is an attack on me. Call it criticism, but it doesn’t feel that way. Frankly, my skin’s not thick enough. It is a confrontation I did not seek and do not want. It tears at me and gnaws at the back of my mind. I feel like I’m accused of being a person I’m not and that I think things I do not.

I said in my second post…

The reason I started this blog, though, was not to categorize, compare, and contrast all the various practices (though that might happen along the way). None of the sites I’ve found seem to be written for me or my partner. There are elements of nearly all of them that appeal to me (and my kinky side), but when I think of how I want orgasm denial (OD) to work in our relationship, I can’t find an analogue. So, since we’re at the very beginning of our exploration and I don’t have anyone other than my partner with which I can discuss it, here I go. Maybe this will prove helpful for someone else.

I don’t pretend that Belle and I achieved perfection or that how we relate to one another will stop evolving, but we are far enough along that I really don’t need to blog about it anymore. I feel as though, now that I’m a “pre-eminent blogger about male orgasm control”, that what was mine has been taken from me. That I’m no longer allowed to think and feel the way I do because, you know, they’re not really my thoughts anymore. They belong to all of you. Because there are so many of you now, I can’t explore and describe what happens in my head and my pants.

So it becomes a matter of simple math. Does my blogging give me more than it takes? For the past few days, it’s taken far more than I get. And I’m not willing to let it. Don’t forget, I don’t do this for you. It’s for me first, Belle second, and the rest of you are a very distant third.

I haven’t spoken to Belle about this yet and that gives me pause in pulling the plug. It’s entirely possible that we’ll decide I should continue, in which case, I will. It’s entirely possible that after a certain period of time I’ll want to come back here and continue the story. But right now, today, I don’t want to. And that really bothers me. If we decide to stop, I will mourn. Denying Thumper has been such an important part of my life. It’s hard to imagine not having this thing I do or think about every day.

In order to assure those of you who might look upon this action as some kind of ego-stroking maneuver, I’ve disabled comments on this and all other posts. I’m not looking for praise or encouragement or anything else. I’m not seeking attention. I’m simply trying to decide if this is worth it anymore.

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Further heretical musings

Belle’s back, so all’s right in the world and order has been restored. We had a lovely time last night talking, not about anything specific, just stuff. My libido is in neutral since she’s got her period and isn’t much interested in anything, though I can feel it rumble a little way down deep when I kiss her soft, full lips.

I’ve been thinking more about this idea of “giving” one’s right to orgasm to one’s partner. On the surface, this seems like such a strange and radical idea, but how different is it from committing to life-long monogamy? On the face of it, that’s just as strange a notion, especially given how we as a species have evolved. Also, it seems from my narrow and jaundiced perspective that our culture seems to expect women to essentially promise their orgasms to their mates. Male masturbatory excess is practically venerated while the idea that a woman might touch herself for pleasure still seems to be an issue for many (including women).

Of course, in light of recent events here, I’ll intercede at this time and say what I am talking about applies specifically to monogamous relationships between one man and one woman. I cannot and will not attempt to suggest that this applies to the gay, transgendered, polygamous, left-handed, Martians, or Green Party members. Edited to add, “…and anyone else who thinks I’m full of shit. Feel free to consider my ideas worth what they cost you to read them.”

So anyway, this “gift of orgasm” thing. I do not believe, in any way, this should be construed as kinky. Why? It’s a simple extension of monogamy. In practice, I’ve found that tying all my sexual release to my partner has drawn me closer to her than at almost any point in our marriage. So why isn’t this implicitly or explicitly part of the marriage vows? Why should the idea be considered so strange if the benefit (as least as has been demonstrated in my relationship) is so great? We exchange rings, why not our right to independent orgasm as well?

Of course, for me, layering on the control, power exchange, and bondage aspects of enforced male chastity make the whole thing hotter and  more fun. But all that’s just frosting.

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Denial is a river in Egypt

The other day I mused on the subject of orgasm control vs. orgasm denial. I don’t know if I actually came out and said it that clearly, but that was the point of the post. Right now, Belle denies me orgasm (rather severely). Denial of orgasm is a form of orgasm control, of course, but it’s not at all the same thing. Orgasm control does not imply denial, though it’s a direction it could take.

ANYWAY, point being (and the point I made in my previous post) is that I firmly believe orgasm control is Right and Natural. There’s nothing kinky about it. It’s totally clear to me now that literally every man in a relationship should have his orgasm controlled by his partner (no, I’m not ignoring you gay guys, but I need to leave you out of this for clarity’s sake). I know that sounds very out there and draconian and like I know what’s best for the entire world. Can’t help it. You can disagree with me if you want, but it seems that, for a man, the act of committing himself to a woman would take on so much more significance if he was also committing one of the critical things that defined him as a man: his orgasm. Not only that, it would make it much more difficult for his partner to drift away. If he really meant it and lived up to his word, the two would be forever locked in a symbiotic feedback loop.

Yeah, like I said, out there.

Of course, there are probably a bunch of men who don’t want their orgasm controlled by anyone. That’s fine. It’s a free country. I think they’re wrong, but that’s my right, too. Everybody should be doing it this way.

I only bring it up again because it seems to have developed into a little meme. Sarah Jameson sent one of her email updates the other day on this very subject. She starts out…

Hi Thumper,

Gee, it’s like she wrote it just for me!

She continues…

I had an interesting conversation with John last night about the difference between orgasm control and orgasm denial.

Because they’re not the same thing, even though we tend to see them and talk about them as if they were.

Our conversation was prompted by a couple of emailed questions from a lady who wanted to know, in effect, what I and other women get from subjecting (or treating, depending on your perspective) our men to orgasm denial.

I honestly tried to figure out which bits I should quote with the idea that maybe she wouldn’t want me spilling the entire thing here in a public forum, but I found at the end, “Share this email with a friend or lover. Thanks.” While we’re obviously not lovers, I shall, for legal purposes, consider you all friends. For the time being, anyway. If you like what see, go to her site and sign up.

For many men… male chastity isn’t about orgasm denial… it’s about…

Orgasm Control

Of course, orgasm control then gives rise to the likelihood of orgasm denial, but it’s not always a given. I know from my inbox, many women don’t practice orgasm denial in the sense they always allow their man to come whenever they make love, but they don’t allow it at other times.

Is this orgasm denial? I wouldn’t call it that, but then I’m not the final arbiter of these things, and neither is anyone else.

To my own way of thinking orgasm denial is both more long term and more explicit, meaning we engage in lovemaking and John doesn’t get to come. To me, allowing him to come every time we made love, even if it was only when we made love, well that would be more just orgasm control.

Now many will argue these arguments and discussions are irrelevant and unimportant (and if that’s the case for you, then for you they are).

But I, think they are important, and I know many agree with me.

Why do I think they’re important?

Because to John and to other men, the distinction is very clear.

To John…

Orgasm Control is the Key

Meaning, while he loves orgasm denial for the feelings it gives him, both physical and emotional, and while his full year of orgasm denial is going to drive him up the wall with pleasure and frustration, the real deep satisfaction comes from my orgasm control.

In other words, his greater pleasure, long term, comes from knowing I am the one who gets to choose when he comes. And while if I chose to let him come every single time we played around it would probably take something away from the game, it’s also true that allowing him to come once a week, once a month, or even at random times would be just as pleasurable for him as the full year is proving to be (even though he’s not even a full month in yet).

Just food for thought, I suppose.

Fact is, for most men, at least in my experience, it’s the orgasm control not the orgasm denial that’s important, and as a woman I admit I find the former much easier to understand than the latter.

I have no idea what drives the need for orgasm denial. I think that the desire to be locked up, at least for me, eventually grows out of being denied in that it’s just easier to live when the cock has been removed from the table if I’m not going to be allowed to come anyway.

Case in point. Last night, Belle was out of town and I was feeling a little horny. Even thought it’s been almost a month since the last orgasm, yes, it was just a little. But I didn’t do anything about it. I didn’t look at porn, I didn’t try to self-abuse. I didn’t do anything. Because the cock was off the table. There was no point. In the past, that would have saddened me (and it may again at some point), but for the time being, it just made everything easier. I know that, had she been gone and the cock hadn’t been locked up, I would have spent a great deal of time playing with it. Not being able to was a great relief. It’s taken me more than two years to think that way and it’s required a total commitment on my part to Belle’s control (and denial) of my orgasm.

The second part of my mini-meme theme is from a new blog, Delving into Deviance. It’s written from a dominant woman’s POV and includes a post called “Orgasm Control”.

Fuck toy and I enjoy control, but I don’t like putting him in chastity for too long because I enjoy his orgasms and I enjoy riding him for ages and then coming together. In fact, for his impending birthday I’m going to make him come till it hurts, and that’s a very exciting idea.

That’s the flip-side of orgasm control, obviously. Over orgasming. That sounds fun, too.

However, all of these are things that he can do with me. He’s not going to be allowed to come on his own anymore. That isn’t to say that he’ll come any less often or that he won’t be allowed to watch porn. Just that his orgasms always have to happen with me. Being so intimately tied in with his sexual pleasure will be fun. Just as Thumper’s said, I have no problem with men’s masturbatory habits generally. Masturbation isn’t a problem or anything. And sometimes, if I’m sleepy, I may allow him to simply masturbate beside me as I snuggle up to him. But always sharing that moment will, I think, be rather magical and deepen his submission.

Sometimes he won’t be allowed to come, and there will certainly be plenty of times that he doesn’t get to come as soon as he’d like too (I love edging). However, realistically, most days he will have an orgasm because I enjoy watching him in that moment. I love his face, his noises, his surrender. It’s beautiful.

In the beginning, when for me this game was all about denial, a dynamic like this would have been very unsatisfying. Now, though, I think I could live indefinitely as described above. I’m not asking or suggesting Belle change anything, but like I said, I am now totally and completely committed to Belle owning my orgasm. I will come whenever and however she lets me and I’ll be thankful for it. I won’t push for any specific duration and I won’t be disappointed, regardless.

I want to be tortured, and I want to be made to squirm, and I want to be pushed, but more than any of that, I want Belle to always control my orgasm. Always. Because that’s how it should be.

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Just don’t

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Objects are larger than they appear

Yes, we’re still alive over here.

Belle did let me out. I wanted it but at the same time didn’t. In any event, I took the key and removed the device and was free. That was as we went to bed, so I slept and woke several times due to the weird feeling of having a cock that could feel the sheets rub against it.

The next day, my pants felt empty. You get used to sporting a certain kind of package and when it’s gone, you notice. I was free all that day and again the next night. Even so, I didn’t feel the need to take advantage of the situation. There was no urge to. I was still out of touch with my own sex drive.

The next morning, Belle told me she had her period. She didn’t say it, but I knew that meant I should be locked up again. Back when I wasn’t essentially permanently locked, it was a rule that I had to be protected while she was having her period. That morning, before I put the device back on, I finally felt the desire to play with myself. It wasn’t that big of a deal. No toys or anything, but there was a moderate amount of stroking leading me up very, very close to the edge of orgasm. So close, that I found myself with at least a tablespoon of thick ejaculate in my hand. And how did I know that wasn’t an orgasm? Because I swallowed every bit of it. I ran it around in my mouth, so slick over my tongue, and felt it thick in my throat for an hour afterward. And I wanted more. A lot more. So no, I didn’t come. Then the device went back on and there it’s stayed. Belle has the key again and shows no interest in letting me have it back any time soon.

An interesting observation from my morning self-abuse, though. One of the things you’ll read on the web is that chastity devices make your dick smaller. I’ve always felt it was crap. And I still do, but I may know where the idea comes from. While I was stroking myself and feeling the cock get as long and as hard as it could get, it felt smaller to me than I remember it being. Now, I don’t have a big dick to begin with. It’s perfectly average in length and girth, but I could have sworn it had shrunk. I even got the tape measure out to make sure, but it was still exactly the same size as before (about 5.75″ long).

The thing is, as I said above, you get used to swinging a big steel tube between your legs. So much so that, when it’s gone, the contents feel much less imposing by comparison. It may not get longer when I’m excited, but the tube is always fat and stout. It’s easily twice as big around as the engorged cock and, while shorter, it carries a certain gravitas that mere meat cannot attain. Whatever memory I had of what my former cock felt like had been somewhat displaced by the steel tube.

And here’s the next bit of surprising info. When I was sure the cock had gotten smaller, I wasn’t all that concerned about it. As a guy, you’re conditioned to obsess over the size of your member. But, as the kind of guy I’ve become, it doesn’t really matter. The cock simply isn’t a regular player anymore. The only thing I worried about was that it may not be enough to satisfy Belle. But really, the idea that I was being made smaller and less…I don’t know…prominent seemed perfectly normal. To be expected. The cock isn’t that big of a deal anymore, so why shouldn’t it be minimized in every way? I’ve even started to like the idea that a lot of guys are bigger.

Of course, I’m glad it’s not getting smaller. I’m glad it’s exactly as it was before being encased almost all the time. But I’m clearly kinking on the idea of nullification. The idea that my penis should be made superfluous and of minimal importance, figuratively and literally. It’s an odd little cul-de-sac of my sexuality I didn’t expect to find myself in. And I wonder, all those guys who say they’ve lost size due to being in devices, if it’s not all in their heads. If it’s not a combination of wanting it to be that way and, because they’ve lost touch with themselves, thinking it actually is.

So, anyway, the turbulence I wrote about the other day hasn’t entirely left. I have lost touch with myself. With my independent sexuality. I know it must still be in there, but it’s way in the back somewhere. So, without that, I need Belle’s. I need to feel sexual through her. And when I don’t, it feels like something’s been amputated. Something really important. And its loss leaves me aching and depressed. I’m not entirely sure what will become of me. On the one hand, I’m committed to this existence. I’m quite convinced that I don’t need to ever have another orgasm. On the other hand, while I can live without the orgasms, I can’t live without being sexual. It’s more than the old saying that chastity isn’t abstinence. Of course it’s not. But I really feel that a transference is taking place. I have adopted her sexuality almost entirely in the place of mine. If this turns out to be the case and if it’s permanent, I don’t know what will happen. Right now, I can feel parts of me resisting it. But there are other parts of me that want to keep going.

The other night, I was dry humping her leg and, when I would usually say something like, “God, I want to fuck you,” I said, “God, I want to feel you come.” I guess that’s a perfectly natural thing for a guy with no cock and no ability to achieve independent arousal to say. What else is there now except her pleasure and, ultimately, her orgasm?

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Turbulence

It’s all cyclical.

This weekend, I was feeling very much not into chastity. Instead of it being fun and sexy and titillating, it’s been annoying, intrusive, and a bummer. The device that, at times, I’ve come to think of as my natural state has turned into a stupid hunk of steel I’m forced to drag around everywhere I go.

I’ve been hinting to Belle that I was moving in this direction and last night I pretty much came out and said I’d like it come off. That’s a potential minefield since it’s become more than just a sexy game. It’s now an integral part of our relationship. Maybe even unhealthily so. That’s why I was nervous and somewhat apprehensive about saying I wanted it off and that’s why she was disinclined to let me out.

Which, I suppose, on one level, could sound really hot. The ultimate wank fodder fantasy, right? Being locked up against one’s will is the Holy Grail of hawt chastity p0rn. Except when it happens in real life. That’s not to say she told me I had to stay locked up. She didn’t, exactly. But she did say she’d let me out in the morning. Then morning came and there was a bunch of running around (more than usual) and the key was never produced.

Why do I feel this way? No idea. One part of it may be that I’ve switched back to the Steelheart and, after wearing the Jail Bird for a while, it now feels really big and clunky. Another piece of it (a big piece) is that we had no sex this weekend. In fact, we haven’t since before she went to NYC last week. Yet another piece is I am finding it very difficult to achieve any kind of meaningful arousal by myself. It’s as though I have no sex drive separate from her. She gave me the token while she was gone (meaning I was free to abuse myself in any way I could while still in the device) but, just like last time this happened, I couldn’t muster the energy. All I want to do is feel her. Fuck her. Come though her. Again, that’s another element from the wank fodder. Being trained not to want any kind of sexual pleasure other than hers. Well, I’m here. In my current frame of mind, it’s left me feeling less hot and more depressed. It’s like there’s a hole in me. Something really important is missing. Oddly, though, any kind of drive or desire to serve her is absent. I’m not feeling a subby vibe. I’m not really feeling anything.

So anyway, she didn’t let me out last night when I asked. Made me wait. I don’t have a problem, in theory, with the idea that, by default, I need to wait 12 hours to be let out if I’m asking for any reason other than physical pain. A waiting period, if you will. Yes, she effectively said, you can get out after your waiting period. Just to make sure I’m serious. Because, as I said above, it’s a Big Deal for us if I’m not locked up.

But, she didn’t say that and we don’t have that agreement. She just said, “Later.” It kind of pissed me off. I was already grumpy all weekend and this didn’t help. Though now, after a bit of reflection, maybe I’m OK with it. I’m not really mad at her. I just wish there had been more conversation about what was happening. If she asks me again tonight if I still want out, I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to say. Yes, because I’m not feeling it. Yes, because it should be fun and sexy. But, also, no, not if she really wants me to stay in. No, not if she’s going to engage with the fact that I’m locked up and depressed. No, not if she can help me come out of my funk.

That’s the part they don’t talk about in the hawt chastity p0rn. The part maybe even you, my faithful reader, can’t really appreciate until you realize you may have lost your independent sexuality. That’s a freaky, scary feeling and it’s like losing a massive part of what makes you you.

I don’t have a tidy ending to this post. But, life is like that sometimes. We’ll see what happens later…

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Bits and bobs

If you’ve been waiting for me to post about my solo adventures now that Belle’s in Asia and I’m just sitting here with permission to violate myself at will, you’ll be as surprised as I am hear that nothing’s happened. I can’t really explain it. I could take action, but I just haven’t felt like it. This is very unlike me. Truth be told, I haven’t felt much at all except the occasional surge of frustration at not being able to get inside the Steelheart.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I have felt a very tight device every morning within 10 minutes of 4:15AM since I first put the Jail Bird on more than a week ago. Even now that I’m back in the friendly confines of the Steelheart, I’m still waking up within 10 minutes either side of 4:15AM. You could set a clock by it. What’s especially weird about this is that I was sleeping right through ’till morning before switching to the JB. Sure, I’d expect a new device to alter my sleeping patterns until I get used to it, but what’s up now? Why is the SH suddenly acting as my all too early wake-up call?

So anyway, what I find now is that I really want Belle back. There’s still bits of that great night in the hotel reverberating in my head and I can’t seem to get all that jacked about the few self abuse options available to me. Would it be different if I had access to the cock? I can’t imagine I’d be as apathetic with free reign over my entire body, but right now as I am, all I want is my Belle back. I want to feel her come. I want to suck on her and taste her and lick her all over. Me though? Not so much interested in that.

One thing I forgot to mention the other day when describing the wonderful night in the hotel was that we talked about taking a break. It’s not that I’m unhappy or anxious or anything, but we both thought it would be a good idea to mix things up a bit. Interestingly, our definitions of “a break” seemed to differ quite a bit. She thought it would mean being out of the device for a while. I thought it would mean being out of the device and being free to do with myself anything I want (yes, even that). There didn’t seem to be much interest in that idea from the side that decides such things. We agreed to table the idea and talk about it later.

Thing is, if I’m not allowed to manhandle the goods and even make them squirt, I’d rather stay in the device. I totally acknowledge that I’m the weak kind of guy who can’t keep his hands off when there’s not a solid piece of steel between me and it. The temptation would be significant, let alone the extreme distraction it would present.

Before Belle left, I was sitting in a room with a bunch of consumer packaged goods people talking about their core consumers. See, if you work in marketing for a very large company (or, as I do, support those who do), you will occasionally create personas of the average consumer to help you think up new and interesting ways to make them do what you want them to do (i.e., buy more crap). So we’re all sitting there and this guy in the front is asking us to describe these mythical average people and what they’re like and what they do. Now, I have multiple issues with a bunch of well educated and affluent people pulling stuff out of the air about a person none of them actually know or can relate to, but the point is we kept talking about these working moms and how much they put into keeping their families together and on track. Especially interesting to me was one persona in particular where, under “hobbies”, it was listed “her family”. That kinda bummed me out. I mean, it’s not that I don’t love my family and all, but if they were my hobby? My only hobby?

And then I realized that the person they were describing wasn’t all that unlike Belle. Further, I realized that she hardly ever gets any time to herself. She works and works and then comes home to work some more on her “hobby” before falling into bed. In the past, I’ve tried to help her out and still encourage her to ask me to do whatever would give her a break, but she’s not very good at that and I’m not very good at seeing the things she wants done (as opposed to the things that really need to be done).

So I told Belle, when she’s back from Asia and everything settles into place again, that I wanted her to take one or two nights a week for herself. These should ideally be outside the house and, preferably, not spent at the office. She could go to dinner with friends or take that yoga class she’s been talking about forever or just go shopping. Whatever she wants. I’ll take care of the kids and homework and everything else. I don’t want her life to be consumed by the family. I want her to have some life separate from that.

And what does any of that have to do with chastity? I dunno. Maybe nothing. But I do think it’s helped me be more in touch with her needs and allowed me to be much better able to figure out ways to make her happy. Would I have thought of this without being starved of orgasms? I have no idea. I like to think I would have, but whatever. I did. And she’s very excited about the idea. Now all she needs to do is come home so we can start doing it.

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Belle away

Belle’s on her way to Asia. She’ll be gone until next Friday. In the greater scheme of things, that’s not so bad (in the old days, she’d go over there for weeks and weeks) but things are more complicated now. Chastity has tied me to her in ways I wouldn’t have thought probable before and I resent greatly any time we have to spend apart. I will miss her terribly, but especially at bedtime when I like to spoon into her and feel her warmth next to me.

Sigh.

In other news, the Jail Bird is off and I will be contacting Mature Metal about the ring shortly. Belle’s trip made making up my mind kind of a pressing decision and I went with tried and true over new and slightly skewed. Also, she agreed to let me order a new, shorter tube from Steelworxx for the Steelheart. That’ll just add onto the already impressive amount of money we’ve dropped on this little endeavor (two years, five devices, three I don’t wear anymore, one of which I’ve already paid to get modified once, now twice, plus the Jail Bird). But, as I put it to her last night, if you averaged that out to a per-day cost, it’s one of the cheapest hobbies around.

She left me with permission to enjoy myself in whatever way possible absent a cock and I hope to have the opportunity to take advantage of that soon. The njoy pure has been calling my prostate lately. Gory details to follow, no doubt.

Other than that, I don’t have a lot to say. Well, actually, I have a lot to say about the Jail Bird and how it differs from the Steelheart, but I kinda want to wait until it comes back before I put together a big review. Knowing me, though, I’ll probably buckle and start dropping pieces of it early. I have a lot of opinions about it, some good and some not, and seeing as everyone in the free world seems to be ordering them now, I suppose sitting on my thoughts would be antisocial.

Plus, you know, I’ll have all this free time…

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Stacks

Maymay has this blog post that’s been sticking with me recently called “How not to fuck up a D/s relationship.” In it, he correctly points out that successful relationships are not a monolithic mass but are actually made up of multiple layers (like onions or, perhaps, parfaits), each building upon the last.

Expounds brother Maymay:

There’s this concept of layers, or more technically a stack, that is fundamental to the construction of many things in our world today. The basic idea is that one layer builds upon the things it receives from the layer beneath it and provides things to build upon to the layer above it. In this way, a robust and reliable system can be developed—and maintained—by segmenting different pieces of the system.

I think that a D/s relationship could benefit from a construction similar to this. It’s the way I think about my relationship with Eileen. I am at once her friend, her lover, her boyfriend, and her slave. Indeed, I am her slave because I am her boyfriend, and I am her boyfriend because I am her lover, and I am her lover because I am her friend.

I was reminded of this because, for the past two weeks or so, there’s been a kind of dissonance between Belle and I that’s taken the wind out of the sail for the sexual part of our relationship. The cause of the issue stems from a commitment Belle made to me a few years ago totally disconnected from anything this blog usually covers so the specifics are not important, but I’ve been noticing that she hasn’t been living up to it. For whatever reason, I find it hard to discuss this particular issue with her so I let it stew until it became a real impediment to everything else.

I finally asked her what the deal was. Why had she not done what she said she would? Her answer was, “I guess I just got lazy,” which is funny because the first thing I said in response was, “I don’t get the option of being lazy in my commitment” meaning, of course, that the device doesn’t allow it.

This is where it gets kind of squishy. I do think of her commitment as being more important (i.e., a lower stack, in Maymay’s parlance) than my commitment to chastity, but I think in Belle’s mind my chastity has stopped being just a game we play. It’s been elevated over time to be a fairly significant commitment I’ve made to her. A sign of my devotion. A permanent part of our relationship. And for some reason, I played right into that by equating my chastity to her commitment. So, I guess, what this boiled down to was a conversation about our commitments to each other and how we need to keep them. And a tacit implication that I will probably be chastised for the rest of my life.

So anyway, after Belle said she’d change her behavior back to match my expectations, I felt like a valve had been opened inside me. Within hours, I found my entire perspective about the device and our exchange of power had flipped. Before, I had developed a kind of begrudged resignation toward the device and had more or less lost my interest in being sexual with or even touching Belle. Last night, though, I was all over her and fell asleep clutching her body, my hands up under bedclothes. Her hand was down around the device and she stroked my balls as she fell asleep and I just about melted. On the way into work this morning, I sensed the tube on my body and the stirring of the cock inside and a warm, excited fluttering was in my chest. Once the issue with the lower stack was resolved, the issue with the higher one was, too.

All this is a long way of demonstrating that every time Tom says $200 worth if plastic locked on your junk won’t fix your relationship is totally and obviously correct. Also, chastity has stopped being a kink for us. I don’t think of it that way anymore at all. It’s how we are, not what we do.