Tag: S/M

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Bottom topper

The other day, I asked for suggestions as to how Belle could approach her freaky-deaky husband as a woman who did not share or otherwise “get” where he was coming from with regard to his freaky and/or deaky proclivities. I did this for Belle and with her understanding because I prefer to think of this blog as a two-way street where I can dump info but also pick it back up from others.

As I said in that post, the deal was she had tried to do a little sumthin’ for me even though she was tired and probably should have just gone to sleep. I didn’t enjoy it and she figured that out and then we were left with the stale smoke of confusion and hurt feelings hanging over the bed all night.

The prevailing thought of those who left comments seems to be that I, as the submissive side of the couple, was topping from below by 1) saying that I wasn’t enjoying what she was doing, and 2) suggesting that she needed to enhance her repertoire of Thumper-centric activities. I honestly don’t understand that POV.

Let’s assume that I, not really being in the mood for nipple clipping and ball smacking, hadn’t made my discomfort known. Then, let’s assume she escalated the activity to include even more intense play, all the while I was suffering and really not enjoying myself. Then let’s say I was forced to use my safeword. Is that topping from below? Can calling an end to a scene that’s not going well for me seriously be considered the most egregious thing a sub can do?

This kind of thing has happened before.

I understand the position I’m in as the submissive. I get that I’ve ceded control over what happens to her. I like that. But surely I haven’t abdicated all responsibility for giving my partner feedback as to what things I like and what things I don’t. I do intuitively understand the difference between those things that are uncomfortable, painful, and push my boundaries but are still on the right side of a healthy dynamic versus those that aren’t. Is anyone suggesting I should just take it all, no matter how it feels to me?

The other night was just a bad idea. She wasn’t all that much invested in the scene. To me, it felt like she was just going though the motions because she was obliged to do so. That turned me off and made it impossible for me to enjoy it. I know it’s complicated and I know that to Belle this could be perceived as mixed signals. I don’t know what to do about that. I can only say how I feel and trust that we’ll figure it out (as we have in the past).

I’m not writing this post to drop the smack-down on my readers who left their opinions. I want those opinions, even if I don’t agree with them or understand where they’re coming from, because it’s only through this kind of dialog that I can form my own.

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Q for you

Yesterday at Target we got this super cheap back massage thing. It looks like an iMac from back when they were still fruit colored. Anyway, I mention it only because I used it on Belle’s back last night and it made me wonder how many people buy these cheap things and then use them in “off-label” ways, if you know what I mean.

After Belle’s massage, she was pretty loose and sleepy. I knew it and so did she. That didn’t stop her from attempting a little Thumper-centric action, though. It was really very thoughtful, but I’m a pretty good read of her condition and knew she didn’t have in her the energy I was going to need. She brought out the little chrome clothespins and stuck them on my nipples. They hurt. And not really in a very good way. My hands were clenched and my arms were drawn up over me (and my nipples were hurting) as she proceded to slap my nuts around. At another time, in another context, all this would have been good, but it wasn’t the right time. I wasn’t feeling it. I wanted attention. Something strategic, not tactical. It was like, “OK, I’m going to clip your nips and then knock your nuts around a little because I know you like that but then I’m going to sleep.” Sometimes a boy wants to be romanced a little before he’s slapped around.

She could tell it wasn’t going well (which was it, the balled up fists or the crossed arms?) and we had a small talk. She immediately felt vulnerable and inadequate while I tried to be supportive through my disappointment. The issues we were having (the ones always bopping along just under the surface) are multifold.

  • First, my sex – that is, sex for me from her – is complicated. It requires thought. It requires effort. It’s not something you can just roll over and do unless you’re practiced. There are props involved much of the time. If you’re sleepy and don’t really want to move much, you shouldn’t think you’re going to have meaningful sex with me. She was too tired last night (and most nights) to expend the resources necessary to really get me off. Plus, she’s not a real fan of stuff in the bed while I’m fairly dependent on it.
  • Two, since she doesn’t ultimately understand why I get off by being bound and hurt, she has a hard time finding the right motivation from which to act. She just can’t grok my POV. Everything she does is kind of trial and error. A good example is how, when she flogs me, she’ll sometimes go right into hitting me really hard. That’s no good because I like to get a bit of a buzz going before she moves in with the heavy stuff. But how would she know unless I told her (which I have)?
  • Three, she doesn’t have support. She has no friends with which to talk and she doesn’t read any of the books or view any of the websites. Everything she does she has to figure out for herself. See point number two for the obvious issues with that. I can give her ideas, but it’d be nice to see her riffing on her own. That’s pretty hard when the only reason you’re doing it is because your freaky husband wants you to.

I’m not ragging on her. Not on purpose, anyway. She knows this stuff. We’ve talked about it. She was way more weirded out by everything than I was. But what to do?

I suggested she come here and ask the readers for suggestions. What could she, a relative newbie and essentially vanilla woman, do to her perverted, masochistic, submissive, locked-in-chastity husband that would make him happy and not freak her out? She demurred. I don’t know why, but she’s never shown a lot of interest in writing for the blog. So, I said, what if I do it? What if I ask the question? She as fine with that.

So I did.

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Weekend sex

We did have some nice episodes this weekend and since it’s been so long since I wrote about the sex parts, I’ll relate them to you now…

On either Friday or Saturday, I went to bed highly expectational that something was going to happen. I was sporting the free meat so almost anything was possible. She told me to get naked and I snuggled up against her, nuzzling her tits through the fabric of her pajamas and running my hand over the outline of her mound. She lifted her top and I latched on to her nipples, licking and sucking each one in turn. My blood rose pretty quickly and the soft spot just under the high point of her crotch that told me I was on her clit. I pressed down with a circular motion. Just seconds later, she started to come. I could feel her heat and dampness through the fabric and flicked my tongue over erect nipple as her head went back and she whispered in breathy insistance, “I going to come.”

And she did. And it was really fucking hot. She said it made her feel like she was 16 again and we were fooling around in a car. It was all so rushed and determined. I was left feeling like the man of steel and, after allowing her time to bask a bit, I asked if I could enter her. She seemed to hesitate and I thought for a second she’d refuse, but she pulled off her bottoms and opened up for me.

This was the first time I fucked her with the new ring in and, more so than any other I have, I could feel its gravity move though the head of the cock and slide against the wet walls of her pussy. My PA piercing has  taught me there are nerve endings inside the cock as well and, that night, as I fucked her slowly and deliberately, trying to feel every centimeter of her sex slide against mine, all the little nerves were firing. I love that new ring sofuckingmuch.

In the hight of the passion, as the urge to speed up and spew reached its zenith, the fact that I was not allowed resonated in me like a struck bell. I felt suddenly and immensely grateful that I was with a partner willing to take on control of my release. I thanked her for accepting my cock and reiterated how right it felt that she decide when I come. As I was fucking her and as I was grappling with the rising, desperate need to ejaculate, I embraced with all my being her right to refuse me the pleasure. It was not going to happen.

I fell asleep pressing as much of me against as much of her as possible, hard, sticky cock between us.

The next night, or maybe the one after that, she abused me. She started off slow and gentle, just how I like, caressing every part of my desperate sex and stroking the cock until an orgasm was just beginning to bubble to life. Then she started slapping, lightly at first and then with more determination, my balls. Eventually, she was striking them with force and I was gasping for breath, drawing my knees up instinctively, and clutching at my aching sack. The pain would radiate for ten, twenty, thirty seconds or more before receding, then I’d slowly open my legs again. That’s the most delicious part. My higher brain, with its weird chemistry and crossed pleasure wires, fighting my lower reptile brainstem’s blind protective instinct. Each millimeter my legs moved apart was a minor internal battle. Then, she’d place her loose fist against my nuts, draw back, and strike them again.

This kind of pain is, for me, the beluga caviar of masochistic pleasure. Certainly an acquired taste, it’s also very intense. I couldn’t do it every night, but sitting here now, encased, reliving the unique radioactive agony…I want it again. A lot. I’m getting all dreamy just thinking about it.

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A reader’s questions

A reader sent me an email chock full o’ questions and, since I can’t get motivated to write about anything else, I thought I’d reply to them here…

Have followed your postings for some time and really enjoy them.

Thanks. I enjoyed many of them myself.

Does Belle control your appearance and grooming…hair, body hair, nails etc.?  Does she ever groom you or tell you how she wants it done?  How are they kept?

Not any more than any other wife. She likes me to look a certain way, but it’s not always the way I want to look and also not always appropriate for work (don’t get carried away – she like me on the scruffy side, is all). I probably would modify my appearance for her if she asked me to.

Ever get into bondage or cock and ball torture?  How have you been tied or what have you had done to cock and balls?

If you’ve followed me for some time, you’ll know I’m very into CBT and bondage. I’m not always in the mood, but when I am (or when Belle pulls me into it), I like it a lot.

As far as what’s been done, Belle’s punched me in the nuts, applied Icy Hot to them, pinched and squeezed them, affixed clothespins in and around the area, and (while tied up) rested a bag of ice on the entire package. I have a fantasy of her really kicking or kneeing them, but have thus far not pushed it because I’m not sure where the line is. I have grown to really appreciate testicle pain (again, while in the right mood), but am afraid of actually damaging them.

Now that I think of it, I recall that, prior to being with Belle, my masturbatory habits included wrapping a light chain (dog leash) around my cock and balls in order to cause constriction. In what was probably a strong foreshadowing of my future kinks, I liked the sensation of binding and squeezing. At some point, I lost the chain and used other various objects such as boot laces.

Ever get tied, tortured or used by another guy?  Interested in that?

No, I haven’t. Interested? Well, sure, in the same way I’m interested in any guy at this point. I’m not going to be acting on my interests since the rules of my relationship don’t allow it, but I think the dynamic differences in being topped by a guy versus a woman would be fantastic to experience. Guys have the ability to penetrate in a way that’s very obviously dominating.

Do you find yourself more bi as you are in chastity without cuming longer?

I am not any more or less queer when in chastity, but I am metric tonnes more horny. I feel as though I’m a perfect Kinsey 3 in that I’m usually equally attracted to women  and men. My level of frustration doesn’t change the direction of my attractions, though it can make them much more intense.

Ever made to service other guys or women?

I’m up to anything, but Belle’s not interested in sharing, as far as I know.

Sure these seem like random questions…I appreciate your answering them.

No problem.

I’d like to learn more about you.

Obviously!

Chastity is a huge turn on to me.

Me, too.

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Double punishment

It’s late. I should be asleep.

Last night, I forgot to make Belle’s coffee so this morning she had to wait for it. I got up as soon as she told me, but still, she didn’t get her first cup until after her shower. Tonight, she told me I would be punished.

After the kids were down and out, she told me to take my clothes off like she does every night. I got up, stripped, and started to get back in when she stopped me. I hadn’t asked permission. Then, she showed me the tube of Icy Hot. I immediately started to whimper and whine. I told her how sorry I was for forgetting the coffee, that tomorrow’s was already set up, that I wouldn’t forget again. Didn’t matter. She already had a dollop of white paste on her fingertips.

I knelt on the bed and she reached under me. I felt her smear the greasy, cold liniment across my scrotum, stretched firm by the stainless steel chastity device. She laid back and opened her arms, inviting me in. I placed my head against her chest, still waiting for the first blast of heat. Once it hit, setting my balls on fire, I started to pull away but she held me close to her, face smothered in her breasts. I moaned, panted, and writhed the best I could, but she held me tight. One wave of fire would subside to be replaced by another, each time she held me firm and unable to move. Eventually, the waves of pain started to recede more quickly and crest a little lower each time, though the effects of the Icy Hot continued to linger.

She let me go, and I got back on my knees, legs spread, face to the mattress, letting my tender balls hang in the cool air. I cradled them and probed them with my fingers. Poor little things. It wasn’t their fault I forgot to make the coffee.

“Where’s Pink?” she asked.

“In my drawer,” I said, “but I’m afraid to use it on you. I have Icy Hot on my hands…”

“Get her out.”

I reached into my drawer and handled the little pink vibe as lightly as possible. “Give it to me,” she said, holding out her right hand. She had used her left to apply the Icy Hot.

The vibe disappeared with her hand under the covers and I heard the low thrum of the vibe’s motor kick in. I moaned some more. It had been days since Belle allowed me to pleasure her and I felt the need badly, especially after my punishment. I put my mouth on her shirt over her nipple.

“Did you ask?” she said sharply.

I retreated, still on my knees, sore sack suspended, and pressed my ear against her so I could hear the vibe better. The sound of its thrumming rose and fell as it slid it in an out of her. I could see it in my mind, wet with her juices, parting her full, pink labia, pressing against her clit. I wanted to feel it myself so badly, to press my mouth against her, to lick her soft folds.

“Please, can I do something?” I asked. She said nothing. Her head was back, jaw sharply defined in the candlelight, lips parted. She ignored me.

The rise and fall of the vibe’s motor increased its rhythm and Belle’s hips started to gyrate next to me. I closed my eyes and imagined how it would all feel under my hand, vibrations running up my wet fingers, her nipples hard in my mouth. The stainless tube was now filled and the tightness of the meat caused the Icy Hot to flare back to life. My crotch was on fire as she came quietly.

After a few moments of basking, she wordlessly handed me the warm vibrator. I replaced it in my drawer and she turned over, already half asleep.

And that’s why I’m here now, writing it all down for you.

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All in one night

Based on a true story. 😉

“Get naked and give me the clamps,” she said. Then, after a moment, “And the floggie croppie thing, too.”

I did as she said, then climbed back into bed.

“Lay on your back.” I did. She attached a butterfly clamp to my right nipple, then the left. She tugged on the chain connecting them to test their grip. Twin lasers of sharp pain lit up in my brain.

“Roll over. Get up on your knees.” I did. She found my balls with the wide end of the crop. I could feel the hard, smooth leather cold against my scrotum. She held it there for a moment in an almost soothing way. Then she started to hit me. Lightly at first, then harder. Then harder. I took as much as I could, my ass rising into the air a little bit with each whack, before pulling my right leg off the bed and away from the blows. She yanked down on the chain attached to my nipples and pulled until my face was against the sheets.

This cycle repeated several times. Between attacks on my testicles, she’d pull and twist the chain, searing the soft pink flesh with the bite of the clamps. The blows to my balls didn’t make the kind of deep internal pain one usually associates with the most vulnerable part of a man’s body. It was more like surface slapping, but uncomfortable just the same. Difficult to take.

Finally, she took the shaft of the crop and shoved it roughly into my mouth, holding it there like the bit on a horse’s bridle. She pushed my head back and away from her while simultaneously pulling the chain closer. My back bent sharply as I tried to lessen the agony on my nipples, but it wasn’t enough. First the right clamp, then the left ripped off. I cried out as she removed the crop from my mouth, collapsing on the bed, whimpering. Nipples throbbing, balls stinging.

—

“Now you’re going to take care of me.”

“How?” I asked quietly. “How do you want me to take care of you?”

“In the usual manner,” meaning with my long fingers and soft lips, “but have Pink ready just in case you’re not enough.”

I took the little pink vibrator from my dresser drawer and placed it under me to get warm, just in case. Then I ran my hand across her body, stopping on the mound of her pubis. I could feel the cleft of her pussy lips, hot beneath the fabric of her bedclothes. I exposed her breast and started to lick her nipple.

She moaned. “Mmmmm, that’s good, Thumper. My tits were hot for you. They missed you so much.”

I licked and sucked one while fingering the other. Her moaning deepened while her hips gyrated beneath the sheets. My free hand wandered down and slipped under her draw string. My finger found her snatch, soft and radiating heat.

She moaned again. “Of, fuck. God, Thumper, my pussy missed you, too. It’s so hot and wet. Hot and wet for you, Thumper. Does that make you hard? Hard in your steel tube? Knowing how badly my pussy wants you? Knowing you can’t have it?”

This time, I moaned. I felt the relentless steel bite into the base of my swelling erection.

“I want you to eat me. Now.”

I moved over her, stopping to lick her opposite nipple. Her hips rose up and she ground her crotch into the steel trap on my manhood. Her trap and her manhood. I dropped down and placed my mouth against her pussy, lapping it like a hungry animal. My hands reached up and played with her nipples.

“Get pink,” she gasped, “Put it in me. All the way in.”

I turned the little vibe on and fumbled trying to get it in her. In the dim candlelight, I couldn’t find the right spot fast enough for her. She grabbed it out of my hand and slid it deep into her pussy right before my eyes.

“Like that,” she admonished, “Now leave it there.”

I went back to licking her clit, my chin bumping up against the end of the humming vibrator nearly disappeared inside her. As her pleasure increased, she started to whisper, “oh, fuck” again and again. Faster and louder as my tongue worked rapidly and my steel-clad erection pressed hard into the bed. She started to say something, but clamped her legs onto my head, shutting off my ability to hear her.

She reached down and grabbed twin handfuls of my hair, pulling my face into her pussy, bucking her hips up to meet me, tension and energy building throughout her body. Then, she stopped…holding it. Holding. At the top of the crest, her orgasm coursing through her, my tongue stationary and pressed against her in the way she’s taught me. Then, release. Her legs relaxed and she let go of my hair. I removed the vibe and pressed its little button, turning it off. Everything was silent as she basked, glowing.

—

“Get on your back,” she told me again. I did. I could still taste and smell her. My nose, mouth, and chin were all wet and redolent. She was moving next to me and then was doing something with the device. I realized she had the key and was looking for the lock.

I’m wasn’t sure what this meant since she told me just that morning that I wasn’t going to come for another 27 days, but there she was, apparently trying to unlock me right after her orgasm. In the 12 years we’ve been married, I can count on one hand the number of times she’s come twice in one evening. I couldn’t imagine why she was doing this.

“Um, what are you doing?” I ask.

“What does it look like I”m doing,” she said, still struggling to get the long key into the brass locking mechanism.

“Don’t break it in there.”

“I have a spare.”

“Yeah, but if you break the key off in the lock, I’ll never get out of it again.” Besides, I think, I have to fly on Wednesday. How will I ever get through the metal detector with this thing forever locked onto me? Then it occurred to me that she may be unlocking me early as some sort of reward. Oh!

“Can I do that for you?”

She handed me the key and I quickly removed the lock, handing it and the key back to her. I pulled off the tube, the metal rod that secures it to my piercing, and the ring. She immediately started playing with the freed cock which, unfortunately, was still flaccidly stunned to be suddenly out in the open air. After a few moments of rhythmic attention, it began to lengthen.

Then, fully hard, she stopped to climb up onto me. She lined the cock up with her swollen, slippery pussy and it slid in easily. She said nothing so I had no idea what was expected of me, but I knew better than to think this was for my benefit. I tried to put my mind as far away as possible from the sensation of her sliding up and down on the stiff shaft.

She was plainly enjoying herself and, except that I was servicing her breasts while she was fucking me, didn’t seem to care much for what I was doing. I tried to hold still and not reciprocate so as to help minimize the sensations I was feeling and was pleasantly surprised at how well I was holding off. As she got closer to her second orgasm of the evening, she started to get vocal and this time I didn’t have her legs to help muffle the sound.

Hearing her so vociferously get her rocks off on me brought my own orgasm into being. Just like that I was grunting and exploded inside her – zero to 60 in one second.

As soon as she felt me start to come, she cried out, “FUCK ME!” and boy did I. A millisecond later, she came all over again.

—

She got back into bed and found me totally unmoved from the position she left me a few minutes before. She propped her head up on her elbow and said, “I don’t want you to feel guilty about that one.”

“I don’t,” I said, and I didn’t. Not remotely. “It’s not like I had any choice.”

She laughed. “I love it when we come like that. At the same time. That was something special. Totally worth it.”

“I agree. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said while handing me the key and lock, “Now go put that thing back on.”

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Questions from a reader IV

Parts una, duo, and tres.

We’ve hit the half-way point! It’s all downhill from here.

In respect of your comments as to whether you are submissive or “submissively inclined”, from what I have read, you don’t strike me as what I think of as submissive.  You enjoy sexual submission, but that seems to be as far as it goes.  While you do perform domestic services, you do it as part of sexual conduct and to satisfy sexual needs.  But you retain a significant amount of control and power both outside your relationship and within it, or at least that is how your blog reads to me.

Well, your guess is as good as mine. I’m just starting to figure out this whole submissive thang, to be honest.

It’s true I have a great deal of power and control at my work. That’s because I own the place and pretty much run it. However, this isn’t contradictory to being submissive in my relationship. From what I understand, it’s actually common.

With regard to having power in my relationship, it’s not that simple. I have influence. Just because I’m her sub doesn’t mean I don’t want things. We’ve established a nice system whereby I’m able to communicate my wants without making her feel obligated to give them too me (this’ll come up again in a later question). If I have real power in our dynamic, it’s based on the fact that I know she love me and wants me to be happy. It’s a power I could use, but choose not to since I like her being in control. I’m not saying I don’t struggle with the whole “topping from the bottom” thing from time to time, but I think it’s a lot clearer now than it used to be. I’m much more patient, for one thing. I’m able to let go of my need to steer and let her establish the path we’ll take more or less based on her speed. Yes, I’ll occasionally nudge or suggest, but it’s always with the understanding that it’s all up to her, not me.

You might read all that and think I sound like I have it all figured out, but I don’t. I admit to having some insecurities around my submissiveness (And I really a sub? Like, all the time?). Also, like any other human relationship dynamic, I know that our D/s will have its up, down and sideways moments. I guess the bottom line is I’ve decided to just roll with it and see what happens.

As an adjunct to that, how would you respond if Belle Fille said she wanted you to submit financially to her?  To give her full and complete control over every cent you earn and the family finances?

I’ve already asked her to do this. After reading Steve’s deal, I forwarded it to Belle and suggested we do the same. I’m all for it, but so far she hasn’t established the parameters.

Also, would the ultimate exercise of Belle Fille’s control over you be for her to deny you what you want – to deny you your denial?  What would happen if she insisted that you have full orgasms every day for a week?  Not “ruined” ones, but full on, ear popping, feet scrabbling, locomotives of sperm.  If you were really submissive, you would submit and do as she ordered.  But is that the submissive paradox – being made to do what you don’t want to do is really what you want to do ….?

Mykey had a situation once (described in posts I can’t find at the moment) where his wife Sandy made him come and then consume his own spunk every day for a week. That was fucking hot. Totally. Fucking. Hot. So yeah, if it was in the context of Belle exercising her control over me and my sexual release, I’d be game for whatever.

One aspect of your relationship that I would find very difficult to emulate if it were required of me is that one person does all the heavy lifting in terms of sexual decision making.  I love being in charge of my own sexuality, but I don’t know if I have the energy to also make all the decisions for someone else.  It’s a bit like having to decide what to cook for dinner every night – you might be a fussy eater and a good cook, but every now and then you want someone else to come up with an idea!   Does Belle Fille find it a burden? Do you think it is an unfairness that works in your favour, that you are no longer required make the hard calls?  (God, this message has so many double entendres that I can’t be bothered trying to avoid them anymore!)

This gets back to my having influence over the course of events, but not outright control over them. Belle’s Rule says I can come on to her all I want in any way I want 72 hours after her orgasm, so it’s not as one-sided as your question sounds. For a while, I wasn’t allowed to make any move on her without permission, but that didn’t really work for either of us. For her, it was pretty much as you describe. Lots of pressure on her. Too much control, not enough spontaneity. Sometimes a girl likes to know how much her boy wants to fuck her senseless, even if she’s going to shut him down. Also, we found that waiting for her to want it so bad that she’d allow me to start working on her led to a lot more infrequent sex. That usually ended up making me feel depressed (and her more stressed as a result). Letting me get physical with her, even if nothing comes of it, gives me an outlet to demonstrate my frustration (which makes me feel better).

Your question also misses out that sometimes she’ll tell me we will have sex, but that I have to drive and get to do whatever I want (absent orgasm, of course, or actual fucking if I’m in the device). Her control over our sex includes having the prerogative to delegate that control to me, if only temporarily.

Having said that, I know that the reason it would not work for me it that I like partners who are sexually confident and sexually persuasive – which I distinguish from being sexually aggressive, which can be damned annoying!  I like a partner who does more than just respond – who can seduce me, who can get me going from a standing start.  I know that you now have limited permission to initiate sexual conduct, but does Belle Fille, and do you, not miss your more significant input (another one…) into getting the fire lit?  Do you not miss those opportunities to seduce your partner, or do you see your submission as seduction?

I think I answered this one with the last one. As far as I know, Belle’s Rule allows me to do whatever I want until either a) she tells me to stop, or b) she comes. I am sexually confident and can be very persuasive. “Submissive” does not equal “passive” (unless that’s what the dominant wants). I am not a passive person.

What you seem to crave from Belle Fille is a lack of compassion – you want her to see your suffering and be unmoved by it.  That seems to get you very hot.  Do you find that you are starting to see compassion as something undesirable, or as a weakness?  Or are you able to keep that dynamic solely within your relationship?

You’re correct that I want her to see my suffering, but not that I want her to be unmoved. Rather the opposite, I want her to be deeply moved. On the denial side, it’s a continuous demonstration of my willingness to be controlled by her. I gave her my cock. That’s a big deal and I “suffer” because of it every day. On the masochism side, it’s a little different. If you’re not a masochist, I’m not sure how to explain it and I don’t know you’ll ever understand, but I want her to hurt me a lot. To the point at which I can no longer take it, and just a little bit more. I want her to push me and I want to show her how willing I am to be pushed. I want to suffer and squirm and writhe and do it all because it is from her hand. But far from being unmoved, I want her to know that I do it for her because she’s my love and to understand that I know she does it to me because I am hers.

Of course, the two things feed on each other. The more I’m denied, the more I crave the pain and the more pain I can take. There are times when I want the hurt more than anything else. Axe just went though a week of beatings (here, here, and here). Just the idea of being beaten every day for a whole week makes me light headed. Imagine Homer Simpson and how his jaw drops and gets all drooly when he’s around donuts. That’s me thinking about what happened to Axe.

All that aside, you’re right that I’d rather not see compassion from her. I don’t want her to ever seem like she’s sorry for me, or if she is, to do it in a way that makes me feel smaller and more inferior. Case in point. She loves her vibrator Pink. Loves. It. I know she does. But she very often makes a point of telling me she likes her cock (that is, the one on me) more than any toy. This might be true, but honestly, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need to hear it. I’m not threatened. Quite the contrary, I can think of nothing hotter than her finding something other than me to be the most sexually satisfying. Besides, the last thing I want to hear is that she’s not being fully satisfied since her favorite “toy” is locked in the device (and can’t be trusted anyway since I find it so hard to control my orgasm when I’m using it).

And (on a lighter note) do you ever worry about having a car accident and being taken to hospital and having to explain why you have that attached to your cock??  Like the “always wear clean underwear because you might be hit by a bus” argument??

In short, no, I don’t worry about it. Ever. Maybe at the beginning when, ironically, I was wearing a device I could have conceivably removed bare-handed, but not anymore. Maybe that’s just sexually charged bravado or plain old stupidity, but it’s just not a factor.

And there you go. Thirteen questions, 13 answers. It helped that these came in right when Belle started her period since there wasn’t much else to do anyway. 😉

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Questions from a reader III

Part one and two.

I have to admit, that last asnwer kinda knocked the wind out of me. There was a lot of stuff in there that I hadn’t dragged out in a while…

Here’s the next one:

Do you think that your infidelity in any way still informs the relationship between you and Belle Fille?  I know it’s simplistic to say it, but it is tempting to note that your cock got you into a heck of a lot of trouble and nearly cost you your marriage.  By handing over control of it to Belle Fille and denying yourself orgasms, you achieve 2 things: (a) you ensure that it can’t happen again, and (b) you could be seen as punishing yourself, or atoning, for your transgression.  I don’t think that’s why you have chosen this dynamic, but it does achieve both those things.  The main reason that I ask if your infidelity might still be present in some form is because of an entry in which Belle Fille came home after a night out and a few drinks and, at your request, repeatedly punched you in the balls.  Now I know you wanted it, but I don’t think I could bring myself to do that to someone I loved, even if they wanted me to.  Or not unless I was really, really ANGRY at them.   It’s the ultimate response to a cheating husband – to really hit him where it hurts.  I know you love her for doing it, and that she is getting in more and more touch with her inner domme,  but is there any anger or resentment present in her enjoyment of your submission?

I understand how on the surface my chastity and denial might be seen as a result of the affair (and, were I in a hawt chastity porn story, not only would that be the case, but the device would be somehow magically and permanently attached to me while she enjoyed a succession of lovers with ever-larger cocks), but in reality, experimenting with chastity was my idea, not hers. I have reflected on the apparent irony of the former cheater being denied access to the weapon used in the crime, but I am totally unaware of any connection in my mind in wanted to be locked up and what I did. They’re two separate things divided by personal revelations and events and aren’t connected.

You’re correct that, by keeping the cock locked up, it is ensured that I’ll never put somewhere it doesn’t belong again, and it’s also true that the last time I saw TOW, Belle had me locked up. Belle will have to answer herself if making me wear it then was a safeguard against her or to keep me from playing with myself in a hotel room (I think the latter). Belle and I have regained trust in our relationship with or without the device. With regard to the idea that I might be punishing myself or atoning, that’s not the case either. I admit that the idea of being punished and forced to atone is super-hot, that’s not what’s happening at all. I am locked up and denied because Belle loves me and knows I want to be controlled by her in that way.

As far as I’m concerned, the only way chastity and denial are somehow involved in the affair is how they make impossible a repeat of the conditions which brought it about in the first place. When we were vanilla, my sexual gratification wasn’t connected to our relationship. For the most part, it happened outside our bedroom. Now, since she’s in control of my orgasms, I will never find relief without her. Before, my cock would lead me away from her while now it leads me closer to her. Sex and our relationship are now intertwined in way they’ve never been before. Had it not been for the affair, we wouldn’t be here today.

Regarding anger or resentment in her domination of me, I don’t believe it’s present. She’ll need to address that herself, but I don’t sense it. Rather, I sense her domination comes from her love for me and an actual enjoyment on her part in playing that role. When she punches me in the nuts, it’s not to express anger or relieve frustration with me, it’s because she cares for me. Yes, kicking a guy in the nuts is a great way to get back at him for something terrible, but for me, it’s also a way to make love and that’s how she approaches it. Truth is, it took her a long time to really let loose and hit me as hard as I wanted to be hit. If she was doing it to make me suffer, I suspect she would have let loose from the beginning.

I note a comment by Belle Fille that your submissiveness makes her feel “desired, appreciated, respected”.  Did she not feel like that before you became submissive?  Or did she feel it less?   I can understand why she did not feel it at all on learning of your infidelity, as that could destroy those feeling.  But I feel desired, appreciated and respected not just because my partner treats me like that, but also because I know, with or without that relationship, that I am desirable, appreciated and respected.  I don’t need someone to fold my laundry or put a ring around their cock to generate my feelings of self worth.  (Reading that back it sounds really harsh and critical, which is not what I intended, but I am not sure how else to say it and make the point).  Or am I making too much of her comment?

Previous to the affair, neither of us felt especially desired, appreciated, or respected. The affair wasn’t the cause of that condition, rather that condition was the cause of the affair. Now, my submission to her allows her to feel those things, but her domination of me makes me feel them, too. It’s not just because of the D/s that we feel that way, but because we have an active, healthy, and engaged sex life. It could take many different forms, but for us right now, it’s D/s. The laundry folding and cock hardware don’t create her feelings of self worth, but what they represent in our relationship do for both of us. They mean we are committed to one another’s needs in a way we may never have been prior to the affair.

Your confusion over this point is, I think, very common for people not engaged in our kind of relationship. Focusing on the trappings of D/s is wrong. All the D/s is is a type of commitment we’ve made to each other’s satisfaction. It may look one-sided or like she needs to force me to behave a certain way, but that’s just wrong. We do it for each other because we love one another and like how it feels and how it feeds our foundational relationship.

Time to start the day. More to come later!

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Change of plans

So yeah, last night was my supposed to be my next chance at an orgasm, but no, it didn’t happen. Belle came down with menstruation early in the afternoon and, since she prefers I come inside her, she decided to postpone the event. Instead of coming, she said I’d get a little personal abuse time. To be honest, I felt it was more than a fair trade. Like last time, it consisted of using the butterfly clamps on my nipples combined with testicle pain. The thing that made it especially notable is that Belle’s getting really good at this stuff.

She started out by attaching the clamps flat against my chest as opposed to perpendicular as before. This meant any pulling of the chain not only pulled on my nipples, but also twisted them. In addition, she clamped just the very tips. How they stayed on without gripping any of the fleshy bits is beyond me, but the sensation was a laser-intense pain on either side. Instead of just pulling randomly, she would wind the chain around her finger, slowly and purposefully, raising my expectation of the coming hurt several notches. Then she’d pull. The shorter chain meant more intensity and sensation with her every movement. She also used the chains to more purposefully direct my movement, like a bridle on a horse. God, they still hurt right now, almost 24 hours later.

She also mixed up how she slapped my nuts around. Instead of single hard impacts, she’d perform a series of light slaps that escalated in force until she was rapidly slapping me rather hard. Again and again, she’d build a cascade of slaps up to nearly a hard punch at the end, intermingled with light and really rather pleasant stroking of what had become a very tight scrotum thanks to the steel ring and swelling cock. Before long, the lingering pain from each assault coalesced into one long, aching torment. That unique pain radiated into my guts and down into my inner thighs as she moved back in for each round, pushing my legs out of the way if necessary. It was…fucking awesome. I passed over the threshold of involuntary self-preservation and started to open my legs wider, leaning into her strikes. Craving them. Silently urging her to hit me harder.

When she was done with me, she gently stroked my inner arm, a place of heightened sensation for me. She uses that place to calm me down and it works. Even with throbbing, burning nipples and aching balls, shortly after she started I felt the bite of the Steelheart’s ring ease as the meat inside released its erection.I felt very spacey, very warm, and very happily hurt.

“I’m going to do this for 30 more seconds, and then you’re going to get Pink,” she whispered in my ear.

She didn’t seem interested in having an orgasm earlier in the evening. Had the infliction of pain on me aroused her? I don’t know. I still haven’t asked. But as soon as she stopped, I reached into my drawer and took out her favorite sex toy. As she came, she grabbed the device out of my hand and pressed it hard against her clit.

Another intense orgasm for her. An awesomely satisfying scene for me.

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Potpourri

About a year ago, I discovered a little statue made by Auguste Rodin called Eternal Idol over on Male Submission Art and fell in love with it. I have no idea if Rodin was subbie, but he’s perfectly captured a moment of male submission in this work. Ever since I found it, I’ve been thinking of getting a copy for Belle but was never able to find one that didn’t look like ass. Asking the Google brings up a ton of links to one particularity nasty knock-off and only a few to the one pictured above (in fact, so obscure, I can’t even find it again). It’s a copy made from the original and currently resides on Belle’s nightstand, a Christmas present from her little bunny.

In other news, I can report that the miracle of human adaptability is again taking place in my pants. When I first got the Steelheart back from the Fatherland, I told you the ring was very tight. Almost too tight. On the border of intolerably tight, to be honest. It woke me up several times a night with its tightness and the accompanying testicular pain. Now, just over a week later, I’ve somehow adjusted. It’s still tight, but the testicular aching is gone. It now wakes me up just like the CB6K did once I got used to it. Somewhere between 5:00 and 6:00, my stainless alarm clock pulls me out of my sleep and makes me get up and pee. This morning, I could have even stayed in bed. I expect that soon, I’ll sleep right though it.

I’d love to know what’s going on when that happens. Are things moving around in there? Are the pain receptors burning out? I don’t notice anything different on the outside, but somehow the very same device is causing my body to react differently. It’s amazing, if you think about it, that a guy can have a thing like this strapped to him and eventually just roll with it.

Yesterday, to celebrate our day off, Belle and I had sex. We brought the rabbit vibe out for only its second performance. I suggested we try to dollar-cost average its per-use expense down from $110/orgasm to only $55/orgasm. Maybe even lower if she liked it. Last time, she used it on herself and I watched. This time, I wanted to use it on her. I still have, even though I’m unable to do it myself, a strong urge to fuck her. Her usual stand-by, Pink the vibrator, is very nice, but not really a fucking tool. It’s too small. I know, it’s not really about me and all, but I’m interpreting Belle’s Rule to mean after 72 hours, I can lobby for anything.

Anyway, at first she declined the rabbit. She wanted my fingers. So, like the dutifully denied husband that I am, I let go of the rabbit idea and started to work on her. There was no rush since we were home alone and it was the middle of the morning. I climbed above her and kissed her nipples and started to stroke her pussy in an unhurried way. The device was soon filled and straining and, since I was above her, hanging down and bumping into her. I moved between her legs and pressed its warm hardness into her snatch. I rubbed it against her clit, not really knowing if it would do anything for her. But it did. She liked it.

“God, I want to fuck you so bad, Belle Fille.”

“Then go ahead. Try it.”

I started to press the Steelheart into her pussy. I could feel her heat radiate through it, but felt no other sensation other than the familiar pressure of the tube restraining me. Its downward curve made any kind of real fucking impossible, but I could feel it being enveloped by her while I fingered her clit. Every little cell in my brain was pushing me to fuck her, and even though a perfectly hard cock was a fraction of an inch away from a wet and willing pussy, it was not to be.

“Get the rabbit,” she said.

I hopped out of bed, hot steel swinging between my legs, and got the rabbit vibe from our toy box. I couldn’t find any lube, so I stuck it my mouth and covered it with spit. After warming it up under the covers for a minute while I worked on increasing her natural lube, I turned it on.

Now, I was really fucking her. The rabbit’s vibrating ears tickled her clit while the lavender head of the shaft (noticeably bigger than me) worked in and out. One hand on the vibe, the other on one nipple, my mouth on the other, she soon was going over the falls and having what seemed to me a pretty serious orgasm.

After a few moments of basking, I asked to be beaten. She said she would and ordered me up on my hands and knees. Then she whipped my ass and upper thighs with the crop. I can’t say how long it went on, but I’m sure my ass was glowing red when it was over. It stung for the better part of the day as we went to the movies and just hung out together. I think I must have told her half a dozen times how much I liked the beating. We so seldom get to do that now that all our hitty toys are so noisy…

Finally, Belle told me that my initial showed up on her calendar again. After only two weeks, I’ll be allowed another orgasm this Saturday (or thereabouts). She told me that any freedom from the device would be short-lived since its presence keeps me properly focused. She made me admit that I knew it was true. It is. I’m a much better bunny when I’m in my cage.