Tag: Steelworxx

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Alien flesh

Penises are spatially variable things. They get bigger, they get smaller, they’re hard then soft, they twirl around and get squished and squashed. Their friends, the testicles, are the same way. They move around all on their own and, like octopi, have the strange ability to fit into the narrowest spaces. Sometimes, the scrotum splays out like a jellyfish that swallowed a couple soft-boiled eggs, while other times it’s like a tight, wrinkly little meatball. Frankly, it’s all very weird and random.

This is top of mind as I’m still out of the device and have only just reacclimated to all the ways this strange appendage behaves. When you’re in a chastity device, everything is more or less static. Yes, things tighten up and feel different from time to time, but by and large, they don’t actually look any different (unless, of course, your device is see-through). When your cock is in a big steel tube, it’s the big steel tube you have to deal with all the time. The cock eventually fades into the background, especially since it’s out of site. And while the balls are still out there, the A-ring tends to shepherd them into very reliable configurations. The phrase “a place for everything and everything in it’s place” comes to mind.

To be honest, being out is a big distraction. I was locked up for almost a month and dealing with that condition became second nature. While I appreciate the flexibility a free cock has (both physically and in application), trapping it in a device makes it a known, fixed variable. And of course, temptation stays at bay.

It’s like when your best friend across the street from when you were a kid went away for half the summer. You missed him at first and learned to have fun without him and of course always looked forward to his return. But when he did get back, you had to readjust all the things you figured out how to do when he was gone. The dynamic between you and your other non-best friends had to shift around to make room for him again. That’s how it is now with free meat. Suddenly, it’s back and demands attention. I’m not supposed to play with it, but it’s very insistent.

There’s a part of me that really misses the confinement, even though it’s only been five days of freedom. I like the controlled feeling of device. I like feeling her control. I’ve been wearing the A-ring off and on as a reminder and think I’ll leave it on permanently now. It simply feels too weird not having something down there, even if it leaves the cock free to be a strange alien thing.

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He comes laughing

I woke up Saturday morning at our family compound in the North Woods at 5:28. That’s within 5 minutes of when I woke up every day for the previous week or so. Usually I get up and pee since, as any guy knows, peeing helps alleviate morning wood and some days the wood’s so woody that the ring of the device is biting harder than a snapping turtle chomping on a guy’s tit. Not every day, but most days. I guess you could say that beside all the other reasons chastity is good for us, it’s also convenient having a reliable alarm clock with you wherever you go.

The night before, after rolling in moderately late and getting the kids settled down and asleep, Belle and I were laying in bed sipping Bailey’s, me naked at her direction, talking about the Steelheart again. I had been wearing it for 25 days and, while maybe not a record, it was pushing it. You leave something like that on yourself for so long and you start to lose physical memory of what it was like before it came along. We have both come to think of it as the cock and not just something over it. I told her how happy it made me to be wearing something she liked so much.

“Oh no”, she corrected me, “I don’t just like it. I love it.” Whimper.

The next afternoon, she unlocked it so I could prepare myself for that night. I was happy to see no surprises lurking under the steel. It all seemed perfectly normal (though I imagined it blinking and covering it’s eyes after so long in the dark). I cleaned both it and myself and shaved the spots I can’t normally get to. For the remainder of the day, I was commando in my pajama bottoms.

As the fabric rubbed against the head of the cock, I found the skin more and more sensitive to it. I don’t know if it’s something to do with the material of the device or if the PA fixing holds it such that it doesn’t come in contact with anything when it’s in there, but by the time we went to bed, it was really kind of driving me nuts. There’s nothing apparently wrong with it (maybe a little red), but it remains extraordinarily sensitive, even today.

The evening’s sexual activities were pretty standard fare. She let me give her an pretty great orgasm using my fingers and mouth (while she gently abused my balls) before I entered her. Once it was in the friendly confines of the warm and wet, any discomfort I felt on the head of the cock disappeared. The now thoroughly defeated sex lizard stirred just enough for me to lose myself in the act of fucking her, but not so much that I forgot to do as Ms. Rika suggests and ask to stop just before I came. I knew Belle wanted me to, and I figured I was going to, but Belle also liked Rika’s tactic of always having the man ask to stop before he comes (to ask if he can’t as opposed to asking if he can). In any event, the question surprised Belle and by the time she answered that she did want me to come, it was too late anyway. Nothing in the world was going to stop it.

I felt between four and five fat, healthy squirts followed by a large number of post-orgasmic flexes and throbs. It felt. So. Good. Seriously, top 10% of all orgasms. I even laughed. I once had a boyfriend who laughed when he came and I never really understood it since I’ve always felt orgasms were deadly serious business, but there I was, laughing. It was wonderful. Belle later commented on the prolific nature of the orgasm’s payload and I reminded her that it was 28 days worth with no relief (no milking and very little ancillary leakage).

Sleep reached up and forcibly pulled me down into its grasp. I slept incredibly hard and can remember no dreams. Just deep, deep sleep. And I didn’t wake up until Belle did at 7:30.

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Waiting patiently

According to the dates I pulled out of a hat last fall, I was supposed to get an orgasm back on the 2nd of January. If you remember, Belle decided to postpone my release for a week because she got her period and apparently prefers I come inside her. So this past weekend came along and my son had a sleep-over with friends at our house and there were family outings and such and, before you knew it, it was Monday and I still hadn’t come. Of course, I thought about it all weekend and wondered when she was going to let me do it, but she wanted it to be “good” and put it off again. The plan now is to let me come this weekend.

According to the BunnyTrack 2000 release tracker, Saturday will be my 28th orgasmless day (and my 25th in the Steelheart). I’ve gone longer, but I have to say I am really fucking horny. Like, really, really, significantly, profoundly, quite tragically horny. And Belle knows it. And she doesn’t really care. Well, she cares, but she’s not moved by my predicament. Last night, I was kinda all over her (being outside my 72 hours no-fly zone), but she wasn’t much interested.

She rolled over and I spooned into her, moaning quiet piteous moans, and she said, “I love how smooth it is.”

She had her hand down her side and was fingering the Steelheart. “I can’t even feel when you do that,” I said, “I really wish I could feel that.” Moan.

Tap, tap, tap. “Can you feel that?” Moan.

Every random little thought causes a stirring in the tube. Every little casual caress or throw-away verbal tease from Belle makes me weak in the knees. I reach down and grasp the steel and its sensory-deprived contents and stroke it and touch it and wish it would respond. With the CB6K, I’d get the urge to rip it off, but I don’t feel exactly the same way with the Steelheart. It’s less “on” me and more “part” of me. I don’t necessarily think, “God, I wish this thing was off of me.” It’s more, “God, I wish I could jack this off and spray all over myself.”

Which brings me back to Belle’s thinking that the only good orgasm is one that happens inside her. Of course, it’s entirely her decision when and how I come, but I’m not going to split hairs over the mechanism. What’s really important to me is that I do it at her direction and that she’s with me when it happens. Where the goo flies afterward isn’t all that important to me.

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Steelheart vs. CB6K

I’ve finally completed my comparison of the CB-6000 an the Steelworxx Steelheart. I’ve written for someone who hasn’t been around to read all the posts related to the stainless saga, so some of it will be repetitive for regular readers. As always, I’d appreciate any constructive feedback.

Steelheart vs. CB-6000

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A dream

I had this dream last night…

In the middle of the night, Belle and I are in bed, and the doorbell rings. She comes back to the room and sleepily tells me the hooker she got for me has arrived. I get up, as if this is normal, to greet the hooker out in the living room. It was our house, but not our house, in only the way it can/can’t be in a dream. So I start chatting the hooker up, feeling pretty good about Belle letting me have her but wondering what I’m supposed to do with her since I’m locked up. I can’t remember what she looked like, but she was young and had sandy blond hair. I wanted to get her clothes off and, at various times, they were, but then not again. The entire time I’m doing this, the hooker just won’t shut up. She keeps talking and showing me pictures of herself in yearbooks and pornos she made on the internet, etc. Eventually, we find ourselves in the kitchen of my mother-in-law’s house (but, you know, not my mother-in-law’s house). Somehow I’m not real clear on, I find myself behind the hooker and feeling her nipples by reaching around. They’re really small. Like, freakishly small. But very hard. I decide it’s time to get to business since it seems like we’ve been beating around the bush (so to speak) for hours. I go back to the guest bedroom where Belle is and tell her to go to her bed and that I’ll take the hooker in the guest room (seems the only gentlemanly thing to do). She groggily gets up an goes to the other room. I think to ask her to remove the device so I can, you know, do something, but before the words come out, I find the brass lock on the Steelheart in four pieces in my hand. It’s somehow broken (at least the third dream where the device I’m wearing breaks). I take the device off and put it next to Belle in bed, who by this time has fallen back asleep. Like she doesn’t care one way or the other what I do with the hooker. So I go back to find the hooker in the living room and she’s trying to show me another video she made and I suggest we go back to the bed. I start to walk down my mother-in-law’s (but not) hallway and it just goes on and on and on with twists and turns and it’s all dark and crowded with big dressers and bureaus and giant oak coat racks and stuff way too big for a hallway. I get to the room, which has the only lit lamp in the place, and find the fucking hooker’s not with me so I go back and find her somewhere in the hall, still talking about whatever the fuck she’s been talking about the whole time. I get her into bed (wondering, frankly, if Belle’s paying her by the hour or by the fuck) and try to get her to focus on her damned job for just a second. All I need is one second. Somehow, it seems like something’s about to happen, but she’s still not focusing on her task, and I’m starting to get hard. I’m crawling on top or behind or somewhere and I feel the erection and it’s starting to get heavy and hurt. I’m just about to actually, finally, slip it in when…

The pain from maybe the most intense erection I’ve had in the Steelheart wakes me up. I’m laying next to Belle, arm up her shirt against the skin of her back, leg thrown over hers, and hornier than I’ve felt in a really long time.

Fucking dreams.

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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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Key card

Recently, in my post about how impossible the Steelheart is to get out of, Sera asked the following in a comment:

This is probably a naive question but . . . do you worry about being “locked in” in an emergency situation?

And you know what? Yeah, I guess I do. I don’t think it’s very likely that I’ll need to get the device off for any reason (emergency or otherwise), but it does make more than a little sense to have the option when absolutely necessary. This morning, I took the spare key and made this.

The key for the Steelheart’s integrated lock is, as you can see, pretty long. Much longer than any other key we’ve used. What I’ve done is tape it to a piece of paper that has Belle’s signature and the date. That paper is taped to my old Best Buy RewardCard (oh, the irony) and over that is multiple layers of extra tape with little blue happy face stickers between every other layer or so. The tape wraps completely around the card. This picture, besides being posted here, was also emailed to Belle in its original resolution. I’ll carry the card around with me, either in my wallet or my computer bag, and present it to her when demanded to prove that it’s integrity has not been compromised (unlike my own which was not only compromised but also subsequently abandoned by the side of a lonely desert road back in my mid-teens).

I can’t see how I’d be able to unwrap the thing and still have it look like it does now. The happy faces would get tweaked and, even if they didn’t, the paper with her signature would likely tear. It may not be perfect, but I’m hardly a security risk (even though I have been known to pick my own lock).

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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.