Tag: Steelworxx

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Squishy: Boy Trainer 2.0/Birdlocked Neo first impressions

Belle allowed me to purchase a Boy Trainer 2.0 from Mr. S Leather the other day. My thought was it could be used when travelling or any other time something non-metal or slightly less severe was necessary or preferred. Kind of a “chastity-lite” thing that would be honestly better for me than swinging free.

It arrived yesterday and Belle said in advance I could switch from the Steelheart I’ve been in since the beginning of April to the BT2. I wore it from about 5:00 PM yesterday until after my workout and shower this morning. Not nearly long enough to form a complete picture or write up a full review, but I have some observations:

  • First of all, Mr. S markets it as the Boy Trainer 2.0, but it’s actually a Birdlocked Neo. I didn’t even know such a thing existed and thought Mr. S had developed this on their own. Not so much.
  • It’s really big. Bigger than a CB6K (though seemingly not longer than a standard 6K tube). This makes it much more noticeable beneath clothing (even jeans) than the Steelheart. The A-ring (which isn’t really an A-ring since it’s all one piece) is quite wide and the whole thing sticks out more prominently than any other device I’ve worn. When sitting, it gets all squished up so you don’t see a tube outline like with a rigid device, but it does leave an idle observer with the impression that you’re packing something impressive.
  • I lost my right nut with it last night. Woke up during the usual early morning hydraulics test not because the erection was biting (it wasn’t) but because my right nut had popped out and hidden itself up inside me somewhere and was aching. All I had left in the device was a flappy pocket of scrotum. Had to take the device all the way off to get things sorted.
  • During my shower, I discovered that the device isn’t just easy to pull out from (all these devices are) but that I could remove the entire thing from my body and get it back on again while soaped up, all without unlocking it. You can’t really refer to the BT2/Neo as a “trapped-ball” device since my balls (at least) aren’t at all trapped.
  • Since there’s nothing at all adjustable about it, there’s nothing I can do to make it fit me better. The openings for my nuts are just a little too big and the tube is too long. For this reason alone, I’d recommend a CB6K for someone just starting out over the BT2/Neo. Taking the short tube option into account, the CB6K has something like 40 different fitting combinations.

When I’m back from my trip, I’ll write up something bigger, but that’s enough for now. If you’re curious to see what the BT2/Neo looks like on this rabbit, I posted a picture to Twitter.

Speaking of my trip, I’ve decided to try and stay locked the whole time I’m gone. Long time readers will know I did do this over a camping trip a few years ago, but I had significantly more privacy then. I’ll have the key with me so if it gets too difficult, I’ll have a way out.

With that, I’ll sign off for the next couple of weeks…

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Transmuted pangs

Belle’s experiment with controlling my moodiness enters its third week. I’ve been out of the Steelheart for about an hour (since the day she let me out overnight earlier in the month) and that was for cleaning purposes only. I didn’t even get a boner. As I mentioned recently, I’ve found myself to be very irritable after being allowed to fuck her since we were on vacation so she’s decided I won’t get to do that as much as before and has stuck to it. I’ve essentially been locked up for month and have only been inside Belle once in that time.

She still gets to come, of course. Of course. Whenever she wants. Last time was at the end of my tongue. That was an especially frustrating one because she tasted so good and was so fucking wet after, but nothing for me. On my way down to her snatch, I rubbed the hard steel tube against her pussy and felt nothing whatsoever. Not even her heat. Laying on my stomach between her legs was physically painful as the erection struggled against the device and the device pressed into the mattress. I had to keep my ass raised up the whole time, lapping and licking and feeling her squirm in delight.

This morning, I was tending the porn farm and found this image among the firehose-like stream of pictures and animated GIFs I peruse on Tumblr. It’s not something suitable for The Portfolio since I never post any images of men having or having just had an orgasm (for obvious reasons), but as soon as I saw it, I felt a sharp and palpable pang from deep down. The situation is one nearly all men are familiar with (I may even have had those shoes) and, for a fleeting second, I felt myself there again. Being in that place where I could feel my hand wrapped around and pumping on a hard shaft, coaxing the seed from myself and being so wrapped up in the act that I didn’t care where it went after and, once out, the wash of release cascading like a cooler full of Gatorade dumped over my head and the realization that maybe I didn’t want a bunch of goo all over my clothes or the floor and now I’d have to clean it up. And the smell of it. The pungent smell of fresh semen. All that in a fraction of a second. And I wanted it. And I mourned not being able to have it. And I felt truly denied.

I presume my moodiness stems from that. From being truly denied now. There is no hope of coming for me. Not for a long time. No part of me needs to be invested in hoping she won’t let me. She will not. Nothing even close. No fucking, no touching. I meekly and pathetically suggested to her last night that she might let me out for some penis play time (not in her as she’s on her period) and, once she figured out what I was suggesting, shot the idea down because she couldn’t see what was in it for her. Why the hell should I be let out only to play with the penis? What’s the point?

So what I’m left with is an awful and glorious gnawing in my crotch for release. For attention. For a fucking hard on. I’m squirming and desperate and needy and right where I want and need to be. She won’t let her thumb off of my soul for a second. So cruel and yet loving.

In a few days, Belle’s leaving for another work trip and, just before she gets back, I’m leaving on a nine day camping trip with friends. She told me I could unlock myself at the last possible moment before I leave, but I’m toying with the idea of staying in. Not because I fear having access to the meat (I won’t have much privacy or opportunity to do anything with it I’m not allowed to do) but because I’ve been in so long now and, my desire to feel the stiff penis inside her aside, it’s just how I am. It’s how I want to feel. I resent having to come out. I resent real life forcing itself between us. Logically, I know I need to come out. It would be nearly impossible to keep things clean and lubed and secret for the whole time I’m away from bathrooms and plumbing and paved roads.

But god, I love living as she wants me to. I love how my submission transmutes what I need into something I don’t want and then back into something I crave, all because she wants it, too. You should feel sorry for me…and very happy for me, both.

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And then she rubbed her tits in my face

Other interests have keep me from my blogging lately, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t wanted to. Let’s play catch-up…

Last week, I recall with a certain vividness a moment Belle and I shared in our kitchen just after dinner. The kids had scattered and it was just us and apparently she was feeling frisky so she rubbed her tits in my face. Literally. Pushed my face down there and moved them back and forth. I was delirious. Made my head light and toes tingle. I may have just commented on how I had been locked up continuously since we got back from vacation and she may have said something to the effect that a) that’s not that long for me, and b) it would be a lot longer still, and c) here, let me rub my tits in your face you whiny rabbit. After she had me good and woozy, she told me to clean up the kitchen and left me swaying.

She’s off on an international trip now, but before she left she let the penis out for about 24 hours so she could have some fun with it. I was barely able to keep things under control while she rode me for an orgasm. It wasn’t the fucking that nearly sent me over the edge as much as it was the sound of her coming. Her orgasm has become a kind of release for me and I actually feel something like an post-orgasmic euphoria from it. Once she started to come, listening to her ecstatic sounds pulled a trigger inside me and my own orgasm presented itself quickly. I held still, pressed down on the small of her back to keep her from making any motion (she likes to fuck me from above), and it turned out to be nothing more than a copious surge of frustrated goo. Quite copious, it turned out, since she gave me permission to fuck her afterward and I was treated to my own sloppy seconds. I could barely be inside her without getting right back to the edge.

I was again overwhelmed by the need to come. You’re like, well duh, but in the past I would fuck without wanting to come more often than fucking the other way around, but now that I know there’s no possibility she’s going to let me, that internal denial safety is nowhere to be found and I seem to always want to come when she lets me get the penis wet. I tell her how I feel and she tells me it’s just not going to happen and I feel simultaneously a great and overwhelming love towards her (and gratitude) but I also hear the lizard snarl and growl. I fucking want to come. 

And, you know, that’s awesome. It’s way better to feel denied something I really want than something I don’t. But, just like when I was on vacation, I found myself really irritable and grumpy as hell later in the day. I was able to recognize it and kept it from being directed at Belle, but this intense irritability thing is new for me. So yeah, you can be locked up for the better part of four years and still find new things in it.

Like I said, she had me out for one day. Friday night to Saturday night. Then I had to go back in for her trip. I’ve been in the Steelheart for seventeen out of the last eighteen days and will likely remain in it (or the Looker) for nearly three more weeks (with maybe another day out for her pleasure along the way, but that’s not my call obviously). Early in May, I go away for a week’s camping excursion with friends and I’ll be out for that.

After 17 days, I’m more or less back into the groove, device-wise. It’s me and I’m it and I don’t even always wake up from the morning wood (and when I do, I like how it feels rather than being bothered by it). Yesterday, I must have been wearing an uncommon combination of underwear (silly stringy ones with hardly any support) and jeans (third wearing since last wash) because the device had what seemed like a lot of room down there and was taking advantage of it. I could feel it swinging and swaying as I walked around. I was very aware of it. By the end of the day, I was pretty turned on, but there was no Belle to enjoy that with.

This morning, after my workout, I had all those hormones pinging around inside me, so I decided to enjoy a new toy over the course of the day. After getting it all situated, I discovered I needed more and broke out the big guns. Then I put the new toy back (where it is now — more on it in a later post). Needless to say, I was quite late for work.

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A twist in the bend

Reader avlaps left the following suggestion on my review of the Steelworxx Looker 02 regarding what I assumed to be a misaligned bend in the anatomical A-ring:

Maybe it is due to asymmetry of a testicles? In normal state the left one is placed higher than other one so that rotated ring can give more comfort. (sorry if my English is weird, it is not native for me)

And I was all like, huh. That’s not a bad theory. It’s not shown that way on the Steelworxx site, so I assumed it was a mistake, but avlaps might be onto something. I’ve been thinking about that off and on since.

This morning, I took a few pictures to get to the bottom of it. I’ll put them behind a jump to help maintain this site’s nominal sensitivity to being totally NSFW.

Continue reading “A twist in the bend”

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Swingin’ steel

There was yet more sex on Saturday morning as I was still steel-free. I had this weird thing the night before where the end of the penis became super sensitive. It was so distracting that I had to remove my PA jewelry. Every little shift of the stainless loop would send a not very pleasant jolt through me making it hard to sleep yet again that night. In fact, since this crazy sexed up period started, I’ve had troubles sleeping pretty much every night. Even last night, though I didn’t see Belle all day. Anyway, Saturday morning was more of the same except this time Belle got to ride me for an orgasm. I felt pretty good about keeping my shit together for that. I didn’t even get close.

After the sex on Saturday, but before she resecured me, I told her how guilty I had been feeling about taking advantage of the time she lets me out to jack off (yes, I did manage to get some in). This is a new feeling for me. In the recent past, I’ve assumed that if I was out it was more or less a free-range penis, assuming I didn’t come. But as we’ve been having all this fantastic sex lately, the idea of seeking this pleasure without her knowledge or consent hasn’t sat right with me. Maybe it’s the copious hormones produced by all the edging and psuedo-ruined orgasms and the low-grade blue ball tenderness I’ve been sporting, but I was feeling very much the need to be backed into a tight little submissive corner. The penis is hers, not mine. I can’t just do whatever I want with it. If it’s out, it’s out for her. This is a fact. There’s no such thing anymore as a time out for good behavior. I get out for a specific purpose and it’s not to jack off.

In any event, the rule now is I am not to play with the penis at all except when specifically allowed to do so by Belle. Seems like an obvious kind of rule for someone in my position to have, but I’m not sure it’s ever been so explicitly stated by her before. At least not for a long time. Just thinking about it now makes the tube pack tight. I can’t imagine how hard it’ll be if I’m left alone with it in an accesible state.

After clearing that up, she produced the Steelheart. I had to put it on while she watched which is very hard for me to do. It puts my assembly skills in a race against the penis’ hydraulic system with only my brain trying to run interference as an ally. I did manage to get the tube on and the increasingly fat and solid meat shoved up in there and in place so she could slide the lock home and turn it in its slot, but barely. As soon as she removed the key, a deeply satisfying warm wave of submissiveness washed over me. In an instant, the steel tube merged with its contents in my mind and I was seemingly as I was always meant to be.

We went to the gym after and I ran for four miles on a treadmill with the Steelheart heavily swinging between my legs. I’ve been in the Looker 02 so much recently that I forgot what the dense steel monolith of the Steelheart felt like. Not at all uncomfortable. Actually somewhat comforting. A subtlety different mindfuck than the lighter L02. Also, I had to reacquaint myself with the sensation of shifting meat within the tube. The L02’s insert keeps the meat inert and unmoving while the PA fixing in the Steelheart allows some shifting. The penis gently bumped against the inside of the tube with each stride.

That night, my new little nympho wanted another orgasm. I had my doubts that it was even possible considering the number she’s had this week and the one she had had just that morning, but she was feeling the itch and it’s my job to scratch it. After lengthy ministrations by me and Pink, she eventually called the effort off. I couldn’t get her more than 85-90% there. I felt defeated. There were a couple of times I thought she was going over, but it didn’t happen. She packed Pink with her on her trip so she’ll not be denied should the urge strike again while she’s gone.

As I said, I had a hard time sleeping again last night and am very tired as I write this. The lack of sleep is aggravatingly non-specific. Sometimes, it’s because I’m too horny and I know it and I can’t stop imagining things. Lately, though, I’m just too alert and aware. And every time I shifted in bed, the Steelheart would heavily flop to the other side. On my stomach, it was a hard, dense presence between me and the mattress. On my back, it would pull the whole package down between my legs. I was never alone.

But it wasn’t a total wash-out. I did get about four hours sleep again, though the morning wood made the last couple pretty restless. A benefit of the L02 is that it rarely wakes me in the morning anymore. Belle’s back tomorrow night late. I’m looking forward to not sleeping next to her again.

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Visions of suger-pegs danced in my head…

And so begins 2013. Four days from my first orgasm in six months and what will likely be the only one I’ll have all year long. The thought of it is enough, on occasion, to make my balls tingle. I admit, there’s a part of me that wants it and gets excited thinking about it happening. But there’s a larger part of me excited by the prospect that it will be a singular event, at least until the big ball drops again.

I had another bought of denial insomnia the other night. Wound have been handier on New Year’s Eve, but it came the night before, meaning I couldn’t stay up until midnight and welcome in the new year. I wasn’t up all night this time. Can’t be sure when I finally fell asleep since I was purposefully avoiding seeing what time it was, but I expect it was at least three or four in the morning. The issue this time had nothing to do with Belle. I wasn’t sleepy when she went to bed so I bounced around on my phone for a bit and eventually found myself reading porn and that was it. Try as I did to keep the thoughts from my hormone-addled brain, they’d come. The device was especially present in my mind. I’d lay on my side and I’d feel it’s heft pull on my nutsack. I’d lay on my stomach and feel the plug push even more deeply into me. Then it’d try to get hard and there’d be squeezing. Then I’d try to think about something else. Repeat. Ugh.

I finally drifted off fantasizing about being pegged by Belle. This isn’t something she’s offered or even shown the slightest interest in, but I focused on how one would design a dildo so that it could be worn by a woman and still give her some clitoral feedback from her effort. I know such things exist, but working on ideas like this in my head helps me get to sleep sometimes. There are few more intimate acts than being fucked. Pegging, while a very hot concept for me, would seem like prostate-centric kabuki if there wasn’t anything in it for the pegger. So I pondered that and how it’d work and how wonderful it’d be to know she was pleasuring herself while penetrating me and actually coming from fucking me and…and…what do you know. I fell asleep.

In any event, in my head, I imagined something very much like this.

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Knife’s edge

Last weekend, Belle let me out of the Looker 02 for 24 hours. This wasn’t because she thought I needed a break or, I presume, particularly cared if I did. It was because she wanted a fuck. I would come out Sunday morning and go back in Monday morning.

The lock slid out of the L02 and the fat end of its plug slithered down the inside of the penis where it had been lodged for two weeks. That led immediately to an erection so insistant that it was almost painfully hard. Sometimes, even if I’m out, if it looks like she wants me to finger her to an orgasm and not want the available erectile tissue, the penis will actually go soft. It’s been trained over the past several years that it and sex aren’t necessarily connected anymore. But this time, it and I knew where it was going and we were both pretty happy about it.

Perhaps too happy. During the warm up period where I was sucking Belle’s tits and rubbing her snatch and generally letting her juices get flowing, she reached down and gave the stiff penis a few strokes (as if it needed the encouragement). I felt immediately how just that contact got the internal ejaculation gears moving, but put it out of my mind. I was confident. I had already been fucked by her at least a half dozen times in a row and didn’t come once. I could do it again.

She mounted me and slid her hot wetness down over the needy hard meat. The feeling made me groan with equal parts relief and unsated desire. I wanted to fucker her senseless, but she was on top and needed to get her orgasm before I could even consider my own needs. Again, I felt the familiar tickling of oncoming coming but clamped down and soldiered on.

Part of the trick is to just present the hard penis to her by clamping my ass cheeks together and thrusting them off the bed slightly so she has maximum ability to use its entire average length. No reciprocal thrusting. If I fuck back, the game is over. She doesn’t seem to want that, anyway. Just be the tool, Thumper. Another part of the trick is for me to put my mind as far away from the actual sex taking place on my body as possible. In the summer, I use baseball for that. This past fall, I used the elections (and thought of bad outcomes specifically). Now, though, I got nothing. It has to be a series of thoughts. A logical progression of considerations that keeps my attention focused elsewhere while she impales her hot went snatch over and over again, letting its juices run down over my balls and down my ass crack, and her breathing becomes sharper and shorter and the fucking gets harder and quicker and…STATISTICS. I need some fucking statistics. Electoral College math or fucking on-base percentages or league standings or something. Desperate, I thought of a video game I had been playing through lately. Lego Lord of the Rings, to be precise. A very pale substitute.

Finally, she came in a shuddering orgasmic crash. Holding herself still over me, I withdrew the penis and let its tip rest just inside her. I could feel it pumping semen. Surging its weeks-long buildup of payload past her quivering lips, filling her up. But it wasn’t really an orgasm. I didn’t feel like I was coming. I could feel the fluid leaving me but none of the mental fireworks associated with the event. Somehow, my orgasm had been ruined.

I know that now. Then, I wasn’t sure what was happening. I could smell my ejaculate and I didn’t like it. I could feel the slippery sliminess all over her pussy and GAH! It wasn’t supposed to be there. I was too distracted. I could still feel the horniness inside me, but the negative connotation I now associate with my own ejaculate was too much to take. The penis went limp and stayed there. I was supremely frustrated while Belle was bemused. She kept telling me how my window of opportunity was closing while I tried to stroke and pet the reluctant member back to life. Eventually, she told me that was it. I couldn’t get hard so I didn’t get to fuck her.

“At least it’ll give you something to blog about,” she said as she left me cold and sticky on the bed.

My period of freedom was extended by another day. Even though I had two showers and several hours alone with the penis, I couldn’t bring myself to take advantage of the situation. I wanted…something. But jacking off alone didn’t feel like it. Monday night, I got what I wanted.

This time, she wanted Pink to get her off. My fingers weren’t enough and either she wanted Pink more or didn’t want a replay of the previous morning’s misadventure. Either way, when she was done, I was allowed to fuck her. And, again, almost immediately I felt the orgasmic mechanism engage. From the very second I slipped into her. I can’t even say how many times I had to stop fucking her to keep the orgasm back. I never really felt like I got into a rhythm. Not like the last several times where the orgasm felt miles off. This time, it was always hovering just behind me. Eventually, I found myself skating down the knife’s edge, right on the cusp of it. Every fiber of my physical body cried out, desperately trying to draw it forward, while every bit of my higher brain pulled just as hard in the opposite direction. No, you CAN’T come. You CAN NOT.*

Emotions run high at these times. I felt almost as though I wanted to dry. Instead of the more typical animalistic feelings toward her where I’d want to fuck her into a pulp and then fuck whatever was left, I held her tenderly as if she was fragile and might break from my thrusting. I caressed her and breathed her scent deeply and she was all that was perfect and beautiful and my love for her nearly overwhelmed me. I thanked her. For everything. For letting me fuck her, for giving me the second chance at it, for not letting me come, for just being. Powerful shit, that.

Finally, she told me it was over. And I reluctantly pulled out. And I fell asleep clutching her tightly.

* Feel free to imagine a small Lego Gandalf confronting the Balrog on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm, if you like.

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A wee spot of Looker 02 nerdery

I have more salacious tales to tell, but before I go there, I’ll dabble in a bit of Looker 02 holiday nerdery.

In my original write-up on the device, I said:

The only times I’ve experienced actual discomfort is during urination. At first, the issue reminded me of how pipes behave when they have air in them. Then I realized it probably is exactly that. What I think happens is a small pocket of air develops in the urethra just outside the opening to the plug. Then, when I pee, the air gets trapped and causes a kind of cavitation to develop. The urine flows out in a stuttering fashion and the “air in the pipes” rattles and shakes and feels like a vibration in the plug. It kinda hurts, to be honest.

mind the gapBeing out for 48 hours recently offered me the chance to take a closer look at the part of the device that normally doesn’t see daylight and I think I found the issue with the cavitation problem. There’s a area just inside the plug where the bulbous end of it attaches to the hollow shaft where a gap exists. It seems highly likely to me now that this is spot where a little bubble of air forms and/or gets trapped causing the end of the plug to sometimes vibrate during urination. I’m not sure if this can be eliminated during production, but if I were doing it again, I’d ask. The good news is as the inside of the penis has grown accustomed to the plus so that I usually don’t even feel it in there, the cavitation issue has also decreased. It still happens just as often, but it’s not uncomfortable anymore. The only time it’s really bothersome is when I’m at a urinal and the sound of me peeing get’s a little odd as the steam stutters at the end. It’s pretty noticeably weird. Luckily, the men’s room I frequent is pretty sleepy.

lil pinchI’ve had another idea that would increase comfort slightly, at least for the circumcised guys in the audience. I find that sometimes, usually when I’m in bed and laying on my stomach, the ridge of the penis head (the corona of the glans) will pinch up against the edge of the cap on the L02’s cage. If the penis is nicely tucked up inside the cap, there’s no issue, so this might be a fitting problem (as in, the cage should be shorter), but I think the device is reasonably well fitted. If Belle were to buy another for some reason (or send the one we have now back for something), I’d probably ask for the cap to be extended at least on either side of the middle bar that runs down the top of the cage. Just third of an inch or so would do it. That would protect the corona from undue pinching but still keep the open cage-like aesthetic going.

Other than those things, and as I said in my last missive on the subject, the L02 remains my favorite of all the devices.