Sick makes six

Belle left this morning for Mexico where she’ll be with a friend until late next week. No, not that kind of friend. A female friend.

We had one whole weekend together between the three weeks we didn’t see each other and this trip and she’s still getting over the lingering remnants of her bout with the flu while I was more or less in the midst of mine. Regardless, she let me get her off twice but made no move towards nor comment on the key or my locked state. Especially the second time, that led to incredibly tight and painful erections.

At some point during the previous few weeks or so, I pointed out that in the past she’d let me out of chasity when I was feeling really sick. She just sort of laughed and commented on how that was true but also how much stronger I was now than then. It’s a fact that she just doesn’t think about me being locked all the time and there’s really nothing in her mind that should keep me from being that way, short of the TSA or a doctor visit (and even then, only one that might involve the penis).

Those who think it’s a form of cheating when Belle lets me out to fuck and subsequently leak ejaculate into her (without orgasm) should be pleased to hear I’ve been locked up without any kind of relief for five weeks. Based on schedules, the next opportunity to get out will make it six weeks. I have been in and out of different devices during that time since I have been and will be traveling, but it’s been the Steelheart for the bulk of that period and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the penis in weeks.

She was gone pretty early for her flight so I woke up alone clutching at and stroking a very full tube. I rarely suffer from blue balls anymore, even when I haven’t been out for a while, but six weeks is going to be some kind of record. I can’t recall being locked up without access to her pussy for that long since I started tracking such things. In any event, I’m really starting to feel it. There’s the regular old enforced chastity and orgasm denial she practices and then there’s this. My balls feel especially swollen and I can tell there’s a built up load inside me craving to get out. A short trip on a big dildo would undoubtedly work a lot of that out.

It’s at times like this that knowing where the key is starts to gnaw at me.

As hard as this is, there’s a part of me that appreciates it. The part that knows this is exactly what I need and want. That this is what’s best for the kind of man I am. That part does get into debates with the part of me that feels guilt about her not getting fucked when I know she likes to feel that, but the trump card the first part plays in those situations is she decides what we do and I go along with it so shut up.

So…I’m going along. Either she didn’t think I was well enough to fuck (not true) or didn’t want to fuck me when I was sick or simply didn’t want to be fucked or not as much as she wanted me to stay locked up while she got off, I can’t say. And it’s not my job to figure it out. I’ll stay locked up for exactly as long as she wants me to be and will be grateful for both being locked up and being let out.

Orgasm extinction

One of the things that I think surprises people who read this blog is that while Belle denies me orgasm, she does like it when I ejaculate inside her. There is a difference and I wrote a post about it early last year. My recent badminton-esque exchange with Schnoff led me to re-read that post and tap out this addendum.

First off, though, it’s interesting to me that Bear and Schnoff define “orgasm” as any expression of seminal fluid. I think of orgasm as the surging explosive release of that fluid and the concomitant flooding of one’s brain with all the loopy orgasm hormones and chemistry (serotonin, oxytocin, prolactin, etc.). It’s a feeling more than a physical action. I can tell when I’ve come because of what happens in my head, not what comes out of the penis. And that was the point of my post (and why it’s called “You know it when you feel it”).

To be clear, Bear and Schnoff (well, mostly Bear) are free to define orgasm however they like. It’s just interesting to me to see how others do their thing. Back during Locktober, I was given some grief for not being locked in the exact same device continuously all month long (I was in a couple devices, though never out longer than the 36 seconds it takes to remove one and replace it with another). Others think Belle allowing me to ejaculate isn’t real denial. My position is, I don’t make the rules she does and if she wants me to put a load in her but also doesn’t want me to come, then I need to figure out how to do it. Luckily, I have. Repeat after me: There is no One True Way™ to do orgasm denial.

Anywho, what I find is that the actual mechanical and hormonal process of orgasm in me has totally changed over the years. And for the past year to year and a half, I might even describe it as totally broken.

Note, I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

When we first started the denial dynamic, Belle would allow me to jack off when I wasn’t locked up. I think that experience helped me map out exactly how my orgasm worked. Finding the very moment I started to fall off the plateau of arousal into an unstoppable orgasm. I could get myself to shoot several loads a night without any release of orgasmic chemistry.

And for a long time, I found that if I stopped fucking her at that moment, I’d shoot a little load, and then I’d be able to keep fucking her. Sometimes, for a really long time. Almost indefinitely. As if going up to the point of release and pulling back made the release itself impossible. Some kind of hot-wiring of the refractory period. Those were the days. But then something changed.

First, I became (and remain) a premature ejaculator. If I fuck for three minutes without having to stop, it’s an achievement. Usually, it’s not even that long. Second, even if I “leak” inside her without coming, the penis starts to deflate as if I’ve come. That was the first sign that my natural process has evolved. I couldn’t keep fucking even if I wanted to (and I always wanted to). I’d lose the erection. Immediately.

Last year, Belle let me come five times. Not one of those was how I used to describe orgasm after a period of denial. No explosion, no kick in the back of the head, no intensity. The orgasms I have now are not too dissimilar from the non-orgasmic ejaculations. Some weak spurting along with a shot of the hormones, but no jolt. No BANG. More like an ocean swell than a crashing wave. I feel a less pronounced post-orgasmic experience (sleepiness, etc.). Even the sub-drop that used to be a hallmark of orgasm has diminished substantially. They’ve become non-events that don’t drain me (literally or figuratively). As I recall, this wasn’t just the five from last year. I was also feeling a version of this the year before that.

Basically, the orgasm I literally grew up with is gone. A pale shadow of the real thing.

There was a time when the prospect of losing my ability to have a truly enjoyable, fireworks-filled orgasm would’ve scared the shit out of me. That was both before I was denied orgasms at all and also for several years after we started this dynamic. But once I was being denied, even when I could still come normally, I knew I didn’t really want to. All I wanted was to always feel like I wanted to come. Craving the thing, not having the thing. So now that my ability to come seems to be waning, I don’t feel any particular loss.

I don’t know if this is something all men who are denied for a long time feel or if it’s unique to me. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I remember very early on someone said to me online that if I got to the point where orgasms weren’t enjoyable that I had done it wrong. The point was to always enjoy and want them. Obviously, I don’t think that’s true. I think denial has made me more of what I already was and am. I feel like living like this is my natural and correct state. In general, I believe men especially put way, way too much emphasis on having orgasms. But, you know. What else do you expect me to say?

I doubt this condition is permanent. If I were able to freely masturbate to completion or even come every time I fucked, I expect things would go back to “normal.” But I don’t really care if they do. How much can I miss something that, on average, only happens every three months anyway? Why should I miss a thing that knocked me out of the headspace in which I so much enjoy living?

Saying my orgasm is “broken” is the wrong adjective. Makes it sound like it was an accident. This wasn’t accidental at all. It was intentional. Maybe even inevitable.

Theatrics

I got home Thursday to the only night in three and a half weeks Belle and I would be together. She got back from Asia on Tuesday several hours after I left for Southern California and she left Friday for Europe until mid-next week.

As soon as I got home, I swapped the Holy Trainer v3 nano out for the Steelheart and expect to be wearing it for the indefinite future. As I was doing so, and as soon as the penis felt air, it started to swell. I wasn’t even thinking dirty thoughts, but it knew it was out of confinement and Belle was in the house and any chance it had at all to feel warm wetness (or, really, any pleasurable sensation at all) was right then.

Except Belle came home from Asia with a nasty cold and I’m not horny enough to dive into that and get it myself (though, after later consideration, I am left wondering if one can catch cold from performing cunnilingus). In any event, I pushed and prodded and shoved the chubbed out meat into the steel tube and turned the lock.

It was tight (and stayed that way for a while — the penis was pissed), but I felt the usual sense of…I dunno. Comfort. Safety? Security in the emotional sense (as well as the restrictive, physical sense). Bottom line, the Steelheart, even with it’s too-tight A-ring and occasional pinching between the PA jewelry and fixing, is home. Everything else feels like sleeping on the road.

The few comments on my previous post about locks and security and trust has me thinking. In response to me calling hiding the key “theater,” Tom said…

I’d say that some people really do want more believability in their theater. That is, playing the game, or as I like to say, running the script in your head with fewer willing suspensions of disbelief makes it better.

Suspension of disbelief is a critical element of chastity (and, to a larger extent, most of BDSM). I get that. The less suspension, the better. But I’ve been wondering how much is enough for me? How much “theater” do I need to make this dynamic work? Or, to put it the other way, what’s the minimum amount of theater I need?

Device-less chastity would be the least amount of theater for someone like me. Schnoff mentioned how he’s not kept in a device. His chastity is based on willpower, though he admits it’s imperfect (as are we all). He takes exception with the idea I need a device to maintain my chastity, but ours has been defined differently. Bear allows him to masturbate while Belle does not want me doing that. As well-intentioned and invested as I am in our dynamic, I have never demonstrated an ability to keep my hands off the erection when it’s available and needy. Before Belle moved me to an essentially continuous state of lock-up, I used to edge myself all the time (usually in the shower, though there was a time she let me do it right there in bed next to her while she slept), up to and beyond the point of ejaculation, though not orgasm. If Belle ever let me be unlocked for long periods but still expected me not to jack off, I feel like I’d go crazy. I mean, literally, the temptation and distraction would make me nuts. So no, for me anyway, “no device” is not nearly enough theater. I would suck at that.

Another thing Schnoff said about chastity devices is…

Toys are that, toys. No matter how hot.

I simply don’t think of chastity devices as toys at all. I mean, yes, I do acknowledge they fall into the broad category of sex toys, but they’re so much more. The Steelheart is me. It completes me, is an extension of me, and makes me feel more whole than when it’s absent. Sort of how one feels weird without their wedding ring on, but at deeper level. A ring represents commitment and love and a chastity device does, too, but it’s commitment at an entirely different scale. Not only a sign that I’ve joined my life with someone else, but that I’ve given to them my heart and my body. It’s a physical manifestation of my submission. A constant physical reminder of Belle’s wishes and requirements. Plus, the metaphor of the lock and key represents the hole a submissive feels within that can only be filled by loving domination.

In these ways, the Steelheart is me and her and our dynamic all in one. Profoundly significant and in no way a simple toy. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Moving up the scale from nothing is a silicone chastity device. These are worthless because their stretchy, flexible nature make stimulation of the penis ridiculously possible. They simply don’t do the job for which they’re intended. Also, I just don’t care for how they look. Appearance is a critical element for me because chastity devices are not just functional tools.

Moving up from silicone is plastic. The only reasonably acceptable plastic device I’ve worn is the Holy Trainer. The others are all too complicated and/or ugly and/or downright excruciating to wear. The HTv3 nano is barely acceptable in that, as I said in my review, it leaves critical parts of the penis accessible to stimulation. It does prove to be just enough of a deterrent that I can resist partaking in that stimulation, but I don’t like it being possible. In that way, the HTv3 nano is the minimum amount of theater I require.

Of course, the Holy Trainers have no PA fixing option so I could pull out the back. Being able to pull out is not a deal breaker, but I vastly prefer not being able to. That’s a level of theater I truly crave. I don’t pull out when I can and suspend disbelief regarding my ability to do so, but a device with a PA fixing is way, way hotter for me than one without. Removing the disbelief about being able to escape amps up the experience, for sure. Also, it adds a calming element in that I don’t need to expend any energy pretending to myself that it’s inescapable.

Steel is my preferred material for devices. I have borderline fetish for stainless at this point. Not just the look of it, but how it feels. Its heft and how it goes on cold but then warms like an extension of my body. I’ve considered other metals like titanium but wonder if I’d like them as much since they’re so much lighter. Feeling the device flop and pull as I turn in bed is a definite plus.

Beyond that, preferred devices are simple and hide the penis. The Half Shell is very comfortable and quite shiny, but busy looking and complicated and doesn’t protect the entire shaft from viewing or touching. The Looker 02 is simple, but the penis is mostly visible (though the head is hidden). The Jail Bird is also quite simple, but shows far too much meat. The Steelheart is the best of all in that it’s sleek and steel and totally encases the penis. It’s not perfect in that the PA fixing does have some fiddly bits, though they’re all hidden inside. Its ring is too tight and it can occasionally pinch between the PA jewelry and fixing. The bottom of the penis shaft can also pinch where it joins my balls and meets the bottom of the tube.

Sometimes, the lack of any discomfort from a device is in itself a form of theater I miss. I don’t think enforced chastity should be excruciating, but I also don’t think it should be a walk in the park. I like that the Steelheart is tight and can bite from time to time. That discomfort is part of the symbolism of submitting to being denied in this way. Being denied orgasm is not easy. It’s hard and the cravings to come or even touch myself are often powerful. I like the device fighting back a bit and reminding me I chose the more difficult path. In fact, that I require the more difficult path.

Bottom line, this form of submission is very complicated. It’s not a straight line and everyone is going to practice it in their own way. The way that feels the best and make the most sense to them. The fact that it’s a two-person dynamic only makes the number of variations that much more numerous. All you can do is work on it and find the level of theater you both need…while never forgetting the keyholder is the star of the production. The keyheld is just the one holding the spotlight.

Of trust and locks

Tom wrote a thing about keys. Go ahead and read it if you haven’t already, but long story short, Mrs Edge took all the keys, even the “emergency” one, and has left poor Tom without any.

But not having a key at my disposal at all? To go all day, every day, for weeks, maybe months with not even an opportunity for access to a key? The idea of turning that absolute control over to her was surprisingly hot for both of us. Remember, on these devices, there’s no padlock, no locking pins, and certainly nothing to be broken or cut. That cage is not coming off without actual power tools.

And it made me think about a conversation that was happening on Twitter a few days ago about keys and locks and I said something about the real lock being the trust a keyholder has in he who they lock. This is more or less what I was talking about when I said, “The very best chastity device is the one between your ears.”

Locks and keys and access to keys and where the key is and if she’s wearing it around her neck or giving it to her friend (boy?) for safe keeping (you wish) or leaving it in her desk drawer at work or what have you really gets a locked guy’s crank cranked. I get it, believe me. The key becomes…the key. Where is it? What’s she doing with it? Did she bring it? What if she looses it? Ooo, there it is! Etc.

First of all, what Tom says in his post is true. The emergency key idea is kind of bunk. I can remember the number of times needing an “emergency” key in the approaching ten years I’ve been locked up on one hand. And most of those times, I didn’t have it and I survived each time (look, here I am writing this thing). In a real emergency, neither Tom or I or you would have time to get to the key anyway. In reality, emergency keys are convenience keys. And most of the time, access to the key is planned for planned things like air travel or medical procedures.

Except when all that is on its head.

Belle doesn’t hide the key. She’s been gone for two weeks and she left it behind. I know exactly where it is. I have my own key all nicely secured in a locked thing (and I sometimes even remember where it is), but it doesn’t matter. If I need the key for whatever reason, I know how to get to it. She knows I know all this, too. Belle just doesn’t seem to care about the key as an object of power. She could, but choses not to. It’s not the significant thing in our dynamic. She trusts me to do the right thing and follow the rules.

This flies in the face of the One True Way to do enforced male chastity, I know. It probably seems a bit of a let down for some. But what I’ve grown to understand is that key obsession goes against the spirit of submission. I submit to Belle, not her key. My involved fantasies about how the key should be handled are my fantasies. If she wants to play a game with it and where it is and keep it hidden, etc., that’s her choice. For me to require her to do so because I can’t be trusted knowing where it is puts too high a burden on her to play this game my way.

I said on Twitter just this morning…

Man, that sounds like a guy who really should not know where his key is. But what the fuck would the point of all this be if I took the key and used it to give myself relief? And what’s the functional difference in knowing exactly where it is (a little box in her nightstand drawer) versus hunting all over for it on a desperate search?

I have no time at all for men who can’t be trusted to hold up their end of the deal when it comes to enforced chastity. Slipping out the back of an unsecured device for a quick wank is the same as using the key to take the whole thing off for the same reason. I do understand how security adds to the hotness of the situation (an inescapable device and a mysterious key), but just like at the airport, it’s all theater. The keyholder should set the terms of their keyheld’s containment and he should respect and honor their wishes. Maybe they do some things because the keyheld wants it or likes it, but that’s optional for them. What’s not optional for he whose junk is locked is following their rules.

Since Belle’s been gone, I’ve been in six different devices. Just because I could. She has no rules about what I’m locked into, just that I’m locked. And my travel during her trip has required me to be in the Holy Trainer which is fine for travel but I far prefer metal when I have the option. I’ll be using her key to put myself back in the Holy Trainer tomorrow since I have to fly again. I might even take it with me so I can swap into the Steelheart before flying back. Crazy, right? Madness. But not really.

For me, the thing is the device. When it’s on, it’s fucking well on. I don’t take it off for reasons other than health, national panic, alien invasion, etc. When it’s off, I’m a basket case and really can’t be trusted. The flesh is weak. The mind, too. A hard shaft in a hand is a potent thing to a guy who comes once every 12 weeks, on average. But that’s why the device is there. That’s why she requires I wear it. And I have accepted that submission willingly and wholeheartedly.

Truth is, to succeed at enforced male chastity over the long-term, you have to want to be locked up. You have to like it. You have to crave it. We are party to our own imprisonment. I fully admit to all those things. If I ever fucked up so bad she stopped locking me up, I’d be miserable. She knows that. It’s the ultimate leverage she has over me: My fear of her withdrawing her domination. My burning desire to submit and give her control over the penis is what keeps me honest. I always always want that. I’m not fooling anybody.

 

Active bisexual

I was jonesing to write a post and luckily enough a reader going by the handle 60and40boyfiend commented on a recent post

Thumper, this may be in the wrong place but I am curious if you still consider yourself an active bisexual since you ended your relationship with Drew? You don’t talk about him or men in general much now, so did that get it out of your system so to speak? I am in a similar situation and have had my fun but now think it’s time to get rid of the guy so not sure what to do. Did you have regrets? Have you found other men?

Btw, how are Drew and Fro-to? I miss hearing about them.

I used to think like you do. That my urges regarding men were transitory and once they were “out of my system” I’d go back to whatever passes for normal. But that’s just wrong. A bisexual in a monogamous opposite-sex relationship is still bisexual. A bisexual in a monogamous same-sex relationship is still bisexual. We are not defined by who we’re fucking or being fucked by. Being bisexual isn’t about the physical arrangement of one’s life. It’s about how one’s brain is wired to their junk.

If you were in my imagination (or perhaps perused one of my Tumblrs), you’d see I’m still very much an “active” bisexual. That doesn’t mean I’m always and equally attracted to both genders (or, for that matter, that my taste in porn is an accurate reflection of my feelings — I’ve always been more drawn to gay porn than straight). My sexuality is a continuum that oscillates along the Kinsey scale from about a 2 to about a 4 with maybe some brief excursions into 1 and 5 from time to time. I can’t explain that. I don’t know why I feel like that. I’ve tried hard to identify the “triggers” that make me move in one direction or another (and started doing so back when what I wanted more than anything was to be a simple 0), but I’ve decided the factors are either random or so multilayered that I’m never going to figure them out. Also, that I don’t need to. I’m never going to stop oscillating and I’m never going to be gay or straight. Luckily, I’m in a long term committed relationship where that’s not a problem. Belle accepts me as I am and has allowed me the opportunity to express my desires (with some specific limitations).

Regarding not talking about men here, that’s more a function of what this blog is about (Belle and I) than what I’m thinking or doing. My adventures with Drew and Frodo were never supposed to star here in any great detail. They’re both hanging around and both remain tantalizing possibilities that, based on the previous paragraph, you’ll understand I’m more interested in some days than others. And they’re both doing well. With Drew, you don’t need to take my word for it.

The thing that keeps me from engaging with them more than I might like to has nothing to do with how bisexual I feel on any given day. My issue currently is that a chronic injury has led me to slack off dramatically from my exercise routine which has in turn left me feeling very dissatisfied with my body and decidedly unsexy. I’m trying to turn things around, but I can’t separate how I feel about myself from how I feel about being with anyone (even Belle, if I’m honest). So that’s a whole ‘nuther layer that really only I can do anything about.

On a related topic, I recently said this on Twitter…

I still haven’t quite wrapped my head around that, but it feels true. Perhaps because I’m bisexual and round off to a Kinsey 4 (dead center) it’s easier for me to say it. Also, if there was a Kinsey scale for Dom-sub, I’d be pegged at the sub end (haha, see what I did there?). In general, I’m a person who lives in gray spaces between the poles, except in this one way. I have essentially no dominant tendencies.

I wonder sometimes if my predilection towards being a bottom (in the male homosexual sense of the word, not the “synonymous with sub” sense) is partially due to the fact that I have no access to the penis. For me, the penis has transmuted into this (usually) steel numb thing between my legs that pressurizes when I’m horny and whose absence leaves me feeling off-center and weird. I don’t like seeing the penis. I don’t like being free. I don’t want to use it for anything other than what Belle tells me to (and even then I do it more because she likes and wants it). The Steelheart in particular is more me than the thing within it. In some ways, I feel like the epicenter of my sexual focus has migrated backward a few inches and inward. I’m not a person who fucks, I’m a person who gets fucked. I’m not a person who takes sexual pleasure from others directly, I’m a person who allows others to take their pleasure from me. Being used in whatever way someone needs to use me to achieve maximum sexual pleasure is, TBH, the hottest thing I can possibly imagine.

You might read that “get fucked, not fuck” thing and think, geeze, you sound gay to me. But I’m not. I still love Belle. I still love pussy and tits and hips and women. So it’s a conundrum. And I do what Belle wants me to do with the penis because, like I said, I’m a fucking sub. If what makes her happy is to have me feel or do a certain thing, then that’s what I’ll do, to the best of my ability.

Living with bisexuality for fifty years has taught me not to get too hung up in my own underwear. All I want is to know myself better than I have before. To understand my motivations and predilections. To explore how my sexuality has been changing as age and circumstance have changed around it. But I won’t worry about it. I won’t freak out as things evolve and as I realize and recognize that evolution. I am what I am and try to live without regret for that not being what I wish it could or should be.

So I wrote all that before rereading your comment while proofreading the post…

Last thing. You said, “I am in a similar situation and have had my fun but now think it’s time to get rid of the guy so not sure what to do.” Ask yourself if you’re just over this one guy or if you’re over guys. You might feel that men don’t hold much allure for you right now. I get that, totally. Or it might be you’re just kind of over this certain dude. But whatever you think, don’t imagine for a second that it’s “out of your system” because it ain’t and never will be.

TOGgle switch: On

You remember TOG. No? He’s that British guy who’s been on-again, off-again sniffing around Belle for some time now. Search for “TOG” if you want the details. Long story short, it seemed like it was over but now it’s back on. For, like, the twelfth time or something.

Turns out, Belle’s been communicating with him quite a bit in the recent past without me knowing about it. At least, I wasn’t aware to what extent they’ve been talking. In a normal marriage, this would be a huge problem — a wife having an online assignation and planning a time and place for sex — but we don’t have a normal marriage in that I have no expectations that she needs to tell me some guy in Great Britain (or anywhere) is sending her pictures of his cock and telling her what he wants to do to her with it.

Regardless, once more, I find I have conflicted feelings. Again, not in the usual ways. I’m not jealous in the slightest. Zero percent jealously. Less than zero. In fact, Belle being fucked by another man (and one with a cock sized more to her preferences — TOG’s is claimed to be over 7″) is the single most potent fantasy I have. I get kind of weak in the everywheres thinking about it. Even just knowing she’s been having this virtual affair without telling me makes me sort of delirious.

Our text exchange from the other day…

B: Would you have any issue with me going to London in the Spring?
T: Besides being incredibly jealous? What’s in London? (See, I had no idea.)
B: You know.
T: (Zing!) Oh.
T: Of course I have no issue.
B: OK, I found a cheap ticket. I might end up regretting it but at the same time if I don’t try I think I would regret that too. And I’m prepared for that.
T: I understand.
B: I love you. Thanks, Thumpie.
T: I love you too.

So my initial take on this revelation was one of caution. I continue to be worried about what a flake this man has been over the time they’ve known one another and I’m worried he’ll flake out again once she’s there or before or he’ll meet her and chicken out or I don’t know what. Just something that will hurt her emotionally. That was and continues to be a real concern for me. I want to shield her from any pain.

But then, on my way home, I found I was incredibly horny. And at first, I had no idea why. The kind of horny where just shifting in my seat and causing the penis to move slightly in its confinement causes it to swell tightly. The kind of horny where a feeling of electric energy in my balls sparkles and buzzes and makes it hard to concentrate or follow conversations. Then, of course, it hit me. She might get fucked by this guy. Finally. The ultimate fantasy.

A lot of cuckold situations I read about online seem to have the cuck in a position of some control or participation. As in, he finds the men for his wife or is actively involved in the sex. To me, a purer form of cuckoldry is where the cuck has up to and including no role at all. In which the wife goes and has an entirely separate relationship that the cuck only hears about, and then only what his wife is willing to tell him. Of course, I want to hear everything. Of course, I want to see the dick pics he’s sent her. Of course, my imagination can come up with all kinds of fantastic, hot scenarios. But that’s all about me. I think cuckolding is for the one doing the cucking, not the cuck. So in that way, it’s a weirdly passive kind of sexual fantasy. And one that makes me, the wannabe cuck who sits at home locked in chastity and left only with his imagination, feeing even less in control than usual.

I’ve been so turned on by the prospect of TOG finally coming through that it’s been hard for me to keep my hands off Belle. I struggled to fall asleep the night she told me and was woken early the following morning by little else than sexual energy. When she started to stir, I was on her in a way that was supposed to show I was eager to pleasure her but not so eager that I wanted to annoy her. In any event, she let me get her off just as her alarm would have been waking her up.

That night, with fifteen minutes before I needed to leave to pick up our daughter at an evening class, I exposed her nipple and started sucking and licking it. Not so subtle this time. Then my hand was in her snatch and rubbing another orgasm out of her. Two in one day. That’s impressive for her. And I was still able to pick up the kid on time.

And here I sit, still finding thoughts of Belle and TOG floating through my mind unbidden. In meetings or while driving or anywhere really along with the commensurate tightness in the steel. Obviously, I can’t live like this for months and months. Or, maybe I can. Belle doesn’t really bring it up. I do. I keep it alive in conversation between us. Because I can’t stop obsessing over it. And that makes me feel somewhat guilty because, as I said, this is about her not me. A classic case of a denied male’s base, lizard brain in conflict with his higher, bunny one. You can imagine how pissed the lizard is since the idea of being turned on to distraction by the thought of another man fucking her isn’t even something that ever came into his reptile brain prior to the fucking bunny getting him this situation in the first place.

Breathe, rabbit. Breathe.

Hashtag Locktober

I have no idea where Locktober came from. First I heard of it was from Andy and then there was a hashtag and now it’s a thing. I made something of a flippant response on the Twitter…

Except the deal with Locktober is to be locked for all of October. And I’m not always locked, just north of 98% of the time (last month excluded). I told Belle about Locktober and she was intrigued. She’s decided we will play along…for now.

See, Belle hasn’t been fucked since September 10. I know this because I keep track of such things. We were apart for the better part of several weeks and the last time she let me inside her was way back one month ago today. And while I was unlocked on my trip for more than is customary, I have been continuously locked since 11:00 AM on the 19th of September, three weeks ago today. I’m just not entirely certain Belle can wait that long to feel a hard penis inside her again.

But who knows. Last night I came into the bedroom while she was watching the football and apparently I looked cute to her because she said so and I asked why because I thought I looked kind of schlubby and she said maybe it was Locktober. Like, I was more attractive because I was going to be locked for the whole month. And the number of times she’s had me get her off this month puts it on track for a record in that department.

So yeah, Belle likes to get fucked, but this is also kind of a classic non-intuitive side effect of enforced chastity. The one you read about in all the hawt chastity porn. Like any mythology, it does have a basis in reality. For whatever reason, the idea of not being fucked by me because she’s keeping the penis locked up for the whole month is making her more likely to want to have sex. You just can’t make that make sense to someone who’s never heard of enforced male chastity. It’s a real paradox.

It’s been quite difficult for me during those times she lets me get her off because the penis has learned that while it’s locked up all the time, it does get to come out for 20-30 minutes a week and get wet inside her. While I feel her orgasm pulse through her body, the penis is straining hard against its confinement and pushing up the memory of what sliding inside her wet pussy feels like just to torment me. It wants to fuck her badly. It becomes an acute craving. And sure, that’s painful for about 12 seconds because the yearning need is strong, but then it fades and is replaced with the equally nonsensical and paradoxical feelings of submissive gratitude for being cared for in this way. Attended to, after a fashion.

So while dealing with the meat’s disappointment at not getting wet is fleetingly difficult, I think this Locktober thing is a good idea. It reminds us that whatever attention the contents of the devices locked onto us get is the sole discretion of the one holding our key. It demonstrates how penises are not required for satisfying sex. It reinforces the natural order of our relationships. And, for those keyholders needing it, it provides a shelter for any lingering guilt they feel over leaving their partners secure.

All that said, I’m still not sure Belle can go three more weeks without feeling me inside her. We’ll see. Whatever happens, it is — as always — up to her.