Tag: submission

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48 free – Part 1

As promised, Belle let me out Saturday morning. I was kinda lobbying for Friday night, but she wasn’t having any of it. So, Saturday morning, she brought me the key and saw the cock for the first time in three weeks.

It always looks so pale and sad when the tube slides off. The head seems to be permanently lighter than it used to be. Not sure what causes that. It’s not like it was regularly seeing the light of day before all tucked away in my pants. It pinked up by the end of the day, but still looks lighter than it used to.

Anyway, having free swinging meat feels really weird to me now. There were several times over the course of the day where I had forgotten I was out only to be somewhat surprised to realize that there wasn’t a hard metal device between my legs. One time, when watching TV, my hand wandered under my waistband (as men’s hands are wont to do) and I was shocked to find soft, pliant flesh there instead of a hard tube.

I was a good boy, though. I took a book with me into a nice hot bath and kept my hands off the cock the entire time. I very specifically did not touch it, though I wanted to. That took some will power, but she hadn’t given me any explicit permission to play with myself, so I tried my best not to.

In bed, Belle told me to get naked and, for the first time in a month, I was really and truly so. We kissed a bit and the cock got long and hard and I dry-humped the space between her leg and the mattress. It was so great being able to feel a full erection where I normally only feel pressure and hard steel rings. I got up on my hands and knees over her body and kept kissing her as she started to play with the cock. It was nice, gentle stuff. Caressing and stroking the meat while sending me higher and higher into my hormonal cloud of arousal. By the end, she was yanking on the cock, pulling it straight down, and I felt like a cow being milked. She told me going in that I wasn’t going to come, but the stoking was fairly purposeful and my expression, I’m sure, told her I was close. I thought she was going to let me come, not thinking that by doing so she’d be letting me spray all over the sheets. Just as I had convinced myself that orgasm was imminent, she let go and told me it was time to go to sleep. The cock throbbed and surged to no avail.

Jesus FUCK! It’s all so different now. When we first started this stuff, I’d have been hoping and wishing she’d deny me, but now I’m just the opposite. I wanted to come so fucking bad, but she wouldn’t let me. As the saying goes, I had been ridden hard and was being put up wet, but not wet enough.

After I blew the candles out, she told me to lay on my stomach. Hard cock beneath me, she stroked my ass going down between my legs and then up along my crack to the small of my back, then in reverse. Eventually, she got her nails involved and was raking my cheeks. I lifted my hips in response and felt a palpable need to be fucked. She totally owns me now and was playing me like a viloin. I would have done anything she asked at that moment.

Even though I was all riled up and laying on what felt like a steel rod, when she went back to gentle stroking and caressing, I went down with her. I felt weariness descend over me and, with a still hard and aching cock, fell asleep. I remember distinctly the very first night Belle and I had sex and I wasn’t allowed to come. I was higher than a kite and didn’t come down until sometime the next day. Contrast that with last night when, after a month of no orgasms or even cock contact of any kind, I was able to fall asleep awash in frustration and hormones. It goes to show how much I’ve adapted to this existence.

Today, Belle told me I’d go back in tomorrow morning. I assume that means there’s still something she wants from the unencumbered cock. Even though she’s not expecting me to be locked until tomorrow, I’ve put myself in the Jail Bird on my own accord because I’m not entirely sure I trust myself after last night. I’ll take it off before bed, but until then, I’m making sure I don’t lose focus.

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Not tonight

Yesterday, after we went to bed and Belle told me to get naked, I was cleaving to her and I told her I really wanted to fuck her. After a few more minutes of cleaving and kissing, I added that I really wanted to come inside her.

“Well, that’s not happening tonight,” she said flatly.

This is a seemingly innocuous exchange for a couple our disposition, but in thinking about it afterward, I think it also ably demonstrates how mature our dynamic has become.

Of course, when I say, “I want to come inside you,” it’s implied that I also don’t want her to let me. In the past, I might have neglected to express either sentiment, but we’re a point now that Belle’s confident enough in her position and sufficiently cognizant of what cranks her bunny’s motor that I can say the first thing without having to say the second. Telling her I want to come very badly (even though, as she pointed out, it’s “only” been three weeks since my last time) won’t make her doubt what I really want or her authority over it.

And, you know, it’s way hotter not having to explain myself like that. In fact, I really do want to fuck her and come like a racehorse, but she’s not letting me. Yes, on a macro level, our orgasm denial dynamic is consensual, but down there in the sheets where it gets all micro, she is definitely not letting me have what I really want. She is denying the fuck out of my orgasms. And, apparently, will continue to do so for the next several months.

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Playing chicken

The other night, Belle and I were talking. I can’t remember how it came up, but she made some joke about leaving me in the device for a year. I shrugged and said I didn’t think she could live without her cock that long. That led to a series of “Oh yeah? Yeah!” kind of statements and now Belle’s saying I won’t be in the device for a year, but she is planning on leaving me locked up until our family vacation at the end of March. That’ll be something like five months locked up and orgasmless.

Five. Months.

To be honest, I’m still not convinced it’ll be that long. I told her she’d be craving her cock well before then and she said she’d be happy with Mr. Darcy. But, I retorted, she can’t come with Mr. Darcy. So there. Also, Pink remains MIA. She’s gonna get an itch only the biocock can scratch way, way before the end of March. At least, I’m pretty sure she will.

I brought up again that back in the hotel we talked about a break (though there was some disagreement as to what it’d be a break from – the device or the orgasm denial). At this point, Belle has no interest whatsoever in letting me have a break. She says I can have a break at the end of March. Spring break. Until then, no. It’ll stay on me 24/7. I actually would like it off at the moment, but not so much that I’m going to make a federal case out of it. It’s hard for me to discern at this point between the normal “god, I wish I could get to the cock” kind of feelings and something more profound (as in, “I really don’t want to be in the device at the moment”).

So, with the question of a break well and truly settled for the time being, I tried to make a move. I wanted some pussy pretty bad. Before she’d let me in, she asked me if I had done anything to deserve it. What had I done for her above and beyond my normal expectations? Well, not much, to be honest. She kept pushing the point and I started to back off. Either it was going to happen or it wasn’t. I obviously had no control over the decision.

I backed off, but I also withdrew. This whole “how have you serviced me” thing is a bit of a grey area for us at the moment. There was a time when I was trying to play the part of a service sub, but the truth is Belle is very hard to serve. She does pretty much whatever she needs by herself and doesn’t like to ask for any help. In a sense, there’s a fair bit of her that wants to serve and the part of me that gets into it is far from dominent. It’s easy for me not to do it or even try when she’s in a groove. Yeah, I’ll do whatever she wants me to and I do still make her coffee in the morning, but I thought we had sort of come to an unspoken agreement that the service sub experiment had ended.

She asked me what I was thinking and I said most of the previous paragraph. Also, the only way I could conceivably  handle five months without access to the cock would be through some kind of regular access to her. Since I don’t get any kind of extracurricular teasing, her sexual pleasure is my sole physical outlet.

She agreed the service thing was a little fuzzy. We didn’t seem to resolve its status, but she did open herself to me and let me make her come. She was quiet when it happened, but she assured me that it was good.

Ever since then, whenever my hand finds itself on the device or I’m especially hard inside its unyielding confines, I wonder if I’m really going to be in it for another four months. Just under three months is the longest I’ve made it in the past. Last time was “just” two months. Now she’s saying five.

Can she wait that long?

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Three ways to O

Belle’s home now. She arrived Thursday afternoon following a day of air travel and promptly got her period. One of the interesting side-effects of chastity is that it makes me strangely attuned to her monthly cycle. There have been times when I think I’m more aware of it than she is, but I was thrown off this time because she was gone a week. Surprise!

My oddly sexless feelings continued even after she was home, though I felt a lot of comfort being in bed with her again. But then, yesterday as the boy and I were heading out to see what trouble Harry Potter had gotten himself into this time, I kissed her goodbye and POW something snapped. The feeling of her lips on mine, the taste of her, my hands on her breasts. Tube was full, blood was pumping. I wanted to eat her right up there, standing at the end of the bed.

So last night, I was whimpering freely. All of a sudden, a fairly strong sense of sexual frustration had settled in and I wanted OUT and I wanted to FUCK. She was having none of that and made fun of me since I had only been locked up for a few weeks. Then, she started making comments about how my chastity was not unlike an experiment where the male of the species was being taught to fight millions of years of evolution and become more attuned to the needs of the female rather than his own. How long, she mused, would men need to be locked up before they started to evolve in that direction? Ten thousand years? Fifteen? Should I keep you locked up for 15,000 years, she asked. I whimpered.

Regardless of my whimpering state and the steel wrapped around my struggling erection and her period, she said she would allow me to pleasure her to orgasm. I expected this to be fairly perfunctory and not unlike the dozens of other just-before-bed type orgasms I’ve given her, but after a few minutes of nipple sucking and clit fingering, she rolled over on top of me and started to rub herself against the tube. I now sucked both her nipples as I started to feel her heat radiate through the thick steel. No sensation at all for me other than pressure and heat.

“God, I wish we knew where Pink was,” she said while angling the tube up so she could fuck it. We still don’t know where her favorite toy is.

“I don’t know where she is…but I’ve got a cock you could use,” I helpfully reminded her. It seemed obvious to me she hadn’t come at all on her trip. She was acting like a cat in heat trying to rub up against anything that would get her off (but, you know, in the best possible way you can describe someone like that).

“Where’s Mr. Darcy?” she asked. I thought for a moment that maybe she misunderstood my “I’ve got a cock you can use” statement. Of course, I meant the real cock. The one on me. But she knew that…right?

“He’s right here in my nightstand.”

“Get him.” She rolled off. I got him.

There wasn’t much I could do with him other than rug his head over her clit because, you know, she was on her period and the rest of her was occupied by a female hygiene product. Clearly, though, my Belle wanted to get fucked since she told me to go get her some kleenex from the bathroom. She removed the offending female hygiene product and I got to busy with Mr. Darcy.

As I was laying there, my legs wrapped around her leg, solid tube pressing against her thigh as I fucked her with a silicone dick, I was able to reflect where we are and how far we’ve come. I know I’ve said this before in a number of ways, but this is for realsy now. Letting me out of the device so she could get what she so clearly wanted was simply never an option. The cock on me was not on her radar and my status as the frustrated lesser half of her sexual pleasure was secure. A year ago, I would have gotten the real cock wet and probably would have been able to come with no real consequences. Now, I have no clue how long I’ll be locked up and even less as to when I’ll come again.

I fucked her with Darcy for a bit and then pushed him home and used my fingers on her clit while she bucked and ground her hips around him. Her orgasm, which we had worked so hard to achieve, built over a relatively long period of time and seemed to hit her very hard. I could feel her clamping down on Darcy, the luck bastard.

As her passion ebbed, I could feel the last vestigial chance that I’d get any Thumper-centric action evaporate. Sometimes, the realization that I’ll be left high and horny burns with anguished intensity as it wraps around my brain like a blanket. She got out of bed to attend to herself and I pulled on the hard tube, futily. My period of feeling nothing was apparently over.

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Hotel

I apologize in advance for the extreme length of today’s missive. I didn’t intend for it to go on and on like this, but there was too much to say!

As I mentioned the other day, Belle and I had a kid-free few days this past weekend. We celebrated by spending Friday night at a luxe downtown hotel with an on-premises spa.

We checked in and decided to grab a light dinner downstairs before retiring for the night. I had brought along a number of toys and accoutrement, but wasn’t too sure what would happen. I was locked in the Steelheart and Belle had just come the night before, so if it were any other run of the mill Friday night, nothing would have happened. I braced myself for that eventuality and had an alternate checklist of activities if she happened to fall asleep or something. I didn’t wonder if she was going to let me out because it’s a given that my normal condition is to be exactly as I was.

Back in the room, she wanted to lay on the bed and talk which was great because I like talking to her. She allowed me to go naked since it’s the state I prefer to be in when it’s an option. So there I was, naked with a big shiny thing where the dick usually is, with her snuggled under the covers in her jammies. And we talked.

At some point – and I’ll tell you right now that most of this evening is something of a blur for me so what you’re reading is my best approximation of the events – she mentioned that she planned on letting me out that night. She had already told me I would be out for the massage the next day, but as I said, I didn’t expect to be released before morning. Once she said it I knew I really wanted out. You just don’t say no to these kinds of opportunities. I expect I was not unlike an excited puppy from the time she mentioned it to the moment she let me out.

Back on the bed, now totally naked, she made it clear that I wasn’t to touch the merchandise. It was at this point that I started to get the idea that something was going to happen, though I had no idea what. She had previously said I wouldn’t come until the end of the year, but there’s a ton of stuff you can do besides that with a hard cock if you’re imaginative enough.

“What did you bring?” she asked.

I told her: the flogger, the bondage straps, nipple clamps, my collar, handcuffs (but not the key) and Mr. Darcy with his harness.

“Not Pink?” she asked, meaning her favorite vibrator.

“No, I couldn’t find it. I assumed you brought it.” It hadn’t been in it’s normal positon in my nightstand (handy for when she wants it), nor was it in hers.

“I didn’t bring it,” she said. Come to think of it, we need to figure out where that went. Anyway…

“Get the clamps and your collar.” A thrill of excitement when through me. She hardly ever collars me. “And the cuffs.”

I brought the collar over to her side of the bed and kneeled and dropped my head so she could buckle it behind my neck. A low subbie thrum started inside me.

Back in bed next to her, I asked if she had ever wanted to try the nipple clamps.

“No, I don’t like pain.”

“How do you know until you try?” I asked, “Maybe you could try it just for a second on one nipple.”

She pulled her top down so her right breast was exposed and she placed the clamp gingerly onto her plump, succulent nipple.

“OWW!!!!” she said. So much for that idea.

She griped about it for another five minutes or so before attaching a clip to my left nipple. Then she strung the other through the ring on my collar and clipped it onto my right nipple. Then she pulled. And pulled and pulled. And the cock rose accordingly.

“You are so weird,” she said.

“I know,” I replied as the cock twitched and surged.

She snapped the handcuffs around my left wrist.

“You have the keys, right?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“You sure? Because this’ll be hard to explain during the massage tomorrow.”

She got up and got the keys to the handcuffs, showed them to me, and then placed them on her nightstand before closing the cuffs around my right wrist. They were tight, digging into me. Every movement caused them to bite harder.

Collared, clamped, and cuffed. I slipped a little deeper into my headspace. She teased me by running her fingers around the throbbing cock, over my balls (slapping them lightly) and back up to the chain connecting the clips. Pulling. I groaned. The cock flexed.

“Please touch it,” I begged.

“No.”

Whimper. Whine. I moved to kiss her, but she pulled her head away.

“Please let me kiss you. I want to kiss you.”

She moved her head back down, just close enough for my lips to graze hers, but not close enough for a real kiss.

“Please…”

She kissed me, full on the mouth, but just once and she didn’t linger, then she got up from the bed and started to rummage through my bag. She brought out the bondage stuff and strapped my ankles to each of the king-sized bed’s feet. I retained some movement, but couldn’t close my legs. Next, she started looking around the room as if she had misplaced something. She grabbed a cloth napkin from the bar and tied it over my eyes like a blindfold. I couldn’t see a thing. Then she made a little happy sound like she had discovered something she had lost. That was followed by a few metallic sounds. CLAMP CLAMP!

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Maybe I should go down to the bar and have a drink. Leave you like this to stew.”

Groan. I think she considered it. Really was thinking about it, but then I felt her get back into bed with me. She continued the teasing from before. My cock was desperate for real touching, preferably stroking, and I moved my hands down as if to oblige but she jerked them back over my head.

“No touching!”

They weren’t tied that way, but it was clear she wanted my hands up over my head or near my face.

“Please,” I begged again, “please touch it.”

“If I do, then what? What’s in it for me?”

“Anything. Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, please, just touch it!”

“OK…”

I felt something cold and sharp on the hard shaft. It clamped down on either side of the cock and moved up and down, slowly.

“How does that feel?”

“Ungh! It hurts!”

“Hurts bad or hurts good?”

“Both!” I writhed.

I could feel the metal bite the smooth, silky skin of the shaft but also feel the internal stimulation of being stroked. I needed this so bad. Craved it. Two months since I last came, and she was jacking me off with some kind of sharp, painful metal device.

“Do you want me to stop?”

I paused. It hurt. But it also felt good. Really good.

“No.” I said quietly, then moved my hips closed to her, arching my back so she could get a better angle on the meat. What felt like sharp little teeth were biting into the stiff shaft and it hurt, but I couldn’t imagine it stopping. I was getting more than enough jacking off stimulation to hold my attention.

Occasionally, she stop the stroking and I’d feel her use whatever it was on my nuts. She’d clamp the sharp teeth round one of my nuts and squeeze. Then the other. Then back to the shaft. I could actually feel the rumblings of an orgasm, even against the pain of the metal.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Yes? Want me to stop now?”

“Oh FUCK, no. Don’t stop. Please.”

“Does it hurt?”

“YES! But I like it. I want you to jack me off.”

“You. Are. So weird.”

“I know,” I said softly, moving closer to her.

“And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

More stroking. More biting. More feeling the need to come, though I realized it was never going to get there with the level of stimulation I was getting from whatever it was she was stroking me with.

“What is that thing?”

She pulled the blind from my eyes and held the ice tongs in front of my face, snapping their little teeth together.

“Jesus Christ!”

She moved it back down to the cock and grabbed it with the little teeth.

“I thought you liked it,” she said.

“Ungh,” I replied as she stroked me some more.

She put the tongs aside and pulled off her shirt. I tried to kiss them, get my mouth on her nipples. She pushed me away.

“Not yet.”

Then she started to flog the cock and my balls. Gently, but then with some force. Not enough to damage me, but enough to get my attention. She’d slowly drag the suede lashes over the straining and, now thanks to the ice tongs, stinging meat. Then flick them across the shaft. Then the balls. Then dragging them again, seductively. Lovingly. Again and again.

“Please, will you fuck me?”

“No.”

Whine.

“Not yet, anyway.”

More flogging. More pulling on the clamps which had, by this time been on me for much longer than usual.

“I really should just leave you like this all night long. Tied up, nipples clamped.” I whined again.

“Please. Please fuck me. I don’t need to come. I just want to feel you. It’s been so long. Two months.”

“I know,” she said cooly, “That’s a long time, isn’t it?”

“Please…” was all I could muster. I wanted it so bad. Was so horny. She had played me perfectly all night, leaving me right on the edge of where pain turns to pleasure, but not going too far. I needed to feel something soft and hot and wet on her cock. I wanted her.

She took the cock in her hand. I moaned deeply. This wasn’t her pussy, it was pretty good.

“It stings.”

“Really?” and she stroked me harder.

The cock stiffened. I could feel my balls drawing up. I was getting close…

Then she stopped, leaving me bobbing in the air.

“Oh God!”

She waited, perhaps counting the beat of my heart by the bounce of the cock in midair. Then she grabbed it again and resumed the stroking.

“You want me to fuck you?” she asked.

“Oh, Jesus, yes! Please fuck me!”

“And…what’s in it for me?”

“Anything. Anything you want.” And I meant it.

She made herself completely naked and climbed on top of me. She straddled my hips and moved the abused, desperate cock in position against her pussy’s lips. Then she plunged down onto it. I lost my breath, unable to breath. It felt so good. So amazing. Hot. Everything I needed it to be.

Her breasts were in my face and I tried to get her nipples in my mouth, but her motion as she fucked her cock made them hard targets.

“That’s a good boy,” she said, “Good Thumper. You know what you’re supposed to do…”

But it was too hard. I couldn’t keep hold of them. Eventually, she moved off and I slipped out with a wet smack against my stomach. She removed the clips from my nipples and twin lasers of intense pain seared into me. Unmoved, she pulled them out of my collar and tossed them aside. She picked the keys to the cuffs up off the nightstand but didn’t have a good handle on them and they fell into the hot wax of the candle.

“Fuck!” she said. Then she got the tongs and used them to fish the keys out.

Clamps and cuffs off, she put her hand over the cock again.

“Oh good, you’re still ready,” but she stroked it a few times for good measure before mounting me again.

She fucked me slowly as I sucked her tits. Her eyes closed, she was enjoying it at least as well as I was. After the initial shock, I settled in to as useful a position as possible. She may have given me what I was begging for, but now it was for her.

Best intentions aside, I said, “I’m getting close.” She slowed down. I could see her working it out in her head. Would I come or not? It had “only” been two months. After a smal rest, she’d pick up her rhythm again. I’d focus on a place far, far away, but it was so hard. The two months and the stroking, both with her hand and the ice tongs, conspired against me.

“I’m close,” I said again. What would happen? Would she roll off of me? Make me finish her in the normal way?

“Go ahead,” she said, and started to fuck me faster.

“Really?”

“Yes. Fuck me.”

And I did. I fucked her as hard and as fast as I could. Moments later, I felt it. From somewhere deep, deep inside the orgasm started to build and grow and rush forward before exploding out of me and into her. Three, four, five giant loads of semen surged out of me. I cried out at the intensity. The entire world had gone away and all there was was this feeling. My orgasm.

It finally subsided and I was left a gibbering, gooey mess. She rolled off of me and I felt two months of pent up desire ebb from my pores. Fuck, that was awesome. Even as the cock was laying against me, fat and happy, it continued to ooze its payload. Now, of course, I was repulsed by it. The slippery, foul smelling paste. While she attended to herself, I got some tissues and wiped as much of it as I could from my skin.

She got back into bed and I cleaved onto her.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Awesome. Thank you so much for that. It was so great.”

“I haven’t come yet.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

I started in again on her nipples and fingering her pussy. It was super slick with my ejaculate and felt wider than usual. Well-fucked. She seemed to enjoy what I was doing, but it didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

“I want you to eat me out.”

Oh, fuck. I cringed. I whimpered again. “Really?”

“What’s wrong? I thought you liked that.”

“I do, but…” I just came in there!

“Well, you should have brought Pink. Come on, cowboy, get to it,” she said as she spread her legs wide. “You said I could have anything.”

Busted. I was groaning the whole way down. I could smell it. I had already felt it. I knew it was in there still. There had been so much.

I closed my eyes figuring it’d be easier if I couldn’t see anything. Don’t get me wrong, I love pussy, but I’ve never found it to be the most appealing thing immediately after an orgasm. Regardless, I figured the band-aid approach was best. Just get it over with.

My tongue stared to lap at her clit. That would be the area of least contamination, I thought, but she liked how it felt and started to move her pussy around, guiding my licking.

“That’s a good boy,” she purred. I licked. Oh, god. I licked and lapped and reached up to her nipples, hoping she’d come so I could stop.

“Can you taste yourself?” she asked.

I grunted noncommittally. Of course I could. Fucking hell.

When she finally came, she pushed my face into her and my tongue deeper into her pussy. She clamped her legs around my head. There was no getting away. Her orgasm spasmed across my tongue and she squeezed more of my seed into my mouth on onto my face.

When she unclamped, I moved out as quickly as possible, wiping my face with my hands.

“Good job, Thumper.”

Next morning, before we went to get our 80 minute deep tissue massages (can you imagine?), she allowed me to jack off one more time and finish with an orgasm. She was in the bathroom getting ready and would occasionally look in my direction, a look of bemusement on her face.

“What?! You said I could!”

“I know…”

I tried to draw it out as long as possible. To savor the rare moment of self gratification. I came again and, just like before, it was copious. Great globs of it oozed out of me. The orgasm was half as intense as the night before, but even then, was ten times better than I used to have when they were mine.

Later, after the rubbing and the fragrant oil and the fruit juice, as we were leaving the spa, she asked if I was relaxed.

“Oh yes,” I replied, “In more ways than one.”

—

In thinking about this after the fact, I can easily say that night in the nice hotel when Belle Fille abused me and then fucked me and then made me eat my own seed from her was one of the top five sexual experiences of my life. I’m so, so lucky to be married to such a wonderful and caring woman.

Thank you, Belle Fille. Thank you for everything.

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Fire

Up until last night, it had been something like 10 days since I was able to touch Belle in any significant way. The trip didn’t help, obviously, and neither did her period which arrived just before I left. With the kids out of the house, I was hoping to get a little action (even though we’re going to a downtown hotel for the night tonight). And yeah, I got my action. And yeah, it was really good.

Which is to say, it was totally normal. With the exception of her using the butterfly clamps on my nipples, it was pretty standard fare. But, it had been ten days. I was really fucking ready for her. She put the clamps on me and would pull them until they finally pulled off (which hurts in such a fantastic way) and them put them back and do it all over again. The trashy pain slut within was reveling in the attention and the contents of the tube were hard and straining.

But whatever I felt before paled in comparison to how it felt once I got my mouth on her tits. The pressure on my balls was greater than even the merciless morning wood erections. My balls ached and throbbed as the steel ring pressed into them and my fire for her burned uncontrollably inside me. I just wanted her so, so bad. It’s not even possible to tell you how bad I wanted her. I wanted to bite her and kiss her and eat her and drink her and fuck the shit out of her. I wanted to come in her and on her and crush her in my arms. It felt like I was exhaling clouds of testosterone. The prehistoric lizard was riding high, the little white rabbit under it’s scaly feet.

I crawled over her, between her legs, and sucked her nipples while rubbing the hard steel tube over her mound. Her hips started to gyrate and I could feel the cock sink into her inviting, wet pussy. But, of course, it didn’t. I never left the unyielding tube. It’s so odd to feel the pressure of an erection like that one but nothing else. No surface stimulation at all, just…pressure. Like the pressure at the bottom of the ocean pushing back against me.

I rolled off her and pulled her pajama bottoms off and stuck my finger three knuckles deep into her fantastically soft, wet and hot pussy. Jesus, I wanted it so bad. I was kissing her face, sucking her tits, and fingering her clit all in a jumbled cloud of activity I have a hard time recalling now. I was lost to the fire, consumed in the passion of the moment and her body and my love and lust for her. When she came, I cried out, too. I wanted it as bad as she did. I wanted to feel it. Had to feel it. The only type of release I can get.

As she basked, I kept my finger firmly shoved up her snatch. I wanted to rut in it, rub my face in it, cover myself in her juices and scent and power, but I was good and let her come down from the clouds in her own time (though I know I was whining).

She talked to me. Said something. It cut me and seared me to hear her talk about what I could and could not do and what I had to do, but I honestly can’t recall any of her words. I was so far gone. I could smell every bit of her. Her pussy, her skin, her fucking spit and her hair and it was everything to me. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more aroused and lost in the passion. If she had presented the key at that moment, I probably would have injured myself getting the device off. Everything in the universe was her.

Eventually, she slept, but I was too high. I went downstairs and played Xbox in the nude while precum leaked on my inner thigh. The hormones subsided and, two hours later, I crawled back into bed with her. Her body moved close to mine and it was like the fire, smoldering, flared back to life. I did eventually sleep, but it was fitful.

And you may be wondering, this is good? This is what you want? Yes. Yes a thousand times. I can’t tell you why, but yes. Fucking hell, yes.

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The hard part

Friday morning, Belle wanted some. I was still in my funky mood and not entirely interested in giving it up, but damn if my hormones didn’t betray me. All she had to do was put her hands in the right places and show me her tits and I was all over her.

She came with my face planted firmly against her snatch, my tongue pressed hard against her clit. I rolled over next to her, hand grasping the hard steel tube between my legs, seething.

“How do you feel?” she asked, knowing I had not been myself lately.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” was all I could say. It was true. The cock was throbbing in its prison. It had been nearly six weeks with only a brief trip out when I was sick. I wanted to feel her hot pussy envelope her hard cock. Really. Bad.

“Well, you’re still going to have to wait,” she said. I’m only half way to my next orgasm, sometime around the end of December. “Maybe, if you’re good, I’ll let you in for a little bit so you can remember what it felt like, but not right now.”

The thought of being let out and allowed to fuck her, even without coming, has been with me ever since. Countless times each day, hand on my crotch, thinking of being free and balls deep, hot and wet. I really can’t stop thinking about it.

Tonight, as we went to bed, she knew I wanted it and I had a pretty good idea something was going to happen. Once the kids were asleep, she told me to get naked and I plastered myself against her, slowly grinding the steel into her leg, my lips against her chin and throat.

“Do you deserve it?” she asked, knowing clearly what was on my mind.

“What?” I stumbled. “I…I don’t know. I don’t know if I deserve it. But I want it. I want to fuck you so bad.”

“That’s not the same.”

I continued to nuzzle her and kiss her and wait out her judgment. I wanted the steel off. I wanted to be inside her.

“You don’t deserve it,” she finally said. I whimpered and the cock surged. She told me I hadn’t been keeping up with my duties lately, which is true, and that I needed to shape up before she let me fuck her, even without coming. I lobbied back, reminding her of all the things I had done in the previous 48 hours, desperate for credit. Desperate to salvage the opportunity.

“Don’t whine,” she said firmly. “You told me to make it hard. This is the hard part. Do a good job and maybe I’ll let you out. In the mean time, I’ll let you give me an orgasm.”

It’s true, I had told her it had to be hard or it wouldn’t feel real. But fucking hell, all I wanted was a few minutes out. Just a little fuck with nothing to show for it afterward but a hard, wet dick. But no. I could feel the desire within me that had been building and feeding itself for days buckle and snap under the finality of her position. The door had closed. I would have to try harder to make her happy.

A few minutes later, I had Mr. Darcy out, but not in the harness. I was fucking her alright, but with the life-like, Thumper-sized dildo in my right hand. I pushed it home, all the way to the base and flicked my index finger over her clit. She started to writhe and squirm and I could imagine how hard she was clamping on the dildo deep inside her while the real cock, her other cock, pouted in its tube. She came with her ass off the bed, head back, hand clutching mine hard, silent scream contorting her face.

After a little glow time, I pulled Darcy out, sucked him off, and placed him back in the nightstand. She fell asleep, sated. I wrote this, still hot, still horny as all fuck.

Good night.

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Stacks

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

Expounds brother Maymay:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Monkey bites

Tomorrow is Denying Thumper’s second anniversary. I don’t have a cake or anything, but I thought it was worth mentioning.

At the beginning of this past weekend, I told Belle that I thought she needed a minimum of two orgasms to make up for the two week long menstruation/travel/illness-induced dry spell we’ve had with regard to sex. She seemed receptive to the idea so, as we settled into bed Saturday night, I was highly expectational that something was going to happen.

It all started kinda slowly, but picked up speed rapidly. I was kissing her and licking her nipples and pressing against her sex when she latched onto my neck and started to bite and suck. Shortly thereafter, I was had three big, dark monkey bites on my shoulder/neck and a painfully tight tube. The erection her cock was trying to achieve was not the run of the mill kind that manifests whenever she allows me to pleasure her. It was seriously trying to bust out of the steel. And it hurt.

“I want you to eat me out,” she said breathlessly into my ear. Fuck yes.

I got up to close the door and the entire package of cock and device stood straight out and bobbed up and down with each step. By the time I turned around, she was totally naked with legs spread wide. I crawled up between with my head lowered, thankful for what I was about to receive, and dove in. I found, though, that the cock was so hard inside its prison that I couldn’t lay on my stomach as I usually do. The shaft refused to bend down and out of the way so I had to go down on Belle with my ass raised off the bed. That changed my angle of attack and made it so that I could only reach up and finger one nipple at a time.

She was quite enjoying the attention I was able to give her pussy and after a short while said, “Fuck me with your fingers.” I inserted first my middle and then my index finger and fucked them in and out, curving them upward to maximize G-spot stimulation, all the while continuing to flick my tongue over and around her clit. Her juices were everywhere.

When her orgasm came, I could feel it everywhere. The energy of it ran out of her pussy, through my fingers, and across my whole body. The encased meat throbbed in sympathy. I kept my tongue planted even though she was pushing it away. By the time the orgasm crested, she was limp and glowing and I was ringing like a struck bell, face still in her pussy, fingers still up her snatch.

Sleep came late for me that night.

Sunday, we were supposed to break out Mr. Darcy, but we had a bunch of family over that night and she was too tired to play. Her decision was somewhat disappointing, I admit, but even though I was really interested in more Belle-time, my disappointment didn’t curdle into anything worse. It’s at times like these, lately, that I’m able to somehow redirect the negative energy in a way that actually makes me feel good. It’s all for her, after all. She holds all the cards and deals them how she wants.

She snuggled up into me and fell asleep while I watched the Phillies dismantle the Reds, hand on my steel tube between my legs. I was and am horny, but two years in, I feel like we’re doing it right. Right for us, anyway.

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PA5K

Belle thinks it’s funny to name my chastity devices. That means last night, after the PA-5000’s box had been opened and the enclosed device secured onto the cock, she was running through a bunch of, “I think we should call it…” scenarios.

I thought most of the names were kinda silly, so I said (maybe more shortly than I should have), “I think we should call it the one I wear when I’m away from you.”

To which she replied, “I think we should call it the one you wear when I tell you to.”

Snap!

“Sorry, Belle Fille,” I said, quietly.

“Let’s not forget who’s in charge around here, OK?”

“You’re in charge, Belle Fille.”

“That’s right.”

—

My first impression of the PA5K is that it feels really weird compared to the other devices I’ve worn. It’s very light and, as anyone can see, it doesn’t involved anything more then the end of the erect shaft. It’s sort of a tease for someone like me, accustomed to a full trapped-ball device, since it feels, when flaccid, that I’m free to have an erection. And, in fact, I can achieve pretty much a full erection. It’s like I have a cock again. However, I can’t do a damned thing with it.

For those of you reading this who don’t have penises attached to your bodies, understand that in order to successfully jack off, you need to be able to stimulate the area of the penis on the bottom of the shaft and adjacent to the head. In other words, right where the lock on the PA5K sits. Typically, this involves grasping and rolling whatever foreskin you have up and over the penis head (with or without lubrication). Also, not possible with the PA5K. It not only covers the money zone of penile stimulation, it also anchors that area to the wearer’s PA hole. Basically, it makes that entire area static and untouchable. So, you know, a fairly effective chastity device.

That said, it’s not the experience I’m used to. It doesn’t arrest the erection much at all. Also, there’s no ancillary sensation around my scrotum. Also also, I can jack off about 60% of the hard cock, though as I said, it’s the wrong 60%. I probably could not masturbate to orgasm wearing the PA5K and it’s enough of a deterrent that I’m not likely to try for very long.

On a chastity intensity scale of 1-10 where the CB6K is (or can be fitted to be) about an 8.5 and my Steelheart is about a 7, the PA5K is about a 4. Maybe less. It’s been really easy to live with in the 20 hours or so I’ve been wearing it.

The only issue I’ve had so far is with pain around my PA. It was worse in the morning, but I don’t think it had anything to do with the erection. First of all, the “ring” part that slips up and into my piercing doesn’t move around or hang down into my urethra like a real ring. Instead of shifting around as my position does, it stays fixed relative to the hole and makes the meat move around it. This is putting areas of my urethra into contact with the device that normally don’t touch my PA jewelry much at all. Second, it’s made of plastic which, as I’ve mentioned before in discussing the drawbacks of the CB6K, tends to grab my skin (even the skin inside the cock). In the morning when everything is try, I can really feel it.

With regard to fit, I probably could have bought the middle size. When I measured the cock before, I was doing so around the base where it’s thicker. Up near the end, where it’s narrower, the PA5K nearly perfectly encircles the erect shaft. When flaccid, there can be a fair amount of space between it and me. It’s not a bad fit (or, at least, it doesn’t seem to be). In fact, it provides a very subtle pressure when hard. Quite easy to deal with compared to the cramped confines of the CB6K tube.

Regardless of what Belle wants to call it, I think it will end up being the perfect travelling chastity companion. She’s decided that I will wear it until Sunday night to make sure it’s acceptable, then I’m back to serving hard time in the Steelheart until the time comes that I need to fly.

—

After she allowed me to give her an orgasm, and while I was pressing my erect yet still chastised cock into her ass as she was falling to sleep, I said, “God, I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

“Thumper, it’s hardly been two weeks yet,” she scolded me gently, “You’ve got a long way to go before that’s going to happen.”

“I know, but I really want to.”

“You’ll need to do better than that when it’s time for the sesquicentennial.”

“Sesquicentennial? You’re going to leave me locked up for 150 years?” I asked.

“No, but the times coming when I’ll leave you in for 150 days.”

Whimper. “A hundred and fifty days is a long time,” I said quietly.

“Yes,” she replied, “but you’re up to it.”