Tag: tease and denial

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Different goals

Pain, Pleasure and Denial is a newish chastity and denial blog I only recently discovered written by a guy calling himself goodhubby. It’s sometimes hard for me to get too invested in these (ironically) because they so frequently flare up, go like crazy for a bit, then fade away, but I like this guy. I like that, like me, he over-thinks spends a lot of time analyzing how denial is working in his head and his relationship.

The really interesting bit about his blog, though, it that’s it written by a top. This is an exceedingly rare combination, I think (at least in the blogosphere). I recall one blog a couple of years ago like that, but it went dark and was eventually deleted. In that case, the dom thought of chastity as an experiment and, I have to admit, wasn’t written so well that I actually got inside the head of the guy. All he really did was recount their sex, if I recall correctly. In the case of goodhubby, it sounds like his denial (and her control of his orgasms) is a somewhat permanent arrangement. This really turns a lot of preconceived notions on their heads. A top who is denied by the bottom. I look forward to reading more!

In a recent post, he keyed into something Belle and I discussed last night between our marathon talkfest and when she let me get her off.

What has changed, though, is that I no longer seem to see sex as a source, or vehicle, for reaching orgasm. I fully expect not to orgasm, when we have sex. I go into it devoid of that expectation of orgasm. Sex has become about NW’s pleasure (orgasms included), just like it always has. For me, though, it has become a time when my arousal, physically and mentally, will be carried to the very edge, but never released. The edge has become the ultimate goal, with respect to my pleasure, not the orgasm. In fact, despite the obvious want that is welled up, I am mentally averse to the idea of release.

That’s such a perfectly succinct way to put it. I have no idea how that works or what’s going on mentally or physically when that turn happens and the entire purpose of sex has been rewritten, but it’s profound (and, apparently, not necessarily related to submission).

The bit that aligned with what Belle and I talked about had to do with recalling the very first night I didn’t come after sex. I remember she came after I fucked her with the penis (that’s how it happened the majority of the time back then). I remember being in her and doing my usual thing letting her glow and resisting my urge to keep fucking until I came, but only out of deference to letting her enjoy the orgasm. I stayed in a little while longer and she let me fuck her a bit more, but eventually I had to withdraw. The incredible ache that induced in my chest as I pulled a perfectly good boner out of her pussy before it did what, at the time, I thought its job was had to be one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done, especially since that was well before I think Belle really invested herself in keeping me denied. I pulled out and did not come on my own. She would have let me in a second. I remember laying on my back and she curled into me and stroked my armpit hair and tried to bring me down off the hormonal surge. The penis was cold and wet and hard for a long time and my heart was racing and all my senses were on edge. She, of course, fell asleep way before I did. All the next day I felt like I was on speed, but in a good way. I’d have to go back and look, but I think she let me come the next night. So I was denied for a whole 24 hours.

Now, of course, it’s totally different. The penis is no longer able to get her off and, horny or not, I get instantly sleepy once she comes (though that’s not the same as actually falling asleep). I very seldom think about the orgasm I’m not getting because there’s just no reason for me to have one. If I’m aware of anything, it’s that I always wish it took her longer to get there so I could enjoy her more. That longstanding and popular notion that orgasms are either a) required for the man, optional for the woman, or b) mutually assured, just doesn’t apply to us. The very definition of sex that I carried around for three decades is gone.

Belle used an interesting phrase to describe this. She say’s I’ve “nicely evolved” into what I am now. The implication that evolution leads to a superior form was not lost on me. It’ll be interesting to see how a top “evolves” in chastity to a submissive female. How they both evolve, actually.

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Squeaky clean

Air travel stinks. I was talking to my coworkers as we flew back yesterday and one of them remarked that when she was young her family dressed up to fly. How it was such a big deal. Now, planes are nothing more than busses with wings. Endless charges for such luxuries as baggage and rude attendants and knees pushed up into your chin for three hours. Man, I’ve had it.

Anyway, I’m back home. Finally. Night before I left, even with a numb dick, I couldn’t fall asleep. It was a combination of being really horned up and having had a glass of iced tea with dinner. That little extra jolt of caffeine mixed with the hormones kept me up to four in the morning so I got maybe two or three hours of sleep. The tossing and turning went on so long, the feeling came back to the cock and in my delirious half sleep, half awake state, my hand found it again and again. I’d edge myself then control would come back and I’d roll over only to find my fevered brain reinserting all kinds of pornographic thoughts before me and the cock would swell and the whole thing would start over again. I knew that if I just came I’d likely fall asleep quickly, but I resisted the best I could. It was one of the hardest evenings of orgasm control I’ve had in a while. The barrier between pre and post orgasm was membrane thin and, by the time I pulled up and stopped stroking, I was leaking great quantities of ejaculate. I didn’t get the tingly sensation of orgasm and the thoughts and desires came back quickly enough for me to know it wasn’t an orgasm, but it was a very close scare. In the future, even if Belle lets me go to these things unprotected, I should probably bring the Steelheart along for those times I feel I’m losing control. When it’s in place, even if I hold my own key, the Rule of Law descends and my relationship with the cock changes completely.

Got home well after Belle went to sleep last night so I’m still free. I took the opportunity to clean out the Steelheart tube thoroughly this morning. I find that when I’m locked into it for weeks at a time (as I just was – essentially a month), a type of build-up appears at the end of the tube. It appears to be some kind of mineral-type stuff that I assume is left there by frequent contact with urine. It clings to the steel and can’t be cleaned out with soap and water, but I’ve found soaking the tube in a vinegar bath loosens it up enough that it can be wiped out.

I took the opportunity afterwards to take the above picture. I shows how tight things are in the end the tube with the PA fixing and 4 gauge ring. All that squished with the penis meat into a 2.5″ long steel cage. Time will tell when the meat is again so squished. Belle’s given me no indication when she wants it back in there.

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Stryker’s beast

If you’re really not into graphic accounts of self-administered anal action, this post probably isn’t for you.

Last time, I said the “realistic” Jeff Stryker dildo seemed ridiculously large. That got me doing some research to find out how big he really is. According to a page called Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Penis Size But Were Afraid to Ask, Jeff Stryker’s cock is 7.5″ long (measured in the proper way along the top, from the pubic bone to the tip). As you can see in the picture below, the “realistic” dildo is actually about 9″ long measured in the same way. That’s about a 20% increase. I’d estimate the insertable length to be about 8″.

Besides the length, the really interesting thing about this dildo is its girth. The circumference just under the head is a half inch greater at 7″ than lower down the shaft where it’s 6.5″. While I can’t find any reliable information about Stryker’s actual girth, I can say these proportions are accurate based on the numerous times I’ve watched him put it to use, though the actual size of the dildo is much larger.

So yeah, it’s bigger than the original. For me, it’s at the very limit of a usable size. While I might be able to get something bigger inside me, that’d just be showing off and not really all that enjoyable.

I haven’t had anything this big to play with in a while. In the recent past, when I felt like getting fucked, I’ve used a cheap vinyl dildo that’s 6″ insertable with a circumference about 4.75″. Nothing too impressive, but also pretty easy to use. Prior to climbing Mount Stryker, though, I made preparations. First thing I did was remove the hair around my asshole. I’ve found that hair is hard to lubricate and will grip a dildo and get pulled in and out with it keeping things from being nice and slippery smooth, so I shaved an area about two inches all the way around. Also, I used one of the other new items I bought with the dildo: the Colt Anal Douche.

As Dan Savage says, having anal sex without douching your rectum is like having oral sex with a mouth full of food. The obvious issues of residual fecal matter is what squicks out so many people who might otherwise really get into anal. This is too bad because it’s so easy to deal with when you have the right tool and the Colt Anal Douche is that tool. The really nifty bit, and what makes it better than the run of the mill bulb enema you can get at any drugstore, is the 6″ attachment you put over the spout on the bulb. The water comes out of it along a seam near the top as opposed to squirting out a hole way up into the colon. It feels better and keeps the water where it needs to be. There’s no point in filling your lower intestine with a gallon of water since the only part that really needs to be cleared is the rectum. All you have to do is fill the douche with warm water (get all the air out!), squirt it up your butt, and push it all out. After three or four times, if the water coming out is as clear as when it went in, everything is ready to go.

As I said, it’s been a long time since I had anything this large in my ass. I approached it in the only way you can when dealing with this much mass: slowly and with tons of lube. I used water-based Astroglide as opposed to the silicone lube. I like to put a condom over my toys to make clean up easier and also because I find vinyl actually causes irritation and stinging. Perhaps I’m allergic. In any event, I decided to get things going with the smaller vinyl dildo, sheathed in latex, to open things up and distribute lube all along the soon-to-be assaulted path. Maybe it was because I was staring down Stryker’s beast, but the smaller dildo slid in rather more easily than normal and was soon in all the way to the base. I could feel my prostate was already crackling with electricity. I left the small dildo in for several minutes while preparing the main event. Once it was out of the way, I moved the big guy into place.

It was as if the smaller dildo had never been there. As the fat, blunt head of Stryker’s beast pressed against my hole, I remembered that there’s nothing subtle about this cock. It’s all business from the very start. My sphincter complained, but I kept a steady pressure against it. I’d push, let it sit there as the tight ring of my ass stretched against it, then I’d pull back to give it a few seconds rest. Then I’d push again, trying to get just a millimeter further. At about 2″ in, the fattest part of the cock was starting to come into play and I found the compression of my hole against the condom squeegeed all the lube off. I had to reapply it again and again.

Push, wait, withdraw.

Puush, wait, withdraw. Lube.

Puuush, wait, withdraw.

Puuuush, wait (oh, god, the stretching), withdraw. Lube.

Finally, after maybe 15 minutes of this, my sphincter had finally opened wide enough to envelope the fattest part of the cock. I admit, if I had never actual had this thing up my ass before, I might of chickened out at this point. The sensation of being opened to that extent was incredibly intense and I only had about a third of the thing in me. But I persevered, slowly yet forcefully, until the 7″ circumference of the first half was past my rim.

After that, it was like the cock got sucked up inside me. As the shaft moved along and the slightly thinner part entered me, I felt myself being opened like I hadn’t been in a very long time. Eventually, I had the dildo in all the way to its balls. I couldn’t move it, though. I was so full of it, the best I could do was leave it in place and let my chute stretch along the entire 8″ of the beast. I’d leave it in as long as I could stand it, then pull it all the way out for more lube. I felt my rectum collapse behind the retreating invader.

Then, back in. All the way. I actually bottom out at precisely the point in which the Stryker dildo is in all the way. The entire length of my rectum is opened by it and its head presses against the point where my anal passage turns and becomes my colon. It’s as if it was custom made for my body.

After another 15 or twenty minutes of repeating the cycle of putting it in, leaving it there, and then pulling it out for more lube, I felt myself loosen up sufficiently to start fucking. I can’t even describe it. It’s like having your guts punched, but in a good way. Eventually, I was pistoning the fat dildo in and out, faster and faster, grunting and moaning and feeling the stretch on the way out and the filling sensation on the way in. Over and over. I can’t say how many times and for how long. In the past, I would have come well before I got to this point, but of course, I couldn’t even see the cock let alone stroke it. My entire being was focused on the feeling of this giant slab of rubber invading me, insistently pushing my prostate and everything else out of its way again and again.

I eventually just tired out. My legs were cramping and sweat was flowing down my forehead. A cock that couldn’t come was fucking a body that never would. The only barrier to going all night was physical fatigue. So much effort had gone into even getting to the point were I could put it inside me, that my tank was close to empty by the time things really heated up.

Finally, the dildo slid out heavily with a slurp and a pop. My asshole gaped at the abuse. I felt it with my fingers and easily could get two inside to massage my fiery gland. I could tell I had leaked, but the natural lube mixed with the Astroglide so I couldn’t tell which was which. I used the douche again to sooth my chute and flush out all the extra lube. I had to concentrate to keep my asshole closed so the water wouldn’t simply fall back out. The first time I pushed it clear, the action caused a huge glob of semen to escape the end of the chastity tube. I was well-milked.

After cleaning up and putting everything away, I went to bed, exhausted but still spinning. I read some porn and worked The Portfolio until my eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. After about three hours of sleep, one of my various electronic devices made a small sound, but it was enough to wake me up. I was in a hormone hangover, still buzzing with unexpressed sexual energy. My hand reached around to my asshole and it felt smooth and well-fucked and entirely not mine. It was as if I was fingering a stranger. A stranger who had been used and abused. I could feel the absence of the giant cock inside me and I remember why I loved it so much. I wanted it again right then. I wanted to feel it split me open and stretch me to my fullest, I wanted to feel it punch me again and again.

But I didn’t get up. Instead, I went after my nuts. I squeezed and pulled and slapped them. I found that whatever internal lock that usually keeps me from really working them over had been released, so I crushed them and beat them and felt the tendrils of warm aching pain snake throughout my body. Instead of pulling up when I normally hit myself, I was able to strike them with greater and greater force. They felt swollen and hot and they throbbed. All of my unreleased sexual frustration was taken out on the fleshy punching bag. Putting my finger back on my hot, shaved hole, I decided it felt not unlike a pussy. My pussy. Wet and loose.

Exhaustion retook me and I fell back asleep with the ache of my abused testes still rolling though me. I slept fitfully and woke often, each time finding my hands either on my nuts or along my crack. This morning, I’m still swimming in the hormones from the night before. My ass is craving the Stryker dildo again. I can still feel the void it left inside me. My guts hunger for it. Night can’t come fast enough.

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While the pussy’s away…

Belle leaves tomorrow. She’ll be on the other side of the world for two weeks. Sucks.

Normally, the cock would be secured during her absence, but smack in the middle of her trip, the kids and I are flying to see Grandma in Vegas. So, obviously, the SH-S will need to come off due to national security concerns. For me, this is a tricky thing because I could just say I need to be out for four days because of travel and leave it at that, but I know (don’t I) that I really only need to be out for a few hours on the two days I’m travelling. If I stay out the whole time, I’ll feel like I’m cheating. Also, I know temptation will be too great to avoid unauthorized diddling with the merchandise. So, the plan at the moment is to stay locked up until Friday morning when I’ll pop my emergency key and take the device off for the flight. As soon as makes sense on the other end, I’ll put it back on until Monday when we fly home.

Once home, I would, theoretically, have access to a free key. That’s not going to work for me. I can be trusted, but keeping the key secure is hotter for the same reason using the PA fixing is. The further away access to the cock is, the better.

As you can see, the current security tab in the keysafe is number 553. That’ll be broken on Friday and replaced with 543 on Monday. I’ll post a picture here of the locked device and the keysafe with 543 in place as soon as I’m resecured. Cheating will be impossible (even if it is also very unlikely).

It’s typically the case that Belle lets me pleasure myself in ways unrelated to the cock while she’s gone. She hasn’t yet given me the word, but assuming it’s coming, I’ve obtained a new toy. Well, actually I’ve replaced an old one. Back with I was single and young, my roommate had a porn tape starring Jeff Stryker. I have absolutely no idea what it was called, but the story line involved Jeff’s character being locked up in jail for an ill-defined offense. Once there, of course, he fucked just about everything with his quite impressing cock. There were a couple of scenes in particular I liked. The first was his check-in at the jail where the guard made him strip, turn around, and spread his cheeks. Jeff always played the top (at least in the stuff I saw him in) so to see him have to submit to authority like that was really sexy. There was another scene with him in a supply closet where he totally dominated another prisoner and yet another in his cell where he fucked a guard. Really hot movie. Pretty sure, between the two of us, that my roommate and I wore that tape out. (Edited to add that after spending about five minutes on the Google, I think the movie in question was called Powertool.)

In any event, the reason I bring it up is when I started buying my own sex toys one of the first I got was a “realistic” Jeff Stryker dildo. It looked like Jeff’s cock, but man. It was so big. And yeah, his cock was big, but I don’t remember it being that big. Regardless, I certainly got my money’s worth over the years with that thing. It was big, but just big enough so that I could really get going with it and not feel like I was about to injure myself. Also, I liked that the first half was fatter than the lower half. Interesting sensation, that. Pull out and feel yourself stretch, push in and feel yourself fill up.

Blah blah blah. Fast forward about 20 years and I received a brand new Jeff Stryker realistic dildo in the mail yesterday. Assuming I get the customary permission to abuse myself in Belle’s absence, I’ll post a review here on the blog. Will Jeff’s giant schlong be as great as I remember? How will my 43 year old ass deal with it? These questions and more will be answered…as long as Belle gives me permission to find out.

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Drippy tube

So, to recap from the vacation, I was, indeed, locked up the entire time. Besides being out for the flight, the only other time she let me out was one morning when I went diving. Other that that, 24/7. I was, of couse, also out for the flight home, but we got back so late that she let me stay out that night.

Next morning, we were both home having taken the Monday after off as well, though the kids were at school. I was getting dressed and ready for the day when she asked me if I wanted to make her come. Well, fuck yes. Plus, being out, I figured there was perhaps a chance I could get the dick wet (though she had just started her period). No, though. I got her off with my fingers while she stroked the cock lightly, but just enough, so that I was always wanting more. Mixed with a few slaps to the nutsack, I was groaning right along with her when she finally came. Regardless, she got out of bed and left me there, hard and wanting. The cock bobbed and throbbed in the air while she went about her business unpacking.

Eventually, I got up, still hard, and went into the bathroom for my shower. I decided that my current state would not allow me to soap up without also playing with the cock, so I put the SH-S on. While the cock wasn’t rock hard at this point, it was still respectively pudgy so it was a bit of a trick getting everything through the ring and stuffed down the tube.

Something I haven’t mentioned here is that I have not been using the PA fixing with the new Steelheart. I found after a few days of wearing it that it was just too crowded in there and I was getting pinched. However, while I don’t need the extra security, it is so much hotter with the fixing in place, so it’s in there now. I woke up last night with a pinch, but took a leak to soften the meat and then repositioned things so that by this morning I felt no ill effects at all. I’m going to see it I can leave it in place for the rest of the week.

I’ll need to figure it all out by Saturday because Belle will be off on another one of her world tours. Two weeks of no Belle. I hate hate hate these trips, but there’s not much that can be done. In the middle of her absence, the kids and I are flying off to Grandma’s house for a long weekend, so I’ll need to use my key to get out prior to leaving and to secure everything again once we get back.

In any event, it’s been about two weeks since my last orgasm and stuff’s building up in there. Two mornings in a row, I dripped precum after my shower while getting ready at the mirror. I get why that was yesterday since she let me share one of her orgasms, but this morning was same old same old. Regardless, long ropes of thick clear fluid hung from the hole in the steel tube, sticking to the hairs on my legs.

Two weeks down, 24 to go. That’s a lot of morning drips.

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Feel the burn

Last night, after Belle went to sleep and told me I was allowed to play with myself, there was a point where I had stroked the cock so much that had I dared to even breathe on it, I would have had an orgasm. I had already milked seven thick slugs of ejaculate from myself without satisfying, even in the slightest, my need to come. I was able to pull up with the awareness of how close I was, but just prior I was in a place where I wanted it so bad that my hand wrapped around the cock formed a single thing upon which every molecule of my being was focused.

And then I let go. And the cock bobbed and quivered and flexed and I knew that if my fingers so much as as grazed the flared head of the cock, that I’d orgasm (most likely dryly). Thinking about it now causes a low thrum under the stiffening cock.

It was fucking torture. Fucking. Torture. The smell of the semen was everywhere and the taste of it was thick in my throat and its sticky sliminess was rubbed all over the cock shaft and between my fingers but I did not come. I dared not. It would be a betrayal of everything I lived for now, including Belle’s trust. I existed in that vaporous microscopically thin space between desire and control and it made me burn.

When I knew I had taken things as far as I possibly could, I cleaned up and went to bed. The cock leaked and leaked onto the sheets so that after 20 minutes I was laying in what felt like a post-coitus wetspot. Besides the leaking, the cock also stung from the abuse on its skin – skin that’s not too often abused that way and has become thin and sensitive. The ring flopped in the PA hole and caused the inside of the cock to feel raw and sore. But still, I wanted more. I wanted everything I could not have because it’s no longer mine to take.

My sleep was fitful and I often found myself cleaving to Belle, pressing the hard cock into her leg and putting my hands inside her bedclothes. I want her so bad. Then, now, always. I’m consumed by desire for her and the gift only she can give.

Living this way is so much harder than being in the device. So much more intense and distracting. Belle told me I was going back in on Sunday morning (which is an odd time), and truly, I will be thankful to have the cock put out of reach. Especially if she doesn’t let me come before the key turns.

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Hers

Earlier in the week, Belle let me out for a fuck. Not just that, but she let me come, too. It was one of those maintenance fucks in that she didn’t want anything out of it except to let me pop one inside her. Apparently, she felt I needed it. I didn’t even get to play with her tits. I tried to stretch it out and enjoy the sensation, but it’s impossible for me now. I used to pride myself for being able to hold off until after she came, but I’m lucky to fuck for more than a minute or two now before losing it.

The next day, she asked me how I was doing in a way that we both know means how is Thumper doing. As in, how is her submissive, orgasm controlled husband? In the past, I would have had either mixed emotions or been downright upset from having an orgasm, so she’s careful to check in with me to see how I’m doing. I appreciate that, but I feel I’ve moved past those fits of pique. I was thrilled to come, more than thrilled to be allowed to fuck her. Somewhat disappointed that she didn’t want to come because I so much enjoy making her do it, but I leapt at the chance to get the dick wet.

Just one orgasm is never enough to blow all the steam off after a month or so of denial, so I was still very interested in action, even more so since the cock was free and flopping around. She hasn’t let me come again, but for several nights, she would grasp and stroke the cock, putting me in quite the state, before she closed her eyes to sleep, hand still wrapped around her hard, quivering cock. It’d slowly, slowly deflate as she drifted off. I was wide awake, of course, and once picked up my phone to look at porn. Its flaccid state was replaced with rock hardness again, still in her hand, though she was asleep. I’m allowed to look at porn, but felt nervous still since its effect on me was very evident. Had she woke up just a little, she’d have know what I was doing. The thought of her “catching” me hard and horny left me feeling embarrassed, though I can’t say why.

Before I left home for one night (another reason she let me out since I was flying), she let me get naked and I came on to her as forcefully as I could. She ignored the cock totally as my hands and mouth moved all over her. It ached it was so hard. I wanted inside her again. I wanted to come again. She wanted to come, too, and she let me give her an orgasm, but with my hands. Then she rolled over and slept, never having even acknowledged the hard cock and my obvious desire to use it.

My trip was overnight and in a hotel, but I shared the room, so there was no monkey business. Now I’m back and still horny and I can’t wait to see her. I can’t wait to get back in bed with her, to feel her body next to mine, to press the cock – hard as it will be – into her drowsy form, even if she basically ignores it again. As I said above and have said before, I am totally comfortable with her controlling the cock and my orgasm and she is doing it perfectly right now. She can lock it up, stroke it, let it come, leave it alone, smack it around, slather it with Icy Hot, or let me fuck her with it. It is hers. What it does and feels is hers. What I do with it is up to her. Everything is hers.

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A token’s worth

The good news is I didn’t lose control of myself yesterday. Yes, there was good deal of self-abuse and I enjoyed myself very much, but I never quite crossed the line into orgasm. I got right up to the line, but didn’t tumble over.

The interesting bit regarding that is the internal conversation that takes place in the moment of trying to stop whatever it is I’m doing in time to avoid the inevitable. It’s like, “I’m getting really close, I’m getting really close, I’mgettingreallyclose…STOP! Stop, stop, stop!!” And everything grinds to a halt. But in those moments of “I’m getting really close” recognition, there’s this other voice interjecting it’s own agenda.

“I’m getting really close.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I’m getting reeeally close.”

“I know. It’s no big deal. You can go further.”

“I’m getting really, really, really close!”

“OK, just think for a minute. Should you stop? I mean, honestly? Imagine how good it’ll feel if…”

“STOP! Stop, stop, stop!!”

“Goddamn it.”

The ancient reptile part of my brain conspires with whichever little bits of my higher brain are against this whole orgasm denial thing – not in order to talk me out of stopping, but to distract me for just a tiny bit at the end when I’m so close that even a second’s worth of dithering will mean I go over the falls and squirt violently all over the place. I was there four or five times yesterday but it wasn’t until the last two that things got dangerous. Both times I stopped in time to avoid the internal fireworks, but not in time to avoid ejaculation. So, if nothing else, I’m well milked.

Having the cock as a member of my little party was highly unusual. I’d pull up just in time and look down at it all shiny and slick and it, in turn, looked back up. It doesn’t have a face, but it’s distain for me was apparent.

“Oh, just fucking do it, already!” Throb. Squirt. Throb. Bob.

But no. I didn’t. I did exactly what I was allowed to do and no more. And before anyone thinks of ripping me a new one for my prolonged masturbatory indulgence, remember I had permission.

Afterward, I took a shower and decided it would be best if I put the Steelheart back on, but the 5:00 hot spot I talked about yesterday was still pretty hot. Belle inspected the situation last night before sleep and said she’d give it another 24 hours to heal. I enjoyed my freedom and still hope she might want to take advantage of the situation for herself somehow, but honestly, the distraction of having a cock I can reach down and touch, with real hard erections and everything, is almost too much for me to handle. I will be grateful to be shut off from it again.

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Hot spots

Imagine we’re facing each other and I’m naked. Yes, I know, it’d be an incredibly surprising situation for either of us to be in, but I’ve put us there to help illustrate something.

So, we’re facing each other and I’m naked. If you were to look at the cock (go ahead, look – Belle won’t mind), you might be able to see, in about the 10:00 position, a irritated line about an inch long curving around the top of the scrotum. Also, down below (where you can’t see, unless you ask me to lift my balls) is another little spot at about the 5:00 position. Both of these were caused by the Jail Bird’s tight ring. I switched back to the Steelheart but was only able to wear it for a day until those two hot spots forced me out. They hurt.

Interestingly, they appeared after I had been able to wear the JB for a week. I had started to get used to it’s insistent grip so that at night, when all the plumbing is at it’s highest pressure, the bad kind of pain was starting to wane. I had thought I’d be able to wear it until whenever I get the new tube for the Steelheart, but alas, it was not to be. I probably didn’t keep the ring lubricated well enough.

In any event, Belle’s let me out until I’m better or Thursday, whichever comes first. She goes to San Francisco to hang out with her best friend for the weekend. I won’t be left unlocked, of course. Until then, she said she’d check the hot spots every night and, if they looked better, put me back in. Regardless, I go in when she leaves. It’s a nice feeling, that kind of attention to my well-being.

I’m stuck at home today for mundane reasons and, before she left, Belle told me I could consider myself gifted with the Token. That is, I’m allowed to pleasure myself however I want (short of orgasm, naturally). Problem is, there are people in the house doing work at the moment so I’m unable to partake. Also, unlike every other time she’s let me have at myself, this time I have free meat. I’m not sure she’s thought that permission through all the way. I don’t want to come and wouldn’t plan on doing so, but accidents happen, especially in the heat of the moment.

Maybe the strangers hanging around is a good thing.

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48 free – Part 2

I look the Jail Bird off just before dinner and went to bed free. We had to wait a long time for the boy to fall asleep, though I could tell Belle was tired.

I started kissing her (once the coast was clear) and immediately got hard. I wasn’t entirely sure anything was going to happen, but assumed there’d be action since she left me out an extra night. She tasted amazing. Just the kissing was getting me going pretty good.

“Can you keep a secret?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“I’d rather be locked up than free now,” I admitted while nibbling on her neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The cock kept waking me up last night. Always in the way. All hard and pokey.”

“Like a kickstand?” She laughed at her joke.

“Kinda. Anyway, who needs it? Such a distraction…” Kiss, kiss. Tongue.

I know that if I were to spend all my time unlocked and freely swinging that I’d get used to that again and the device would feel weird, but that’s not where I am now. It’s been locked up pretty consistently for months and months with only a few days here and there unprotected. I’ve become accustomed to what being locked in a cage or tube feels like and, since I’m not allowed to touch or play with it anyway, prefer it locked away. More on that in a minute…

“Well, you’re going back in tomorrow morning.” Then she lifted her shirt.

I was going with the flow, not trying to lead. She had an idea of what she wanted and I tried to give it to her. I worked on her nipples while her hips gyrated in sympathy, then I moved a hand to her snatch. Eventually, her pants were off and my finger was in deep and she was coming. The cock was very hard, uninvolved and dry.

She laid perfectly still as she usually does after she comes, basking. I laid as still as I could manage. It was hard. My hips were trying to hump all on their own, though my brain was ready for anything. I would have accepted more sex or her rolling over to sleep. I actually felt, even though I was hard and horny, the normal sleepiness that comes to me after her orgasm now.

After a few silent minutes, she said, “Come on, you can take a ride.”

I immediately mounted her and put the cock inside. So warm and so wet and so fucking awesome. This is what I wanted this time around. What I couldn’t stop thinking about. Sometimes, I crave my own hand, but this time it was the soft and hot confines of Belle’s pussy. I came close to orgasm several times but was able to catch myself. After the fourth or fifth time (the interval between which getting shorter and shorter), she told me the ride was over. I slipped off and out and felt the hard cock slap wetly against my thigh. She went off to the bathroom to freshen up and I pulled on my balls and tried not to touch her cock.

As worked up as I was, the sleepiness cued by her decision that playtime was over soon fell over me. I did drift off clinging to her, pressing the still-fat cock against her, my arm up her shirt, skin on skin.

Shortly afterward, though, my eyes snapped open. I was fully awake and still horny. This isn’t unusual, either. The feeling of two warring factions in my body is a regular one now. The forces of her control against the reptile brain insurgents. This time, though, the insurgents knew the cock had been left undefended. Their time had come.

In no time, I was on my phone checking out porn and pulling on the meat. The battle was evident in my head. The little bunny voice telling me to stop was being drowned out by the lizard trying to distract me until it was too late. Finally, I got so close that a large amount of ejaculate pulsed out of the cock and got all over it and my right hand. Not an orgasm by any mean (I could tell because of how much I loved licking the sticky scream off myself), but clearly a sign that my reproductive system was in full battle readiness. I was so close to coming that I could feel it just one or two strokes away each time I grasped the shaft. Had I lingered too long on the head, I would have spewed.

The little bunny voice had grown hysterical at this point. It knew, better than I, that we were on the verge of disaster. The Jail Bird, it reminded me, was in my nightstand drawer.

PUT IT ON. PUT IT THE FUCK ON.

I retrieved the device and pulled its parts out of the black fuzzy bag. I was careful to place the locking screw in on my nightstand so I wouldn’t lose it in the sheets. I put the ring over my sore and swollen balls but had to wait a long time for the cock to deflate enough to even try to get it through. Eventually, with enough spit and pulling, it popped inside the ring only to then get even fatter due to the constricted blood flow. The cage barely fit over the cock’s head, let alone over then entire member. I waited some more. And then some more. I surfed news sites trying to take my mind off the throbbing tube of meat between my legs. Eventually, slowly, it went down enough for me to squish it into the cage. Flesh was bulging out the sides, but I mated the cage with the cuff ring’s post and the beast was finally contained.

Getting the screw in should have been tricky. I had to align the holes on both the post and the cage (in both the X and Y axis), then get the screw in – all in the dark. Somehow, though, it didn’t take any time at all. As I tightened the screw into place, I felt a calm come over me. It was done. Suddenly, I was very sleepy.

What I found trapped inside the the short, snug cage of the Jail Bird surprised me: freedom. I was free from the temptation of the unlocked cock. I was free from having to control myself. Obviously, I shouldn’t be left alone with the thing anymore, at least when I’m in that state. I knew when I was doing it that I was breaking the rules, but it took every ounce of willpower I had to stop. I was like a dog in a butcher shop, practically unable to restrain my desire for raw meat.

This morning, I handed her the JB key before I even got out of bed. I don’t think she knows I was in it all night. Well, now she does. Anyway, I’m glad to be back in…wishing again that I was out.